John waved goodbye to Lestrade as he ducked underneath the police-tape, Sherlock by his side. His hand itched to reach for his boyfriend's but decided against it; he could see Anderson out of the corner of his eye and didn't want to give the man anymore ammunition to use against them.
"…Angelo's?" John glanced up at gray eyes.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you wanted to go to Angelo's, John." The doctor smiled and nodded, content to walk in silence next to the tall man. It was a comfortable silence, though. They didn't need many words to communicate .
As they rounded the corner and were out of sight John felt Sherlock's hand brush against his. He smiled slightly to himself and laced his own fingers with the consulting detective's long ones. They walked together quietly, each man taking in the beautiful London night. The air was warm, the sky clear, and Sherlock was wearing the purple shirt that John favored so much.
The couple passed by many people as they walked. An old couple on the opposite side of the street, linked at the arms. Two little girls sat on apartment steps talking. A young woman walked her dog down the street. All of them smiled at Sherlock and his doctor as they passed.
They were meters from Angelo's when Sherlock stopped abruptly, tugging John back with him. John, stumbling to keep himself upright at the sudden halt, looked back curiously.
"Sherlock, you ok?" The brilliant man was staring into space, eyes wide as though he just realized something very important.
"Sherlock?" John repeated when the man still did not answer. The retired soldier was about to slap the dark haired consultant when Sherlock seemed to shake himself out of it.
Suddenly John found himself being gripped by the shoulders rather tightly.
"John," Sherlock began and John felt something like worry grip his stomach.
"Yes?"
"I'm married to my work."
John felt his stomach sink even lower and had to swallow tightly. Here it came. Sherlock had finally come to his senses and was surly about to break up with him. However his jaw tightened and he forced a tight smile to his face.
"Yes, I've been informed."
Oh God, oh God, oh God, here it came, the next words out of his mouth would ruin him forever. How was he supposed to live without the brilliant, sarcastic, infuriatingly frustrating man in his life?
"And now you're part of my work."
Don't cry, don't cry. You were a soldier for God's sake man, get a grip. You fought- hold up, wait a minute, back up.
John stared at Sherlock who stared back.
Was this a proposal? pleasepleaseplease!
"So, I suppose we should make it official then?" John asked, finally regaining the ability to speak. Be calm. Act cool. Don't freak out.
"Yes, I would imagine so. Does Saturday work for you?" John nodded, not able to force his voice to work. Instead he simply leaned up and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, his boyfriend's, his fiancé's, lips and grabbed his hand again – this time a bit tighter.
The two continued on their way to Angelo's, both wearing matching grins. Once there they would share a steak and a salad and when they returned home they would find an expensive bottle of wine (that was only made in the boot of Italy) with a note attached reading: Congratulations, best wishes – MH. The two would chuckle before making their way to the closest room (Sherlock's) and locking the door tightly – celebrating their engagement till the early hours of the morning.