MERRY CHRISTMAS (eve)

Idoot helped DJ_Tatortot

Summary: Sherlock doesn't know what to get you for Christmas, and he's freaking out. But what he doesn't know is that you're in the exact same boat...

QOTP: What did you ask for this year?

Word Count: 4048

It's a quiet, cozy day in 221B Baker Street. You're, of course, not in your own apartment, but your boyfriend's. Snow is falling outside the window, and there's a warm mug of tea in your hands.

Sherlock's making his own tea in the kitchen, as he realized no one else was going to make it for him. Then, clad in his blue robe and pajamas, he comes and sits down next to you on the couch.

You're still looking out the window, but you scoot closer to him when he sits down. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, holding his tea with his free hand. John, who's in his chair with Rosie on his lap, shakes his head and smiles. It still warms his heart to see Sherlock being all lovey-dovey.

He's changed a lot since they first met.

"I do hope you don't plan on going out today," Sherlock says after taking a sip of his tea. "It's going to be cold. And the roads will be a mess."

You look over at him, finally. "I've got to; I have Christmas gifts to buy."

"Still?" John asks before Sherlock can reply.

"Yeah," you sigh. "Some people are hard to buy for."

"And by 'some people' you mean Sherlock?" John says, brows raised.

You're thinking 'yes', but you say, "Oh, no, I've already got him something."

Sherlock immediately panics, but he doesn't outwardly show it. "And, of course, I've already got you something." He drinks his tea, knowing full and well that he just lied through his teeth.

"Oh, really?" you reply, panicking as well. You drink your tea, too, but it's hard to swallow.

"Yes, really," Sherlock says. "And you're going to love it." At least, he really, really hopes so. Once he figures out what it is...

"Well, you're going to love mine even more," you reply, wondering why you do the things that you do. You start to feel guilty just sitting there, so you add, "And I want other people to love their gifts, too, so I need to go out and buy them."

You kiss Sherlock before getting off the couch, then say goodbye to John and Rosie and go down to your apartment to change.

Sherlock, meanwhile, waits until you're downstairs, then looks at John. "I haven't bought her gift yet."

John's brows furrow. "But you just said-"

"I lied," Sherlock interrupts. "I have no idea what to get her; everything I can think of isn't good enough."

"Christmas is just a week away, Sherlock," John says. "You've got to figure this out."

"I need help!" Sherlock replies. "What do you think she'd like?"

"You're her boyfriend; you should know better than I do."

"But you have experience with relationships, and I don't."

John sighs, bouncing Rosie gently on his knee. "Maybe something sentimental, then? Something that means something to the both of you?"

Sherlock thinks on this for a second, then stands and heads back to his room. "Alright. I'm going out to get her something. I'll just have to make sure I don't run into her."

"Have fun with that."

"I'll try."

Ten minutes later, Sherlock grabs his coat, leaves the apartment, and hails a cab on the street. John is still in his chair, listening to Rosie babble.

Then, the door opens.

"John, I need help," you say, walking into the apartment. Now dressed, you flop down in Sherlock's chair, looking at John.

"With what?" he asks, completely confused.

"I still haven't bought a gift for Sherlock," you reply. "I have no idea what to get him. He doesn't want anything."

John has to stifle a laugh. "Well, you got him that microscope for his birthday last year. He seemed to want that."

"I can't get him some sort of science equipment for Christmas, John," you reply. "I want it to be special."

"Then, maybe try to get him something sentimental. Something that means something to the both of you."

You think for a moment. "Yeah, that seems like a good idea. Thanks, John."

"You're welcome," he replies as you leave. As soon as you're gone, he busts out laughing. "Rosie, I think this is going to be hilarious."

////

Sherlock takes his cab to the shops, going to look for something you might like. He can't think of anything sentimental that doesn't feel too cheesy. So, he browses the store he's in, looking for inspiration.

Suddenly, someone says, "Hello, Sherlock."

He turns around, recognizing the voice instantly. "Moriarty."

"Well, you sound happy to see me," he replies, smirking. "Did you miss me? I missed you."

"No, I didn't," Sherlock says. "What do you want?"

Moriarty starts laughing, though not maniacally. More like a Southern mom after a small misunderstanding. "Oh, I see; you think I'm here to kill you or something. No, I don't kill on Christmas unless it's necessary."

Sherlock squints suspiciously. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm very trustworthy," Moriarty replies. Sherlock goes quiet for a moment, then sighs and starts to walk away. Moriarty stops him. "You're looking for a gift for her, aren't you?"

Sherlock stops, turning around. "Leave me alone."

Moriarty ignores his command. "Might I suggest a dress?"

"You might not."

"I think she'd like a dress."

"I think she'd also like to see you in prison. Or dead."

"So what you're saying is, she'd like a dress?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath, then leaves the shop.

////

Meanwhile, you're at St. Barts.

You couldn't think of a single thing you could get Sherlock based on sentiment, so, here you are, with Molly Hooper, asking her for advice. "I don't know what to get Sherlock for Christmas. Got any ideas?"

She walks around the table, performing an autopsy on a cadaver. "Well, this gift is coming from you, so it should probably be your idea."

"But I have no ideas," you reply frustratedly.

She sighs. "Well, you know him better than I do. Has he mentioned wanting anything?"

"No," you say. "Not a thing."

"Maybe you could get him something nice. Oh, or something useful. Like a watch."

"He wouldn't wear it."

She thinks for a moment. "Cologne? That could work."

"But it's not special; it's just cologne," you reply. "Besides, I like the kind he already wears."

"Well, then I don't know what to tell you," she says. "This is Sherlock Holmes we're talking about; he's impossible to buy for."

"Tell me about it."

"Maybe get him something sentimental?"

You sigh. "That's what John said, and I can't think of a single sentimental thing. And you know what the worst part is? He's already bought my gift."

Molly smiles sympathetically. "Sorry, Y/N. I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I hope so." With that, you head out, thinking about what you're going to do.

////

"Molly, I need your help."

It's the second time she's heard that phrase today, though this time it's coming from Sherlock.

He came straight here after that run in with Moriarty, as he was getting nowhere in the gift department. "I don't know what to get Y/N for Christmas."

Molly stops. "You what?"

"I know, I know, Christmas is a week away. I've been thinking about this since November, and I still have no idea what to get her."

"Well-"

"And John told me to get her something that's sentimental, but out of everything in our relationship, there's nothing I could give her as a gift."

"She-"

"And she's already bought mine! I'm a terrible boyfriend."

Molly, miffed that he keeps interrupting her, neglects to tell him about the conversation she had with you earlier. "Well, I'd just tell you the same thing that John did. You know her better than I do, Sherlock. You'll think of something."

He sighs frustratedly, turning to leave. "I really wish I would."

////

When Greg Lestrade gets a phone call from you, he's a little bit worried; something must be wrong. "Hello?"

"Hey," you say, sitting in a cab on the way to the shops, "are you busy?"

"No, why?" Greg replies.

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"I still haven't got a Christmas gift for Sherlock."

Greg guffaws. "Seriously?"

"Yes, I know, I'm horrible," you reply. "I have absolutely no idea what to get him, and I need some advice. Or an idea. I'll take anything at this point."

Greg thinks for a moment. "Well... maybe get him something sentimental?"

You sigh in frustration. "If I hear the word sentimental one more time today, I'm going to burst into tears."

"Wh- hold on, someone else is calling me," Greg says.

"No, it's fine. Just go ahead and hang up on me. Thanks for the advice, though."

"You're welcome." Greg hangs up, then calls the other person back, not looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Graham," Sherlock says from the other end, "I need your help."

Greg, annoyed and confused, asks, "With what?"

"I haven't bought a Christmas present for Y/N yet, and I have no idea what to get her," Sherlock replies.

Greg's brows furrow. "Really?"

"Yes!" Sherlock exclaims. "And she's already bought mine!"

Greg stops for a second. You've obviously lied to Sherlock about having already bought his gift, and it's probably because you didn't want to seem like a bad girlfriend. Now, Greg could tell Sherlock that you lied and make him feel better, or he could keep your secret. And, considering that you're the one that actually knows his name, he's going with the latter. "Well, I say you get her something sentimental. It's the thought that counts, you know."

Sherlock sighs. "That's what everyone else has told me today." And with that, he hangs up.

Greg looks down at his phone, shaking his head. "Oh, boy."

////

Sherlock, after calling Greg, goes back to 221B, where John is reading and Rosie is napping. After sitting on the couch for about ten minutes, thinking, he goes downstairs to ask Mrs. Hudson for advice.

"Well, I'd say you get her something sentimental. Maybe even make the gift yourself; that'd really be something," she replies. Sherlock huffs, then goes back upstairs again without a word.

He sits back down on the couch, then decides the only way to solve this problem is his mind palace. So, he lays down and rests his hands under his chin, then closes his eyes.

////

You wander the shops for a while, trying to find something for Sherlock, but find nothing good enough. So, you head back to 221B to talk to Mrs. Hudson.

"So, what should I get him?" you ask after explaining the situation.

"Well, dear, I think you should give him something that comes from the heart. Something sentimental," she replies, half-distracted by the cookies she's making.

You manage an, "Alright, thanks," then rush out of her apartment and into yours, where you sit on the couch, ready to burst into tears.

This shouldn't be this difficult.

You sigh and lay down, deciding to take a nap and see how you feel when you wake up.

////

Within seconds, Sherlock is in his mind palace.

"Hello, love," mind-palace you says, standing in front of him. For a while now, she's made her home here, and Sherlock's gotten used to it.

"Hi," he replies, walking past her.

She follows him down the hall. "Can't figure out what to get me?"

He sighs. "No, I can't. Everyone told me to get you something sentimental, but that's near impossible."

She hums in response, still following as he searches for something. "Maybe you should go back through our relationship. See what you can find."

Sherlock stops, then turns into a room. "Alright, that's not a bad idea."

He starts at where you first met.

He was coming back from a case. It was snowing. As he stepped out of a cab outside the apartment, you were walking down the sidewalk and slipped on ice right in front of him. He rushed to help you up, and as soon as he saw your face clearly, he was rendered speechless. You looked up at him and took his outstretched hand. "Thank you."

He was shocked out of his stupor, and he pulled you up, steading you with his other hand. "You-You're welcome. Um... Are you alright?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Incredibly clumsy, but fine."

It went quiet, and it was so awkward that present-Sherlock got secondhand embarrassment. Finally, past-him said, "I-I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

You smiled at him, and he distinctly remembers his heart fluttering, as cliché as it sounds. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

It went quiet again, and you reluctantly went to say goodbye, but he spoke before you could. "I-I'm sorry; I don't normally do this, but could I maybe get your number? Or something? I just-"

"Yeah!" you replied, pulling out your phone. You exchanged numbers, and parted ways. You texted him the next day, informing him that you'd slipped on ice again, and you were disappointed that he wasn't there to help you up the second time.

Present-Sherlock leaves that memory and ends up back in the hallway. Mind-palace you sighs. "Weren't we just adorable?"

"Very," Sherlock replies. "But that didn't help me much; I can't just give you ice for Christmas."

She laughs. "No, that wouldn't be good. So, let's move on. What's next? The 'unofficial' coffee dates?"

"Yes, but those won't help me much. I'll go to our first official date." He turns into another room, right into a fancy restaurant a few blocks from 221B. You were sitting at a table, and he was looking at a menu. He hadn't said anything but 'hello' since he arrived.

Finally, he looked up, his leg bouncing nervously. "What's your favorite color?"

You were extremely confused, and Sherlock was regretting every word that came out of his mouth. "... Y/F/C. Why?"

"I, uh... I didn't know what else to ask you," he replied sheepishly.

You, however, didn't say anything else. You were too busy staring at him; he was wearing his purple shirt. He wore it on purpose, and he noticed you staring, but he wasn't sure how to smoothly address it. Then, his phone rang.

He looked at you apologetically. "I really have to take this."

"It's alright," you replied.

He went and took the call - Lestrade, not knowing he was on a date, was calling him about a murder case he needed help with. Sherlock grinned, getting an idea.

He came back to the table and grabbed his coat from the chair. "How would you like to go visit a crime scene?" he asked. You seemed unsure at first, but then you bit your lip, and he could see a gleam in your eye.

"Alright."

Sherlock exits the memory, and again finds mind-palace you in the hallway. "That was a fun first date," she says. "We solved a murder in about four hours and managed to find a fast food place that was still open afterward."

He chuckles at the memory. "It was fun, but there's still no gift there. Maybe dinner at that fast food place, but they aren't open on Christmas."

He moves on to your first kiss.

You were in 221B, and he was talking about his last case; you usually found the stories entertaining. However, halfway through his retelling, he noticed that you were staring at him.

Specifically, at his lips.

"Are you even listening to me?" he'd asked.

You jumped. "What? Yes! I'm listening. I am so listening."

He knew you weren't; your eyes were practically glazed over. "What have I been talking about for the past ten minutes?"

You thought for a moment. "... A case?"

"More specifically?"

"Um... Someone killed someone and you're trying to figure out who?"

After a short pause, he declared, "You weren't listening."

"Sorry, I just... got distracted."

He sighed. "It's alright..." He sat back and thought, and found that he couldn't think about the case at all. He was thinking about what you were distracted by.

You obviously wanted to kiss him - you'd done that a couple times before - and he wanted to kiss you, too, so what was stopping him from going for it?

He couldn't figure out the answer, so he finally said, "Y/N..."

"Yeah?"

There was a long pause where he didn't say anything, and you quirked an eyebrow at him, imploring him to continue. He shook his head, psyching himself out. "Never mind."

You became suspicious. "Okay...?"

He went quiet again, wondering why he was so nervous. Finally, he managed to say, "Could you come here for a second?"

You sighed. "Your phone isn't even a foot away from you-"

He dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "No, that's not what I want."

You were even more suspicious than you were before. "Then what do you want?"

"Just come here."

"I'm not getting up if it's not necessary."

"Y/N-"

"Sherlock-"

"For Pete's sake!" He got up, came over to you, leaned down, and kissed you all in one motion. You were too shocked to kiss back for a few seconds, but then you managed to stand from the couch without breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him.

He was on cloud nine; he could've kissed you forever if you didn't pull away for air.

"Well..." you said, breathless.

He smirked. "Well."

Present-him leaves the memory, smiling. "Every time I kiss you feels like that time."

Mind-palace you smiles back at him. "And did it give you any ideas?"

He sighs. "No. Nothing. I guess I'll just have to go buy a dress and be done with it."

"Wait," she says. "Just one more memory? My favorite one?"

He smiles softly. "Alright."

He finds the memory she's talking about, and enters that room, finding himself in 221B. Past-him was in his mind palace at the time, and you were sitting at the desk in the living room, talking to John. It was the first time you'd met him.

You sighed. "Should I...?"

John understood; you wanted to get Sherlock out of his mind palace. "He'll be a pain in the tit all day if you do, but if he asked you to come..."

You nodded, then went to the couch. "Sherlock," you said. Nothing. "Sherlock, I'm here, just like you asked." You lightly shook his shoulder. "Sherlock, love. I'm here." His eyes snapped open, landed on you, then he relaxed.

"Wonderful," he said, sitting up.

You smiled. "Why did you want me here?"

He sighed. "I want to politely ask you to get out of my head."

A look of confusion crossed your face. "I'm sorry...?"

"No, you're not," he replied, "because you're still there."

"Sherlock, what are you on about?"

"You're in my head. Please get out."

"I'm in your head?"

"Yes! It's distracting. You're always walking around my mind palace. I don't understand how you're doing it, but I'd appreciate it if you stopped."

Present-him leaves the memory, then, which disappoints mind-palace you. "Oh, come on, you're not going to stay for the part where I threatened you with a knife?"

He chuckles. "No, I'm not. I've got to figure out what to get you. All this has just been a reminder of how much you mean to me. And how special this gift needs to be."

"Well, then, you better get to it," she says. "And it better be good."

"Let's hope so."

////

Finally, it's Christmas Eve, and it's the annual Christmas party held at 221B. You're all about to open presents. You've spent the whole evening worrying about what the other will think of your gift, and now the moment is here.

"Open mine last," you tell Sherlock.

"Open mine last, too," he replies.

Then, the time comes where neither of you have presents left, and most everybody else has opened all of theirs. You hold your gift from him in your hands, and nod at him. "You go first."

He shakes his head. "No, you go first."

Greg says, "Just open them at the same time and get on with it."

You look at Sherlock and he looks at you, and with bated breath, you start to unwrap your respective presents. Finally, once they're unwrapped, you look down at your present with your mouth hanging open.

You got him - actually, made him - the exact same thing.

"What is it?" John asks, brows furrowed.

"Coupons," you and Sherlock say simultaneously.

"Coupons?" Molly asks, confused.

"Yeah. The handmade ones that say stuff like, 'One free hug,' or 'One free cuddle'," you reply, flipping through your gift.

"At least that's what hers say," Sherlock adds. "The ones she gave me say, 'One free hour of me leaving you alone,' and, 'One day of me not complaining about experiments in the kitchen.'"

Everyone laughs. Greg says, "Funny how you two ended up getting the same thing, after all that trouble."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asks.

"You both asked me for advice on what to get each other on the same day," he replies.

"Me, too," Molly says.

"Me, too," John adds.

"Me, too," Mrs. Hudson butts in. "I think."

Rosie babbles.

"So, we both lied to each other?" you ask, looking back at Sherlock.

He nods. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good to know we're both horrible people," you say.

Everyone laughs, and the party continues until everyone leaves, leaving you, Sherlock, John, and Rosie, who's already asleep. John decides to go to bed as well, but you and Sherlock stay in the living room.

You grab your coupon book and tear out the one that says, 'One free cuddle,' then hand it to Sherlock, who's sitting on the couch. He chuckles and takes it, then opens his arms. You sit on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his middle. He wraps his arms around you, too, resting his head on yours. You sigh. "I'm sorry about my crappy gift."

"Well, that implies that my gift is crappy, too," he says.

"It is."

He chuckles. "Fair enough." You sit in silence again for a few minutes, then he sighs. "You know why I couldn't think of a gift to give you?"

"Why?" you ask quietly.

"Because I couldn't find one good enough. Everything was too cheesy or too lackluster for you. I went to the jewelry store eight times since November first, and I couldn't find a diamond big enough."

You blush. "Well, you're impossible to buy for, so that's why my gift sucks." He laughs, and you continue. "And also because nothing seemed good enough for you, either. Everyone told me to get you something sentimental, but out of all the memories we have, there's nothing I could physically give you." He hums in response, and you reach over and grab your coupon book off the coffee table where you left it. "I'm still gonna use this, though."

He laughs. "And I'll use mine. Though maybe not the first one; I don't think I could last an hour of you not annoying me." You lightly hit his chest, flipping through your book. Then, you stop on a particular coupon and tear it out. He looks at it and chuckles. "You want me to dance with you now?"

"Mhmm," you reply, looking up at him.

He sighs, "Alright. But only because you used the coupon."

You laugh, then turn on quiet Christmas music. He puts one arm around your waist and holds your hand with his free one. You put your other hand on his shoulder.

You sway for a little bit, then, he turns you and slowly spins you back against his chest, wrapping both arms around you from behind. You turn your head to look at him. "This is better than any Christmas present you could ever give me."

"Even the coupons?" he jokes.

You turn fully in his arms and kiss him, putting your hands against his chest. You pull away, smiling, "Even the coupons."