Much thanks to MapleleafCameo and Johnsarmylady for looking this over for mistakes and Britpicking it for me too! :-D

Sherlock switched the kettle on and reached for the box of Yorkshire tea. Five hours earlier, John had texted to say he would be delayed. A colleague was home sick and he'd offered to cover three more hours until another locum could arrive. It had been raining since the morning before and Sherlock knew a cup of tea would be the very thing to help warm up John. Giving his phone a glance for the time, he determined, based upon the hour and traffic, John would enter the flat when the tea was just cool enough to drink if not a few minutes before.

Opening the cupboard, Sherlock instinctively reached for the closest tea pot when he noticed the one John had given him for Christmas a few months before. Shaped like a bee hive, the pot was stark white with small blue bees scattered across the surface. The lid's knob carved into a resting bee, wings spread wide. Sherlock had smiled when first seeing the gift, amused John was teasing him about his love for the small insects.

Noticing the lid didn't properly rest, he had removed it to find out why. Inside was a hand written note that read:

Sherlock,

Our relationship might have only changed eight weeks ago but we've known each other much longer and been through more these past few years than normal people do their whole lives. I know I shocked you the other night when I joked about our rattling around together when we're old and gray. You tried to distract me but I could see the disbelief in your eyes.

I decided to give you something that will serve as a visual reminder. When you look at this tea pot, I want you to remember that we are going to retire together. We'll move to Sussex so you can keep and study bees, while I write up our cases and putter around in the garden. In the evening, we'll sit by the fire and drink our tea while reminiscing on past cases. I'll wake you up when you've dozed off and tell you it's time for bed.

So when you see them, remember each of these little blue bees is a promise those things are going to happen. I am going to be with you.

I love you very much, you mad thing.

John

Pretending to be unaffected, although he knew John could see the tears in his eyes, Sherlock had put the note to the side. When John had taken the pot to the kitchen for a washing, calling out "We'll use it today!" Sherlock had snuck over to the bookcase and hidden the note in his copy of Gray's Anatomy. On dull days, or sometimes because he just wanted to, he would open the book to the first page of the cardiovascular system's chapter. There the paper was kept safe, folded in half, a deep crease going down the middle due to the many times it had already been read.

Try as he might, at times Sherlock still found it difficult to believe John had chosen him. The freak, the one to avoid at all costs, to verbally attack. Even physically attack when he was in school. Nevertheless, for some miraculous, wonderful, insane reason, the best man the consulting detective had ever met, believed him worthy of affection and wanted to be with him always.

Since Christmas day, the pot had sat on the cupboard shelf. Thinking it was a good enough time to use it again, Sherlock warmed the pot with hot water and put some of the scones Mrs. Hudson's had brought up the night before on a plate. John would be hungry and Sherlock knew he would eat at least one himself.

After the tea had been cooling for five minutes, John's footsteps were on the stairs. Sherlock smiled, right on time.

"I don't know about you but I'll be ready for spring." John said, throwing his coat on the arm of the sofa, "Tea and some of Mrs. Hudson's scones? Lovely!"

Before taking the cup he knew would be perfectly prepared, John walked over to Sherlock's chair, brushed some dark curls out of the way and gave the now bare forehead a kiss.

Settling in to his own chair, cup now in hand, John stretched his legs out and settled his feet against much larger ones. His gaze wandered around the room, seeing if there were any new bullet holes in the wall or experiments to clean up after, when he noticed the tea pot. He grinned, happy Sherlock was finally putting it to use.

John could feel eyes on him and turned his focus back to Sherlock whose serious expression looked back.

Remaining silent, John mouthed one word, "Always."

A moment or two passed but then Sherlock beamed as he nodded and whispered, "Always."