Mock the Man Part Two

Hi guys. I am sooo sorry this took so long to do! Honestly! I mean in the time it's taken me to update two of my cats have died, my cat of 12 years Snuggle and my cat of only 2 Crumble, I've been to London and found out I'm moving house and I've got my GCSE's to look forward to soon so life's throwing it at me at the moment. Anyway, rant over… I would love love love to say a MAHUSIVE thank you to stardiva for giving me some inspiration and for being so patient and not haranguing me AT ALL, so TTTHHHHAAANNNNKK YYYYOOOUUUU! I mean this chapter isn't that long, just a little bit of fluffy fun and I hope you lovely, wonderful people will carry on with me and my dodgy updating schedule. I'd like to dedicate this to my cats, if that isn't too weird…

Disclaimer: [I think I need to do these a little more often of I'll have Mark Gatiss on my back…actually, that isn't such a bad idea…] Not mine, sadly, or Sarah wouldn't exist AT ALL (she's SUCH a cow) and John and Sherlock would be able to live in peace and face the world together. Alone. Anyone else getting the vibe that I don't like Sarah?

Part II

On my way home.

What do you want for dinner?

J

Strolling to the local tube station to get home John Watson he checked his phone before he went underground to the station because he knew there was no signal when you're speeding through the ground on the Bakerloo line. No reply, typical Sherlock. While on the tube he noticed every now and again the flash of maintenance light made the coach of the tube train light ethereally and faces of the public and tourists become half shadowed by the orange light seeping in.

Once at the destination that is Baker Street John hopped off the train and then hurried up the steps, along with the rest of the other London residents. John had got back into the old London walking pace in no time. But at the moment he was only interested in one thing. Sherlock.

John hurried to the door of 221B and pulled out his keys and shoved them in the keyhole. He rushed up the stairs, his body aching for its lover, anticipation making his muscles tingle with pleasure.

"Sherlock? Sherlock are you here?" John called into Sherlock's room.

No reply. John's body was already starting to expel his happy mood and then it was replaced by a horrible loneliness. John fished out his phone and texted Sherlock.

Hey, got home.

Where are you?

Text back what you want for tea.

Love you,

J

John sighed heavily and then fell down onto the sofa, letting out all the stress from his legs he started to search for the remote. Nothing. John hunted around, down the back of the sofa and under the sofa chairs by the fire. Still nothing.

John rationalised in his head. You don't need the remote. Just use the buttons on the TV. He walked over to the TV and pushed the ON button. Nothing. The TV was dead. John looked at the socket. The plug was missing but where the plug was meant to be there was a sticky note, a bright, yellow post it sticky note with writing on it.

My John,

You've found my trail,

Now to get the plug,

That I know it's your holy grail.

Go in the kitchen, look in the bread bin,

Takes you to the next clue within.

John read it twice before he actually realised that Sherlock was actually being serious. He folded the note up and tucked it in his back pocket, a smirk gracing his chapped lips. He walked into the kitchen and over to the bread bin to which he opened the lid to find yet another post it note sitting in all it's glory at the bottom of the bin.

My John,

You've found the second clue,

Third is a bit more difficult for you,

Delve into my bedroom if you dare,

The third clue will be waiting in there.

John huffed and smiled in amusement, Sherlock was behaving completely childishly. He ventured into Sherlock's room and looked around, completely mystified by where he was supposed to look. He searched around the room and then he finally noticed something. If Sherlock was to hide something, what place is relevant to both of them? What place is Sherlock most likely to think that I'll look once I've thought about it.

John closed his eyes for a second. Where? Where could it be? John's eyes travelled around the room and as he looked over the room the wrought iron fireplace caught his attention because his eyes fell on the one other person in the room. The skull.

Smiling John walked over to the grinning shell and hesitantly picked it up and, inside, where the brain should be (to which John thought was completely inappropriate and a little disturbing, but in true Sherlock style) was a yellow sticky note pasted on the cranium. Sighing John pulled the note from the bone and put the skull back down on the mantel piece where it continued to grin at him sinisterly.

My John,

Well done, my love, so now the penultimate clue,

In an object that's navy blue,

With a red button hole, you might understand,

In the living room, somewhere I place my hand.

John knew straight away, apart from the little bit at the end to throw him off the trail but he knew that Sherlock wouldn't want to make it THAT difficult to find whatever he was being sent on this treasure quest for he practically ran to the living room and threw the door closed and, behind the door, swinging in the wind of John's eagerness was Sherlock's coat, straight away John's hands dived into each pocket and John found, in the right pocket, a note.

My John,

Well finally you made the quest,

I think you deserve a little rest,

Come upstairs to your old room,

You'll find what awaits you soon.

John practically threw the note down at this point and legged it up the stairs to his room. His old room as Sherlock had put it. Oh god…. John thought either one of two things, this was a sick joke and he wan't me out or he's about to propose that I move into his room. John paused at the door handle, the cold metal warming at the heat of his clammy, excited hands. Okay… he prepped himself, took a breath and pushed the door open.

What he saw next was truly astounding. Sherlock, fully kitted out in his finest attire, standing next to a little table that had only two plates of steaming food and a wine bottle, with the label on, Typical Sherlock….., and a red rose inside, it's crimson petals open wide to the world.

Sherlock smiled.

"You said dinner and I just thought I'd cover it tonight,"

John sighed happily and walked quickly towards Sherlock and enveloped him in a hug, his face next to Sherlock's ear and whispered "Thank you", he felt Sherlock's face crease into a smile as he spoke and when he pulled back he took a step back too, looking at the impeccable dark grey suit to which the detective was sporting. The trousers were a little tight but suited Sherlock perfectly, the dark blue silk shirt was beautiful with the taller man's eyes and his jacket was unbuttoned and hanging exquisitely from the detectives model frame. All John could see was perfection. And perfection was all Sherlock could see when he looked at John.

They both sat down at the table and they ate their food, the chat was continuous and flowing, laughter echoed around the room and happy sighs filled the air like metaphorical butterflies, gracing the air beautifully.

Midnight came and the fairy lights Sherlock had placed in the corner of the room made a sublime glow across the room, not to mention the moonlight that streaked in through the sky light that was above the bed in the middle of the room, making Sherlock's skin glow as if he was some angel sent from heaven. John knew and had his own opinions about religion and thought he didn't believe in God but in this moment he would because Sherlock looked ethereal in the natural moonshine. Sherlock paused the conversation and looked at John seriously.

"There is a reason about all of this" he said, a smile pulling the left side of his lips, he held onto the right lapel with his right hand and his left delved into the abyss of the inside pocket and when he pulled the hand out there was a silver ring in his fingers, caught by his thumb and his index finger was a simple silver band. A smile crossed his face, a proper smile, not the one he put on for people when he was trying to trick them into giving him information, this was a proper smile, a real, blissful smile. John on the other hand had gone completely pale and was staring at the ring as if he was a venomous snake and it would attack him at any second. He opened his mouth as if to protest but Sherlock cut across him.

"Now! I know, I know! I don't deserve you! But honestly John, I need you. You're like the sun to me, (see I do listen to you really) I can't live without you, you guide me, your my moral compass, you are everything to me, everything, and I feel so incredibly selfish by asking you to marry me but I don't want to share you with anyone else because I want everyone to know that I have a brave, good, strong man for my husband and not strong in a weird way, your mentally strong, something I envy completely because I need that feeling of belonging and that feeling of being grounded and you help me feel that. I want to grow old with you, I think that 2 years ago if someone asked me if I could see myself in 10 years where would I be and honestly, 2 years ago, I couldn't have answered but now, now I see it with you, I see you and me growing old together, companionship John and you're the only person Ihave ever met that I have felt I can completely be myself and be completely happy with my place in life. So please, please understand that I am so below you and you deserve someone so much better than me and if you left and found better and married a woman and had children and moved out of here I don't think I would be able to survive, without you the light at the end of the tunnel will extinguish and I'll be stranded in the dark, completely lost without you. So really John, really. Will you marry me?" Sherlock finished, eye's glistening and breath shaking and it rattled out of his mouth.

John was lost for words for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing of its own accord and the words disappearing like fog as he was about to dispel them from his mind but he finally managed to string a full, well almost full, sentence out from his dry lips.

"Y-y-y-you w-want to m-marry me?" he asked, disbelief lacing his voice and his eyes looked questioningly at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded, a small sad smile on his lips.

"You don't want to do you?" he asked sadly, he shook himself and started to babble "of course! Of course! Why would you want to marry me? Who would ever, ever want to marry a person who can't even have a-"

The reason for the abrupt stop in Sherlock's ranting was a pair of chapped, dry lips pushing themselves over his own. John had literally leapt on Sherlock in an attempt to shut him up. John finally peeled his lips from Sherlock's and looked at him, deep into his eyes and spoke in clear, full tones.

"You bloody idiot, of course I want to marry you! The question is, why do you want to marry a short arse like me?" John smiled, tears forming in his eyes as Sherlock delved back into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the ring and slid it onto John's ring finger of his left hand. John laughed breathily as Sherlock applied the silver band to his finger in disbelief.

"Come on fiancée, we've got to go to bed early, I'm feeling a little," Sherlock searched for the word "out of character tonight".

Pulling John with him down the steps to their room Sherlock had no intention in doing any cases for at least a day. And the only time they would leave the bedroom would be to eat, even though Sherlock had no intention of needing to refuel unless John was the one providing the food.

Sooooo okay. Hope that wasn't too bad, I will post another chapter, if I find the time, I've got two scripts to learn, one for GCSE, one for on-stage acting I do in my hometown Theatre Severn. Anyway, speak to you all soon, please please review, I get all fuzzy feeling and it makes all this worthwhile. Also, any ideas for the Wedding would be FAN-TAS-TIC.

All my love intrepid Fanfiction-ers,

Ciao for now,

Nicole a.k.a TSOD (I know, SOD ha ha bloody ha) xxxxxx