Okay, kids. I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life/this account. This is a crack/crap prompt someone gave me, it is shit and I am sorry.
I haven't uploaded in a few days, and the reason is I've got writers block for DM Aus. Good news is I'm going to offload a load of oneshots which WILL be shite, but I'm uploading something so don't hate me.
Warning: This is crack and written whilst in a car with a whinging seven-year-old, a sleep-deprived maniac and a moody teenager.
If you have any prompts for me for any fandom that I'm currently writing for, leave a review and I'll do it.
Hope you guys are having better day than me.
Fez.
John was sitting over his computer, typing up their new case, about a man who was kidnapping children and dumping their bodies in the Thames. The worst part was one mother had sent an appeal to the killer, pleading with him to give her her child back, so she could give him fried chicken one last time. John had been sick when the autopsy revealed that the child's last meal had been fried chicken. Sherlock got up and leaned over John, wrapping his arms around him. John murmured something and Sherlock buried his face in his sandy-hair.
He glanced at the time on the screen and saw that it was three in the morning.
Time for food.
Since John had arrived at 221b, Sherlock had gradually eased into a normal life.
Since him and John started going out, Sherlock had put on at least three pounds.
John leaned back into Sherlock and kissed him gently.
He was absolutely shattered. And starving.
"Hey, Sherlock, I was thinking we should get-"
"Married?"
"I was gonna say Chinese, but yeah sure."
"..."
"..."
"Shit. Did we just married?"
"Yes."