Note:
I do not own anything in this except this being my own idea. Not even the characters which I keep time traveling to ask Arthur Conan Doyle to given them to me, as well as try and get Moffat to give me the plots to all the episodes so I can make them first.
This whole idea of these drabbles is inspired by one of my favorite teachers that teaches about the Renaissance and the art, literature, court life, etc. to do with it. She handed out this packet over courtly love and chivalry so I, of course, found an inspiration from it. If you're interested in seeing the list yourself search for The Rules of Courtly Love by Andreas Capellanus. Twelfth century literature. And I am going from my interpretations from the rules, so they might not always be spot on with what they actually mean. Despite their translation into modern English it still can be tricky to get but I am doing my best at it. And without further ado I will shut up and get onto the first one.
Rule One: Marriage is no real reason for not loving.
Both were married to two beautiful women, Sherlock to Irene and John to Mary. And both adored their wives in every way a good husband should. Gifts were lavished on the women who accepted them with grateful smiles and flushes of pleasure on their cheeks; neither men were very rich in their jobs, but knew how to give gifts that would be cherished. It was their way of making up for the "sin" they were doing behind their women's backs.
In the dark of the night the two men would meet in the courtyard of the castle where only moonlight graced the leaves and petals of the fragrant flowers. It was near the moon flowers that they met, to represent their secret love for the other.
And when John showed up that night, Sherlock was waiting in the quiet way that made him seem more erethral than he did everyday of the week. Sherlock turned his head at the footsteps, hands coming unclasped from behind his back when he saw that it was who he had hoped it to be. The two just looked at each other before the pale violinist took the needed step forward to press his large and warm hand to the other's cheek.
"I love you," he whispered, the words rumbling in his chest.
"And I love you," John replied, his hand coming up to rest against the other's that was on his face.