Sherlock and Privacy - AKA, The Lack Thereof
"Um."
"You're trying this again?"
"I'm going to do it. I swear." Inhale. "Mary-"
"Yes."
Frown. "Don't do that."
"I didn't do anything."
"You interrupted."
"You said my name. I responded."
"Mary."
Soft laughter. "Sorry."
"I... I said before, back at the restaurant, you're the best thing that could have happened to me-"
"- and I agreed."
"Thank you. ... I needed someone... there after, well, after what I thought was Sherlock's death, you know, and you fixed parts of me that I didn't even know were broken... You made me whole again. So... if... if you can look past all the crazy that's happened in the past few days... would you, uh..." Cleared throat. "Would you be my wife?"
"You managed to ask me this time!"
"Mary." Huff of laughter.
"Of course, John. You know you didn't have to ask after the last time."
"We were interrupted; I wanted to." Mumble.
Embrace.
"That was so mind numbingly cheesy than I think I threw up in my mouth." Baritone voice.
John and Mary jumped.
Sherlock stared plaintively at them through the open window, and then grinned a put-on grin. He was standing outside the kitchen window, which was thrown open to disperse the smell of smoke that had been dinner burning earlier.
"... What the hell, Sherlock!" John crossed the kitchen and slammed the window so hard that the glass rattled in the pane.
Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at them through the glass.
Mary laughed.
"Yeah, I really missed this," John grumbled, jabbing his finger towards the window and, ultimately, Sherlock.
"He's charming," Mary chuckled. "Come around to the front!" she called, raising her voice and gesturing towards the front door.
Sherlock vanished from the window.
"Are you sure you still want to accept?" John muttered, following her to the door. "You never know what you're getting into. Or what you'll see outside your window," he muttered.
"I'm sure," Mary said cheerfully, unlocking the door for Sherlock.
Sherlock was still smiling. "Congratulations, Mary," he said easily, leaning in to envelope her in a hug.
"Aw, thanks. I expect you to be there, you know."
Sherlock hummed and pulled away, looking at John.
"I should hurt you." John crossed his arms. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you, outside my window like that."
Sherlock smiled winningly. "Wouldn't you rather hug me and accept my congratulations?"
John rolled his eyes. "Not really."
Sherlock shrugged. "Fine. I'll take a cup of tea, then." He clapped John on the shoulder. "Congratulations, though. Really."
John huffed and smiled slightly. "... Thanks."
"It wasn't too sickening, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing," Sherlock absently continued, padding down the hallway. "Your kitchen's this way?"
John shook his head mockingly and looked back at Mary. "Positive?"
Mary laughed and reached for his hand. "My kind of family."
John smiled and leaned over to kiss her.
"John, where's your chai? I want chai!"
John sighed and pulled away.
"Second shelf, behind the peppermint!" Mary called.
"Oh. Thank you!"
John looked at Mary, and they were both laughing amongst themselves as they joined Sherlock in the kitchen.
I was inspired by Benedict's engagement, alright? This was a story I should have written a long time ago. (And yeah, the layout of the Watson flat, they probably don't have a window in their kitchen, but use your imagination. =p) I just loved the idea of Sherlock sneakily being there when John really asked.
I do not own Sherlock. Thanks for reading!