Friday February 14th, 5.27 am
Later there will be a hurried breakfast and then off to work. Later there will be a quick shower and a short chat with the babysitter. Later there will be dinner for two at Angelo's.
Right now life is still calm and lazy. The room is dark and the city silent; the bed soft and warm.
Sherlock is on his back with John curled at his side. The doctor is holding on to a silky smooth bicep, tracing soft circles with his thumb. Thin lips are gently pressed to a translucent shoulder. Nose pressed into warm skin, marvelling at the familiar smell.
John is thinking about life. How could there have been a time without this? Without ever waking up with Sherlock Holmes?
Sherlock is thinking about sentiment, about the length people are willing to go. Suddenly he needs to know.
"John, would you eat monkey glands for me?"
"Wha..? No, never mind. The answer is probably yes anyway."
Sherlock rolls over, almost bumping noses, and fixes John with a grave stare.
"Please don't. It would be terribly stupid."
Later John's heart will almost stop when Sherlock presents him with a black velvet box. Later John will see Sherlock cry from happiness. But right now they are still wrapped in the uncomplicated bliss of their bed.