The One Next Door

Good Thing They Kept the Receipts

    They peeled up the last of the potatoes, and Mrs. Holmes came to stir the beans, so she told them to chop them all up and put them in a large pot, she'd do the rest. So they did as they were told, John cut the potatoes and Sherlock put them in the pot, since John didn't trust him very much with a knife ("You'll go after your brother the minute you have a sharp object in your hand!"). So they left it up to Mrs. Holmes, and John made the excuse that he had to go let Dudley out so that they didn't have to sit in the room and attempt to make conversation. Sherlock sat on the edge of the porch while Dudley wandered around, sniffing at bushes and barking at cars that went past.
"Is it bad that I didn't get anyone presents?" Sherlock asked.
"Considering it's Christmas, yes." Jon agreed.
"Well, I'll get them later." Sherlock shrugged.
"Not even me?" John asked.
"I'll get it later, chill out. Maybe I'll run to the gas station and get everyone some candy." Sherlock offered.
"I didn't think to get your Uncle anything." John sighed.
"That's alright; we didn't know he was coming." Sherlock assured.
"I got you something." John said with a little smile.
"See, now I feel bad." Sherlock laughed.
"I didn't know what to get your brother though, so I got him some socks." John shrugged.
"I always get him socks as well, so that won't be overly suspicious." Sherlock assured.
"That's good." John assured, letting Dudley's leash go and sitting up on the railing with Sherlock.
"Isn't the dog going to run away?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't think he notices he's free. Not much of a brain on that one." John shrugged.
"Fair enough." Sherlock laughed. John took his hand, swaying a little bit back and forth to unheard music.
"It's a nice day." he decided.
"Because it's Christmas?" Sherlock asked.
"No, it's just nice. It's not too cold, it's not snowing, the sun is out, there's a happy mood in the air." John decided.
"Yes, I suppose there is." Sherlock agreed.
"I could get used to spending Christmases with you." John decided.
"All of these hints, did you get me a ring for Christmas?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"I really wish I did, but no, too broke for that." John laughed.
"It could be a ring pop for all I care, I don't need a diamond." Sherlock insisted.
"You seem like the diamond type though, shoving that rock in everyone's faces." John laughed.
"I wouldn't do that." Sherlock assured.
"Yes you would." John insisted.
"Yes, I would. How about you?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't want a diamond, that would go against my manly complexion." John said in a husky voice.
"John, you're going to be married to a man." Sherlock pointed out.
"Doesn't make me any less of a manly man." John defended, flexing his weak little arms.
"I suppose not." Sherlock sighed.
"I'd love to be married to a man, one in particular." John assured.
"Another hint." Sherlock pointed out.
"We're on the topic." John shrugged.
"Would you consider adopting a child with said man?" Sherlock asked.
"I would indeed." John asked.
"I think you'd make a good father." Sherlock guessed.
"I hope so. I think you would be terrible, to be honest." John laughed.
"I'd be fine! What would make me a terrible father?" Sherlock asked.
"You'd manage to set their sandwiches on fire, somehow. You've got a lovable destructive personality; I'd love to see you try to take care of a baby." John laughed.
"I think I'd be alright at it." Sherlock shrugged.
"I can't even imagine you having to get up in the middle of the night to feed it, you'd be hysterical." John laughed.
"I wouldn't!" Sherlock defended.
"I can just picture you whining now, big dark circles under those beautiful eyes, still in your pajamas in the middle of the day running on coffee." John laughed.
"You think my eyes are beautiful?" Sherlock asked almost daringly.
"I think every part of you is beautiful. Especially your eyes." John insisted.
"You're beautiful too." Sherlock agreed.
"Make up your own complements Sherlock, come on." John insisted.
"Boys, dinner's about ready!" Mrs. Holmes called.
"I'll work on that." Sherlock assured.
"You'll try." John agreed, hopping down from the ledge and grabbing Dudley's collar, leading the group back inside to have dinner. It was kind of tense, everyone sharing the Christmas spirit of course, enjoying the delicacies Mrs. Holmes managed to cook up, but Sherlock kind of felt judged, like everyone's eyes were on him as he picked at his ham. John was finding every opportunity to complain about potato peelings in his mashed potatoes (there were barely any, and he was still perfectly capable to have put them there himself) but he'd stack all of the minuscule peelings onto Sherlock's tray as a guilt trip. The dinner was splendid, a traditional Christmas ham with baked beans, Jell-O salad, and mashed potatoes, followed up by homemade peach cobbler as a bonus. When dinner was all over, it was time for their favorite part, well, Sherlock's favorite part. Presents! So they all meandered over to the living room, where the presents were conveniently arranged in small little piles.
"I'm sorry I didn't get Rick anything, I wasn't aware he was coming." John muttered guiltily, sitting on the couch and patting the seat next to him for Sherlock to sit.
"Oh, it's quite alright, in fact, well, I guess you'll find out soon enough." Mrs. Holmes sighed.
"That doesn't sound good." Sherlock muttered.
"You and your miscommunication." Mr. Holmes insisted. Sherlock rolled his eyes, sitting next to John and pulling his knees to his chest, looking at his little pile of presents excitedly. When he was little, his presents pile used to be massive, taller than him, with all these monster trucks and dinosaurs, his parent's attempts to make him a normal kid. Little did they know, when he went to 'play' with them, he sold them off to his friends for money, and bought himself useful stuff, like books and science equipment. To this day, Mrs. Holmes still hadn't figured out how all of his wonderful toys had gone missing, and where that microscope had come from.
"Alright then, Rick, would you like to go first?" Mrs. Holmes asked.
"I'm surprised you thought to get me something, I didn't RSVP until yesterday." Rick laughed, but all the same plucked a little package off of the top of his pile. Ripping it open, they say that it was a little Jesus standup, which he probably had like, thousands of, but he thanked them with a smile and tucked it next to him on the chair. It went in circle, Mycroft opened some fancy ties from Mrs. and Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes received a new hat from Mrs. Holmes, Mr. Holmes got a sweater from her husband, and Sherlock got a new button down shirt, now in black. Now it was John's turn, and Mrs. Holmes muttered uncertainly to her husband as he ripped open the package from the Holmes parents.
"It's...a lovely handbag..." John muttered, pulling out a flowery purse from the depths of his wrapping paper.
"I'm sorry dear, Sherlock told me he had a girlfriend coming, I have all the receipts, you can return them and get yourself something more, useable." Mrs. Holmes laughed.
"Don't bother, the flowers will really go nicely with his white shirt, he'll look stunning." Sherlock insisted.
"It's alright Mrs. Holmes, I now I can comfortable carry around my phone, wallet, coffee, dog, New Zealand, and whatever else women have in their purses." John shrugged, holding it like a Valley Girl and swinging it violently over his shoulder.
"Don't forget your feminine products; you're due any day now." Sherlock muttered.
"Oh shut up, Mr. Ballerina." John snapped, hitting Sherlock with his purse.
"There's a good use for it." Mycroft decided, and Mrs. Holmes just laughed. They went in a circle again, Mycroft looking not so thrilled with the colorful socks John had bought him, but the rest of the family seemed plenty satisfied with their gifts. It was funny; Sherlock probably would've bought them all socks or hair brushes or something you couldn't fail with, while John seemed to know his parents better without even knowing them. A+ child they got here. Sherlock mostly received fashion stuff, shirts, ties (he didn't even wear ties) and everyone's favorite; socks. Unfortunately John was the only one to consider his hobbies, and had got him a set of very nice paints that Sherlock could never have afforded before. Mycroft was the only person who seemed to have gotten John's gender correct, and had bought him a bowtie. When John would wear that, Sherlock had no idea, but the thought of John prancing around with a striking resemblance to Bill Nye the Science Guy was enough to make Sherlock laugh just as much as he did when John opened his purse.
"Did you buy that after you came?" Mrs. Holmes asked, looking a lot more guilty about have bought John feminine clothing.
"Well, it had to be a man, didn't it? Avoiding gender pronouns until someone assumed them indicates a homosexual relationship." Mycroft said knowingly.
"Yes well, good for you." Sherlock snapped, giving his brother an annoyed look before going back to his presents. When they were finished, they all said their goodbyes to Uncle Rick (who shook hands very stiffly with John and Sherlock, as if scared to touch them) and he left. It was about three o'clock, and it was still a very nice day, so John and Sherlock decided to take a walk together, to get some fresh air but mostly to get some time alone. Even though the Holmes parents lived in a large development, everyone would be inside with their families and not all that concerned with the conversations of the men walking down the street. So they bundled up, Sherlock donning his coat and scarf, while John put on his leather coat and kept his Santa hat on ("Festive and practical." John boasted). So they were off, Dudley's little paws clapping the concrete as he walked along.
"So, you made out pretty good, a handbag, dress scarf, flowery hat, and, what, a makeup mirror?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh shut up!" John insisted.
"You can return those and get a fortune." Sherlock decided.
"Don't worry, I'll put them to use. Maybe give them to Molly; I feel bad giving them back." John shrugged.
"Give me the hat; I didn't get her a present either." Sherlock shrugged.
"You didn't get anyone anything?" John asked with a laugh. "What have you been doing this past week?"
"I was busy, and is my friendship not enough?" Sherlock asked.
"No, your friendship is rubbish! You're a much better boyfriend than friend." John decided.
"Why's that?" Sherlock asked.
"Because for half our 'friendship' I thought you hated me." John pointed out.
"That's because I did hate you." Sherlock agreed with a laugh.
"Did you really?" John asked with a laugh.
"I told myself I did. Well, I did when I first met you, of course, I despised you. But for some reason, I couldn't possibly get you out of my head." Sherlock admitted.
"Was it love at first sight?" John asked.
"No, of course it wasn't love at first sight. But I remember when I first thought that maybe, maybe I might feel something for you." Sherlock shrugged.
"The painting, I thought?" John asked.
"God no, so much farther up than that. It was the first time we really got to talk, alone, when you brought that pizza over to my house and we were talking about our good qualities. And you told me that I had nice cheekbones, and eyes, and pretty skin. That was the first time I had gotten complements from anyone except my mother." Sherlock pointed out.
"You poor soul, that was ages ago!" John exclaimed.
"I know, I know, I was just, you know...denying it not only to everyone around me, but to myself as well." Sherlock shrugged.
"Why'd you deny it?" John asked.
"Because I couldn't be in love with you! The only man I ever vowed not to be in love with was the one that stole my heart, it couldn't end like that!" Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, was I worth it?" John asked.
"Of course you were bloody worth it, every second with you makes me doubt every second without you." Sherlock insisted.
"I remember when I first fell in love with you." John decided.
"I thought that just sort of...happened." Sherlock admitted.
"It did just happen. It was when you came running screaming that you've burnt your house down, just because you burnt your chicken nuggets, and we spent the next hour cleaning up the fire extinguisher." John laughed.
"Why'd you fall in love with me then?" Sherlock asked.
"Because for once you seemed human. For once you didn't have your usual scowl, you weren't pouting around, I saw you for you, the idiot man child you are, and I loved that." John admitted.
"I still don't see what you see in me." Sherlock muttered.
"I love everything about you Sherlock, I love you, and that makes even your flaws perfect." John insisted.
"What flaws?" Sherlock asked with a dramatic head swivel.
"Let's not get out the list." John insisted. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, and continued down the road. When they got back to the house, Dudley was nearly ready to fall over, not used to some mild exercise, and with his fat tummy adding some extra pounds, that poor thing was fighting gravity more than it was fighting his sore little legs. The Holmes family as scattered about, Mr. Holmes was perched in an arm chair, reading a new book that his wide had gotten for him, Mrs. Holmes was finishing up the last of the dishes, and Mycroft was probably sulking upstairs with his socks.
"Have a nice walk?" Mrs. Holmes asked.
"Ya, it was fine." Sherlock agreed. John unhooked the leash, and Dudley went dashing over to the water bowl, making a big slobbery mess all over the floor.
"I'll clean that up." John decided as Dudley's head slid the entire bowl over to the refrigerator.
"It's fine, don't worry about it." Mrs. Holmes assured with a laugh.
"Where's Mycroft?" Sherlock asked.
"Why do you want to talk with him?" she asked hopefully.
"No, I need to know so I can avoid him." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well he's upstairs I believe." Mrs. Holmes shrugged.
"Let's stay on ground floor." Sherlock muttered to John, who nodded.
"Good idea." John agreed. So they both went over to the living room, not turning on the TV so as not to distract Mr. Holmes from his book.