Sherlock Imagines

Hot Cocoa (Sherlock)

I know it's not Christmas time, but where I live, it's cold - so, enjoy!

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I smile as Sherlock and John argue over the last cup of hot cocoa. "Give me the damn mug, Watson," Sherlock says to him. "You've had three already!"

"And you've had four!" John shoots back at him, guarding the dark blue porcelain cup with his life.

Beside me stands Mrs. Hudson, an amused smile on her lips as she watches the two grown men argue over a cup of cocoa. "Should I tell them I'm making more?" I whisper to her, causing her to smile.

"Let them fight, dear," she tells me as she crosses her arms. "More fun for us," She points out, walking back into the living room. I snicker at her sass while Sherlock begins chasing John around the island counter. On the counter beside me, the kitchen timer goes off, making the immature men halt in their actions. Stopped with the corner of the bar between them, I turn to the slow cooker containing the substance they fight for as my red Christmas dress flows behind me.

Removing the lid from the red kitchen appliance, I let the chocolate scented steam flow into the air around me. Quickly turning around and yanking the mug from John's hands, I fill it up with the chocolatey goodness I prepared a few minutes earlier before laying the glass lid on the counter beside the slow cooker.

"Now, boys," I address the two men behind me, their eyes looking anywhere but me as if they didn't know I was talking to them. "This is supposed to make at least ten cups worth," I inform them, pulling a maroon mug from the cabinet above me before filling that one to the brim as well. "At least leave me and Mrs. Hudson two cups, at least."

Turning to the two with the steaming mugs in my hands, I smile as they take the glasses from me before consecutively taking a sip in bliss. "We can try," John argues, Sherlock nodding his head in agreeance. They're mature men any other time of the year, but when Christmas comes around with hot chocolate following along beside it, the boys can't help but let their inner children show.

Laughing at their responses, I watch as Sherlock takes a few more sips of his before groaning in content. "This is better than heroin," he announces, causing us all to roll our eyes while John promptly leaves the kitchen and into the living room to join Mrs. Hudson.

Taking the chance to be alone, Sherlock smiles and places his mug down on the counter behind me before moving closer and pulling me into a hug, his hands grazing over the velvety material of the back of my dress as he does so. I can't help but feel my giddiness return to me in response to Sherlock's close proximity to me, making me grin. "Merry Christmas," I tell him, gaining a small kiss from his warm lips due to the hot cocoa.

"Merry Christmas to you too, my love," he replies, leaning in close to rest his cold nose against mine. "and I was lying when I said your hot cocoa is better than heroin," he admits, causing me to look at him with an unamused frown. "But do you know what is?" He asks, receiving a clear head shake back from me. He knows that I disapproved of his heroin addiction, so why is he bringing it up all of a sudden?

Sherlock continues smiling before leaning closer to me as if he were to kiss me again, but instead, he doesn't. He just stays there, his skin against mine with his arms wrapped tightly around as the strength of his hold never falters. With a small, happy sigh, he finally answers his question.

"It's you."