Snow Falls Softly At Night
John stood at the kitchen window and looked outside where thick snowflakes were falling. It was Christmas Eve and also the fourth Christmas Sherlock and he spent in this little cottage. How time sometimes flies. Four years ago they had used this as a refuge, a break, a way to get to know each other again after Sherlock's return. From there it had developed into a tradition and they'd come back for Christmas ever since, leaving the bustle and stress of London during the holidays behind. Tonight they'd had dinner in their favourite restaurant in town.
Now John was getting the tea ready and Sherlock was playing a traditional Christmas song on his violin. The music was slow and beautiful – John could never get enough of Sherlock's playing (of course only when Sherlock actually played and not scratched away on it to get rid of Mycroft). Sherlock slowly swayed along to the music as he so often did when he was immersed in his playing and John watched him with a fond smile.
After Sherlock had finished playing and put the violin away John handed him his tea and asked, "What's that song called? I've never heard you play it before, it's beautiful."
"It's a traditional German carol called 'Leise rieselt der Schnee'. The translated version goes by 'Snow falls softly at night'. There's a pleasant flow to the melody."
"How you played it was lovely."
Sherlock's answering smile was affectionate and they cuddled together on the sofa, drinking their tea and exchanging slow kisses that were unhurried for now but promised 'more' at a later hour.
John adored this closeness between them; the love that was seldom expressed in words but spoke clearly out of every touch and kiss, or even just a fond smile. He was also glad that their changed relationship hadn't changed Sherlock. He was perhaps a bit more careful about the things he said, but he still frequently got lost in experiments or his cases (which of course always came first, no questions asked), was often rude and at the same time brilliant. John didn't want him any other way.
It was almost 9 p.m., the time where they usually started watching a classic Christmas movie, but when John reached for the remote Sherlock put a hand on his arm.
"Wait a moment, please," he said, looking a bit… nervous? John was confused but complied and looked at his partner expectantly.
"John, we have now known each other for five years, ten months and twenty-eight days, a good part of that rather intimately. I should be bored by now, all previous data tells me this, but… I'm not bored. Not even a bit. I'm actually absolutely sure that I will never be bored with you. You… every day I count myself lucky that you want me. That you forgave me and that you chose me as your friend and partner.
"You still manage to surprise me after all this time and I feel that there are still so many hidden depths to you that I have not yet discovered. It's… good. I never thought that I wanted this, that this would happen to me, but here we are."
He took a deep breath and before John could say anything Sherlock continued, "I want to go on chasing criminals with you through the streets of London, to sit together on the sofa drinking tea and ranting about crap telly – no matter how shockingly domestic that is -, to play the violin for you when you can't sleep, to retire with you to the country to keep bees. In short, I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you for the rest of my life." Sherlock cleared his throat and now he really did look nervous. "So, John Hamish Watson, will you marry-"
"Yes!" John exclaimed and drew Sherlock into a fierce hug that quickly turned into full-on snogging, with John muttering, "God, yes, you wonderful madman, of course I'll marry you!" against Sherlock's lips.
They kissed some more until Sherlock suddenly pulled back, looking slightly offended. "You didn't even let me finish the question!"
John grinned brightly. "Sherlock, love, you were making an inauguration speech. I just couldn't wait one second longer to finally say 'yes', no matter how lovely your speech was." He gently kissed Sherlock's neck. "I promise I'll make it up to you later."
"That's acceptable," Sherlock answered, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. Likely too many emotions in the room, John thought. Sherlock reached into his trouser pocket to take out a flat black box. "This is for you. I wanted to give you something, but a ring didn't seem right."
John carefully took the box and opened it. In it was a bullet on a plain silver chain.
"That is the bullet from our first case together, when you shot the cabbie. This was the first time I noticed that there was something more to you than meets the eye. Up to this point you at least hadn't been as dull as everyone else, but this made you interesting."
'Interesting'. John knew that he was important to Sherlock, that he somehow had got under the detective's skin, but this – to know that Sherlock found him interesting so early on, it was the greatest compliment his partner could give him. He took the chain from the box and put it around his neck, tugging it under his shirt. The significance was heavy, but in a good way.
"Sherlock, it's wonderful. And after all these years- Wait a minute, how did you get this? It's evidence!"
Sherlock coughed awkwardly and looked anywhere but at John. Suddenly the answer was obvious. "You asked Mycroft." John grinned. Sherlock's answer was a scowl.
"Don't bring up my irritating git for a brother. He's smug enough as it is. Furthermore, I can still say it was all for an experiment, just to see his stupid face," Sherlock teased.
"But you won't," John said, although he wasn't doubting that Sherlock was sincere.
"But I won't," his partner confirmed. John cuddled closer and sighed happily.
"I'm guessing that all the other presents tomorrow will completely pale in comparison to this."
Sherlock buried his nose in John's hair. "Saying yes was the best present you could have given me this year anyway, so it doesn't really matter to me."
John hummed and turned his head slightly to look at his fiancé. (Fiancé! That would need getting used to! Who would've thought they'd end up like this? Well, except for Mrs Hudson. And Lestrade. And that idiot Sebastian. And Angelo. And all his girlfriends. God, they'd been doomed from the start.)
"Why did you decide to ask me here instead of at home?" He felt he knew the answer, but he wanted Sherlock to say it.
"This place here… when I came back I felt so lost and it just didn't feel right. It was all a mess, not just us, everything. I couldn't settle. And when you brought me here it was such a relief to finally relax and feel that kind of friendship between us again. It was a new start, our second chance if you like. So I thought this location appropriate."
"It's perfect. Everything about this evening is perfect."
"It isn't over yet. I seem to recall that you promised me something," Sherlock said, his voice a low purr.
John met Sherlock's heated gaze and grinned. "You know, I think I did."
AN: Thank you from my heart to my wonderful betas swissmarg and shyaway. Any mistakes you still may find are my own. As always, concrit is very much appreciated.
This story was written for the "Sherlock" xmas-xchange on Livejournal.