My friend MapleLeafCameo needed some cheering up yesterday. So she and I were having a conversation about what she would like to read. We discussed romance because she thinks I write romance well. (I worry for her, I truly do. LOL) She wanted walks in the park in spring (she didn't mind one in summer either) and lots of kissing. I asked her who should be the romantic one, John or Sherlock. She had me pick one and then she wrote a story with the other. Before you read this story you have to read hers first! It is entitled Reflections of Romance in Spring and is so absolutely lovely! Go! Go and read hers and then come back to see how the boys' romance continues!

Across the path from the Peter Pan statue, Sherlock paced restlessly. Unable to control himself, he reached into a trouser pocket to check again for a new text. Such behaviour had been the practice of the past half hour and the quiet of his phone annoyed him more than normal. After he gave a low growl of frustration, one mother quickly moved her child away from the strange, tall man. Sherlock turned his attention from the numerous tourists and leaned against the railing to watch the birds gliding on The Long Water.

John had been in Paris for a week long convention and was due back any time. Initially both men had planned on Sherlock going along as well, however, a serial killer had decided the month of August was a perfect time to come out and play. This had forced Sherlock to remain behind in London to prevent as many casualties as possible while his partner left. Thankfully, he had helped Lestrade arrest the murderer two days earlier. With the necessary paper work completed, food in his belly and a full seven hours of sleep the night before, Sherlock was more than ready to welcome John back.

Texts earlier in the day had confirmed that the doctor's plane was expected to land at Heathrow just after noon time. The airport website showed it had arrived ten minutes late but otherwise all was well. Sherlock watched a family of Mallard ducks swim by as he imagined John's confusion when he found Sherlock absent and another waiting in his place.

Before John, the gangly genius would never have considered spending time in a park merely for the pleasure of feeling the breeze wind its way through the leaves of the trees or the warmth of the sun on his face while John ran his fingers through dark curls as Sherlock snuggled against the warm stomach of his love. He would not have found contentment in being drawn into another person's bed, mind, soul or heart if not for John Watson, his other half.

As Sherlock thought of how the evening might be spent, his phone alerted him to the presence of a message. John always says a watched pot never boils, I suppose the same is true of waiting for texts, Sherlock thought. He read the words that stated the doctor had been delivered to Marlborough Gate just minutes before with the items Sherlock had requested. He had disappeared from view once he was beside the Italian Gardens and they would now wait for further instructions.

Knowing John would be joining him shortly, Sherlock started to feel a flutter of nervousness in his stomach as he tried to tame his hair and straighten his shirt and jacket. One of the drawbacks of the warmer months was the absence of The Coat. It worked wonders when it was necessary to intimidate people, as well as drawing a certain doctor's attention to his cheekbones. However, when the wearer overheated from the thick wool, even Sherlock knew it was time to leave it at the flat.

Suddenly a shiver raced up the middle of his spine and Sherlock stood up straight as he felt a breath on the back of his neck.

"Decided to take me out did you?" A voice teased.

Acting upon instinct, and forgetting the world around them, Sherlock rested the side of his head against his beloved's and whispered, "John."

The shorter of the two men laughed before they kissed hello. Deciding it was best to keep things respectful, they were in public after all, the doctor pulled back after a few moments.

"I have to say I was a little surprised to see Anthea waiting for me when I had expected someone a bit taller and much better looking."

Sherlock grinned. Reaching down, he took the blanket and picnic basket John had been carrying and turned to walk further down the path.

John chatted as they strolled. "I tried to ask what was going on but she only looked away from her phone long enough to tell me there was no need to worry or text you and that all would be explained soon enough. Then, once we reached the park gate, she handed me those and told me to have a nice day. All while texting one handed. She is scary, that one."

Sherlock used his free hand to grab one of John's. "I must admit I was anticipating at least one text from you requesting information."

"I did think to but got a dark look that had me quickly shoving my phone back from where I'd taken it. Once again, scary."

Sherlock took them off the path and away from the throng of the summer crowd. John's smile widened as he saw they were headed for the tree they had claimed as their own four months earlier. That first visit they had learned the value of the low branches that hid them from the sight of those who passed nearby. Since then, they had found the time to lunch in that same spot twice more and found their 'umbrella' growing fuller.

The two men made their way to the tree's base, spread out the blanket and settled against the trunk. Sunlight drifted down from a space in the branches high above as the low hanging branches curtained them from prying eyes.

Sherlock reached into the basket and pulled out their lunch. Before taking one for himself, he handed John a sandwich.

"Not store bought I see? Did Mycroft's cook put this together for us?" John queried.

Sherlock scowled. "As if I would have him put together a picnic lunch for us!"

John smiled knowingly, "Mrs. Hudson then?"

"Yes," Sherlock mumbled, before turning away and taking a bite.

Lunch passed peacefully as the two lovers enjoyed being in one another's company once again. When all of the food was eaten and trash put back into the basket, Sherlock assumed one of his favourite positions. After taking off his jacket, he wiggled down until his head was resting securely in John's lap and the doctor's fingers were running through the mass of dark curls. For the next hour they reconnected by sharing what they had done while the other was absent.

Words gave way to silence and the caressing of beloved features became their form of communication. Sherlock used his fingertips to trace each line that had the good fortune of gracing the face he adored. The first time he had heard such a thing, John had scoffed at the nonsense of the words being used in connection with himself. One hour later, exhausted, sated and fully convinced of Sherlock's sincerity, John had promised not to mock the phrase again.

Sherlock straddled John's lap, wove his fingers in the strands of hair behind the doctor's ears and leaned down. The desperation of the kiss surprised John and he grabbed the back of Sherlock's shirt to ground himself. All too soon, Sherlock pulled back to breath, only going so far as to rest his forehead against John's.

Panting, he looked into the soft eyes below him and spoke. "So I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you."

Overcome, John reached up and pulled his lover's lips to his once more.

Weeks earlier, Sherlock had found a quote by Paulo Coelho and used it to share his feelings with his partner. Others might have been bewildered but John had understood immediately. At so many times in their lives they had gone through trials and tribulations that would ultimately bring them to one another. Nothing and one could keep them apart. Not drugs or a bullet. Not James Moriarty or Sebastian Moran. Not even a separation of three years. For when the universe conspired, mere men did not stand a chance.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's neck and pulled their bodies tightly together as if trying to fuse them into one being.

"Marry me," he choked out.

John couldn't help but start to giggle from the euphoric feeling that had started flowing through him due to those two words.

Sherlock drew back far enough to look at John in confusion.

Rubbing his hands up and down the bony back as he calmed himself, John sought to reassure the man in front of him. "I'm all right. I'm just ridiculously happy."

He whispered against Sherlock's lips, "Of course I'll marry you, you strange and otherworldly thing."

John accepted the kiss that followed but quickly ended it as well. "As much as I would love to continue to kiss you until you can't even remember your name-"

Sherlock snorted.

John rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. "As I was saying, I would love to continue kissing you, and I have every intention of doing so. However, I think it would be best if we get home first. Before this progresses into something we don't want anyone to stumble upon. I love showing you off but there are certain areas that are for my eyes alone."

Sherlock stood up and while John also got to his feet, the detective sent off a text before leaning down to help shake out the blanket. Soon they were ducking below branches as they made their way back to the where John had entered the Gardens.

As they passed the Peter Pan statue, John couldn't help but tease. "It makes sense you would like the pirates best. You did steal my heart after all."

Laughing, the two men made their way to the car waiting to take them home.

Thanks to MapleLeafCameo for looking this over for me. Also, I still don't own them so no money in my pockets.