BBC Sherlock fanfiction: Wrapping
Title: Wrapping
Author: TimeGirl10
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson (pre!slash Sherlock/John, if you wish hard enough)
Disclaimer: I only own the insanity in my mind, nothing else. These characters belong to the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.
Rating: PG-13, just in case
Warnings: use of the f-word once
Spoilers: none
Word count: 969
Author's notes: found a prompt on tumblr: 'John is absolutely awful at wrapping presents'. Since I am, too, and always been, I decided to write this. My first one-shot, and only my third Sherlock fic, so please be kind (: Beta'd by my best friend, all the remaining mistakes are mine. English is not my first language. I hope I posted this in the correct format, if not, feel free to point at my mistakes. Comments are very much appreciated. Merry Christmas!
Summary: In which sellotape and scissors are really not enough for anyone and for anything...
'Oh, fuck this!' John shouted and bit his lower lip angrily. 'It will never work.' The thing that made him so angry was a bottle of wine and some wrapping paper that had seen better days. The table was covered with little discarded pieces of Sellotape and the scissors were on the floor where he dropped them after his latest attempt to wrap the bottle.
'I should've bought a box of chocolate. That has a normal shape and at least he would eat something.' He picked up the scissors and started cutting, but when he had two pieces of paper in his hands, he just sighed and gave up. 'I can't even cut this properly! It's completely hopeless.' He quickly cleared the table and put the kettle on, he really needed a cup of tea. Half an hour, completely wasted! The tea was ready soon and he took his first sip, leaning to the table when he heard someone knocking at the door.
'Hello, my dear' Mrs Hudson smiled at him. 'I was wondering if you'd like some biscuits, I just baked them.'
'Yes, thank you very much. I'll leave some for Sherlock, he's... out.' John decided it's better not to tell her that Sherlock was in the morgue, again. Suddenly he got an idea.
'Mrs Hudson, could you do me a favor?'
'What do you want, John?' She asked.
'Erm... I need to wrap this bottle of wine, it's a Christmas gift, but I seriously can't do it. I'm sorry, I've been always awful at wrapping. Could you do it for me?'
'Of course, my dear. I'll be back in a few minutes, I have some very nice Christmas wrapping paper.'
Without saying anything else, she took the bottle and left. John drank his tea and enjoyed the silence. Luckily it was just a few days till Christmas and everything was peaceful and Christmassy, even in the flat. He even put some decoration on, and Sherlock didn't seem to mind it - nor seemed to care about it.
He looked out the window and saw the clouds above London. 'Still waiting for the snow to fall, it doesn't even feel like Christmas at all...' He hummed his new favourite Christmas song to himself when Mrs Hudson came back, carrying a plate of gingerbread cookies that smelled very good and a wrapped bottle.
'Here you go, sweetheart. I hope you like the colour of the ribbon.'
'Thank you Mrs Hudson, it's amazing' John said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The wrapping paper was green with some nice pattern on it and the ribbon was bright red - perfect combination for Christmas. Mrs Hudson soon left and John put the gift in a safe place in his room where nobody could find it.
The remaining days till Christmas flew away quickly and Christmas Eve arrived. But there was no peaceful Christmas dinner for Sherlock and John on that day - the game was on and they were chasing a killer. Finally they caught him and arrived at home around midnight. Neither of them wanted to eat anything so late, even Sherlock was exhausted so they just went to their rooms and fell asleep quickly.
Next day John woke up late, it was already after 10am. He decided he didn't want to change clothes so just put this dressing gown on and went to the kitchen because all he could think about was tea. Sherlock was already in the living room, sitting on the sofa and using his laptop - his, not John's, as he noticed. It was Christmas, really. Speaking about Christmas...
'Morning' Sherlock said, looking up and interrupting John's thoughts. 'Yours was in your room.'
'Get out of my head.' John said and put the kettle on.
'I'm not in your head, I'm on the sofa.'
'Get your mind out of my head.'
'I fail to understand...' Sherlock began but John gave him his deadly stare and he decided to shut up. After all, it was the message in John's head to Sherlock. And he remembered he had something to do...
While John prepared his tea and Sherlock's coffee (black, two sugars), Sherlock disappeared. John was grateful for the opportunity and ran back to his room and got that damned bottle of wine. He went back to the living room and saw Sherlock standing there, who got startled and put his hands behind his back. What is he hiding...? Is that a new experiment? Not at Christmas, not now, John prayed.
'Erm...' They both started at the same moment.
'Yes?' Sherlock asked.
John decided whatever Sherlock wanted to say could wait. He stepped closer to him and held out the bottle.
'I'm sorry I honestly had no idea what to give you so... I know probably you won't like it as you don't drink often but... Merry Christmas, Sherlock.'
Sherlock reached for the bottle and took it from John, their fingers brushed for a moment. Sherlock cleared his throat.
'I must admit I had no idea what to give you' they both smiled 'so that's why I got you...' his voice faltered and he gave John something that seemed to be a bottle.
John stared at their gifts. They looked identical. Same shape, same wrapping paper, same ribbon... He looked at Sherlock and tilted his head to one side.
'I may not be the world's one and only consulting detective, but I deduced you had asked Mrs Hudson to wrap your gift.'
'I came to the same conclusion about your gift, John.' Sherlock said with a poker face and they both bursted in laughing.
'Merry Christmas, John' Sherlock said softly and pointed at the window. As they both looked out, John saw that it was snowing and he knew Christmas really arrived to 221b Baker Street.
Author: TimeGirl10
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson (pre!slash Sherlock/John, if you wish hard enough)
Disclaimer: I only own the insanity in my mind, nothing else. These characters belong to the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.
Rating: PG-13, just in case
Warnings: use of the f-word once
Spoilers: none
Word count: 969
Author's notes: found a prompt on tumblr: 'John is absolutely awful at wrapping presents'. Since I am, too, and always been, I decided to write this. My first one-shot, and only my third Sherlock fic, so please be kind (: Beta'd by my best friend, all the remaining mistakes are mine. English is not my first language. I hope I posted this in the correct format, if not, feel free to point at my mistakes. Comments are very much appreciated. Merry Christmas!
Summary: In which sellotape and scissors are really not enough for anyone and for anything...
'Oh, fuck this!' John shouted and bit his lower lip angrily. 'It will never work.' The thing that made him so angry was a bottle of wine and some wrapping paper that had seen better days. The table was covered with little discarded pieces of Sellotape and the scissors were on the floor where he dropped them after his latest attempt to wrap the bottle.
'I should've bought a box of chocolate. That has a normal shape and at least he would eat something.' He picked up the scissors and started cutting, but when he had two pieces of paper in his hands, he just sighed and gave up. 'I can't even cut this properly! It's completely hopeless.' He quickly cleared the table and put the kettle on, he really needed a cup of tea. Half an hour, completely wasted! The tea was ready soon and he took his first sip, leaning to the table when he heard someone knocking at the door.
'Hello, my dear' Mrs Hudson smiled at him. 'I was wondering if you'd like some biscuits, I just baked them.'
'Yes, thank you very much. I'll leave some for Sherlock, he's... out.' John decided it's better not to tell her that Sherlock was in the morgue, again. Suddenly he got an idea.
'Mrs Hudson, could you do me a favor?'
'What do you want, John?' She asked.
'Erm... I need to wrap this bottle of wine, it's a Christmas gift, but I seriously can't do it. I'm sorry, I've been always awful at wrapping. Could you do it for me?'
'Of course, my dear. I'll be back in a few minutes, I have some very nice Christmas wrapping paper.'
Without saying anything else, she took the bottle and left. John drank his tea and enjoyed the silence. Luckily it was just a few days till Christmas and everything was peaceful and Christmassy, even in the flat. He even put some decoration on, and Sherlock didn't seem to mind it - nor seemed to care about it.
He looked out the window and saw the clouds above London. 'Still waiting for the snow to fall, it doesn't even feel like Christmas at all...' He hummed his new favourite Christmas song to himself when Mrs Hudson came back, carrying a plate of gingerbread cookies that smelled very good and a wrapped bottle.
'Here you go, sweetheart. I hope you like the colour of the ribbon.'
'Thank you Mrs Hudson, it's amazing' John said and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The wrapping paper was green with some nice pattern on it and the ribbon was bright red - perfect combination for Christmas. Mrs Hudson soon left and John put the gift in a safe place in his room where nobody could find it.
The remaining days till Christmas flew away quickly and Christmas Eve arrived. But there was no peaceful Christmas dinner for Sherlock and John on that day - the game was on and they were chasing a killer. Finally they caught him and arrived at home around midnight. Neither of them wanted to eat anything so late, even Sherlock was exhausted so they just went to their rooms and fell asleep quickly.
Next day John woke up late, it was already after 10am. He decided he didn't want to change clothes so just put this dressing gown on and went to the kitchen because all he could think about was tea. Sherlock was already in the living room, sitting on the sofa and using his laptop - his, not John's, as he noticed. It was Christmas, really. Speaking about Christmas...
'Morning' Sherlock said, looking up and interrupting John's thoughts. 'Yours was in your room.'
'Get out of my head.' John said and put the kettle on.
'I'm not in your head, I'm on the sofa.'
'Get your mind out of my head.'
'I fail to understand...' Sherlock began but John gave him his deadly stare and he decided to shut up. After all, it was the message in John's head to Sherlock. And he remembered he had something to do...
While John prepared his tea and Sherlock's coffee (black, two sugars), Sherlock disappeared. John was grateful for the opportunity and ran back to his room and got that damned bottle of wine. He went back to the living room and saw Sherlock standing there, who got startled and put his hands behind his back. What is he hiding...? Is that a new experiment? Not at Christmas, not now, John prayed.
'Erm...' They both started at the same moment.
'Yes?' Sherlock asked.
John decided whatever Sherlock wanted to say could wait. He stepped closer to him and held out the bottle.
'I'm sorry I honestly had no idea what to give you so... I know probably you won't like it as you don't drink often but... Merry Christmas, Sherlock.'
Sherlock reached for the bottle and took it from John, their fingers brushed for a moment. Sherlock cleared his throat.
'I must admit I had no idea what to give you' they both smiled 'so that's why I got you...' his voice faltered and he gave John something that seemed to be a bottle.
John stared at their gifts. They looked identical. Same shape, same wrapping paper, same ribbon... He looked at Sherlock and tilted his head to one side.
'I may not be the world's one and only consulting detective, but I deduced you had asked Mrs Hudson to wrap your gift.'
'I came to the same conclusion about your gift, John.' Sherlock said with a poker face and they both bursted in laughing.
'Merry Christmas, John' Sherlock said softly and pointed at the window. As they both looked out, John saw that it was snowing and he knew Christmas really arrived to 221b Baker Street.