Mistletoe and Wine (and, oh yeah, Sex)

Summary: 3 Christmas snapshots of Sherlock and John. Christmas fluff, mentions of smut, a few swears. :)

A/N: I know this is a bit late, but I couldn't post it before Christmas as it was a Christmas gift that I printed and sent to a friend, and I know she comes on , so I waited. But now here it is. Enjoy. :)

-x-

One – Mistletoe.

"John, what is this monstrosity hanging in the doorway?" came Sherlock's voice suddenly. John sighed and turned to the consulting detective, who was eyeing up a bit of mistletoe as if it was going to kill him if he stood underneath it. John shook his head, wondering why he put up with Sherlock.

"You know damned well what it is, Sherlock ..." the doctor said, turning back to his newspaper.

"Okay, I suppose I do. But what is it doing there?" Sherlock asked, still staring at it. John put down his paper and stood from his chair.

"Because, Sherlock, it is Christmas. And I'm trying to be normal. Last Christmas was just a nightmare," he said. "We have to be normal. I know that's not easy for you, but I need to feel that my life isn't just running around after you all the time." His eyes locked with Sherlock's, who was speechless at John's sudden outburst. "Sorry Sherlock, I didn't mean it like that."

"No, no. You're quite right, John. I am almost always living life in the fast lane, but I can do normal for Christmas. For you. I promise ..." Sherlock said, making John's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, a small smile coming to his lips.

"Thank you Sherlock ..." he said. "I don't know what to say." Sherlock just smiled and grabbed the front of John's wool jumper, pulling him close. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't this the purpose of mistletoe?" he asked, his hands cupping John's face and pressing a kiss to his lips. John felt like a fire had started inside him, starting at his toes and right up to his lips which were joined to Sherlock's tenderly. His hands slid around the detective's back, pulling him in close before their lips parted.

"I knew you couldn't resist me ..." Sherlock said, running his fingers through John's hair. The doctor sighed, smiling gently before pushing Sherlock away.

"You're insufferable," John said, with another smile. Sherlock smiled too, looking down at his feet.

"That's why you love me ..." he said before he walked away. That made John's smile disappear for a moment. That was when he realised. He was in love with Sherlock Holmes. How had that happened?

xx

Two – Wine

John yawned, stretching before reaching for his glass of wine from the table. The telly was shit for a Saturday night. He looked at his watch, rubbing his eye before he looked around the room for Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" he called, and the man in question came striding out of the kitchen with his own glass of wine, shirt buttons undone halfway down, showing off half of his chest. John's breath caught in his throat at how gorgeous the man in front of him was.

"Yes, John?" he asked, slurring gently. John couldn't help but smile. Drunken Sherlock was always funny.

"Are you drunk, sweetheart?" John asked, teasingly. Sherlock just giggled and parked his backside in the seat next to John, flinging up his legs to rest across John's lap. He took a swig from his wine glass before turning to John and pointing at him.

"You know, I think Anderson fancies the pants off me. He keeps staring at me ..." Sherlock said, swirling his remaining wine around in his glass. John laughed.

"He doesn't fancy you. He's terrified and probably scarred for life after he walked in on you giving me a handjob in his lab ..." the doctor said, matter-of-factly. Sherlock burst into laughter; deep belly laughs that made John tingle all over. Knowing that he had made Sherlock laugh like that made him feel amazing. The laughter only stopped when the detective downed the rest of his glass of wine, his lips stained red from the drink. John wanted to lean over and kiss him; kiss those lips until they were swollen and even redder than they already were. Sherlock put his head back against the couch, sighing contently. John was suddenly aware he'd lifted his hand and was now stroking the skin on the detective's chest that was on show. Sherlock groaned gently as the doctor's cool fingers swept across his hot skin. The detective's eyes remained closed, but his hand moved to his own chest, his fingers brushing John's as he pulled his shirt open further.

"Sherlock ..." John whispered as he ghosted his fingertips down the centre of the other mans chest. He moved them right down, over the material of his shirt at the bottom and ran his index finger over the belt buckle, indicating what he wanted. Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes were open and he was on his feet, hauling John up by neck of his jumper.

"Bed!" he said, in a deep gruff voice. John felt his body react as Sherlock's drunkenness. Oh yes, drunk Sherlock was definitely his favourite.

xx

Three – and, oh yeah, Sex.

"Sherlock?" John called as he moved out of the bitter cold street and into the warmth of the shared flat. He put his keys down on the table and shrugged off his coat, hanging it up before heading into the main living room. But Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. All John could find was a note on the arm of the couch with his name on it and the number one on it. He opened it.

John, you'll find my next clue in the kitchen. S. x

John smiled. Sherlock was playing games. He moved in the direction of the kitchen, looking around for the next note, which proved difficult with all the lab equipment littering the area. That was when he saw a champagne bottle in a bucket of ice with a note attached to the bucket, and a flute glass already filled with champagne. John picked up the champagne and had a drink before he opened the second note.

The next clue is in the bathroom. You'll need this for the final stage. S. x

John frowned gently wondering what on earth Sherlock was talking about. He picked up his champagne again and he walked slowly to the bathroom. There were a few candles lit in the bathroom, setting some sort of mood, even though Sherlock was nowhere to be found. Once again, he couldn't find the note to start with, until a bright blue bottle caught his attention. With a piece of paper attached to it. John grinned to himself, but then his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in pleasant surprise when he saw what was in the bottle.

"Lube. Really, Sherlock?" John muttered to himself, unfolding what appeared to be the final note.

Now, your Christmas gift is on your bed. Off you go. S. x

Now John was excited. He moved to his bedroom door and took a deep breath, straightening himself up before he opened the door. His mouth went dry and his whole body froze at the sight in front of him. There was Sherlock, lying along John's bed like some dirty porn star, wearing nothing but a bow, which was neatly tied around his erection. John swore he could have died there and then.

"You found me then ...?" Sherlock said, stretching out on the bed like a lazy cat. "What are you waiting for?" John knocked back the rest of his champagne before putting it down on the dresser. He walked over to the bed and he put the lube down on the bedside table. Sherlock reached over and took his hand, pulling him on top of him, their erections rubbing together, making both men moan. Sherlock pulled John down for a kiss, their lips fitting together perfectly. The kiss was slow, sensual, tender.

"I love you ..." John whispered against Sherlock's lips. He thought he had made a mistake when Sherlock pulled away, pushing John back a little. "Sherlock ...?"

"I love you too ..." he said. Their lips met again, harder and faster, bruising and biting. "Let's get you out of those clothes. You won't need them this afternoon at all."

All John could do was grin.

Hope you liked! :)