Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading this story! Below you will find Chapter 2. Please feel free to leave a comment (I will read your comment if you leave one, so it will not go unnoticed!) or follow the story! If it wasn't for you, the fans, I would not have continued this story. So, thank you so much for your support. It means a lot to me. I hope you all enjoy the story!


Later on that day, John found himself gazing at Sherlock once again. He was now in the living room, trying to summarize a case that Sherlock and him completed about a week ago instead of typing about Sherlock's very defined cheekbones. Sherlock sat in his chair with his arms resting on the sides. His shirt tightened around his chest. John swallowed and glanced down at his laptop screen, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't notice how red his cheeks were. Luckily, Sherlock was watching some reality tv show, so he doubted that Sherlock would notice. His deduction powers seemed to weaken when he was watching television. Or maybe Sherlock just decided to deduce qualities about the characters instead. Every once in a while, he would hear Sherlock yelling at the television, completely astonished with one of the character's actions.

John adjusted himself in his seat until he felt more comfortable.

"You know, fidgeting in your seat isn't really going to solve anything, John." Sherlock gave John a sidelong glance. "I thought a grown man would know that."

John's lips parted. How did Sherlock know what he was trying to do? he thought to himself.

"But I-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"But nothing, John. I am not dumb. I may be watching television, but I can still pay attention to other things while I watch it. It's not that difficult."

Sherlock got up from his chair and strode right over to John. John's mouth went completely dry by the time Sherlock was standing in front of him, his eyes set right on John's. John tried to look elsewhere, but it wasn't any use. The only thing that he could look at were Sherlock's blue-silver eyes. Sherlock smiled and leaned in. Before John really knew what he was doing, he leaned into Sherlock and met his lips with his own. His hands ran up Sherlock's biceps, over his shoulders, until he found his neck. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, trying to make Sherlock get closer to him. Sherlock chuckled under his breath and broke the kiss right when John wanted to take the kiss further. John groaned.

"What was that for, Sherlock?" John asked, his lips still tingling from the kiss.

"Well, you didn't want to tell me where we're going for dinner, so I'm not going to let you make-out with me."

John's lips parted; he stared at Sherlock, stunned.

"Come on, Sherlock, don't be like that. I'm not telling you where we are going to dinner because it is supposed to be a surprise."

"You know that I don't like surprises. Once we leave the flat, I'll be able to figure out where we are going, John." He leaned in until his lips were only a few centimeters away from John's. John swallowed. "There isn't any way that you can keep this away from me. So, the most logical thing for you to do would be to tell me where we are going. After all, if you tell me, I'll let us fool around before we go out to dinner."

John let out a ragged breath. Why, why did Sherlock have to be so stubborn all the time? Why couldn't he do this one nice thing for him- for them? They hadn't really gone out to any fancy restaurants since they got together. They didn't even really have time to go to a fancy restaurant during the past year, either. Once they had finished one case, another one would pop up. Since they were always working cases, they didn't really have any time to go to a nice restaurant. John wanted this weekend to be different; he wanted to take Sherlock somewhere nice without him trying to find out where they were going.

"Well?" Sherlock let his fingers' trail along John's knee.

John ran a hand through his hair. He breathed out of his nose and closed his eyes for a second, hoping to recollect himself. He could not let Sherlock affect him so much. Any other day, he would not have minded Sherlock acting this way. But today was their anniversary. Most people would want their partner to be physical on their anniversary, but he knew Sherlock worked. He wasn't acting this way just because he wanted to try to seduce John. Sherlock wanted to make John crack; to tell him where they were going to dinner.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but you'll just have to wait."

Sherlock frowned.

"Come on-"

"Sherlock, please. I promise that you will like this place, okay? I would not have chosen a restaurant that you would not like. Just be patient."

Sherlock trailed his fingers back down John's knee as he backed away.

"Fine."

John's thigh longed for Sherlock's touch once Sherlock stepped away from John. He bit his lip and picked up the newspaper next to the chair. Breathe, John, breathe, he commanded himself. He was in control of this situation; Sherlock now had to wait to figure out where they were going tonight. John watched Sherlock head into their room, leaving John to his thoughts.

Sherlock retreated to their room, completely stunned with how John handled that situation. Normally John would have cracked almost immediately once he felt Sherlock's fingers on him. This time though, none of Sherlock's usual tricks worked. Sherlock hit the nightstand next to the bed. Where could John possibly be taking me? he thought. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. John wasn't going to change his mind. Now, all he could do was wait.

"Come on, Sherlock!" John called from the living room. He paced around the living room. Where was Sherlock? They were supposed to leave five minutes ago. He went over to their bedroom door. "Sherlock?" he asked, placing his hand on the knob.

Right when he was about to open the door, Sherlock came waltzing out. John turned around and headed towards to front door. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder.

"Next time, don't call my name so loudly, John. I was only in the next room. It wasn't like I was in another flat."

John pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

"What were you doing, Sherlock? You were supposed to be out here five minutes ago!"

Sherlock took his navy coat off of the hook near the door and slid his arms through the sleeves. Once it was on he grabbed his scarf and tied it around his neck.

"I was getting ready for our date. Is that a crime now?"

John quickly threw on his green jacket, opened the door, and walked over to the curb. A black cab was waiting for them. Sherlock opened the door for him and gestured for him to get into the car. John blushed slightly and slid into the car. Once they were both in the car, John spoke.

"No, it is not a crime. This night is just special and I want it to go well. I mean, this is our first anniversary, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and squeezed John's hand gently.

"I know. I understand."

The cabbie raised his eyebrows at their exchange, but he didn't say anything. The rest of the drive was pretty quiet. It didn't bother John, though. Some people may have wanted to fill the silence, but he was perfectly content with it.

After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at their destination. The cab drive pulled over to the curb.

"We have arrived," he said.

John hustled out of the cab and paid the driver while Sherlock got out of the cab. Once he paid the cab, John went over to Sherlock, who was staring at the restaurant. The restaurant was placed along a narrow street that was lit with street lamps. Some people walked on the sidewalk, talking quietly amongst themselves. Sherlock simply stared at the restaurant. A small smile played at John's lips.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, gesturing to the restaurant.

Sherlock smiled.

"I think that this is a very good choice for our anniversary."

"Really?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, really. Now, if we were on a case, I would have said that this was a poor choice."

"I know. That's why I picked it; I knew that you wouldn't be working on any cases on our anniversary."

"That was a good idea, John," Sherlock said, stepping closer to the Italian restaurant.

John nodded.

"I have one of those once in a while." He said, throwing open the door. He gestured for Sherlock to go in. "After you, Sherlock."

Sherlock walked into the restaurant. It wasn't a very big restaurant, but it wasn't tiny, either. The bar was located along the right wall which opened right into the kitchen. The chefs were running around behind the bar, shouting orders to the servers who hid behind the wall. John walked over to the host stand to give their name.

"What's the reservation under?" The hostess asked.

"It's under Holmes," John said, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock.

Sherlock, of course, was looking at an elder woman who was sitting by herself on a bench that was situated near the entrance. Always making deductions, John thought, shaking his head. While he didn't know that Sherlock was definitely making deductions, he could tell. Sherlock's eyes were only focused on the woman, as if he was analyzing every detail.

The hostess typed the name into the computer and nodded.

"Right. Reservation for two at seven thirty?" she asked, grabbing two menus from the side of the stand.

John nodded. The hostess smiled and motioned for them to follow her.

"Sherlock, let's go. Leave the poor old lady alone."

Sherlock had moved closer to the woman and narrowed his eyes.

"Come on, Sherlock," John grabbed Sherlock's hand and led him into the dining room, where the hostess was waiting.

"Follow me," the hostess said.

They weaved through the tables until they stopped in front of a table that was located in between two large windows that showed the street. Sherlock and John took their seats as the hostess left. John smiled at Sherlock.

"Thank you for coming to dinner with me," he said.

"Why are you thanking me, John?"

John hesitated a second before speaking.

"You didn't have to come with me, but you chose to."

"Why wouldn't I go to dinner with you?"

He shrugged.

"You probably could have found a case to start working on instead," he said quietly. His cheeks turned rosy.

Sherlock shook his head and extended his arm so his hand rested on top of John's. He squeezed it gently.

"John, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be here. Today is our first year anniversary. I want to celebrate that with you."

At first, John wanted to have a few friends over for their one year anniversary, but Sherlock declined that offer. He knew that some people liked to have their friends over for an anniversary celebration, but that wasn't what Sherlock wanted. All he wanted was to spend time with the person that he cared about the most.

John smiled and opened up the menu. He glanced down at the dinner items right as the waitress came over to introduce herself.

About an hour later, John and Sherlock had just finished their meals. John had ordered a pizza while Sherlock had ordered pasta with some type of shellfish in it. John didn't think that Sherlock would be able to finish the pasta, but he ate all of it.

The waitress came over with a dessert menu. She grinned at Sherlock and John as she placed the menu on the table.

"I don't know if you're interested, but there's a menu of all of our desserts. If you have any questions, feel free to ask," she placed the menu on the table and walked away, leaving Sherlock and John to themselves.

John took the menu and opened it. He quickly scanned it before looking back at Sherlock, who was staring at him with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"What?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"If you want to get desert, get some. I can't promise that I'll order, but I won't stop you from getting something."

John's eyebrows raised.

"Really? You won't even complain about waiting for it to come out?"

"No, I won't."

John smiled and nodded.

"Thanks, Sherlock."

Just then, the waitress came back over to their table. She looked over at John who had finished looking at the menu.

"What can I get for you?"

"Can I have the tiramisu?"

She scribbled the order down on her notepad.

"Of course." She glanced over at Sherlock. "Can I get anything for you, sir?" she asked, batting her eyelashes slightly.

Sherlock shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid that I do not want anything. Also, batting your eyelashes won't get anyone to order more food. You would have more luck smiling at your customer."

John's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything; there wasn't any use of correcting Sherlock. Sherlock was going to do what he wanted to do. The waitress pursed her lips, turned on her heels, and left. John leaned over the table.

"You know, that wasn't very nice, Sherlock... she wasn't doing anything wrong. She only wanted us to buy more food because her boss wants her to sell the menu items."

Sherlock glanced around the restaurant. John watched Sherlock closely until Sherlock's eyes met his.

"This is a four-star restaurant. The owners of this place make plenty of money. Plus, it's Italian, and a lot of people enjoy going out to Italian restaurants. There's no reason for the managers to make the waitresses sell a ton of stuff."

John didn't say anything; Sherlock placed his napkin on the table and pushed himself away from the table.

"Excuse me; I have to use the loo," he said, getting up and going down a narrow hallway that was a few feet away from them.

John watched Sherlock go and smiled. Even though Sherlock hadn't been overly kind to the waitress, he had been nice to most people tonight, which was different for him. Sherlock always seemed to butt heads with people. John fiddled with the napkin in his lap until Sherlock strode back into the dining room. As always, he looked stunning. His curls bounced as he walked, and his cheeks were slightly rosy.

John cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the seat, but he suddenly couldn't get comfortable. Why did he have to be dating someone who looked like that? Even though John had been dating Sherlock for a year, he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was dating someone who was so attractive. Sherlock pushed his seat back and sat back down; a small smirk was plastered across his face.

"What are you smiling about?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged and took a sip of wine. John narrowed his eyes.

"Sherlock-"

He was cut off by the waitress. She placed the tiramisu down in front of John, and left as soon as the plate touched the table. John muttered his thanks and looked back at Sherlock. Sherlock gestured to the plate.

"Aren't you going to take a bite?"

John opened his mouth in protest, but didn't say anything. He took a bite of the tiramisu and closed his eyes; it was delicious. He smiled and took another bite, completely content with letting the previous conversation die away.