"I'll burn the Heart out of you."
"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one."
"Yes but we both know that's not quite true, is it?"
Most people would bolt upright in bed after having a nightmare. Sherlock Holmes was not like most people. Instead he turned to look at his lover, sleeping peacefully despite all his near-death experiences. Sherlock got out of bed nimbly so as not to wake John, who was nestled in the blankets like a kitten.
He could remember the first time they'd met. How foolish he'd been to think that John was just another stupid bystander. He was much more than that. He always bought milk. He made sure to cook dinner every night. He always did the dishes. He never left body parts where he found them (alright that was a bit annoying). Sometimes he would give out an exasperated sigh and shout something like, "Honestly, how did you ever get on without me?"
Sherlock tried to think back to his life without John in it. Those memories felt like a dream, the way childhood feels like a dream. How could he imagine an existence without John?
"Sherlock?" A tired said behind him. "What are you doing up?"
The consulting detective turned around he smiled before quickly crossing the room and kissing the shorter man.
"MMMF!" John blushed. "What was that for?"
"I don't know. It seems we're out of butter."
"Lovely. Honestly, How did you ever get on without me?"
"I suppose I managed somehow."