So please just fall in love with me this Christmas
There's nothing else that you will need this Christmas
Won't be wrapped under a tree
I want something that lasts forever
So kiss me on this cold December night.

They call it the season of giving
I'm here, I'm yours for the taking
They call it the season of giving
I'm here, I'm yours

-Cold December Night, Michael Buble

"So what are your plans for Christmas?" John asked flopping down into his chair, exhausted from a long day at work.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly from where he was lying sprawled out on the couch, his laptop sitting on his chest as he typed away. He was still in his pajamas and a dressing gown even though it was almost five at night, which meant he hadn't left the flat all day.

"Christmas Sherlock, you know where people decorate trees and exchange gifts?" John reminded him.

"I don't celebrate Christmas." Sherlock frowned, still wrapped up in whatever he was doing on his computer. It was already December and John needed to start making plans.

"What? Why not?" John asked in surprise.

"I don't believe in a supreme being watching over us and judging out behaviour. It would be hypocritical of me to celebrate the birth of his so called son."

"You don't have to believe in God to celebrate Christmas. It's a time to be nice and giving, as foreign as those concepts are to you. Besides, I've heard Mycroft mention Christmas dinners before, so you must celebrate it a bit." John reasoned.

"Yes, my annual dinner with Mummy and my insufferable brother is the extent of my participation in the holiday." Sherlock replied, snapping the laptop shut, chucking it next to him on the sofa and stalking into the kitchen.

"So you won't be wanting a present then?" John spoke up so Sherlock could still hear him.

"No." Sherlock answered, stepping into the kitchen doorway holding a cup of tea that John knew must be cold. Sherlock didn't make tea and John hadn't had time to since arriving home. It must have been left over from what he'd made that morning. "Anything I need I can buy for myself. The only reason to buy gifts is the expectation of reciprocity. I'm not going to give you anything, so you might as well save your money."

"Alright, I will." John shrugged, grabbing the paper off the table next to him and scanning it for anything interesting. "And by the way, some people just enjoy giving gifts and don't expect anything in return."

"Hmm." Sherlock replied noncommittally as if he didn't really believe that. He took a sip of his tea and made a face. "John the tea's gone cold, can you make some more?"

"Why can't you make it yourself?" John asked turning the page on the newspaper and buried his face in it to hide from his flat-mate's expectant gaze.

"You're much more skilled at it than I am. Consider it getting an early start on your season's giving's." Sherlock gave him a wry smile before disappearing back into the kitchen to pour out his cold tea.

"You don't get to sniff your nose at Christmas one minute and then use it to get what you want the next. It doesn't work that way." John called back in irritation.

"John, you're going to make yourself a cup once your done with the paper anyways and we both know it. It shouldn't be too much trouble for you to make me one as well."

He was right; a cup of tea was exactly what John wanted. Yet a part of him thought about denying himself simply because he knew it would annoy Sherlock. Instead he sighed loudly and put the paper down, going into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Sherlock was sitting at the table, engrossed in whatever he was examining under his microscope.

"You know, tea's not that difficult to make. Someone as clever as you could pick it up in no time." John joked dryly, leaning against the counter.

"Dull." Sherlock waved it off, too enthralled with his experiment to come back with a witty retort.

When the tea was finished brewing, John filled two mugs and placed one at Sherlock's elbow. His flat-mate made no mention of it except to grab it and raise it to his lips, never taking his eyes off his experiment. John huffed out a breath and took his cup back into the sitting room, turning on the telly and raising the volume up high just to get on Sherlock's nerves.

"John!" Sherlock chastised him from the kitchen. John rolled his eyes but turned off the telly. There was nothing good on anyway.

"I'm going to go get a tree." John called, slipping on his jacket.

"What for?" Sherlock called back.

"Christmas Sherlock. Remember? I'll be back in an hour. Try not to burn the flat down while I'm gone."

Sherlock harrumphed in response but didn't say anything further. John just shrugged, drained his tea and left. He wasn't about to let Sherlock ruin his Christmas. They were going to have a tree and decorate it, he was going to sing Christmas carols slightly off key and give gifts. Nothing Sherlock said or did was going to stop him.

XXXX

John didn't really bring up Christmas for the next few weeks. It was a sore subject and anything even slightly Christmas-y sent Sherlock into one of his moods. Meanwhile John was busy running around London, trying to prepare everything on his own. He put up the Christmas tree, decorated it by himself while Sherlock grumbled and whined about how it was in the way.

He also rushed around town like a madman trying to find presents for everyone. In spite of what Sherlock thought, John did not expect anything in return. He simply enjoyed making people happy. Besides, it was the season of giving.

It took him until three days before Christmas to finish finding everything he had in mind. He sat on his bedroom floor, furiously wrapping away. He wanted to deliver as many of the presents in person as possible. That meant he needed to get everything sorted before Christmas Eve.

XXXX

Sherlock had never understood the big deal that people made out of Christmas. For him, Christmas meant forced family time while his mother asked when he was going to get a real job. It was hours on end of Mycroft acting like a pompous ass and bragging about all his accomplishments. It was an evening of torture.

No Christmas had become synonymous with agony. He was forced into eating more food in one sitting than he did in a month's time. It meant watching Mycroft gorge himself on chocolate pudding. It meant getting gifts he didn't want or need from a family who had no idea what he really wanted.

He remembered Christmas as a boy. For whatever reason he hadn't deleted it. He used to love it, back before he and Mycroft started loathing each other. Back when he used to get Chemistry sets and other useful and interesting gifts. He'd gotten his violin for Christmas when he was eight. That was probably his favorite Christmas.

But now he wished the whole damn holiday would just bugger off. The forced cheeriness and people singing songs about nonsense. It was no wonder this time of year had such a high suicide rate.

It didn't help that John seemed to throw himself into the holiday with such vigor. His cheeks seemed to take on a permanent rosy quality and his eyes were a bit brighter. It seemed that nothing Sherlock did could ruin his friend's good mood and that was possibly the most annoying part of all. Sherlock wanted to yell and have a tantrum but John refused to engage, leaving Sherlock to sulk on the couch. It was infuriating that John seemed so swept up that Sherlock couldn't even voice his disdain for all things Christmas related.

And somehow John had managed to rope him into helping. Two days before Christmas, John came bounding down the stairs from his room, carrying two large bags with him. He had on a red jumper with white snowflakes and a Santa hat adorning his head. He topped it all off with an infectious smile and Sherlock scowled to keep from returning it. He was not going to get sucked into John's merriment.

"Here, make yourself useful." John said, shoving one of the bags into Sherlock's arms.

"You can't possibly know this many people." Sherlock reasoned, examining the contents of the bag. It was filled with presents, each one with different bows and wrapping paper.

"That's what you think." John replied with a grin and went over to get his coat. He threw on his jacket and held out Sherlock's coat for him. "Come on Ebenezer Scrooge, I'm going to show you the meaning of Christmas."

"Sounds dull." Sherlock grumbled but he slipped into his coat anyways. Mostly he was just curious about who the presents were for.

"Ok, come off it." John sighed, clearly getting fed up.

"No." Sherlock said being petulant and unable to stop.

John grabbed something off his chair and moved towards Sherlock who quickly backed away. "What are you doing?"

"It's a hat Sherlock."

"Yes I can see that." Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued to dodge John's attempt to get it on his head.

"Look, if you want to come with me, you'll wear it."

"I don't want to come with you." Sherlock snapped back. "I'm certainly not putting that on my head."

"Oh come on, I can tell that your interest is peaked. You're curious about who the presents are for. If you don't help me, you'll never find out."

John took the bag from Sherlock and left, his step having a discernable bounce to it. Sherlock looked at the green elf hat John had left on the chair. Damn him for making Sherlock wear it and damn him for being right about Sherlock being curious.

Begrudgingly, Sherlock snatched up the hat and shoved it onto his head. He left the flat quickly, hoping the catch up with John before he left. To his surprise, John was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a smug smile forming on his face that widened when he saw Sherlock in the hat. Good thing he didn't laugh or Sherlock would have had to strangle him.

Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets and stomped down the steps.

"Knew you'd change your mind." John said reaching up and fixing Sherlock's hat, brushing his dark curls away so they fit better the hat.

"Are you quite finished?" Sherlock asked angrily.

"Yep, come on." John handed him back one of the bags and together they left the flat.

XXXX

Sherlock didn't care that John seemed to buy a present for everyone but him. After all, he didn't want a present, or at least he thought he didn't. But it seemed that John had taken great care in picking out presents for each person. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder what John would have gotten for him.

They stopped at Lestrade's house first and gave him, his wife and children presents. Sherlock was thankful they didn't stop at The Met to give Lestrade his gifts. Sherlock was certain he would never live down wearing his ridiculous hat. Lestrade kept glancing at him and suppressing a smile. Sherlock glowered at him in response.

For Lestrade, John had picked out a jersey from his favorite rugby team. Mrs. Lestrade got a nice bottle of her favorite perfume and the kids each received a handheld video game. They stayed for longer than Sherlock would have liked until John finally said they had to go.

Their next stop was St. Bart's. John gave Molly two matching sweaters for her cats and her eyes lit up when she opened them. She gave both John and Sherlock hugs and thanked them. Sherlock was about to tell her that he'd had nothing to do with the gift when John kicked him and shook his head. Sherlock couldn't help feeling kicking someone in the shin wasn't really very Christmas spirited.

Then they went and found Mike Stamford in his classroom grading papers. His present consisted of a nice bottle of wine and two tickets to see a West End play. Apparently Mike's wife had been hinting there was a play she wanted to see but Mike didn't have the money to spend.

After they left the hospital, they stopped off at John's work and passed out presents to all his co-workers. People Sherlock hardly knew gave him hugs of gratitude. If John was attempting to change his mind about Christmas, unnecessary touching from strangers wasn't going to do the trick.

Everyone at the surgery seemed to be under the impression that John and Sherlock were a couple. It didn't help that they seemed to be giving out joint gifts. Every time Sherlock tried to mention that the gifts were from John alone, his flat-mate seemed to find a way to cut him off.

Their last stopped at the Surgery was Sarah's office. She greeted John warmly; apparently their break up hadn't put a damper on their working relationship. She even smiled at Sherlock and gave him a look that made him a bit uncomfortable. There were a lot of implications behind that look. Sherlock figured she had come to the same wrong conclusion as her co-workers.

"Didn't expect you to be the Christmas type." She said raising an eyebrow and looking pointedly at Sherlock's hat. He thought about ripping it off his head but he'd endured so far, it seemed rather pointless. At least it was making John happy.

"I made him wear it." John confessed, shooting Sherlock a triumphant grin. "Because he's being my helper today."

"That's nice." That same knowing look was back and Sherlock didn't like it. He pursed his lips into a straight line and stared her down for a moment before turning his head away. He stood there awkwardly while John gave Sarah her present. It was a small charm bracelet that she slipped onto her wrist.

"John, it's beautiful. You saw me eyeing it in the store?"

"Yes." John admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Sherlock huffed out a breath to communicate his impatience. John shot him a look but made their excuses. "We've still got a few more stops to make, we better go."

"Thank you John." Sarah said while pulling him into a tight hug. Sherlock sighed in exasperation and turned on his heel, storming out of her office.

"Don't mind the Grinch." John apologized.

"Hoping his heart will grow two sizes today?" Sarah teased.

"Maybe I'm hoping for a Christmas miracle." He joined in good-naturedly.

"You got him to wear that hat, how much more of a miracle are you looking for?" Sarah asked with a chuckle.

"Too true." John laughed as well.

Sarah bit her lip, as if she was unsure about what she was going to say. "John, be careful."

"Of what?" he asked, confused, his brow furrowing.

"Of him." Sarah eyes flicked from the direction Sherlock had disappeared to and back. "Look, I know what he's like and I know what you're like. Don't let him hurt you."

"Hurt me? What are you going on about?"

"Maybe I've got it all wrong, I just… I worry about you, how much of your life is dedicated to him. I mean you just have to read your blog – "

"Wait, do you think I'm in love with him or something?" John asked, blinking at her, slightly dumbfounded.

"Aren't you?"

John snorted, covering his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. "No, I'm not in love with Sherlock."

"If you're sure." Sarah shrugged as if she didn't really believe him.

"I'm not." John said with conviction.

"Well, I suppose you'd know better than me." She still looked somewhat skeptical but wasn't going to press it. "But if you decide that you ever do feel that way about him, I hope you'll proceed with caution."

"Yeah, all right." John nodded, anxious to get this awkward conversation done with.

"Thanks again for the present John, it's lovely."

"You're welcome and happy Christmas." He said heading for the door.

"You too." She managed to get out before John fled.