A/N; This is a quick little Johnlock fluff piece I did for a friend of mine who wasn't having a very good day. Written specifically to cheese her into a good mood. Thought I'd put it up here for fun. Purely CheeseFluff and nothing more. There were a few lines I repeated on purpose. Jus' sayin'.
Sentiment had never been Sherlock's thing…
He wasn't one to tiptoe around other's feelings. To avoid verbal conflict. To hesitate in correcting others mistakes. And that scared most people off. It intimidated people. He was labeled as rude. Cold. Inconsiderate. And he'd grown accustomed to being considered as such; as a pompous prick. A /machine/. Had grown accustom to the realistic conclusion that could be drawn from such realizations; that he was going to be alone. That he /was/ alone.
It didn't bother him. He didn't mind being alone. Most times he preferred it.
Most of the time
Then there were those occasions when loneliness crept up on him like a shadow. When it pressed down on him like some great weight, dragging him into the depths of depression. And sometimes he couldn't shake it. Sometimes, he resorted to drastic measures to distract himself. Dangerous things.
But John had changed all of that.
John Hamish Watson.
Sure, Sherlock was still Sherlock. He was still avoided by most. He still mouthed off. But he wasn't alone. Wasn't so desperate to distract himself from that realization, even if it was buried down deep inside of him, repressed and forgotten. That realization that he was utterly and completely alone.
But with John, he wasn't alone anymore. The former army doctor put up with his moods. With his wild ideas and his freakish experiments. He put up with Sherlock, offering up something nobody else had given. Complete and total acceptance.
It's all fine.
John would likely never know just what that meant to Sherlock. Even Sherlock himself didn't completely understand. But he did know one thing. He did understand one thing. John had taught him the meaning of love. Of affection. John had given him a new understanding. A new outlook. What it was like to love and be loved in return. What it was like to be understood. Accepted. Appreciated.
What it was like to belong to someone else.
Sentiment had never been Sherlock's thing. But for John? He was willing to make an exception.
It was that exception that had led Sherlock to the grocery store early that morning. A seemingly mundane act to fulfill a seemingly mundane need. They were out of milk.
Later that morning, John would stumble out of bed, still half asleep. He would make his way into the kitchen, blindly gathering what he'd need for a nice cup of tea. And when the kettle boiled and the tea was poured steaming into his mug, he'd reach for the refrigerator.
Across the carton of milk was written 'John Hamish Watson…', and in front of it sat a small black velvet box, opened to reveal a simple silver band.
Will you marry me?