WARNING: If you haven't read my story, Thanks for the Memories, I would suggest you read it before beginning this. Things would make a lot more sense if you did, though it isn't necessarily required!

Alright then, now that's out of the way!

I've wanted to do a sequel to that fic for a while, and actually briefly considered just adding on to the original. But, finally, I decided to publish this instead. Mostly fluff with side notes of angst when they come up, but nothing along the lines of my other stories. This fic will be following Sherlock and John through their relationship, marriage, family, etc. and will also be a parent!lock eventually, but no mpreg or smut happening here! Sorry!

Well, I hope everyone enjoys this new (and this significantly fluffier) story!

They drew Sherlock's attention quickly, making him skid to a stop in the middle of pavement, suddenly unaware of the bustling London foot traffic. Perfect, flawless, simple wedding bands sitting on a black velvet pillow in the shop window. Not flashy, perfectly tailored to John's taste, he would love them. Sherlock smirked to himself, he could imagine taking the box out of his pocket and kneeling in front of John, his own eyes lighting up at the look of surprise on John's face, ready to slip the band on his waiting partner's finger...

Sherlock hadn't even realized he had stopped in front of the window and slipped into a daydream until another man walked into him, pushing him out of the way. The push knocked some sense in to Sherlock, who shook his head...marriage...what a stupid idea. Pointless really, nothing more than a piece of paper. A stupid custom that was completely outdated. No, he certainly didn't want to get married, it was never part of the plan, it was never part of his plans for himself...Well, relationships were never part of the plan either. But here he was, standing like a moron outside a shop window, one year into a relationship with the most perfect person he could have ever imagined, seriously contemplating getting married. No, just walk away, he chided to himself. You don't want to get married, you don't need to get married.

He tore himself away from the window, rolling his eyes at his own thoughts. He wasn't even sure if John wanted to get married, they'd never discussed it. John had never even mentioned it, not even offhandedly now that their one year anniversary was coming up...nobody had mentioned it, come to think of it. It was like nobody expected them to get married either. They'd been together for nearly a year now...why didn't people expect them to get married? Wasn't that the custom? Normal people got married after knowing each other for less amounts of time. But Sherlock and John weren't normal. They were special, different. They had an incredible bond, something people searched their entire life for. They loved each other more than anything, they would give their lives for each other... So why didn't John ever say anything? Had John just buried his own desires for a family because he thought Sherlock didn't want any of those things? Was he too afraid to talk to Sherlock about it? Did he think Sherlock would leave him if he confessed to wanting these things, a family and a dog and a perfect house in the country, an ordinary life? Did he think Sherlock was afraid of commitment? Was Sherlock afraid of commitment? Or was John just miserable in this relationship? Did he want out? Would John leave him if he wasn't ready to commit? Sherlock's mind swam with all these unanswerable questions, and they made him sick to his stomach. The though of losing John hurt him so much, and Sherlock knew he was over thinking things and he knew that most of this was probably just his screwed-up mind making too big a deal over something so unimportant, but he couldn't help but wonder...

Sherlock was still thinking about the ring and John when he walked in the door to their flat, hands full with the dinner he'd picked up on the way home. John met him at the door, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before taking the bags from him and making some plates. He shrugged off his coat and unwound his scarf, placing both on the hook on the wall, knowing that John would be annoyed if he just dropped them on the floor again. Sherlock collapsed on the sofa, drawing his head into his hands, rubbing his hands against his temples. He sighed to himself, trying to force himself to stop thinking about the stupid bloody rings and forget this whole business.

John walked up a few minutes later, setting a steaming plate on the coffee table in front of Sherlock, clicking on the TV (a re-run of Doctor Who) and settling down to eat his own food. Sherlock simply picked at his plate, pushing the food around and not really paying attention to anything, trying to forget all the things he'd been thinking about...

John stared over at his partner, who was huddled up against the arm of the sofa, still-full plate balanced on his knees. What was going on with him? He hadn't said so much as a word since he walked in the door, and it worried John a lot. It was almost a year and a half since the...incident...and John still wasn't quite over it. Sometimes he still had nightmares about it. About finding Sherlock lying in a pool of his own blood, arms ripped open by slash wounds. He got involuntary chills, which he tried to hide from Sherlock, every time he saw the thick scars that wound their way up Sherlock's arms, past his elbows and into his shoulders. It hurt every time he saw them, and he could only think about how horrible Sherlock had felt in the past. He still worried about it too, he was absolutely terrified that he would come home one day to find Sherlock like that. He had no reason to believe that Sherlock would talk to him if he was feeling depressed again, so he watched. It was his job wasn't it? As Sherlock's boyfriend. But even when all of it had happened...they had been more than just flatmates. They'd been best friends, partners in (solving) crime, and Sherlock hadn't talked to him then. So why would he talk now?

John cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to get his boyfriend's attention. But Sherlock just kept staring off into the distance, absentmindedly pushing the food around his plate.

"Sherlock...," John started, trying to mask the hint of worry in his voice.

Sherlock didn't seem to hear John.

"SHERLOCK!" John shouted, seeing the detective jump at the sudden noise, scattering food across the coffee table and looking over at John with wide eyes.

"Sorry...you weren't paying attention. It's just...well, um, is everything okay? You seem really distracted and you aren't eating and you didn't even complain when I turned on Doctor Who...I'm just a little...worried."

"I assure you John, I'm perfectly fine. I've just...been thinking about some things lately," Sherlock replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't want John to know what he was thinking about.

"Oh...okay. So, what were you thinking about?"

"It's nothing, really. I just...are you, well, are you happy? Would you tell me if you were unhappy?"

John stared at his boyfriend and shook his head, pulling him into a tight hug, "Of course I'm happy. I've never been happier Sherlock, and I would never lie to you about something so important. I love you Sherlock, I really do and I want to spend the rest of my life with you...,"

Sherlock felt the corners of his lips twitch up into a smirk, and he hid his smile in John's shoulder, nuzzling his neck. It was decided, Sherlock knew he needed to make a quick stop tomorrow, and he was already formulating his master plan in his mind.

I'd love some input on this and to make sure it's actually worth continuing.

Looking forward to some more fluff! See you soon! (Hopefully...depending on if people actually enjoy this...)