Chapter Text
“What do you think?” John had been hanging Christmas lights around the sitting room since morning. The process had been prolonged by his need to run to the store to get one more set.
“Atrocious!” Sherlock grumbled, adding an eye-roll for good measure.
“I think it looks perfect,” John smiled and turned to his friend. “It levels the atmosphere in the room. Great balance between your grumpiness and bright flickering lights.”
“They make my head hurt. Can I shoot at them?” Sherlock asked eagerly, steepling his fingers under his chin.
“Well, you make my head hurt more often than not. So if I follow your logic...”
“Never mind,” muttered Sherlock, making John chuckle as he reached into the box for another string of lights. He made his way into the kitchen. With his free hand on his hip, he looked around and sighed. Placing the box of lights on the table, he turned to head downstairs.
Sherlock pretended he was reading on his laptop when John came back with a white wooden two-step stool from downstairs and placed it on the kitchen floor. He then proceeded to move the box of lights on the countertop and mounted the stool. Sherlock caught himself staring when John stretched to hang the lights over the upper cupboards. He could see his flatmate’s bare abdomen as the jumper he wore lifted along with his outstretched arms. Sherlock’s lips were suddenly dry and only after several minutes did he become faintly aware that John had been talking to him.
“Sorry, what?” Sherlock asked feigning such fascination with the article on the laptop that he hadn’t heard the question.
“You could help me, you know,” John grunted from the kitchen.
“It was your stupid idea to decorate. Besides, I’d rather watch you wiggle on that chair...” Sherlock stopped immediately, wishing he could call back the words that had come out of his mouth.
“What did you say?” John turned abruptly towards the sitting room and swayed losing his balance. His quick grappling to catch onto something resulted in two handfuls of lights but nothing solid enough to keep him from tumbling over and crashing into the second box of lights on the table behind him.
Sherlock was on his feet in a split second but was not quick enough to catch John falling. He helped his flatmate scramble off the table only to be graced with a narrowed-eyed glare.
“What did I do?”
“You could have helped me...ouch,” John winced and reached for his ankle. Sherlock took his hands away from John and held them up as if surrendering. “Bring me my kit, I think I sprained my ankle.”
Sherlock brought the box with a red cross on it from the bathroom without a word of protest.
“What can I do?” he asked feeling somewhat guilty although he was not sure why.
“You can finish hanging the lights,” John said smugly as he was wrapping his ankle in an elastic bandage.
Sherlock huffed but then glanced at John and sighed.
“Fine.”
“The lights from here” John pointed to the cardboard box on the countertop, “go on top of the cupboards. And the lights from the box on the table should be long enough to cover the stair railing.”
Sherlock opened his mouth in protest but closed it before saying something that would get him into more trouble.
John started to get up and limp to the sitting room.
“Let me help you,” Sherlock swung John’s arm around his neck to support his weight.
“Oh, so now you want to help me?”
“Shut up.”
Sherlock was setting John on his chair when the other protested.
“I need to sit on your chair and watch you to make sure you put the lights correctly,” John narrowed his gaze at his flatmate who rolled his eyes, a habit he overused during the holiday season.
Finally seated on the black leather armchair, John observed Sherlock’s work with the decorations. The bastard wasn’t even using the step stool when he was attaching the lights to the upper cupboards. Sherlock’s black shirt came loose from his trousers and as John admired the lean frame of his friend, he realised exactly what Sherlock had been looking at earlier. John smiled to himself as he limped to the kitchen.
“Stay put, I’m putting them up the way you told me to,” Sherlock grumbled.
“Yes, but there’s one more ornament that you can’t omit,” John reached into the shopping bag on the other side of the table and took out a piece of mistletoe. “This goes on the ceiling lamp,” John handed the plant to Sherlock and leaned on the table trying to suppress the grin that threatened to overtake his lips.
Sherlock’s expression was neutral until he attached the plant to the lamp and looked down at a grinning John.
“It’s a tradition...” John’s cheeky remark turned into a gasp when Sherlock leaned over John to speak directly into his flatmate’s ear.
“You’ve been very naughty today, I don’t think you should get a gift this year,” the low murmur of Sherlock’s seductive voice made John shiver and grip the table top with both his hands. The lick behind his ear made keeping his balance even more difficult, as the one leg he was standing on was threatening to give way.
“You started it,” John retorted but what was supposed to come out in a playful tone sounded more like a breathy moan.
Open-mouth kisses travelled along John’s jaw and ended on the corner of his lips. Sherlock hovered, giving John the opportunity to make the next move. He lifted his gaze and looked at the detective’s face above his, the mistletoe directly above them and the light from the lamp making Sherlock’s features ethereal, almost angelic if not for the sly lift of the corner of his lips.
John put his palm on Sherlock’s cheek and relished the slight tilt of the detective’s head towards his touch as their gazes met. He let out a shaky breath before pulling his friend closer until their lips met. Sherlock’s hands enveloped John’s face and he felt Sherlock’s full lips on his, so warm and soft in their tentative exploration before they opened to deepen the kiss and let their tongues meet.
John forgot his sprained ankle, the Christmas lights, even the mistletoe when at the back of his mind he realised that he really didn’t need anything else to feel festive other than the man whose hands held his face so gently and whose mouth made him feel like all was right in the world.