Yay! The next chapter-finally! So I would make some promise about the remaining two chapters, but I won't since I've been absolutely horrible at updating this in a timely manner. The plot monkeys have discovered the wonder city of New Orleans and have decided that nothing else matters at the moment.
Once again-thank you to everyone for sticking with me so far. You're the best!
And there are only two more chapters left! Everyone make your dental appointments now-the remaining bit of our tale is so sugary sweet that you'll all have cavities by the time we're done...
Sherlock had called in their order to the Chinese place on the way home. He kept stealing sideways glances at John's profile, wondering when the next angry outburst was going to come.
The good doctor resolutely kept his stare fixed out his window, but it did not escape his notice that his infuriating partner was watching him like a hawk, or rather, pretending not to. John sighed and blindly slid his right hand across the empty expanse of the seat to brush it against Sherlock's leg.
Without hesitation, the genius reached down with his left hand and entangled their fingers together.
"Do you know why I'm cross with you?" his blogger questioned in a low tone, so as not to be overheard by the cabbie. He still hadn't turned to face Sherlock yet, but at least he was now speaking to him.
Staring down at their joined hands, the younger man absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over John's knuckles as he answered, "Because it was a drugs case and I had promised that I would avoid those cases. I have betrayed your trust yet again."
"It's one thing if I can be there with you, but it's entirely another when you go running off on your own—undercover nevertheless—to catch a dealer," the doctor stated blandly. "Honestly—what would you have done had Dimmock and Lestrade not shown up in time? You would have had to take the injection…God! I love you, but I don't know if I could handle it if you willfully took that stuff…"
"But that's just it, John," Sherlock begged his lover to understand, "it wasn't the solution the dealer gave me. I pocketed it as evidence so that Dimmock could have further proof of the man's illegal activities. The vial that Lestrade saw was filled with nothing more than a harmless saline solution. I switched them out in the event that I might actually have to take the injection."
Shaking his head, the older man responded, "I still think that it was a risky move on your part."
"Yes, perhaps—but necessary," the consulting detective countered. "That low life was dealing in the park where Benedict likes to play. I thought long and hard about taking this case before I actually accepted it. I just kept coming back to imagining our little one falling and being stuck with an unclean needle…if that had happened, I don't think I could have ever forgiven myself, knowing that I could have done something to prevent it. And it's not just Benedict, John—it's all the other children who run around there too."
An odd expression flitted across John's face, one that Sherlock couldn't put a name to. "Listen to you! Be careful now, or people will start to think that you might actually care."
"I don't care what other people think," the genius scoffed. "I only care about what you think."
"Alright then—I think you're a right mad bastard. But you're mine all the same."
"Are you still angry with me?"
"Yes, but I understand your reasoning," the doctor conceded. "Just…just don't keep something like this from me again. I swear—if I get another call like that from Greg again, I will kill you myself as soon as I find out you're safe."
In that moment, Sherlock had no doubt that John actually meant what he said.
Sherlock spent the next several days trying to atone for his mistake by being the perfect boyfriend. For a change, the kitchen was sparkling clean and free of experiments. John had left Sunday afternoon to acquire more milk from Tesco's and came back to a dust free and spotless flat, everything in its proper place for once.
The doctor glanced around suspiciously waiting for the axe to fall. "What's this for?" he asked as he opened the fridge to find it just as fresh as the rest of their space.
"Do I need a reason?"
"Yes, Sherlock, you do," John said wryly with a raised eyebrow. "There must be some reason you've gone so far as to clean the entire flat—you never clean!" Then it dawned on him—this was still an apology for the drugs case. "When are you going to stop apologizing for that?"
Sherlock gave him a scathing look and answered, "When you stop holding it over my head. And besides—can't I do something nice for you once in a while?"
John sighed and joined his partner on the couch. "No, no. You can—I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Of course I like it when you do things like this. It's just been a long week."
The detective leaned forward and lightly kissed his blogger on the lips. "I'm going to spend however long it takes me to make you understand that I am sorry for my transgression."
"I know that you're sorry—you don't have to keep apologizing, Sherlock. Just…don't do it again," the doctor said.
"Alright," Sherlock agreed and wrapped his arms around John as his lover leaned into him. He fondly nuzzled the back of his neck and asked in a low rumble, "So next Friday…"
"Mmm…yes?"
"What are the odds of me being able to take you out to dinner? There's a restaurant I've recently discovered that I think you'll enjoy," advised the genius.
"Any particular reason that we're waiting until next Friday instead of this weekend?" John questioned.
"Yes—reservations," Sherlock stated plainly. "I got us a table for seven o'clock, so tell Sarah that you can't possibly work beyond six on Friday."
"Oh—a date night then? That would be lovely. We haven't gone out in some time," the doctor declared with a smile.
"I know that I'm not the best at romance, but every once and a while I feel like I should make the effort," the younger man reasoned.
"I don't know what you are talking about," John replied. "I think you are highly romantic. What's not romantic about joint showers, take away in front of the telly, and cuddles on the couch or bonding over a crime scene? God knows we're not a traditional couple…you know that I don't need chocolates and roses."
"I know that, John, but I want to do this for you. Will you just let me?"
"Of course! I didn't mean it like that! I was simply saying that I don't expect it."
"Which is why I'm going to take you to dinner at this lovely restaurant."
John twisted in his partner's arms to face him and gave him a peck on the lips. "I love you Sherlock Holmes."
With an answering laugh, the consulting detective responded, "And I love you John Watson."
John had to admit that he was very curious about what Sherlock had been planning for their date night. He was even more curious when his partner told him that they would not be needing a babysitter because they would be taking Benedict with them. The doctor was pleased to be including his son on this outing, though he couldn't place exactly why that was—there was something different about this "date".
When Friday finally came around, he rushed out of the clinic in a whirlwind of excitement. John bit the bullet and paid for the cab fair to take him home, he was in such a hurry to get back to Sherlock and their promised night out.
The flat was empty when he arrived, but his best suit was laid out on the bed for him. Oh—so it's going to be one of those nights, then! Grinning like a fool, he stripped quickly and took a fast shower before dressing in the dark grey charcoal Perry Ellis suit and a light green silk shirt. He laughed to himself as he knotted the green and grey stripped tie that Sherlock had picked out for him. Just as he was slipping on his jacket, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Benedict's little voice chattering away about Gladstone.
Said dog barked excitedly and ran through the flat into their bedroom and greeted John with unrestrained enthusiasm. He laughed and rubbed Gladstone's head affectionately as Sherlock appeared in the doorway with a smile.
"Don't you look spectacular," complimented the detective with an appreciative look. "Maybe I should take you out more often, just so that you have a chance to dress up." He walked towards his blogger with the air of a jungle cat stalking his prey. When he leaned in for kiss, John felt his heart rate kick it up a notch at the predatory look he was receiving.
The situation would have quickly escalated was it not for Ben rushing in and tugging on John's trouser leg, demanding to know when they were going to dinner.
Sherlock, stunning as ever in his black Spencer Hart suit and that purple shirt of sex, bent over and scooped Benedict up in his arms and whispered something to the toddler that John couldn't hear. The boy giggled and shot a conspiratorial look at his father.
"And just what are you two planning?" the doctor demanded, trying to sound stern and failing miserably, especially when he couldn't keep the grin off his face.
There was no response to his question, only a quirked secret smile from his mad lover before he turned and walked out of the room. "Coming, John?" he called over his shoulder as he and Ben headed for the door.
The cab ride was pleasant with them all recounting their day to one another. John was so caught up in their conversation that he hadn't been paying attention to where they were going until they were half way across the Westminster Bridge.
Glancing out the window for the first time since getting into the car, the doctor asked, "Where are we going?"
With a mysterious twinkle in his eye, Sherlock answered, "You'll find out momentarily."
And true to his word, several minutes later, their cab stopped in front of Locale. The genius ushered them all out of the car once he paid the fair and led them into the restaurant where he gave the hostess his last name. After they were led to their table, John took a moment to glace around at the warm Italian inspired décor. The ambiance of the place was posh, yet remained open and inviting at the same time.
He didn't say anything until after Sherlock had ordered them olives and calamari as starters. "You remembered that I wanted to come here," John said with a fond smile.
His younger lover shot him a disapproving look and he added, "Of course you remembered—you remember everything. But why now?"
Sherlock was the picture of nonchalance as he shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Why not? I thought now was as good a time as any. And besides—I think we've officially been to every Italian restaurant on our side of the Thames, so I figured we would start here on this side."
"Ah." John knew there was definitely more to it than that, but he kept quite. Let Sherlock have his secrets if it pleased him.
After that, they slipped easily back into the conversation they were having on the cab ride over. During dinner, Sherlock regaled Ben with tales of John's heroic exploits yet again. There was something slightly different about the looks his detective graced him with this evening—it made his stomach flutter and his heart beat a little faster. Even with a three year old child, the whole experience was very intimate and romantic.
Benedict had insisted on dessert, and despite being utterly stuffed themselves, Sherlock and John relented and ordered the tiramisu.
"God, I feel like you should be rolling me out of here!" the doctor exclaimed as they stepped out into the evening air.
Laughing, Sherlock replied, "Well, then—I think a nice little walk will do us all some good. Shall we?" He gestured down the street, indicating the direction they should take.
They strolled along in a comfortable silence with Ben between them holding onto one of each of their hands. It wasn't until they approached County Hall that it finally dawned on John what the remainder of their evening would include.
"The London Eye?" John questioned, slightly dazed.
"You are just filled with excellent observations tonight, aren't you?" It was said without the usual snide-ness that similar comments carried.
"Ha ha. Yes, well…why tonight?"
"It's a beautiful evening and I believe we're just in time to watch the sunset. When would be a better time if not now?"
John had no further questions beyond that.
Once inside, Sherlock went straight up to the priority desk. John hung back with Ben as the detective spoke with the sales rep behind the counter. Minutes later, the genius motioned for them to join him as they followed another representative.
"This must have cost a fortune," John declared as they were led to their own private pod.
The younger man just smiled mysteriously and bent to pick Benedict up, carrying the toddle the rest of the way up the ramp.
Once they were settled in, John leaned up and kissed his partner. "You are amazing. Have I told you that lately?"
Grinning, Sherlock replied, "You have, but do feel free to tell me again."
That smugness earned him a smack on the arse and another kiss.
"When will we move?" Benedict demanded to know as he pressed his face and hands against the capsule wall.
"Soon," the genius assured him and ruffled his soft baby curls affectionately. "You are so impatient today!"
And true to his word, several minutes later, they were moving. This was the first time the older man had been on the attraction and he had to confess that it was spectacular. He was seeing London like he had never seen it before. And he was experiencing it with the two most important people in his life. He wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky.
"Wow. This really is beautiful," John breathed as he gazed out the glass enclosure as they neared the pinnacle of the rotation. Twilight had descended on London, bathing the city in the soft glow of the recently set sun and the twinkle of lights.
"I thought you would like it," Sherlock responded. "I know Benedict has been asking to come up here for some time now, but I didn't want to take him without you. I thought this was something that we should do as a family."
The doctor's head whipped around at that last word. Family. He had never heard his partner refer to their dynamic in that way. He nearly stopped breathing.
For a few more seconds, the detective continued to stare out at their city and said quietly, "That's what I want us to be, John. I want us to be a family. Officially." He turned to face his blogger.
John blinked several times to ensure that he wasn't imagining this conversation. His partner took a step closer to him and linked their hands together.
"What are you saying, Sherlock?"
That intense icy blue stare locked onto his. "What I'm saying is that you have continued to turn my world upside down since the day I first met you. I'm a better man because of you, and I can't imagine my life without you. You are the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning and I want your face to be the last thing I see when I leave this world…"
Sherlock went down on one knee and the doctor did in fact stop breathing.
"John Hamish Watson—I love you more than I could ever express to you. Please do me the honor of becoming my husband."
Ben hopped over to them and handed the genius something. The older man watched the exchange and realized that his lover was presenting him with platinum band inlaid with diamonds. It was elegant and simple yet ornate at the same time. It was stunning and somehow managed to capture the essence of their relationship.
"God—Sherlock!" John cried out and felt tears splash down his face onto that pale, outstretched hand. He bent down and gave his partner a sweet kiss.
As they pulled away from one another, Sherlock gave him a searching look. "Is that a 'yes', then?"
Wiping his eyes, the doctor giggled and answered, "Yes it's a 'yes', you infuriating, mad, romantic bastard!"
Finally having the answer he was looking for, Sherlock slipped the band onto his blogger's left ring finger. John was unsurprised to find that the ring was a perfect fit. He gazed down at it, admiring the way the stones glittered in the low lighting. And in that moment, the doctor was so overwhelmingly happy that he felt like he would burst.
When Sherlock stood, John wrapped his arms around the lanky genius and buried his face in the detective's shoulder. His partner held him closer still. Sherlock breathed easy for the first time in seven days. He had been on edge ever since he had made their dinner reservation a week ago. Like everything else he did, he had researched marriage proposals endlessly until he was just as much an expert on it as any wedding planner. He had initially scoffed when he had read about how many prospective bridegrooms became increasing nervous about "popping the question". Though he would never admit this aloud, Sherlock had experienced the same feelings, regardless of the fact that he knew without a doubt that John would say yes.
Their private moment was broken when Ben clapped his hands excitedly and demanded to know, "You going to get mawried?! You'll stay with us, Papa, fowever?!"
John reached down to pick up his son—their son—to include him in this life-changing moment.
The answering smile Sherlock gave lit up his face and the doctor thought that the man before him was the most stunning view he'd ever seen. The scenery beyond their enclosure couldn't hold a candle to his younger partner in John's eyes.
Sherlock reached around to embrace his two boys and kissed Benedict on the temple before he responded, "You know that I will. And yes—Daddy and I are going to get married!"
"When?" Ben demanded.
That was one question he didn't have an answer to. The detective turned his inquiring gaze to John's. "So what do you think, John?"
"I think maybe this autumn?"
"Excellent! I know just the perfect time and place…"