I am on a roll today! :) Lucky you! Also, this is where the disclaimer goes, but you all know the drill.
A Modest Proposal
"Do you know what we should do, John?" Sherlock asked. He was lying on the couch with his head in his blogger's lap. It had been about six months since he came back from the dead, interrupting John's marriage proposal. Of course, John had broken up with Mary within forty-eight hours and had moved back into 221B—for reasons he didn't quite want to examine.
The doctor raised an eyebrow at his flatmate.
The two had been more affectionate since Sherlock came back. After punching and shouting their way through London, the detective had revealed that the faked suicide was all to protect John. Because knowing John was alive was all the motivation Sherlock needed to keep going on his mission, even though the worst. Because all Sherlock wanted was to be home with John.
That statement had done funny things to John's heart until, finally, he'd admitted to himself that he wasn't gay, wasn't even necessarily bisexual, but that he was definitely interested in pursuing his best friend.
Now John folded the newspaper he'd been reading and looked down.
"Do you know what we should do, John?" Sherlock repeated.
"Order takeaway for dinner from that Thai place we like?" John guessed.
The younger man considered for a moment. "That too; I've just realized that I am somewhat hungry. I was going to say: We should get married."
The army doctor raised an eyebrow a second time. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, but another part of him was no longer capable of being surprised by the things that came out of Sherlock's mouth. Admittedly, it was an appealing idea. Then again, something told him that he and Sherlock might have drastically different ideas of what marriage should entail. Finally, he collected his thoughts enough to speak. "Why don't I order the food and then you can talk me through the thought process that led you to your conclusion?"
Ten minutes later the takeaway was ordered and John and Sherlock were in their respective chairs facing each other at a respectable distance—which was necessary for John's mental processes in this circumstance. He couldn't be logical about marriage if Sherlock were touching him.
The brunet steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, deciding where and how to begin. "First, I suppose, is the fact that you're sexually attracted to me, and I am to you as well. Our physical responses to each other prove this beyond the shadow of a doubt. That, combined with our strong friendship and the fact that we live together, indicates that our relationship will withstand the test of time—already has, as we've basically been in a relationship for years. Further, if we were to get married, I could guarantee that I could take you with me should I ever have to … leave … again, John. It is a struggle to do The Work without my blogger at my side, and I don't want to face the enforced solitude ever again. You help me think, and you offer contributions based on your specialties in medicine and military conflict. And interpersonal stupidity. One of us needs to specialize in people, and it is never going to be me. If we got married, I would know for certain that you aren't going to fall in love with someone else and leave me. Since I can't do The Work without you, our marriage directly benefits said Work. Plus, the concept that you would move on without me is truly terrifying. It evokes a response that I understand without understanding." Sherlock finally took a deep breath. "Finally, I want to marry you—perhaps this should have come first. My love for you is an exploitable trait, perhaps even a disadvantage, but that doesn't make it any less real or any less permanent."
"Permanent?" John repeated. "You mean…?"
The taller man at least had the decency to look abashed. "Yes. I tried to delete my feelings for you. I was afraid it would be used against us, and honestly I didn't want the distraction. After two failed attempts, I deduced that my love is always going to come back as soon as I see you."
"That might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," the blond admitted, passing his hand over his face. He caught Sherlock's eye. "Leave it to me to swoon at the first sociopath I meet."
"High-functioning, at least," the detective teased. "You could do worse."
The two men dissolved into giggles, and it took them several minutes and the arrival of their dinner for them to compose themselves. When they were finally settled down again, Sherlock gave his blogger an expectant look.
"Yes," John answered, smiling at the gorgeous man in the seat across from his. "Yes, I will marry you."