Various x Reader

Writing something every day until Christmas #4 ||Sherlock x gender neutral||

Sherlock doesn't like receiving gifts.

He never has, and it's primarily due to two reasons:

One being he doesn't know how to react to them, and doesn't know how to fully express his appreciation for them, which has led to several misunderstanding in the past...several of which were scarring.

The other being that he has stuff. If he wants more, he can get more, but he doesn't really want more if it's not part a trophy from a case, or something else he has attached value to himself.

Admittedly, he has grown a bias towards you, and ends up liking your gifts, but you learned to make your presents few and far between. Christmas included.

In fact, the two of you agreed to get each other your gifts early, which was a decision Sherlock was regretting as the two of you sat at a dinner table, and he watched you beam over the presents your friends had gotten you.

Obviously you had noticed his huffiness, but you assumed it was because you had dragged him to the event. Or perhaps you were hugging everyone who gave you a present. But to your credit, you did promise the two of you could leave once you had had something to eat, and exchanged gifts, which was code for leaving as soon as possible.

After a couple hours, Sherlock finally perked up. It was the last present for you. Then the two of you could go home.

You opened up the gift, and hugged the person tightly. Sherlock frowned at you, and was about to tug you away towards the door when the two of you broke the hug. Of course, you ended up saying a final goodbye with him dragging you towards the exit, your arm linked in his.

The winter air hit you both as you stepped outside, and you chuckled.

"What?" He asked, pulling you closer to the road for him to hail a cab.

"You."

He tilted his head. "What about me?" A cab pulled up to the curb, and he gestured you forward. "After you."

You told the driver the address as Sherlock got in, before turning your attention to him.

"Your behavior."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"At the party? You know I hate parties. This whole season is made up anyway, I don't see why people feel the need to celebrate it I told you before going. You could've just left me home."

"Oh, I know that, but my friends like seeing you. Anyway, that's not what I was talking about."

"What were you talking about, then?"

You beamed at him. "You were jealous. The whole time, you kept huffing every time I opened a present or hugged someone. I'm sure it just seemed like you wanted to go home, and at first it did. But then, I started making it seem like I was really enjoying what I received. I could tell you especially hated it when—"

You were cut off by Sherlock grabbing the back of your head for a kiss, one he made sure was long and passionate before letting you go, and murmuring "shut up."

"That's more evidence." You whispered.

He kissed the back of your hand, before looking out the window. You started combing your fingers through his hair.

"You know I don't like them any better just because they got me gifts, right?"

"Good." He responded, and paused. "I love you."

You smiled. "I love you too, Sherlock."

He smiled, still facing the opposite direction, but tilted his head back slightly as encouragement for you petting his hair.