It's short, so I feel like a summary would give it away.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

This is unrelated to my other story, "A Please and Thank You," just some one-shots and drabbles that pop into my head, but choose not to put into that story.

I sat on the couch next to Sherlock, with the telly playing old episodes of Doctor Who. He's the one who loves Doctor Who, I prefer to read while he enjoys the programme. I love the way his eyes dance when something unexpected happens; the way he bites his lip at suspenseful parts. Of course, at that time I tried to not acknowledge these thoughts. I hid them into the recesses of my mind, brushed them under the carpet.

We had just finished a tough case, and we were trying to relax after chasing a dangerous criminal down alleyways and over rooftops. I had hurt my back, and Sherlock had a gash from just below his knee to his shin. I had patched up his leg, and told him that he needed to stay still for the remainder of the evening. All I needed was a warm compress and to move as little as possible. What I really wanted was to lay down.

"Sherlock, do you mind if I lay down? It would be more comfortable for my back if I was laying down," I asked.

"Sure, sure," He said.

He stood, as if to get up, and then took my legs, moved them so I was laying down, sat back down, and put my legs on his lap.

I blushed slightly.

It was comforting to have him near me, though. I felt safer. I felt wanted. I shook these thoughts from my head. We were friends, and nothing more.

I could feel his gaze on me, then staring at my lips, smiling. He shifted his gaze back to my eyes.

'What on Earth is going through his head?' I thought.

I soon found out.

He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on my lips, then turned away shyly. I examined his expression; filled with uncertainty and nervousness. He had no need to be nervous, I had been wanting that for so long. All the feelings I had kept hidden away surfaced. God, he was so cute. I was greedy, I wanted more. I wanted to know it was real, and honestly, one kiss was not enough.

All of this went through my mind extremely quickly, though. A second or two after he pulled away, I leaned over, pushed a stray curl away from his beautiful face, and tilted his chin gently with my hand, and kissed him softly. This kiss was only a bit longer, but it let him know I wanted this.

He pulled away, and I looked into his eyes. They were full of something I had never seen in Sherlock before, and something I couldn't really identify at that time. I put my head on his chest and lay back down, drifting to sleep with Sherlock's gentle breath on my forehead.

That was two years ago, and I write this now laying in bed next to Sherlock. Yes, he's reading this as I write it. We're going to be married two days from now, and I thought that writing this and putting it on my blog would be appropriate for the occasion. His head is on my chest now, my hand running through his hair. You know, I do love your sexy, curly hair, don't you Sherlock? I love your smile, the look in your eyes when you're concentrating on a difficult case, the curve of your lips and how they feel so perfect against mine. I love you, dear, and I wanted you then, I want you know, and I want you forever.

FIN

If you have any suggestions for the next one or anything, I would appreciate the inspiration.