English Hearts One-Shots

Sherlock's Christmas Elf

" John, I know the meaning of giving the gift. I just don't see why I have to give one to everyone."

"Because, if you are going to have friends over for a holiday party, you give them something. It doesn't have to be incredibly personal, but it's good manners."

Sherlock tried not to make show his annoyance, which was impossible if Anderson was around, but the whole thing had been John's bloody idea in the first place. It did put his mind at ease wen Molly had asked to bring her boyfriend. After the previous year, he did not want to slip up again. It was one of the reason's he didn't understand why John wanted to do it again.

"Do you know what you are going to be getting everyone," Mrs. Hudson asked as she came in with the tea. "You really do seem to have a knack for that, dear." Sherlock thanked her for the cup she handed him and avoided answering. 

"Of course he does, he's Sherlock. He has probably already, bought them all and is going to wait to deduce if someone else got the same gift before advising them to switch it because they "really want" something else entirely. That way he gives the best gift." John, still resented that he did that, jealous of the fact that he knew it would happen anytime he advise him to give a gift, or (even worse) tried to get a gift for Sherlock, himself and was told what he picked and to take it back because so-and-so had already gotten it. The man was an absolute terror at Christmas and birthdays.

"I actually haven't bought any yet this year. Seems everyone has been conspiring against me finding out, so they have been mum or some days."

"Oh, Sherlock. December has just started. It all comes out in the open eventually."

Sherlock refrained from snapping that it was always in the open for him. "I think I will go for a walk. John, you can't come"

****

Sherlock walked for what must have been hours. He hated that this bothered him. Maybe a flatmate was a bad idea? However, at that thought, he cringed. No, no...I'd rather be forced to socialize than live with Mycroft. He turned down an alley and was caught off guard for the first time in a long time. There, with just as simple sign was a bookstore. 

The Prancing Pony Book Cafe. Dear lord, some Tolkein nut started a shop. Oh, well. a tea sounds nice right about now. Sherlock headed in, rolling his eyes at the jingle bells that sounded. Of course.....they have a radio on?

Sherlock heard singing, but couldn't find the speakers. He also couldn't find anyone working. The song changed, but it was the same voice. This intrigued him, as usually people are far too self conscious to sing in public unless intoxicated. This voice sounded completely sober. He realized that the shop was incredibly organised, antique section and all. As he went further back it opened up to a few table and chairs, and a small counter with a fancy coffee machine behind it. 

"Hello?" His voice caused a crash behind the wall and a door tucked into the cabinets in the corner.

A short, flustered woman with what appeared to be the ugliest sweater he had ever seen, came running out. "My girl at the front left, didn't she?"

"It appears so," he responded as he looked her over. Recently burned left hand, not today (phew); reads dominantly with her right hand on the pages; owns the shop; single...for some time; never removes the rings from her middle finger; smiles.....a lot.

"Excuse me!!!!" Sherlock blinked at the hand being waved in front of him. Oops. "Did you want a tea, or a coffee?"

"Ah, no thank you. I need to find gifts for some friends, but I am at a loss. Do you think a book would be good?" Her eyebrow raised at his week recovery and he realized he need to talk to John about how to lie...convincingly.