This is pure fluff. Very goofy pondering fluff, and not very long. But it is hopefully a nice read anyway. Write me a line and tell me what you think, will you? All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners.

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John kept his fingers laced with those of Sherlock's firmly, not letting the fidgety genius get loose. Not that the other man was trying very hard, after all. The consulting detective did not truly struggle to get free, they both knew that. John would let go immediately if he did, and they both knew that, too. For all that he didn't like touches on his palms, John was being very careful, and Sherlock did not mind one bit.

"Love?" John patiently tried to summon his very own genius' attention back to him, from whereever it was that he had gone. "Mmmm?" Sherlock's dark hair fell charmingly over his forehead as he turned towards his shorter companion.

Smiling, John reached up and gently stroked the hair to the side. "You alright?" "Yes John" the genius replied obediently, apparently having taken the doctor's lessons on civility very much to heart, at least when it came to John himself. When it came to others, not so much, their motherly landlady being the possible exception.

"It is a nice day out, no?" John attempted to draw him into conversation, and the dark-haired man nodded, looking over at the pond they were now walking alongside, in the park the doctor had led them too, right at the heart of London.

"It is". Sherlock must have really meant it, as he did not even look honestly bored. Maybe, John reasoned, he was amusing himself by deducing people, or, as he had taken to doing, deducing John in great detail. He did not know why that was so interesting, but if he had learnt anything during the last few years, it was that Sherlock being lightly romantic could be completely and utterly incomprehensible. He was used to, by now, that Sherlock expressed both friendship and love differently than most people did, and he didn't mind even for a moment.

John let the Holmes fall back into silence as he watched the ducks frolick around the pond, thinking back to a few weeks earlier in the same very park, when they had been hot on the trail of a murderer, who had eventually been caught by the occasionally unstoppable detective. Much as he enjoyed the speed and adrenaline of battle, be it war or the London battlefield of Sherlock Holmes, John was greatful for the calm and peace of these moments, when he got to see a Sherlock who's company was just for him.

He would never tire of the company of his best friend, John knew that, and he lightly squeesed his genius' hand, smiling to him when this got the taller man's attention. Reaching up to stroke another lock of curly, unruly hair out of Sherlock's eyes, John stood on tiptoes to be able to kiss him on the cheek. Life with a Holmes could be very weird, but he loved it.