John winced as he stepped out of the cab onto the icy pavement. The brief tussle with the suspect in the snow and the near freezing temperatures were going to play hell with his shoulder tomorrow, he could feel it coming. All he wanted to do was to take a hot shower, climb into his bed and hope he could move in the morning.
"John, take care of the bill. Won't you?" Sherlock hummed as he dashed to the front door and disappeared behind it in record time.
"Bloody wanker," John grumbled, as he tossed some bills at the cabbie and didn't bother to wait for change. "So help me, Sherlock, if you jump in the shower first and use up all the hot water, I will kill you."
The trek up the seventeen steps to their flat seemed especially long tonight. At the top, he hung his damp coat on the back of the door to dry and toed off his equally moist shoes under the nearby chair, not bothering to bend over and untie them. Maybe Mrs Hudson would forgive him for not putting them away. She would understand, she had a bad hip, after all.
He turned towards the bedroom and hung his head in frustration when he heard the bathroom taps running. "Save me some hot water, you git!" he called, reversing his steps and heading for the kettle. At least he could put the kettle on before he went to gather some dry clothes to change into.
Two mugs stood on the counter by the time Sherlock finally stepped out of the bathroom. Much to John's surprise Sherlock was still dressed in his shirtsleeves and his hair was no more damp than it had been when he had stepped out of the cab. "Sherlock, what have you done with the Ibuprofen? I just bought a new bottle at Tesco's last week. Now, I can't seem to find it." John shut the cabinet door with more force than was actually required and huffed in frustration. "Don't tell me you used it all up in an experiment. I've told you to stay away from my medicines."
John watched with incredulity as Sherlock picked up the two mugs of tea and without a word, carried them into the bathroom. That was it! John had had enough of Sherlock's selfishness and was going to give the man a piece of his mind. Stomping to the bathroom, he was surprised to find the door wrenched open before he could do it himself. Sherlock's long fingers gripped his wrist and pulled him into the steamy space, shutting the door behind them. "Sherlock," John tried to protest.
"Hush, John, you have been in those wet clothes long enough." Sherlock reached for John and quickly wrenched the damp jumper up and over his head.
"Wait a minute, you bastard. What are you doing? Oh… " John breathed out the last word, having taken in the room around him. Candles flickered from almost every flat surface and the tub was filled nearly to the brim with steaming, fragrant bubbles. John spied the two mugs of tea sitting on the top of the laundry hamper beside a bowl of delicious looking fruit.
Sherlock smirked and swatted John's hands away as he quickly divested the man of his remaining clothing.
"Wait a minute, Sherlock. What is this? I thought you…"
"Was so selfish as to forget that you are damp and cold and in need of a hot bath? Never, John. Nor did I forget it was our Anniversary. Therefore, this is my gift to you."
John sighed as he slipped into the hot water and felt his muscles relax. He leant back against Sherlock's chest and took the grape he offered him. "You know, if people knew about this, it would shatter your image as a sociopath, right?"
"High-functioning sociopath," Sherlock corrected. He rested his chin on John's shoulder and held up the missing Ibuprofen bottle, "Yes, John. However, you know I am a man that cares little for the opinion of others. There is only one man's opinion that matters to me. Happy Anniversary, John Watson!"
John laughed, tilted his head back to place a kiss on that angular jaw, "Happy Anniversary, Sherlock Holmes, you crazy nutter!"