Hello again guys! Seeing as it's coming up that festive time of the year again, I'd thought I'd write a fluffy/comedy fan fic for the lovely duo! No explicit slash here, sorry guys, but there is if you squint and look upside down! A few chapters on John introducing Sherlock to Christmas, that's all! Enjoy and Happy Christmas!

You Can Imagine The Christmas Dinners'...

As John Watson entered 221b, arms laden with the inevitable Christmas shopping bags filled with cheap presents, he realised – for the first time – that the flat was unusually bare of the typical festive scene. Not a tree, present or bauble in sight. John wasn't exactly Ebenezer Scrooge, but he'd never really cared much for Christmas, it brought back particularly painful memories of his childhood; Mum reduced to the tears from Dad's angry sherry fuelled rants, Harry destroying one of his favourite presents in front of his face, and the falling tree crushing his escaped pet hamster. Christmas had never been a memorable time of year for John. How convenient then that he was now sharing a flat with Sherlock Holmes, a self declared sociopath who didn't give a damn about any self important religious festival, let alone Christmas, a time when even hardened criminals melted to reduced puddles of unbearable mushy softness. Sherlock despised Christmas. Normally John would have found this whole agreement very convenient, but as he had trudged passed the now fluorescent windows of the many houses in London and the happy families singing, eating and playing inside, and despite the happy facade many put on; he realise he was missing out on something. None of his Christmas's had been particularly pleasant, but maybe, just maybe, God had given him a second chance with Sherlock. A chance were he could have a normal Christmas, tree, board games, roast with all the trimmings... okay, maybe he was being too ambitious. Maybe he could have just one Christmas to remember, with Sherlock by his side. Just Sherlock, no one else. But how to convince Sherlock? Sherlock would never warm to the idea. Well maybe he didn't have to tell him? What if he could play a one sided game, with Sherlock as the helpless pawn? And despite his great intellect, Sherlock knew practically none of the Christmas traditions, which was even more so convenient; unless of course you counted the types of turkey, which Sherlock had had to memorise a few years ago for a case which had involved a large carving knife, sprouts, and a dead body. John never asked. As a draft whistled in throw the open door and an idea planted in his mind. He was sure he could make another trip to the supermarket... Sherlock wasn't vegetarian was he? No, of course not, what a stupid question. He paced over to the beaten wooden counter, dumped the bursting bags and turned around the way he had came, a sense of dignified purpose in his step. Sherlock walked past as he was passing through the doorway and asked, "John, where the hell are you going now?"

John smiled to himself. "Sherlock." He chuckled even to say his name out loud. "I'm making you dinner." As he walked further down the street, he heard Sherlock cry, "Dinner? You never make me dinner! That's what old couples do, isn't it?"