John POV

Valentine's Day… such a difficult day. You either love it, because you get to spend it with someone you love, or despise it because it reminds you that you're alone. At the moment I'm on the hating side, Sarah dumped me and the only person I love is a gorgeous asexual robot who will never love me back.

Slamming the door, I called out to the silent flat,
"Sherlock, I'm back… did you get the milk?" I don't know why I bothered asking, I know he won't have it… he NEVER does the shopping... it's frustrating but I love him in spite of it... or perhaps I love him because of it, it's just another one of his little quirks which make Sherlock. I don't receive a reply so I assume that he's either experimenting or he's gone out, I don't know which one I dislike the idea of more... I had been hoping to spend some time with him.

I throw my keys down and head into the kitchen, intending to make some toast with jam and have a cup of tea. Now… Sherlock leaves random body parts in the fridge, he does it almost constantly... to the point that I don't remember the last time I went in the fridge and wasn't met with the sight of disembodied limbs. Usually they're contained to the fridge, he leaves them in bags or on plates, usually sealed to prevent decay before he finishes the experiment... to walk into the kitchen and see a human heart lying on the table was not shocking in itself, but the note on it with my name was enough to stop me in my tracks.

Blinking in surprise, I crossed the room and picked up the note in confusion,

To my dearest flat mate… I have always thought actions speak louder than words and I am ready to shout out my message, after waiting far too long.

Well that's oddly cryptic,

"You don't understand, do you?" I spun round, clutching my own heart in surprise and nearly knocking the other heart off the table,

"I- I don't understand… why is there a heart on my table?"

"I wanted to make a grand gesture, since it's Valentine's day. You have captured my heart since the moment we first met and, since I cannot rip my own heart out of my chest due to the risk of dying seconds later, I did the next best thing. I thought I should give you a real heart, instead of some chocolate shaped like hearts, like everyone else... you know, be original. I'm handing you my heart and you can take it or leave it. So there you go… you have my heart and, with it, the one thing that no-one else ever has had or will have."

I stepped up closer to Sherlock, my own heart beating fast in my chest, as I whispered through trembling lips, watching his tongue dart out to wet his own,

"And what is that, Sherlock?" He smiled at me, a glint in his eyes,

"My love… I love you, John. I'm not entirely sure why or how it happened… but that is the crux of the matter, I love you," he suddenly looked slightly nervous, "do you… do you return those feelings or are you going to cook that heart up and have it for supper?" I chuckled and took his hand, feeling the sparks as I did so,
"I may throw it away when it starts to smell but I'll always treasure the real thing, what it symbolises... because I love you too, Sherlock." He smiled,
"Good… then you won't mind if I do this…"

He leant down, his lips just brushing mine before he pulled back, the blood pounding in our ears and our breathing loud in the perfectly silent flat, both of us anticipating the next move, as I whispered,
"I didn't mind that all… in fact, I'll mind if you don't do it again." His lips crashed to mine once more and we melted into each other's arms, aching to be closer and desperate to show the other how much we loved each other.

I never did throw that heart away… I couldn't bring myself to do it. So, Sherlock ended up putting it in a jar and pickling it, so that it would last forever - he had done so whilst proclaiming that,
"It only seems fitting that the heart never decays, since it is a symbol of my love for you." I had agreed with a cheeky kiss and we had put the little jar on our mantlepiece, proudly showing it for all to see… although not before we tracked down another heart, placing them side by side. Because, as I said,
"It only seems fitting that you should have my heart too, Sherlock."

The End.