"I know what you really want for our anniversary," Sherlock whispers in my ear to wake me up. His hands are all over me, and I grin at the contact. Yeah, I'll take this over a jumper.

There is kissing though. Not on my mouth, which I'm familiar with, but on my neck, my ears. Then slowly down my chest. I'm not used to the feeling of his lips upon me.

Kisses on my stomach as he slips a condom on me.

Then.

Jesus.

He's kissing my cock.

Some thought is trying to push through the passion filled brain. There is something that I need to remember.

Right, Sherlock hates oral. He's afraid of it.

My hand on his forehead pushes him away, "Stop," I mutter.

"I'm sorry I'm so bad at it. Tell me what to do," he pleas still between my legs. His breath on my cock feeling amazing.

I twist around, and pull him up until the two of us are face to face. "You were doing a good job Sherlock, I just wanted to talk about why you're doing it."

"You want to marry me," he says as if I'm particularly dense.

"I don't want a reward for proposing, Sherlock," I say.

He looks crestfallen, "Not a reward."

I stroke his curls, waiting for him to explain. He lets me sooth him for a little longer before he sits up, and turns away form me, "Female prostitutes only."

My mind takes ridiculously long to respond to that, and even then it's only, "What?"

"I would be far more uncomfortable with a male," he responds.

"Well, that surprises me," I admit, "But not nearly as much as the fact that you want a prostitute. I might need you to explain demisexuality to me again. Slowly."

He shoots me a look full of derision and pain over his shoulder, "She won't be for me John!"

"Sherlock, I don't want a hooker," I say softly.

"You want to marry me John!" he explains.

"Yes, I want to marry you, and be with you. Not anyone else," I repeat sitting up so that I can wrap myself around him.

"You'll probably get attached to them, even if we pay them. Different one every time then. I think I can live with that," Sherlock insists stoically.

"How about you believe me when I say that I don't want anyone else," I suggest.

"If you marry me John, you are going to go the rest of your life without receiving oral sex."

"I hasn't really thought about it in quite those terms," I admit.

He nods.

"I'm fine with that. It's certainly a lot better than letting my boyfriend rape himself or being with someone besides the person I love."

"You giving up a sex act you enjoy has to be as difficult as me doing one I don't enjoy," he insists.

"Nope," I say firmly.

"You can't want to give it up forever," Sherlock repeats.

"You are really underestimating the things I would give up to be with you, Sherlock. Besides, you gave up thumbs in the microwave, and drugging our family. This is a small sacrifice by comparison."

He grins, "It's possible I was overestimating the difference between alosexuals and asexuals. It's would be easier to predict people's behavior if I was normal myself."

I gaff at him, "Sherlock, you predict people's behavior so well because you are so very far away from normal."

"Now come on, snuggle me to sleep," I command pulling him onto the bed with me.

"Sex is more or less expected on an anniversary isn't it? There are lots of sexual acts we find mutually beneficial."

"Just hold me Sherlock. That's the best part between us. It's your favorite part."

He wraps his long limbs around me in one of the eighteen snuggling positions we've assumed since the beginning of relationship. I'm thinking of writing a paper about the various benefits of each of them. The only reason I haven't, is because I fear that Sherlock would publish it even if I told him not to.

I have almost fallen back into asleep when I hear the words, "We'll talk about the baby soon, John. I owe you a conversation."

-0-

"How did the night away go, boys?" Mrs. Hudson asks as we enter 221B the next morning. The kids are still at the breakfast table even though Rosie is clearly more interested in turning food into art, and Theo is done eating.

"John botched a proposal to me, and then refused to have sex with me," Sherlock says pushing past her to drop off our luggage in the bedroom.

Theo and Mrs. Hudson are staring at me in horror. After a beat Mrs. Hudson turns on the kettle, and Theo stands up to hug me.

"You guys, it's fine. He just wants a ring, and…the other thing was choosing sweetness. He was fine! We are fine!" I insist.

"Mary got a ring. I get a ring," Sherlock repeats returning to the room.

"I will get you a ring, Sherlock. Can we just consider ourselves engaged until then?"

"That's not how it works," he says shaking his head.

"Can you tell them that you enjoyed the trip?" I insist.

"Why do you want me to lie?" Sherlock asks.

"Are you guys separating?" Theo asks Sherlock.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Sherlock insists.

"I explained to John that I prefer the food and company in London to that out of town. That doesn't mean I would dissolve our romantic relationship, because he enjoys taking me to the country one night a year," Sherlock continues.

"I'm so glad we decided how often night away would be. Was I in the room when this happened?" I ask sarcastically.

"Dear," Mrs. Hudson says taking him by the arm, "Generally when someone refuses a proposal its because they don't love someone."

"It wasn't a proposal," Sherlock says exasperated, "He didn't have a ring!"

"Will you come with me to pick out a ring?" I ask him.

"You still don't know how to do this. I'll write you some rules," he says turning the rules still posted on the fridge over. He writes on there, "1. Get a ring before you propose. 2. Don't make babies with my brother."

"That's also not anything like what it sounds like," I inform the room. "Sherlock, I don't have any idea what kind of ring to buy a man."

"You should have let me do the proposing John. You are woefully ignorant about some matters."

"Educate me," I say.

He gives me a kiss.

"Mrs. Hudson, you mind watching the children for a little longer?" he asks.

"Of course not, go boys! Make it official!" she declares taking a flannel to begin the unenviable job of cleaning Rosie's hands.