Sally Donovan took in the sight of John Watson and couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the good Doctor. He had come in to return a case-file Sherlock Holmes had nicked a few days ago and had wanted to talk to Greg Lestrade. The DI, he had been informed by Sally, was busy decorating the Yard's Christmas tree.

Ten minutes later John still stood at the window of the large room the tree stood in, watching Greg decorating the tree. It wasn't just Greg who stood there but Mycroft Holmes too. The Government official had arrived half an hour ago to lend a hand. They hadn't got very far with decorating the tree because they were busy untangling the string of lights. It would probably take considerably less time if both men actually concentrated on the task at hand instead of staring into each others eyes. Ever so often their fingers would touch and their facial expressions would turn positively besotted in those moments.

John didn't dare to interrupt them and one reason was, that he was quite envious. It was not because Greg could call the tall ginger his own or vice versa. It was the fact that the DI apparently had caught himself a Holmes, that vexed him. Of course, John was happy for both men but he had run out of ideas how he could turn his relationship with 'his' Holmes from friend and flat-mate into lover.

"You can go inside," Sally told him. "If you are waiting for them to finish decorating or take notice of you, you might as well order something to eat, get yourself a good book or come back tomorrow."

"But I can't..."

Sally scoffed, knocked on the window and when the two rather startled men looked her way, she gave a wave and pointed at John.

In return Greg waved for John to come inside.

"Uhm, hi, I didn't want to disturb you," John greeted both men.

"No problem," Greg answered and even Mycroft nodded his agreement. "You came to help?"

"Uhm, no." John fiddled for a moment with the zip of his jacket. "I need some advice."

For a moment Greg pondered how many questions he'd need to get the truth out of the nervous Doctor but before he could even form the first one in his mind, Mycroft had deduced all there was to know and explained.

"My brother is still oblivious to your feelings and you want to give him something for Christmas that he both likes and hopefully takes your friendship to the next level."

The distinct shade of pink that crept up John's neck and didn't stop before it had reached his hairline, was all the answer that was necessary

"How about we give him a case?" Greg suggested. "Plus issue an ultimatum."

"Turn me into a corpse? Then I will certainly get his attention," John quipped.

"I don't think it has to be quite as drastic. A kidnapping should do nicely," Mycroft told him. "The clues will be his gift, wrapped up under the Christmas tree."

"But what are we going to do with John?" Greg asked.

Mycroft looked at John and when he reached his conclusion a few seconds later, his eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. "Really, John, who would have guessed. You want to…?"

"Yes!" John's face had turned beetroot-red under the amused glance of the elder Holmes.

The next minutes were spent with a bit of planning and plotting and once duties were arranged, John left with a funny feeling in his gut. A feeling that could perhaps be compared with the excitement one felt when strapped into the seat of a high-speed roller-coaster.

oOo

Sherlock was a bit surprised that John wasn't back from some last minute shopping, although it was quite dark already. Tesco should be closed by now, the handful of guests they were expecting for the inevitable party would probably arrive within the hour and nothing had been prepared yet. The detective eyed the kitchen from his position on the sofa. The party had been John's idea and therefore John should prepare food, drinks and such. Sherlock fished his mobile from the table and began typing.

'Come home immediately. SH'

He received no answer.

'Where are you? SH'

Still no answer.

Over the course of the next ten minutes he sent another five texts, all a variation on the theme, but John remained conspicuous by his absence.

The Consulting Detective's phone rang another five minutes later.

"What do you want Lestrade? Lovers quarrel on Christmas Eve?"

"We received a parcel at the Yard with a jumper inside that looks very much like John's. There's also..." Greg had no chance to finish the sentence.

"I'll be there shortly." Sherlock ended the call and was bounding down the stairs of 221b only a minute later. As usual a cab magically appeared when he stepped up to the curb and he was whisked away.

oOo

He entered the building of NSY with the usual drama of billowing coat and blazing cheekbones, quickly finding Greg Lestrade and three other officers in the conference-room in which stood the Christmas tree. A young officer, probably fresh from the academy was sobbing into a colleague's shoulder, while said colleague pressed an ice-pack to the back of her head.

"She was knocked out by an unknown intruder while the window was open for ventilation. When she came round a parcel that contained that package", Greg pointed at a small box in Christmas wrapping paper," and that jumper."

Sherlock would have recognized John's jumpers anywhere but just to be certain, he sniffed the familiar looking piece of clothing. Yes, one-hundred per cent certainty that the jumper indeed belonged to his friend.

Sherlock eyed the colourfully wrapped box with suspicion. I was topped with a bow and a small card, picturing Santa Claus and a reindeer hugging each other, said 'For Sherlock' and 'You've got one hour'.

"One hour or what?" the DI, who handed the box to Sherlock, asked.

"More important, when did the mentioned hour start? When the box has been delivered or now that I've seen it?"

"We had a sniffer dog for explosives inspecting the parcel. It should be safe to open."

Sherlock was carefully removing the wrapping to find a strongbox with a lock. The lock required four numbers to open. The Consulting Detective first tried 5646 – the numbers to write the name John. It didn't work.

"When is John's birthday?" Sherlock asked.

"Excuse me?" Greg's eyes went wide. "You don't know his birthday?"

"I deleted the information," Sherlock relied, his voice sounding a bit sheepish.

Greg told him and Sherlock tried first 0809 and afterwards 8971 but those numbers stil didn't open the lock.

A few other combinations didn't work but when he tried the date they had met at Bart's he struck gold.

The lock opened and inside the strongbox Sherlock discovered an MP3 player and a note 'Listen' and 'Christmas tree'.

The playback of the piece of music on the MP3 was playing the song backwards but after a moment Sherlock identified it. Then he began checking the ornaments on the tree for clues.

When Greg saw that the younger Holmes came closer and closer to the solution of the puzzle, the DI sent a text to Mycroft. He was glad the Government official had removed more than half of the clues John and Greg had hidden in the tree. Otherwise Sherlock probably would have been done deducing within fifteen minutes. Now the hour was almost up and when Sherlock announced that he knew where they would find John, his face was glowing from excitement.

They hurried outside and Greg let the Consulting Detective tell him where to chauffer him to. Mycroft had withheld the information, knowing his sibling would have noticed if the DI knew where they had to go.

To Greg's surprise, the directions Sherlock gave him led to a garden that was surrounded by a tall fence. The gate was locked but picking a lock had never been a problem for Sherlock. Running through the garden, they came to a secluded place in which midst a stretch-limousine was parked. It was decorated with holly, mistletoe and a red bow.

When Sherlock approached the car cautiously, Greg felt the mobile-phone in his pocket vibrate.

'Let's go home. M x'

With a soft smile, the DI turned and walked back to his car where Mycroft was already waiting for him.

oOo

Inside the limousine, John Watson was almost vibrating with suppressed excitement. He had no idea how his friend would react to this little game. He shouldn't have worried though. When Sherlock opened the door and found John inside the limousine alive and well, his relief was palpable. The added excitement from this game Sherlock absolutely loved to play caused that the younger Holmes was almost glowing and his eyes were sparkling. He climbed inside, closed the door behind himself and sat down across from his flat-mate.

"John!"

His name spoken in that wonderful baritone was all the Doctor needed on Christmas Eve.

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock!"

In the spacious space between the seats stood a box on which John had put Sherlock's favourite dishes from Angelo's plus glasses and a bottle of wine.

"So, the whole thing was a ruse to lure me here?" Sherlock asked.

"To lure you to your Christmas present, yes," John replied.

"And the limousine is...?"

"The limousine is more or less the wrapping." John bit his lips before he continued. "Everything inside is yours."

Sherlock tilted his head. "Including," he hesitated, "you?"

"Yes, including myself."

"Oh." Sherlock's mouth formed a perfect O but before long a smile was spreading over his face.

Moving to sit next to John he studied the man with those curious rainbow-coloured eyes of his.

"This stretch-limousine is not only the wrapping. It's also a fantasy of yours," Sherlock purred.

John blushed. "Yes, I do have certain fantasies that involve you, me and a stretch-limousine," he confessed.

Sherlock's mouth twitched and when he licked his lips, John decided he didn't want to wait any longer. He slipped one hand into the dark curls and pulled his friend close for a kiss. He wasn't surprised that the inviting lips were soft but he hadn't imagined the mouth would be so very pliable. There was not a moment of careful sampling. Instead the kiss turned passionate immediately.

Fortunately, John had brought the food in a hotbox to keep it warm. Otherwise the romantic dinner in the stretch-limo would have involved cold dishes.

Of course, Greg phoned Molly and Mrs. Hudson to tell them this year's Christmas party had been cancelled. He also thanked his colleague who had faked the head injury - her hobby is amateur theatre. Explanations would have disturbed the flow of the story. Oh,yes, and I think the limousine has auxilary heating.