[Right. With that finally done, Sherlock makes a point of arriving back at the flat before sirens. It was Christmas Eve, and for once, he wasn't going to risk an infestation in the apartment complex. His gift to the superintendent.
If he was shopping, there's no visible evidence of it as he presents himself in the living room, a few flurries not yet melted caught in the curls of his hair and dusting the shoulders of his coat. When the dog comes to greet him, Sherlock actually gives him a scratch between the ears, brief as it is.]
Even on an island this small, people can still get whipped into a consumerist frenzy. Like glowing, festive hyenas.
[ John's just about finished decorating when Sherlock returns. it's too late for them to get a tree, so he's settled for stringing up a few fairy lights, sticking a bit of tinsel across the surfaces and putting up his Christmas cards from various acquaintances up around the flat.
so all in all, it's all very festive in here. he's even wearing a christmas hat. but then he's given a frosty summary of what he's missing out there and looks around. ]
Oh, don't be shy Sherlock, say what you really mean. [ he deadpans although his lips twitch into a smile. ] That's what you get for leaving all your shopping until the last minute.
[ pot calling the kettle black, but at least John had a good excuse. ]
[Sherlock takes in all of the holiday spirit suddenly strewn around the flat. Honestly, it isn't so bad. As long as it doesn't interfere with his investigative clutter, he could even say it made the place more welcoming. He nudges the dog with his foot as it tries to eat some dangling tinsel.]
Don't exaggerate, John. There's still about nine hours left until Christmas.
[Sherlock is equally as dry as he takes off his coat and scarf, tossing them both over the back of his chair. Without saying anything else, he takes a small wrapped package from his coat pocket. Since there's no tree, he's unsure of where to place it, so he just leaves it among the lights at the windowsill, feigning subtlety the best he can.]
Your leg alright?
[Sherlock's own hand brace is gone. He's healed enough that he can live without it, though his joints were still a bit stiff.]
Blackheath, leave... uh yeah, it's fine. Two weeks, then I can get this bloody thing off. [ John's counting down the days until he can walk properly again. he shuffles back and admires his handiwork, not noticing that gift Sherlock places on the windowsill just yet. ] What do you think?
[Sherlock looks at John's cast first. His friend had been moving about with more ease lately. More time on the crutches made him more maneuverable, but also more irritable. It still digs at Sherlock that maybe he could have prevented it-- somehow.
Either way, John is learning how to ride the motorcycle once the cast is off. This was safer. Somehow.
After musing for a moment, Sherlock realizes John means the decorations.]
Oh. [He looks around at them again, furrowing his brow.] Good. It's... good. [He turns back to John with a knowing half smile.] Mrs. Hudson would be proud, I think.
[ if John had any idea of what Sherlock was planning for him, then he would've bought him the helmet he threatened his flatmate with months ago, instead of the gift that's safely stored away in his bedroom. it's not very inconspicuous, but it came out of observing his friend for the past five months and putting up with his complaining.
anyway, he's pleased Sherlock seems to think the decorations are good though and grins happily to himself. ] That's good to hear, because I've had about enough for tonight. Eggnog?
[When it comes up, it can be the second half of his gift. So the surprise is justified that way. Of course. Sherlock has already seen his gift wrapped, and he has a fairly good idea of what it is. Christmas with him never was and never will be easy. That doesn't mean, however, that he isn't pleased by what John's noticed.
Then eggnog comes up. Sherlock frowns a bit. Oh, he likes it, but...]
[Sherlock doesn't drink, really. Not very often at all. A mind muddler, in his opinion, but he doesn't tell John that. One, because of his friend's experience with his sister, and two, he knows John would argue that other things are just as bad. Things Sherlock hasn't completely escaped.
It was best to avoid the subject entirely. Besides, it was the holidays.]
Brandy. Please.
[With John's back turned, he takes a napkin full of meat scraps from his coat pocket and puts it at Blackheath's feet.]
[ John sucks his teeth when he comes back to discover Blackheath licking his lips and looking entirely too pleased with himself. he looks down at the napkin and back up at Sherlock again.
oh, that was a bad decision, but he wasn't going to be the one to spoil Christmas by chastising his friend for interfering with the dog's diet or anything else that could crop up. flatmate etiquette at its finest. ]
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If he was shopping, there's no visible evidence of it as he presents himself in the living room, a few flurries not yet melted caught in the curls of his hair and dusting the shoulders of his coat. When the dog comes to greet him, Sherlock actually gives him a scratch between the ears, brief as it is.]
Even on an island this small, people can still get whipped into a consumerist frenzy. Like glowing, festive hyenas.
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so all in all, it's all very festive in here. he's even wearing a christmas hat. but then he's given a frosty summary of what he's missing out there and looks around. ]
Oh, don't be shy Sherlock, say what you really mean. [ he deadpans although his lips twitch into a smile. ] That's what you get for leaving all your shopping until the last minute.
[ pot calling the kettle black, but at least John had a good excuse. ]
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Don't exaggerate, John. There's still about nine hours left until Christmas.
[Sherlock is equally as dry as he takes off his coat and scarf, tossing them both over the back of his chair. Without saying anything else, he takes a small wrapped package from his coat pocket. Since there's no tree, he's unsure of where to place it, so he just leaves it among the lights at the windowsill, feigning subtlety the best he can.]
Your leg alright?
[Sherlock's own hand brace is gone. He's healed enough that he can live without it, though his joints were still a bit stiff.]
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Either way, John is learning how to ride the motorcycle once the cast is off. This was safer. Somehow.
After musing for a moment, Sherlock realizes John means the decorations.]
Oh. [He looks around at them again, furrowing his brow.] Good. It's... good. [He turns back to John with a knowing half smile.] Mrs. Hudson would be proud, I think.
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anyway, he's pleased Sherlock seems to think the decorations are good though and grins happily to himself. ] That's good to hear, because I've had about enough for tonight. Eggnog?
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Then eggnog comes up. Sherlock frowns a bit. Oh, he likes it, but...]
You bought nog? What kind?
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It was best to avoid the subject entirely. Besides, it was the holidays.]
Brandy. Please.
[With John's back turned, he takes a napkin full of meat scraps from his coat pocket and puts it at Blackheath's feet.]
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oh, that was a bad decision, but he wasn't going to be the one to spoil Christmas by chastising his friend for interfering with the dog's diet or anything else that could crop up. flatmate etiquette at its finest. ]
Here.
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