An account by Mary Watson of a Christmas morning with her husbands.
It was still early when I woke on Christmas morning. John was still sleeping peacefully, curled on his side, facing me. Sherlock was snuggled up behind me, his arms around my waist. I could tell from his breathing that he was awake, and he could evidently tell that I had awoken because he brushed a soft kiss to the back of my neck.
"Good morning, Mary," he murmured.
Being careful not to wake John, I turned in Sherlock's arms to face him. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock," I whispered.
We kissed softly, my hand coming up to caress his cheek. When we pulled back, he smiled at me.
"How did I get so lucky?" he said, mostly to himself.
I laughed slightly. "I ask myself the same thing every day."
I nestled my head against his neck, nuzzling kisses to his jawline. He sighed contently, his hands gently caressing my waist.
After a few long moments more, I pulled back a little. "Should we wake John?" I asked.
He chuckled. "Yes, I believe we should."
After one more brief kiss, I turned back over. "John," I murmured, touching his shoulder gently, "it's Christmas."
He stirred and opened his eyes. "Merry Christmas, my loves," he said softly.
He reached for me and drew me into a kiss. I revelled in the feeling if his soft lips and the tickle of his moustache. He pulled away after a few moments, then raised himself up to kiss Sherlock across me. I watched them, thinking as always how beautiful they were together.
When they pulled back, they both looked down on me tenderly, then Sherlock grinned. "I think we should bring in the day in a proper style."
We took our time bringing each other to bliss, with all the passion we held. When we cuddled together afterwards, I felt fully contented. With my two husbands by my side, this would be the best Christmas ever.
