"This one?" I ask holding up what feels like the hundredth choice. I am trying really hard not act exasperated with his desire to find the best one, but I'm sure he can see through whatever act I'm putting on.

He turns it over slowly in his hand. "Yes, this one."

I manage to turn the "Thank goodness!" I mean to say into a slightly more appropriate, "Wonderful!"

"Of course, it will need to be engraved," he adds.

"Right," I say like I did actually know that.

"You have to pick the words. I mean, you've got to do at least part of this, John," he prompts.

I stare at him pondering for a while before I come up with something he'll accept, "Fantastic," I offer.

He grins, "Well done, John."

"We can do the engraving while you wait if you prefer," the lady behind the counter offers.

"So, we can take it home today?" I ask excitedly.

She nods disappearing into the back room.

"John, I would be willing to have another child with you. I would just prefer that we had another older one, like Theo."

"I'm open to that as well. I don't think that four children would be too many. I just really want one of our children to be one that has your genes in it."

"That's ridiculous," Sherlock pouts.

"It's not. You're one of the most amazing people that the world has ever seen, and it would be a waste not to carry on those genes."

"I don't have good genes, John. I have a history of addiction. Out of the three of us siblings all three have been diagnosed with mental illness, and all three have committed murder."

"Mycroft?" I ask in surprise.

"Really? I tell you that the man has started wars, and…"

"But not with his bare hands, right? Has Mycroft killed anyone with his bare hands?"

"He was MI5 before he started to run the government. So, yeah, I think it is fair to say that he did."

I lean forward just in case someone at the shop has been listening. "I want our DNA to be mixed up together forever," I whisper.

"Children don't tend to live forever," he points out without passion.

"No, but the baby might grow up to have other children, and carry our DNA all missed up together for a long time."

He smirks. "Took you a while to come up with an angle I couldn't resist didn't it?"

"Not that long. I'm getting a lot better at thinking like you do."

"Your ring is ready," the man behind the counter says to us.

"I can pay, John," Sherlock offers.

"You are not paying for your own engagement ring. That's not the way things are done."

"It won't matter, because soon enough all of our money is going to be shared," he points out.

"Yes, but are you going to let me into that closet of yours?" I ask.

"The goal is to get OUT of the closet, John," he teases back.

"Seriously, Rosie is going to need her own closet one day."

"I'll buy you a wardrobe, fill it will jumpers for you, even," he says.

The man behind the counter clears his throat.

"Right, sorry," I say fishing my card out and handing it over to him. The ring is sitting on the table between us, and push the ring toward him.

"You have to propose," Sherlock says with an incredulous voice again.

"I did propose," I say exasperated.

"Again, with the ring," he insists.

"Oh, you are lucky that I love you," I say teasingly.

I put the card which is handed me back in my wallet, and then I take the ring. Dropping to my knee.

"Sherlock Holmes, you are the most brilliant, amazing, loving man that I have ever known. I cannot imagine a future which does not include you in it. I can't even imagine a future life which doesn't revolve around you. If you would do me the honor of marrying me it would make me the happiest man on Earth."

"That was a lot of sentimental nonsense," he replies.

"Can you just say yes, and kiss me, and edit the speech for clarity later on?" I ask.

"Yes," he says giving me a kiss, "The main flaw with the speech is that you don't revolve around me. I revolve around you."

"Well, that is certainly not true," I chuckle.

"You have changed my life more than I have changed yours," he objects.

"I don't think that's true, but I know I don't want to argue about it. Shall we go home now?" I ask.

"Yes," he says linking his arm with mine.

"Excuse me," a man walks in front of us. There is anger in his yes, and I know that Sherlock hasn't missed it by the way that he grips my arm with the inside of his elbow. "But it looked like you two just got engaged, back there," he continues.

"We did," Sherlock says. If ever there was a time that you should lie this would be one of them. How does he not know this? There is no way Sherlock has gotten to be as old as he is, being as odd as he is without ever running into this before. Of course, he didn't date much, and even when I was his best friend I didn't know his sexual orientation.

"Why do you faggots have to get married?" he sneers.

"Sherlock, let's just leave," I prompt.

"I'll never understand people who cannot let others be happy, but have to try to destroy it," Sherlock says with a shrug letting go of my arm so that we can walk around the man one on each side. I am ready for a swing at any point in time, but it doesn't come.

Only when we're a block away, before I finally relax a bit, "I thought you were going to antagonize him," I breath.

"Wanted to, but you told me not to," he says with a shrug.

"I'm pissed that he ruined our big day."

"That's okay, you'll just have to propose to me a couple more times," he says with his sly grin.

Is he joking? He must be joking right? I stare at him trying to make sure I'm right before I speak, and then I say, "You cock," shaking my head.

"I like it when you refer to me as a penis."

I chuckle. "How many times were you going to let me propose to you?"

"It started to feel a little mean. I had plans to get to seven or eight."

"I'm guessing you've changed your mind about a small wedding?"

"Few people, big wedding?" he asks.

"Yeah, there is no way I'll be able to marry you without a lot of drama," I tease.

"Maybe a murder?" he says cheerfully.

"Sherlock, we're not hopping for one of our closest friends to be murdered at our wedding, are we?" I prompt.

"Attempted murder?" he tries again.

"No," I say firmly, because any other answer would sound like yes to him.

"You had at attempted murder with Mary," he whines.

I grab him, and shove him against the brick wall to kiss him, "How about you stop comparing our relationship to mine with my dead wife?"

"Or you'll kiss me?" he raises his eyebrow.

"Or nothing, Sherlock, it's a request. I'll kiss you anyway. We're getting married," I say happily. Then I take him by the hand, swinging it between us in my glee as we walk.

After a few minutes of silence he returns to an old question, "John, maybe if didn't have other children I would be willing to risk it. We have other children to think of though. What if we did have a child who turned out like Euros?"

"Sherlock, I really don't think there is a lot of chance of that happening, but if it does happen…we'll deal with it. We'll take care of him or her as best we can. We'll sure as hell not let him or her hurt our other children."

"There is no guarantee of that. My sister could have just as easily chosen to kill me or Mycroft when we were children. But I'm talking about after. If Euros was my daughter…visiting wouldn't be enough John. I'd live there with her, if Euros was little. I would have done it even now if it wasn't for Rosie. So, if we have a child that needs me to live in an institution what will I do? I can't just abandon Theo and Rosie."

I feel tears behind my eyes, and I hope to God they stay there. "Sherlock, if that happened. If the worse happened. We would work something out. We would take shifts. Spent a lot of time with the child, and a lot of time with our other kids. But it's not going to happen, Sherlock."

"No, I don't think it will," he absorbs, "You've had a positive effect on me, and on Mycroft. Even if the child had difficult genes you will be his father."

"And so will you. Let's not forget the way you've helped your sister, Sherlock."

"I don't want to say yes, not right now," Sherlock says.

"Maybe, I can live with a maybe for right now," I agree.