Where are the mistletoes?
John began decorating the apartment an hour ago, but he didn't get much done. He wasn't sure how long the detective would be entertained by just trying to assist you in purchasing gifts for the others and items from Mrs. Hudson's shopping list that weren't really necessary for Christmas. Sherlock would soon understand what everyone was attempting, it was pretty obvious. Get him out of here so they can at least decorate this apartment for the holiday.
He abruptly halted what he was doing when he suddenly heard someone climbing the stairs. Mrs. Hudson opened the door while holding a little box and John abruptly let out a breath after realizing he had been holding it just moments earlier, feeling relieved that it wasn’t Sherlock.
“Oh dear, perhaps you should take a break. It is obvious that you won’t finish decorating anytime soon.” the elderly woman smiled somehow sadly at him.
“Well, if I had help from others, it would have been finished by now.” John spoke aloud in a harsh manner.
“Don’t hold that against me. I am the one doing all the cooking.” As Mrs. Hudson eventually set the box down on the couch and made her way outside, she stated in an irritated voice.
As he went to check what was in the package, John sighed. It was disappointing to decorate an apartment alone when it was supposed to be something you would do with your friends and family. However, he didn't have the right to snap at the poor woman because she had already accepted so many things Sherlock and he had done. But was it really that simple when you shared a home with Sherlock Holmes? But when it came to the detective, nothing was, in fact simple.
He was a little shocked by what Mrs. Hudson had brought him. But not in a bad way. The box was filled with mistletoes. Even though he had no idea how she could have obtained this, he knew better than to question her. He could take one or two, they wouldn’t hurt anybody hopefully.
He grabbed one and walked up to Sherlock's armchair, but before he hopped on it, John placed a newspaper over it since he didn't want Sherlock to become upset that he climbed on it while wearing his shoes. Only the great detective could do that since it was his chiar. He could be such a drama queen sometimes, but that’s just how the young Holmes is.
He took the tape from the small table and the doctor lifted the mistletoe over his head and eased it up to stick it on the ceiling. As he climbed down and took the newspaper in his hands, he wrinkled it as he threw it in one of the small trash cans. Might as well get rid of the evidence, right?
Perhaps he could hang one more right at the door? Even though it was a bad idea, nobody could have stopped him. He managed to climb on a small chair, but attaching it to the ceiling was a little bit more difficult. He did lose his balance once, but it undoubtedly didn't seem to stop him.
Although he was pleased with himself, John felt as though he would never be able to finish decorating this apartment as he once more glanced out the window and noticed that the Christmas tree was still slightly blank. He went to begin decorating it once more after retrieving the box of decorations.
--
The grocery store isn’t a place you would normally consider crowded. It's rather easy to get in and out of aisles without having to weave through threads of people, but Christmas was coming up and everyone was buying food like there was no tomorrow. It didn’t matter that they would have throw out half of the food when the holidays are over.
Sherlock worked very hard to keep himself entertained since he didn't want to be a burden to you. He scrutinized everyone who passed him, looking for even the smallest detail that wasn't even really significant in order to infer something about their life. The seconds were flying by, and he was beginning to grow increasingly bored and everyone knew that Sherlock Holmes should never grow bored. He was perplexed as to why fewer crimes occurred over the holidays. It didn't matter whether anyone died during them. A crime was a crime, as if the killers would receive acclaim if they avoided killing around orthodox holidays. The way regular people thought was so bizarre to him.
He watched you as you read the list Mrs. Hudson provided you while growing increasingly impatient as he struggled mightily to come up with something he ought to do. He snatched it from you against his better judgment since he didn't want to be here anymore, eliciting a startled gasp from you.
“Sherlock!” You said as you turned to follow the detective.
"I feel that if I stay here any longer, my brain will rot. You can attempt to keep me outside the building all you want; I don't care. The sooner we leave, the better.” He gave an explanation as he started to select the items Mrs. Hudson had written.
“Was it really that obvious?” You asked in a defeated tone while attempting to match his pace.
He slowed down and nodded briefly as he gave you a faraway "yes" while turning his head away from you and looking ahead. You weren't surprised, but you were a little let down. Well, you did know who you were dating.
As he started to make is way straight to the baking aisle, you were a little held back by other people. It’s not that it was that hard to pinpoint where the detective exactly was, thanks to his height, but somehow you couldn’t see him. Just then someone slipped his hands into yours and you glanced up, seeing Sherlock.
“If we want to get home sooner, it would be beneficial if you didn’t get lost. It would take some time to find you.” He said as you felt his fingers thighten around your hand.
As you allowed yourself to be dragged by him, you grinned a little. Maybe you should text John to let him know you'll be home sooner than expected.
--
While listening to Christmas music and halfway through decorating the tree, the doctor was unaware that the door had been opened.
Even if you did send him a text, it wasn't very effective because he didn't see it. In addition to the music playing through the entire apartment, John left his phone in the kitchen and set it to mute. He couldn't really do much at this point, especially since both of you had returned.
You initially went to Mrs. Hudson and left her the grocery bags, saying you would return to assist her as soon as you had left the gifts upstairs. Maybe, just maybe, you were interested in Sherlock's reaction as well, hoping that he wouldn't act out as he did the year before.
For a short while, the detective remained silent, and you were staring directly at him while he examined the entire apartment. You weren’t sure if he had any issues with the decorations or not.
"Why is this parasite hanging over my chair?" he asked at that same moment.
Yup, there it was.
Swiftly approaching it, Sherlock snatched it off the ceiling and dropped it into the trash. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed how you and John were looking at him.
"You and Y/N were just standing under the mistletoe moments ago," John said as he observed the detective's devastation. How could he fail to notice something that was right in front of him?
Your boyfriend wasn't even concerned about what it truly meant as you walked over to him; instead, he was only pondering on how he hadn't been able to notice the mistletoe at the entrance the first time. He was startled out of his reverie when you rose to your tiptoes and gave him a swift kiss, noticing a hint of pink brightening your cheeks.
“What was that for?” He asked bewildered
“You are familiar with the tradition, right?” You looked at him while chuckling slightly as he didn’t know what to say.
Given that Sherlock Holmes believed his brain to be similar to a hard drive, it only made sense to store useful information there. He didn't think the customs of Christmas would be useful after all.
“John, see if you can make him help you, I’ll go aid Mrs. Hudson.” You said while also leaving the flat.
As John began to assemble some candy canes on the tree, the doctor did not even make an attempt to persuade him to assist him. It appeared as though he was actually looking at the Grinch. He didn't understand why Sherlock was so opposed to anything that was Christmas-related.
John continued to embellish it with globs and some lights but the detective suddenly disturbed the comfortable silence. “Where are the mistletoes?”
--
Sherlock would occasionally come across you throughout the day, lead you somewhere where there was mistletoe, like outside the kitchen or the hall, and give you a short kiss before leaving you so he could clean the apartment. Even though you didn't understand what was going on with him, you would just resume helping Mrs. Hudson since you didn't want to question him.
He occasionally had you go where there was mistletoe hanging from the ceiling even after the guests arrived and the party started. This was the first time that the presence of other people didn't matter. Sherlock never kissed you in front of others, so you knew something was off. So, you began to ask yourself even more questions, even if you did know that you couldn't find your answers yet.
You didn't even have the courage to ask him what had actually happened today while you were lying in bed with him. Yes, Sherlock would typically behave strangely, but not in that way. And that kept you up.
You have a routine of rising late at night to get a glass of water. Really nothing out of the ordinary for anyone, but because you were having trouble falling asleep, Sherlock realized that something wasn't right.
You were being held by the detective in a soft yet firm manner. Unaware that he wasn't even sleeping, you made an effort to escape his grasp. Just then Sherlock Holmes' anxious voice suddenly reverberates through the empty space. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, don't worry. Just want a glass of water.” The detective eventually let go of his hold on you. He just realized how big of an impact you had already had on his life as he saw you discreetly stand up and leave the room. Now that he was accustomed to your touch, being alone didn't feel right. It's strange to consider that he reacted negatively when you originally suggested cuddling.
He began to wonder what was keeping you up at night and somehow came to certain conclusions without knowing if they were true. As he lifted his head to look at you, Sherlock must have been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice when you entered the room.
“Is everything all right?” As you once more get onto the bed and sit next to him, you inquire.
“You have a question, don’t you?” He states bluntly as he wraps his hands around you again. “So let’s have it.”
“What was up with you today?” You asked as you tilted your head slightly.
“I am— not quite following Y/N.” He says unsure as he changes his position, allowing you to get closer to him.
“The mistletoes?” You ask as Sherlock becomes more rigid “They were everywhere today.”
“I should have asked you if I could kiss you, right? I’m sorry. I thought that I could do it without asking for consent if I used the mistletoes.” He says quietly.
“What?” You chuckle a little, which only confuses the great detective further. Despite his brilliance, it was obvious that he still had a lot to learn about emotions and interpersonal relationships.
"I don't—"
"Sherlock, you don't have to ask me every time you want to kiss me. We are a couple. We didn't snuggle like this before, but we do now because it's pleasant for both of us. You don’t need my consent for some things and that includes kissing for me.” You explain as Sherlock brings you closer to him.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” You informed him as he nodded and silently uttered ‘oh’
For a while, neither of you said anything, but then Sherlock probes once more: "But are you really sure that you are fine with it?"
You stayed quiet beside him and the detective raised a hand to your nose. Of course, now was when you fell asleep.
His eyes rolled under his eyelides as he rolled over. “Goodnight, Y/N” he murmured, aligning his arm over the curve of your side. “And Merry Christmas..”