AN: Aaand I'm back again. With another fic. This one's for the holidays. Just a silly little thing. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly.

"And why would I want that?"

His nose crinkled in distaste as he looked at the offensive object.

"Because, Sherlock, I am your flat mate, who's paying for half the rent, chasing serial killers with you, and dealing with your overall insanity. Besides, Mrs. Hudson got it for us,"

"You know, there's a fine line between genius and insanity, John,"

"And God knows you've crossed it more than once,"

"You like the chase-"

"I also like having three square meals a day and a full night's sleep,"

A glare was given in the direction of the offending object. "It disrupts my thinking,"

"How, may I ask?"

"The lighting and all the sparkling; it's distracting. And rather gaudy, may I add,"

John glanced at the mini-Christmas tree in the corner. With all it's tinsel and brightly colored baubles and ornaments it did look a little… over-garnished. But it also added a little festive cheer to the place, which John turned back to Sherlock,

"You can turn it off at night,"

"…Or I could just shoot it."

"Sherlock!"

"Well, I'm bored,"

"You are not to shoot the tree," John stated firmly with a stern look.

"Set it on fire?"

"No,"

"Add chemicals to it?"

"No,"

Before Sherlock could suggest something else, John cut him off, "There will be no destroying or experimenting on the tree. If I find so much as a singed branch I will set Mrs. Hudson on you,"

The last statement was said half-jokingly, but John found that Mrs. Hudson had strange authority over Sherlock and it had quieted him a bit. John retreated to the kitchen to make some tea, but found that they were in short supply and, for some reason, out of milk. Again.

"Sherlock, I'm off to get some more tea and milk," he announced, as he put on his jacket.

When he turned around, he found Sherlock staring at the tree with the same amount of interest a cat would show its new scratching post.

"Don't destroy the tree while I'm gone,"

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise and a vague hand gesture to show that he had heard.

An hour later John returned to the flat and headed for the kitchen. It took him a minute or two of unpacking the groceries to realize something was off. He sniffed the air. There was no burning or chemical smell. He peered into the living area. Sherlock was still lounging on the couch, but hidden by the newspaper.

The he saw it. What he missed from when he first entered the flat.

"Sherlock, why is the skull on top of the tree?"

"Because I was bored and you said not to destroy it,"

John opened and closed his mouth and realized he had no reply to that. Besides, he didn't destroy the tree. And the skull looked rather jolly, if a little creepy, nestled among the tinsel and branches. John retreated back to the kitchen shaking his head and grinning to himself.

Only on Baker Street.

END