A/N: This'll be updated in little spurts! This was written in response to the hate Amanda Abbington was getting because of the possibility of her playing Mary Morstan in the upcoming series 3 of Sherlock-and by extension, Mary Morstan was getting some hate simply because she married John Watson (who is a glorious character and deserves some happiness).
I just want my babies to all live together at 221 and solve crimes together and maybe get in rows over stupid domestic shit like why-are-there-eyeballs-in-the-toaster-Sherlock, and, how-the-hell-did-you-even-get-that-to-stick-to-the -ceiling, and, you-two-are-distracting-stop-being-morons-and-go-h ave-sex-or-whatever-it-is-that-couples-do.
One.
Proposal
John came up the stairs two at a time, a spring in his step and a wide grin on his face. He didn't care that he didn't know how he'd break the news to Sherlock-how could he think on that now when the only thoughts he had were on how wonderful life is? John took a quick inhale of breath before he opened the door to the flat, the words about to leave his lips when Sherlock beat him to it.
"She said yes then," Sherlock stated, his back to John.
John's mouth hung open for a few moments, and before he could stop himself, asked, "How did you even-"
Sherlock turned to look at him, giving John his withering Oh John really now look that John was more than familiar with. "Please. You've been carrying around a square shaped object in your jacket pocket for the past two weeks; you were distracted throughout the entirety of our last case-don't do that again, it's annoying-and you've been gone all day. Undoubtedly to pop the question-finally-and going by the state of your shoes I would say that she answered in the affirmative rather than the negative."
John furrowed his brow. "My shoes?"
Sherlock pointed at John's feet. "You're wearing your 'date' shoes, which are clean-well, to an extent. Had she rejected you, they'd be scuffed and caked in mud, a result from the amount of walking you'd have done in order to walk off your humiliation at having been rejected. Also if she'd rejected you, you would be drunk right now from being at the local pub, drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Now since your shoes are not caked in mud and you are not inebriated, it's obvious Mary said yes."
John stared in absolute awe. No matter how many times Sherlock explained how he knew things to John, John never got tired of hearing his friend's amazing deduction skills.
And he was sure he never would either.
After a few beats of silence, Sherlock said, "Also the fact that you were skipping down the street just now didn't go unnoticed either." He indicated to the window, which he had been facing a few moments ago.
John smiled and shook his head.
"A simple 'congratulations' would be okay, you know," he said, turning to sit in his chair by the fire.
Sherlock allowed the corner of his lips to twitch into a small smile at that. "Congratulations, John," he said before taking up his bow and violin.