Christmas Presents

[smallhobbit]

Fandom: Sherlock bbc
Rating: G
Characters:  John Watson
Word Count: 1,420
Summary: This is the first of my Christmas fics, written to say thank you to various friends who have helped me during the year.  This one is for basaltgrrl who has provided encouragement when I've been down and shares my liking for both Life on Mars and Sherlock.  She requested something involving presents, so here we have John Watson Christmas shopping.

Thanks must also go to my wonderful beta jinxed100 who has patiently waded her way through more Christmas fics than is probably entirely healthy.

John Watson pushed his way through the crowds and tried to decide which shop he should go in first.  He’d never been very keen on Christmas shopping and had normally tried to avoid doing it altogether.  It had been easy when he’d been posted abroad, as obviously he couldn’t go shopping and no-one expected him to.  Even on the occasions when he’d been home on leave he’d managed to persuade first his mother, and then latterly Harry, to get the few essential presents for him.  However this time he no longer had any excuse as to why he couldn’t go himself, and if he were honest he actually wanted to buy presents for a few people as thank yous for the help they’d given him over the past few months.  However, knowing what to buy, given his limited budget, was going to prove quite a challenge.

Firstly, Mrs Hudson, who despite her emphatic statement that she was only the landlady, had so often provided the quiet bit of support that he had needed: a cup of tea when his leg was aching after a long day; some company when watching television by himself had left him alone with his thoughts.  He thought happily of the plate of mince pies she’d given them the day before, and that reminded him she’d said that she liked tins of shortbread biscuits.  So that was the first present chosen.

As he walked past one of the high street chemists he had cause to remember the latest exchange between Sherlock and Sgt Donovan.  He had made a dismissive comment about the cheap perfume she was wearing and she had retorted by telling him that if he didn’t like it he could buy her something more expensive.  John had wanted to get her something in recognition of all the times she’d made sure he’d got a coffee when the rest of the team had one; there being no need to worry about Sherlock as he wouldn’t drink anything.  And also for the odd occasion when she’d manage to deflect Sherlock so that he and Lestrade could have a few minutes together.  He went into the shop and started to look at the display, wondering how he could select a suitable fragrance.  As his eyes moved along the shelf to his relief he spotted a name he recognised as being one that Sally had mentioned in the exchange.  Another problem solved.

Next was Mycroft.  After a dubious beginning to their relationship John had come to appreciate that Mycroft’s concern for his brother was genuine.  And once Mycroft had visited Baker Street a few times John had started to see how much the older Holmes liked winding his younger brother up, using methods that he had clearly perfected over the years.  The last time he had come there had been an argument about how one should respond to a present that one didn’t like.  Sherlock of course had said that all it showed was that the giver clearly had no idea what they were doing and they shouldn’t have wasted their money.  Mycroft had insisted that one should gratefully receive the present, even if it was disposed of later.  To avoid getting drawn into the argument John had disappeared into the kitchen to make the tea.  He did wonder whether Mycroft ever received any unsuitable presents and decided that the time had come for conducting a Sherlock style experiment.  He went into a menswear shop and started to peruse the ties.  There were any number of entirely suitable ties, but then at the back of the rack he found what he was hunting for: a tie with a reindeer with a flashing nose.  Grinning broadly, he took it off the rack.

John then started to think about what to get Sherlock.  He considered buying something along the jokey line, maybe Union Jack boxer shorts, but he really wanted to choose something more suitable.  He owed Sherlock a lot; there might be times when he would quite happily put him in the rubbish bag along with the remnants of the latest experiment that was occupying the bath or fridge, but sharing with Sherlock had given him a reason for living when things had seemed very dark.  And even now, when his life was so much more positive, Sherlock continued to provide new experiences, as well as noticing when he needed support, even before he was aware of it himself. 

John wandered into one of the stores selling DVDs and CDs.  He was hit by the cacophony of noise and tempted to walk out again, but instead made his way to the haven of the classical music section.  He walked idly between the rows of CDs and then at the end spotted the ideal present.  There were two new recordings by Sherlock’s favourite violinist.  He couldn’t be mistaken, Sherlock had been to listen to him a couple of months earlier, and had raved for two days before the concert and three days afterwards about what a brilliant interpreter of the music the man was.  Delighted to have found them John picked up the CDs and took them to the till.

Which only left Lestrade.  Following his return from Afghanistan John had never imagined that he’d ever be close to anyone again.  Sherlock was married to his work and although a closeness had grown up between them, he didn’t feel any sense of physical attraction to him.  But over the months the encounters with Lestrade had progressed beyond a few words exchanged over a hastily drunk cup of coffee, to a sandwich in a café and onto a few beers in the evening.  Then one day, when Sherlock had totally pissed both of them off, Lestrade had suggested that John go back to his flat rather than return with the f**** consulting detective to Baker Street.  John had readily agreed, only too happy to have a few hours peace away from his flatmate.  Lestrade had opened a couple of beers and they’d moved onto the bottle of whisky and then somehow they’d been kissing on the settee.  The knowledge that they both felt the same way about the other had come as a tremendous relief and had they not been shattered after the day they may well have moved into the bedroom.  As it was they fell asleep together on the settee.

Lestrade had invited him to spend Christmas Day at his flat and when he had asked what he could contribute he had been told nothing at all.  This was to be Lestrade’s present to him: a proper Christmas Day, food, decorations, falling asleep in front of the television.  John in return wanted to give him something personal and individual.  He had thought of buying him CDs too, but, although he knew the music Lestrade liked, he wasn’t sure as to which albums he already had, and anyway he didn’t want to choose something similar to what he was giving Sherlock.  Then he remembered a conversation they’d had in which Lestrade had mentioned he’d liked the sound of a classical concert, but that he didn’t think he was the sort of bloke who went to posh concerts.  John smiled, for a police inspector Lestrade’s lack of confidence in some areas was very endearing.  Two tickets for the concert would make an ideal present.

Having come to that decision, John made a hasty exit from the shopping centre, pausing only to buy a roll of wrapping paper on his way out.  He thought he ought to get Harry something, but a gift voucher would be sufficient for her; he didn’t expect he’d get anything in return.  He had bought presents for all the people who made a difference to his life now, which was what he had set out to do.

Once back in Baker Street John set about wrapping the presents.  As he did so he thought back to the last Christmas, when he was still in Afghanistan.  They’d all celebrated and been cheerful, although it had been hard for those missing their families, especially when they had children.  And there’d always been the thought at the back of their minds that although they were all together now, there was no telling what would have happened in a week’s time.  This year would be much quieter, but John didn’t mind, he was looking forward to celebrating with someone who he could look forward to the future with.