The Marrying Type

by Lastew

John and Sherlock have been a couple for a while, but when John says that he can't see marrying Sherlock and that what they have is great for now, Sherlock goes into panic-mode. He's sure this means that he's going to lose John once more to…a wife. He does his best to prove to John that Sherlock could be the perfect husband if given a chance.

Title: The Marrying Type

Author's Name: Laura Sichrovsky

Fandom: Sherlock

Season: An alternate Season 4, one where John divorces Mary (or maybe she dies?) and never sees her again and there was no baby.

Rating: E (NC-17 in you are in the States)

Word Count: 15679

Pairing: Sherlock/John (Established Relationship)

Warnings: Sherlock/John Shaggage

Spoilers: None that I know of…

Prompt: John casually mentions plans for the future including marriage/children/picket fences … plans that do not specifically mention Sherlock. Sherlock knows that John is quite invested in him so John cheating on him or leaving him isn't imminent. When asked, John just shrugs sheepishly and says that Sherlock isn't really the marrying type. Then John brushes it off as a slip of the tongue and that he is fine with what they have now. Sherlock wants to prove to John he really is the "marrying type" so that John will stay with him forever. Cue Sherlock making plans at being a good potential mate ending hilariously and with a bewildered John. – I didn't exactly go that road with this. I cannot seem to do cracky or whacky stories and all Johnlock must end with happily ever after snuggles. I tried to be goofy, but we got this instead.

Summary: This was written for a prompt. (See above) John and Sherlock have been a couple for a while, but when John says that he can't see marrying Sherlock and what they have is great for now, Sherlock goes into panic-mode. He's sure this means that he's going to lose John once more to…a wife. He does his best to prove to John that Sherlock could be the perfect husband, if given a chance. Now, if he'd only clued John into what was going on.

Disclaimer: This is where I put the statement saying that I do not own John or Sherlock, (Heh! I wish!), or anything relating to the show or books. No one is paying me to do this and if you feel the sudden urge to send me gifts, you might want to talk to someone about that. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat own all things Sherlock and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owns the rights to Holmes and Watson. None of them have given me permission to use these characters as I have so if you have problems with the story, please send the pretzel bombs to me, not them. (But seriously, if you know how to make pretzel bombs, we need to talk.)

Author's Notes: Thanks need to be given, and here is where they go. Thank you so much to Marilyn, 55_Trekker for taking on betaing this epic. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you doing so much so quickly and for you talking me down off the panic ledge. Your help was invaluable. Thank you SO, so much to Ariane DeVere for helping me figure out where I went wrong and then hand holding me through the rewrite. It took forever and you were amazing. I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks to Benedict Cumberbatch for making this Sherlock so amazing. I tried to fight it, but he was just too remarkable not to fall for. And here is where I say thanks to Martin Freeman for changing the way I see Watson. I've always looked at Watson as the kindly older uncle. Martin gave me a John that makes my heart race. Well done, sir.

The Marrying Type

The background noise in the restaurant is fairly loud and John has to lean across the table to hear what Greg is saying.

"Seriously, John, I can't tell you until Molly gets here. If I break the news without her, she just might divorce me."

"Highly unlikely," Sherlock interjects. "You've only been married for six months and Molly is a tolerant woman. At most, she might make you sleep on the couch until you buy her something nice."

"I don't think Greg was being literal," John says with a smile.

Sherlock draws in a breath to reply, but at that point, Molly is walking up to the table, so he just glares at John, who hides a grin. Greg gets to his feet, pulling out a chair and kissing Molly as she sits to join them.

"You didn't tell them, did you?" she asks.

"We couldn't pry it out of him," John says. "And I tried."

She smiles and reaches over, taking Greg's hand.

"Good. You two are going to be the first people out of the family to hear this."

"We're honoured, Molly," John says, wondering exactly what the big news is.

"Well, you did kind of bring us together," Greg says, squeezing Molly's hand. "If you hadn't helped me get past my toxic ex, I'd have never been brave enough to ask Molly out."

"We're just happy that it all worked out for you," John says, smiling at them. "Now, stop keeping us in suspense. What's the big news? And I swear if it's that your cat is having kittens again, you are paying for dinner."

"Well, it's not that exactly," Molly says, blushing. "Not the cat, anyway."

"I'm sorry?" John asks, his eyebrow going up.

"She's trying not to come right out and say that we found out that we're going to have a baby." Greg replies.

John blinks. He wasn't sure what to expect when Greg asked John and Sherlock to have dinner with them, but this wasn't even on the radar.

"And this is good news?" Sherlock asks, his expression as neutral as usual.

"Of course, it is," Molly says, looking at him oddly.

"Well, congratulations," John says, gently kicking Sherlock under the table.

"Yes. Congratulations."

John tries not to roll his eyes at Sherlock's lack of enthusiasm. At least he's attempting to be polite.

"So, when's the baby due?" John asks, relaxing next to Sherlock.

"I'm about three months along, so we've still got a while. But that gives us time to get everything ready."

"You two must be so thrilled," John says.

"A bit overwhelmed, but yeah." Molly looks radiant and John thinks that he's never seen her so happy.

"Marriage and motherhood agree with you." John smiles at her.

"Thank you." She looks across the table at John and Sherlock. "So, when are you two going to make it official?"

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asks, frowning.

"No plans to get married anytime soon?"

John internally groans. Leave it to Molly to bring up an awkward question. She and Greg are two of the only people who know exactly how long John and Sherlock have been a couple and John supposes with her own marital bliss, she just wants them to be blissful too. He sighs.

"We're pretty happy just the way we are," John says, smiling.

"Don't you want to get married? Maybe have a couple of kids?"

"Molly, love," Greg says, "Maybe they don't want to talk about this."

"Of course, they do," Molly replies, smiling at John. "Didn't you tell me a few months ago that you wanted to get married? Settle down, start a family? The whole home, hearth, picket fence thing?"

"Well, yes," John says, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. "But I meant much further down the road, Molly. What I have is fine for now."

"Fine?" Sherlock says, arching an eyebrow.

Right. Through the whole awkward conversation, Sherlock says nothing. Now he decides to interject and damned if he doesn't seem offended.

"Yes, fine, good, wonderful." John realises he's babbling, but he can't seem to come up with anything better to say.

"Those are not all synonyms for the same word," Sherlock says quietly. "Fine indicates something that will do until something better comes along."

"You know that's not what I'm saying," John replies, putting a hand on Sherlock's thigh.

"I honestly have no idea what you're attempting to say." Sherlock's expression is dispassionate, but there's tension in his voice.

John sighs again.

"Can we not discuss this now?" he asks, quietly.

"As you wish." Sherlock's tone is clipped and John can see the frustration in his eyes.

"Thank you." John reaches out and takes Sherlock's hand in an effort to reassure him, but he can tell by Sherlock's rigid posture that he's failed.

"I'm sorry," Molly says, tears in her eyes. "I thought it was something the two of you had talked about. You just sounded so happy about it when we discussed it and I thought you both wanted it."

"Don't worry about it, Molly." John smiles in an attempt to calm her down. "It's not your fault and Sherlock and I will work it out later."

He ignores the quiet snort Sherlock makes. It's going to be a long night.

---

John hangs his coat on the back of the sitting room door and turns to face Sherlock, who is sitting on the sofa, arms crossed. Sherlock was polite for the rest of the dinner, but he hasn't said a word since they left the restaurant. John can see the frustration and tension radiating off him. John's first instinct is to just pull him close and soothe him, but when Sherlock gets like this he needs space to process and the reassurances he's been denied all his life. John walks over and sits next to him.

"Talk to me," John says, turning to look at him.

"About what?" His reply is terse and clipped.

"Why you're so upset?"

Sherlock just arches an eyebrow at him and stares. John reaches out, taking his hand.

"Do you honestly think I was saying that you are only good enough for now?" John asks gently.

"Apparently, I'm not good enough to marry."

John is surprised at how hurt Sherlock sounds. He understands it, Sherlock has been told for most of his life that he isn't good enough, but it still takes John by surprise every time he sees how deeply insecure this amazing man really is.

"I didn't say that and I certainly didn't mean it," John says, running his thumb across the back of Sherlock's hand. "I love you and I enjoy every minute we are together."

"But when you think about marriage, you don't even consider me as an option."

"That's not it at all," John says, shaking his head. "When I think about marriage, it's just so far off in the future at this point. And since when do you want to get married?"

"You've never even asked," Sherlock says quietly.

"Asked you to marry me?" John says, smiling at him. "Not that I recall."

"Asked me if I ever wanted to marry someday," Sherlock says, giving John a withering glare. "Apparently you do, but you've never even brought up the subject with me."

"That's because I know how you feel about it," John says simply.

"Do you?"

"I'm pretty sure that I do. You talk about how stupid people are to get married, how it's all about government control. When Greg and Molly got married you asked why they needed the morality police's approval for their relationship. You are just not the type of person who wants to get married. I get that." John squeezes Sherlock's hand. "I'm not going to ask you for something you obviously don't want."

"But you want to get married. And you want to have children."

"Someday, maybe, if that's where our life goes. But, Sherlock, I am very happy with what we have. I love you."

"Enough to marry me?"

"Oh, for the love of God, Sherlock. What's got into you?" John takes a breath, pushing his frustration down. He wants to think he knows what runs through Sherlock's head, but in moments like this, when he fixates on something, John has no idea how to react. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell. I hope you know that my ideas for the future are not a slap at you."

Sherlock looks at John and nods. John squeezes his hand again.

"I don't know if I'll get married again," John says gently. "I don't know if I'll ever have a family. I suppose a lot of that depends on you. But right now, I'm not ready to even think about that. After Mary, after how badly that went, I may never want to risk that again. But I do want to be here with you."

Sherlock looks at him for a minute.

"But if I was the marrying type…"

"Sherlock." John closes his eyes and breathes in. "I don't need you to be the 'marrying type', whatever that means. You only ever have to be Sherlock, okay?"

"Fine, John," Sherlock says with a sigh.

But from the way he says it, John is pretty sure this isn't the last time they'll be dealing with this topic.

---

Sherlock is lying rigid, looking up at the ceiling. Well, looking up in the direction of the ceiling, really. It's too dark in their bedroom to see it, but Sherlock knows it well enough to picture it. He hears John's measured breathing next to him and he sighs.

Sherlock has to wonder how he got here. His whole life he's prided himself on his ironclad emotional control and his independence. He never let his guard down and he never needed anyone. And then John Watson had come into his life and everything had gone off-kilter. Suddenly there was something as important to him as his work and that had taken some time to adjust to. But that's the thing; he wants to adjust to it, wants John in his life. He loves John as he has never thought he was capable of. And oddly, it not only doesn't bother Sherlock, but it makes him happy. Most of the time. Right now, Sherlock is not happy.

Sherlock will freely confess that when Molly asked if they were considering getting married, he'd bitten back the urge to ask her why they would ever want to. He'll also admit that he doesn't have the greatest attitude concerning marriage. His aunt and uncle went through a messy divorce when Sherlock was ten and Sherlock watched the ensuing chaos from the side lines. He'd watched Lestrade's first marriage come apart and he sees how his ex-wife never lets him visit the kids and the pain that causes. He looks at John's disastrous marriage, the one that had almost killed them both, though it was a sham, a way for an assassin to get close to John. But the fact that she could use that as effectively as she did only highlights the emotional vulnerabilities inherent in marriage. Sherlock knows quite a few couples that got married, but he doesn't know many that are happy.

Of course, he's never thought of marrying John; John means too much to Sherlock for that. But, when he thinks of growing old, of retiring from his work, of getting a house in the country, of his future, John is always there. Apparently, though, when John thinks about his future, Sherlock isn't a part of it. He thinks about children and a home and a spouse. And Sherlock isn't the marrying type. Except…as Sherlock lies here ruminating, he starts to think that for John, he could be. He and John are different to every other couple Sherlock knows, so couldn't they be different in this too? Sherlock knows that marriage is a big step, but he's made bigger steps for John. And there is something oh so appealing about the idea of knowing that John will be his and his alone for the rest of their lives. Lately, he can even see having a child or two, which should really scare him. But oddly, having children with John sounds…tolerable. Something about the image of a little boy with John's sandy hair and dark blue eyes makes Sherlock's heart flutter. If it's with John, he really could see having a life with someone. Yes, if that's what John wants, then for John, perhaps he could be the marrying kind.

When Molly said John had mentioned marriage, children, and domestic bliss with such enthusiasm, Sherlock had felt completely blindsided. How had he not known this? He'd assumed after things had gone so badly with Mary that John would not even consider marriage again. And yet, he's telling Molly that he wants a spouse and children? And he doesn't share this with Sherlock? Why would he hide something that could affect their future; unless he doesn't see that his future is with Sherlock? Some part of him worries that he's denying John something he considers important. He wants to give John everything he deserves, he wants to be worthy of this man he loves.

Sherlock admits that he might have pushed John tonight, might have focused too much on this one idea, to the point of frustrating John. But he wants to be everything for John and he might have panicked just a bit that John does not see the same future he does. He's fairly certain that John wouldn't leave him for someone else, but he never wants John to feel unfulfilled or resent Sherlock for the life John is missing to be with him. When he thinks about a life without John, he almost can't breathe from the panic and emptiness. He's pretty sure it's a bit not good to tell John that though. As he thinks about it, thinks about their life together, Sherlock wants to give John everything. If that includes marriage, then Sherlock would do that. He's surprised that the concept of having John as his husband is actually rather appealing.

But how can he ever convince John? This obviously isn't something John is ready to talk about. And after their argument tonight, Sherlock is pretty sure that John will think Sherlock is just trying to appease him. Besides, Sherlock is terrible with words. He does better at showing than telling. Sherlock blinks. Of course, why didn't he think of this before? Yes, he will show John that he is marriage material. He'll prove to John that he can be the perfect husband, so when John starts thinking marriage-ward, he'll think of Sherlock. It can't be that hard. If Lestrade can do it, Sherlock can. Tomorrow he'll do some research on the subject and then he'll be ready to win John over.

With that finally decided, Sherlock rolls over, settling against John, and drifts off to sleep.

---

How to Choose the Perfect Mate. That isn't the website Sherlock needs. He has the perfect mate. How to make your mate perfect. Also, not what Sherlock is looking for. After John had gone to work, Sherlock had embarked on his research. He'd put "How to be the perfect mate" into Google, but the results are not helpful at all.

How to be the perfect girlfriend. Not exactly what he wants, but it's closer. Sherlock clicks on it, wondering if it could be applicable. It has a numbered list of things a woman can do to keep her boyfriend happy.

1. Look your best at all times.

Well, Sherlock's pretty sure he does that. Yes, John sees him in pyjamas, but he's not about to wear a suit to bed and John says he likes the pyjamas. John even seems to find Sherlock attractive when he's covered in mud and blood, after falling in a pit of decomposing bodies, so Sherlock feels he can check this one off the list.

2. Stroke his ego. Tell him how well he does everything. Fuss over him when he does something right.

Sherlock frowns. He's pretty sure he tells John that he's good at things. Doesn't he? He can't remember the last time he fussed over John for anything and makes a mental note to put this one into practice. He had no idea he was so deficient in this area. Sherlock reads on.

3. Be wild in the bedroom. Your boyfriend thinks about sex 99% of the time. You need to be his fantasy girl.

Sherlock isn't sure he qualifies as "wild" in the bedroom. It's not that they don't have sex, because they have quite a bit. But Sherlock isn't sure any of it would fit in the wild category. John never complains, but now Sherlock is wondering if John secretly thinks their sex life is boring. He can't see John as the mask wearing, bondage in public type, but perhaps he would be interested in spicing things up a bit? Sherlock's going to have to do some research when he's done here, so he can get some new ideas.

4. Have a good sense of humour. Humour helps to defuse tense situations and put your man at ease.

Sherlock's sense of humour has got a lot more mainstream since he met John and they do laugh a lot together. He doesn't feel like he's too far behind here, but Sherlock does file this away to use humour the next time they are in a tense situation. That might go a long way to heading off ugly fights.

5. Show your love in public. This doesn't mean you straddle him in a restaurant, but men like to know you are confident enough in your affection for them to show the world. Hold his hand, touch him, shoot him a smouldering look across a crowded room.

Now Sherlock feels out of his depth. It took him a while to get comfortable with private displays of affection. How is he supposed to touch John freely in public? And what does this mean? Should he be rubbing John's shoulders in the produce section of Tesco? And what is a "smouldering" look? He's going to have to research that one and practice it. Maybe he can try it at the next crime scene they go to. That should qualify as both crowded and public.

6. Do little things for him to show him you care. Buy him a small gift, send him a flirty text, and have his dinner ready for him. Men need to know they are important.

Sherlock does little things for John. Just last week, Sherlock cleaned all the body parts out of the refrigerator without John even asking. Yes, he does have more in there now, but he did have them all gone for two days. And yesterday he put his empty mug in the sink so John wouldn't have to. So, he's got that part down. But gifts? What kind of gifts should he be buying? What would be appropriate? He'll have to think on that one. As to flirty texts, Sherlock is fairly sure their text conversation about body decomposition rates wouldn't count, although Sherlock found it fascinating. Is he going to have to type sappy, embarrassing things? John doesn't seem the sappy type though. He's just going to have to feel it out.

Sherlock decides this might be an uncomplicated way to ease into all this. He pulls out his phone.

I miss you – S

Simple and to the point. It only takes a minute or so to get the reply.

What did you break?

Nothing. I just miss you.

The last time you told me you missed me you'd burned a hole in my chair with acid. Which I forgave, so you don't have to hide things from me.

Sherlock blinks. This isn't going according to plan. And now he's wondering if he really is this difficult that John can't just accept the sentiment. Sherlock will just have to try harder. Sherlock turns back to his laptop and looks up "flirty text messages." Most of them are stupid and not applicable to John, but he does find a couple that might work.

I love your eyes and your smile and I cannot get you out of my mind.

Okay. This isn't how you usually talk. Did you hit your head on something?

Well, that isn't the response Sherlock was hoping for. Was that not flirty enough?

I wish I was nibbling your lips right now

There. That is explicit enough that even John couldn't mistake his intent.

Seriously, are you okay?

Sherlock sighs. Why is John being so difficult?

Yes, I'm okay. I just miss you and want you very much right now.

Right. Thank you. Can we discuss this when I get home?

Sherlock frowns. Is this part of the flirting? Is John playing along?

And how would you like to "discuss" it? Should I clear off the kitchen table?

Sherlock, I'm honestly starting to worry. Are you sure nothing's wrong?

Sherlock's shoulders slump. No, he's not playing along. And based on his reaction, he can't conceive of Sherlock playing like this at all. But isn't this what normal couples do? Sherlock is definitely going to have to try harder so that John knows that he's important to Sherlock and that Sherlock thinks about him all the time. Who knew flirting was so much effort? Sherlock sighs. He blinks at his phone when it beeps. He didn't realise he'd not responded yet.

Sherlock?

I'm here.

What's wrong?

Nothing. I'll see you when you get home.

A minute later, his phone plays John's ringtone. He hadn't expected John to actually call him.

"Yes, John?"

"Seriously, what's going on? Are you okay?" Sherlock can hear the honest concern in John's voice.

He sighs again.

"Nothing is wrong, John."

"Are you sure?" John's voice gentles. "You've got me concerned. What was with those weird text messages?"

Weird? So, Sherlock hadn't got anywhere near flirty. He is really going to have to research this.

"I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you."

"And my lips?" He can hear amusement in John's voice.

"I do appreciate your lips."

"I've got a patient to see," John says, chuckling. "But maybe when I get home you can show me how much you appreciate my lips?"

"I would like that very much," Sherlock says, feeling a small surge of triumph. Maybe he isn't so bad at this after all.

"Good. I'll see you in a few hours. Love you."

"I love you too, John."

Sherlock is smiling as he gets back to his research.

---

Show your love in public…

"Well, if it isn't the freak and his pet." Sally Donovan's voice is quiet, but it carries a world of hostility in just those few words.

Sherlock sighs, looking over his shoulder to watch as John pays the cabbie, then turns to Sally.

"I do not understand why you persist in these pointless insults," he says, shaking his head. "You know that John and I are romantically together now, so intimating that we are is rather futile. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

"I don't like you," Sally says, narrowing her eyes. "I think you are rude and cruel and that there's something wrong with you. I'll never understand what someone as nice and normal as John sees in you."

John walks up to stand next to Sherlock.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so terrible to him, you'd see the amazing side of him that I do, but you get offended and angry and take it out on him. I don't know what else you expect from him when you treat him that way."

Sherlock looks at John feeling infinitely grateful for his love and support. He squares his shoulders, standing up to his full height.

"I do believe Lestrade is expecting us."

Sally just shakes her head and gestures for them to follow her. As they walk past the police tape, Sherlock is observing the street around them, looking for anything that stands out, that might be related to the reason they are there. Somewhere on the periphery, he hears snatches of a conversation between two of the Yarders.

"Is that the crazy guy?"

It's a voice Sherlock doesn't recognise and he assumes the man is either new or just temporarily assigned to Lestrade's team.

"That's him. He's so weird, but he seems to know things."

"Who is that guy with him?"

"I think that's his boyfriend."

The first man makes a derisive snort and Sherlock's jaw clenches. He's used to people thinking the worst about him, but his hackles still go up every time someone is insulting to John. He takes in a deep breath and clears the anger from his system. He's here to investigate a crime, not argue with inconsequential police personnel. There must still be something about the expression on his face or the way he's carrying himself, because John looks over his shoulder and frowns. He slows his steps until Sherlock catches up.

"You okay?" John asks quietly.

"Yes, I'm fine," Sherlock says, smiling at him.

And really, he is. He puts his focus on John, pushing everything else away and finds his centre. He still marvels that John has the ability to do that for him. No matter what else is happening, no matter how chaotic or unfocused Sherlock's thoughts are, just John's mere presence can always bring Sherlock back to balance. John nods at him, falling into step next to him as they round a corner, down an alley, to see a body on the pavement with Lestrade standing next to it.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Lestrade says, nodding at them. "Thank you for coming."

"Well, you know how we love a good crime scene," John says, smiling at Lestrade. "And I should be thanking you. Sherlock was starting to get a bit tetchy without a case and you know how that's likely to end."

Lestrade laughs.

"Didn't he actually set something on fire last time?"

"The kitchen table," John says nodding. "Mrs. Hudson is still upset about that."

"Then I guess this is a good arrangement for all of us," Lestrade says, smiling.

"Well, except for the dead man."

Lestrade makes a face at John, but Sherlock can see that he's stifling a laugh.

"Speaking of that," Lestrade says, nodding at the body. "We've not got a lot to go on."

"What do you have?" John asks amiably.

Sherlock walks slowly around the body, his mind cataloguing things, creating a puzzle map as he goes. He appreciates that John interacts with the officers as well as he does. Sherlock's never had what could be considered people skills. But John makes jokes and smiles and actually remembers people's names. They like him and much prefer communicating with him rather than Sherlock. Even Lestrade seems at ease with John and is more likely to give him further details than he would with Sherlock.

"His name is Colin Everstaff. He runs a construction company in Rainham and was reported missing by his wife two days ago. We got the call about three hours ago that a man walking his dog stumbled across the body."

"So, why did you call us?" John asks. "You don't usually pull us in unless you've been stumped for a while or there's something unusual."

"You are right," Lestrade says, nodding. "And here is your something unusual. We found it on the body."

He hands John a piece of paper. Sherlock walks up behind John, leaning over his shoulder to see what he's reading. It's a series of handwritten numbers, grouped in lines, some horizontal, some vertical, reminding Sherlock of the crossword puzzles that John enjoys doing. He frowns, moving the numbers about in his head but not seeing how they fit together.

"Does this mean anything to you?" John asks, looking up at Sherlock.

"Not yet." Sherlock shakes his head. "We should examine the body."

John nods, handing the paper back to Lestrade.

"Have any of your people got a cause of death?" John asks, kneeling next to the dead man.

"Anderson thinks asphyxiation, but…"

John leans in, his face taking on the thoughtful expression that Sherlock enjoys so much. He can see that John is logging symptoms the way Sherlock's mind categorises clues and Sherlock finds it endlessly fascinating. He has more than a basic understanding of anatomy and forensics, but John has the knowledge and talent to untangle the medical evidence with just a couple of glances and it's one of the things Sherlock most appreciates about him in these situations. Sherlock crouches on the other side of the corpse.

"Well, John, what's your opinion?"

He leans across the body and John frowns, tilting his head.

"There's bruising across his face and on his temples, but that's not the cause of death. Based on the rigidity, he's been dead for a while, but something about the set of his face…"

Sherlock should be analysing the body, but he finds himself studying John's face instead. Something about watching him in doctor mode, putting the clues together, is mesmerising. John leans forward, his brows drawing together.

"Sherlock, do you smell that?" John asks, looking up. "That sort of minty smell?"

Sherlock pulls his attention back to the corpse, leaning down, his head centimetres from John's.

"Toothpaste?" Sherlock asks. "Or mouth rinse?"

"It's not…" John's face is pinched in concentration. "It's off by just…I know this smell."

Sherlock waits, giving John time to process. In the meantime, he sifts through the contents of the man's pockets. He looks at coins, lip balm, a prayer card from a local church. There's a small plastic box that rattles when Sherlock shakes it. He opens it to see five yellow, oval pills.

"John? What is this?"

John takes a pill and looks closely at it.

"This is Apixaban," John says, frowning.

"What's it used for?"

"It's a blood thinner," John says, tipping his head. "He'd be on it if he'd had a stroke or heart issues."

"I'll ask Lestrade, though I don't see what…" Sherlock stops talking as John's eyes go wide. "John?"

"Oil of Wintergreen," John says and Sherlock blinks, not seeing the connection. "That's what I'm smelling. Just a bit off from peppermint, but I remember this from an A&E rotation."

"What does it have to do with…" Sherlock gestures to the dead man between them.

"Wintergreen, well, Methyl salicylate really, can be toxic on its own. But if you take blood thinners? It would also explain the bruising."

"He wouldn't have accidentally ingested it? Or been taking it on purpose as a supplement?"

"I don't see how," John says, shaking his head. "Any place he could purchase it would have given him warnings about using it with the Apixaban. And it's not the sort of thing you'd find just lying around."

Sherlock is nodding, pieces of the puzzle slotting into place. He looks at the pocket contents again, thinks about the other evidence he's seen and the list of numbers. John pushes himself to a standing position, shrugging his shoulders. Still moving the evidence around in his head, Sherlock also gets to his feet. It's starting to make sense now.

Sherlock's attention is caught by John, still shifting his shoulders around. Being crouched in that position for so long must have aggravated John's bad shoulder. Normally, Sherlock would let John work out the kinks himself, but some part of his mind reminds him that a good mate would show concern and try to help. Also, this could be a good time to show John public affection, couldn't it? So John knows that Sherlock cares about him?

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asks, stepping next to John.

"I will be. This wet weather has been bothering me for a couple of days and I guess I shouldn't have been hunched so long."

Sherlock nods. He doesn't really think about it, think about where they are or what they are doing, about all the people around them. Most of the Yarders already know they are together, so Sherlock doesn't consider what it will look like or what people will think. John is uncomfortable and Sherlock can help. John should know that Sherlock worries about him. He reaches out, rubbing John's shoulders, along his back, his fingers kneading, tracing along, looking for the tender spots. He traces up the back of his neck, his fingers drawing soothing circles. He's still thinking about the crime, so it takes him a moment to realise that John has tensed up under his touch. Sherlock shakes his head and steps around to look at him.

"What are you doing?" John asks, his voice tight.

"I was rubbing your back," Sherlock says flatly.

"We're at a crime scene," John says, shaking his head. "You don't normally touch me like this at a crime scene. Did something happen to upset you?"

"No, it's just…" Sherlock breaks off frowning. "You looked like you needed it."

"But…" John stops, looking at him. "You usually get lost in your head. It's how you work everything out so efficiently. You don't even really notice me outside of a professional capacity when we're at crime scenes, which is fine. Something has to be different today. You can tell me what it is."

Sherlock frowns. John cannot just accept the concern and affection for what it is? To be fair, Sherlock isn't always the most empathetic person, but for John? Sherlock has killed for John, would die for John. Is it so hard to believe that he would be caring or considerate with John? Does he think he is unimportant, that Sherlock forgets he exists when they work? Is this how John sees their dynamic, why he can't even consider a marriage to him? Of course, John has no way of knowing that he's constantly in Sherlock's thoughts as Sherlock has never shared that.

"There isn't anything wrong," Sherlock says, trying to find the words. "I was showing affection to the man I love."

"In the middle of a crime scene? But you're always completely focused on your work," John says, his brows coming together.

Sherlock tips his head, thinking about that.

"Yes, I suppose I am," he concedes, nodding. "I'm still working on the case, but you are in pain and how can I ignore that?"

John steps forward and smiles at him.

"I do appreciate that, but you do know everyone is watching us, right?"

Sherlock arches an eyebrow at him.

"It's not as if they don't know we're dating."

"Yes, but knowing and seeing it live are two very different things," John says gently. "And I know you worry about them taking you seriously."

"Lestrade always does," Sherlock says, sighing. "And everyone else never will, so why would I worry? I'm not embarrassed by what we have."

"I'm not either, Sherlock. I hope you know that. I just worry that…" John looks up at him. "I don't want to be a liability to you. I don't want to distract you and I think we agree that at crime scenes, we're colleagues first."

"I just thought…" Sherlock stops and takes a breath, gathering his thoughts. "I am concerned that you are in pain. I was attempting to help. I'm not ashamed of being with you. I am proud that you love me, John."

John tips his head and Sherlock can see him processing this.

"You…want everyone to know we are together and that you love me?"

"I do love you, John and I am comfortable with everyone knowing how much. It's not hindering my work to care for you. In fact, you make me better at what I do."

John looks at him, his expression unreadable and Sherlock decides that he really doesn't understand relationships at all. He's just gearing up for an apology when John suddenly steps forward, pulling Sherlock down and kissing him soundly. Sherlock's completely caught off guard and his mind is struggling to catch up, but he finds that he's instinctively kissing back, his hands coming up to rest on John's waist.

"Oh, for the love of…get a room you two or take it home."

Lestrade's voice cuts into their moment and Sherlock pulls back, glancing down to see a blush creeping across John's face. He sighs, turning to Lestrade.

"That's a very good suggestion." At Lestrade's arched eyebrow, Sherlock continues. "It was the victim's pastor. Look in his left pocket at the prayer card. Also, if you do a letter substitution for that number sequence you found earlier, you'll find a confession."

"I…" Lestrade blinks. "Thank you."

Sherlock nods at him, then turns to John.

"Come on, John. Let's take the inspector's advice. We can pick up where we left off when we get home?"

"Love to," John says, breaking out in a grin. "On the way you can tell me how you solved this and I'll kiss you for every correct deduction you made."

Sherlock smiles down at him.

"When we get home I could massage your shoulder for you, if you'd like."

"That sounds wonderful," John replies, looking up at him, his heart in his eyes. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you too."

Sherlock turns to go, but stops and holds out his hand to John, who takes it and falls into step next to him. They walk to the main road like that to hail a cab and all Sherlock can think as he looks at their joined hands is that his first foray into public affection didn't end too badly after all.

---

Be wild in the bedroom…

Sherlock lights the last of the candles and steps back to admire his handiwork. The candles aren't exactly kinky, but they do set the mood and Sherlock is rather pleased with the effect. He puts the lighter on the bedside table and looks over the things he's set out, going over his mental checklist. Chocolate sauce, strawberries, spray whipped cream, padded handcuffs, a blindfold, his riding crop and three vibrators of varying sizes and strengths. He's not sure if this qualifies as even slightly wild, but he doesn't want to overwhelm John. He frowns. Should he have purchased the toffee sauce as well? Maybe some clotted cream? Perhaps the vibrator with the curved tip would have been a better choice. Will John enjoy these? He's pulled from his contemplations by a sound behind him.

"This is interesting." Sherlock turns to see John leaning against the door frame, smiling at him. "What's the occasion?"

Sherlock blinks, taken completely by surprise. It's a testament to his nervousness that he didn't hear John come in. Some part of his brain berates him for being so unfocused, but John catches his attention when he moves. He pushes off the doorframe, walking across the room, watching Sherlock as he goes. He looks curious and just a touch wary as he looks over the items spread out on the bed. Sherlock isn't sure what to say. He supposes the truth might be a bit not good. I'm concerned you're going to leave me and find a wife, so I'm trying new things to keep you interested. Would you like some wine?

For a minute, Sherlock worries, taking in the set of John's shoulders, the way his hands are in his pockets. He's nervous about something, but Sherlock can't deduce what it is. He's about to break down and ask when John looks up at him.

"Tell me this isn't some sort of experiment. Because, I swear, if you try to hook my genitals up to electrodes again, I might just leave you."

"I apologised for that," Sherlock says, frowning, though he feels relief as he understands that John's anxiety has nothing to do with present circumstances.

This isn't going according to plan. He admits John has a right to be suspicious. It's not like Sherlock hasn't done experiments on him, but Sherlock does at least try to warn him beforehand. Well, most of the time. He looks up, preparing to defend himself, but John is smiling at him.

"That you did," John says, coming closer. He reaches out and takes Sherlock's hand. "So, what is all this about?"

"I…" He pauses, considering his words. "I thought we might try something different tonight. If you wanted to."

John looks at the stuff on the bed, tipping his head.

"Is this something you want?" John asks quietly.

Sherlock weighs out which answer will be the right one. If he says yes, will John think Sherlock is dissatisfied with their sex life? But he's sure if he says no, John will make him put everything away, even if this is what John wants. But what if it isn't what John wants? Would he do it just because he thought Sherlock wanted it? Sherlock must have paused too long, because now John is frowning at him.

"Sherlock, why are you doing this?"

"I…do you not like it?" Sherlock knows he's deflected the question, but right now it seems like the prudent thing to do.

"I'm not opposed to trying this, in fact, it sounds fun. But, Sherlock, where did this come from?"

Sherlock pauses, thinking.

"Well, the whipped cream came from Tesco and the…"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," John says, his expression intent. "Why, all of a sudden, are you pulling out the bondage equipment?"

"John, handcuffs and a blindfold are hardly bondage equipment. Though we could go and purchase some if you'd like. I do know an interesting store and the owner owes me a favour."

"What? No, I wasn't saying that." John is shaking his head, looking a bit out of his depth. He takes a breath. "I was just wondering what put you in this mood, that's all."

Sherlock looks at John, studying his face. He sees affection and arousal and something else in his eyes. Sherlock frowns, going through his mental catalogue of John's expressions and coming up short. He's starting to feel frustration when he suddenly understands what he's seeing.

"You're worried," Sherlock says, tipping his head, confused. "About me. But why?"

John uses their joined hands to pull Sherlock closer. He reaches up, brushing the fingers of his free hand across Sherlock's cheek.

"I love you," John whispers. "And I don't want you doing something that will make you uncomfortable just to please me. I enjoy every time we're together, even if we do nothing but cuddle. If you think I need this sort of thing to enjoy sex with you…"

"Don't be an idiot, John," Sherlock says, cutting him off. "I enjoy our sex life as well, but I thought maybe it would be interesting to try something new, experiment a little, if you will. If you would rather not…"

"Are you kidding?" John asks, smiling at him. "I'm not going to turn down the chance to shut down that amazing brain and make you just feel. I just want to be sure that's what you want."

Sherlock looks into John's eyes and finds he has no words. His heart starts beating faster and he feels warm and flushed. What is it about John that can do this to him? How can he go from analytical to aroused in less than five seconds, just because John is near him? He considers John's statement for a minute but gets distracted by John's lips. He's not sure how long he stands there, staring and fantasising about exactly what that mouth can do, but the spell is broken by John's chuckle.

"I see," John says, pulling Sherlock closer. He leans in, whispering in his ear and Sherlock stifles a shiver as warm breath washes across his skin. "I love it when you're like this, insanely aroused and at the mercy of your body, logic nowhere in sight; It makes me want to touch you and lick you until you are moaning my name."

Sherlock whimpers, pushing himself against John.

"God, yes, please," he gasps, embracing the arousal racing through him.

"So, is this stuff for me to use on you or for you to use on me?" John asks, steering them towards the bed.

"Whatever you want," Sherlock says, turning his brain to standby mode.

"Let's take turns then," John says, pulling Sherlock onto the bed. "But I'd like to use them on you first, if that's okay."

Sherlock doesn't reply, hastily pulling his shirt over his head and getting out of his trousers and pants. John picks up the cuffs and moves up to the head of the bed. He arches an eyebrow at Sherlock who moves quickly up, holding out one hand. John hesitates, frowning again.

"John?"

"Are you sure?" John asks quietly. "As amazing as it sounds, I know this isn't exactly your thing. Are you positive you want to turn over all control to me?"

Sherlock opens his mouth to tell John to just get on with it already, but stops, as the words sink into his brain. Keeping control is something Sherlock values above pretty much everything else. He has forced his body into submission over things like hunger and sleep, bringing to bear his iron will almost all the time. To cede control to someone else in any aspect of his life intimates a trust he's never felt for anyone. And yet, he finds as he sits there, looking at John, that here is actually someone he trusts even more than himself. He blinks as he processes this. John is just patiently watching him, understanding that Sherlock needs time to think it through, not insulted by that fact.

Sherlock closes his eyes, picturing the scenario. His arms cuffed above his head, John having complete control over Sherlock's body to do whatever he wants, licking, nibbling, using the vibrators on him. Sherlock gasps, his eyes flying open. His original purpose for this exercise is forgotten. Seeing John this aroused, this intent on pleasuring Sherlock drives out all his worries about John leaving him and he just gives in to his desire. All he wants is to be with John, to touch him, taste him, to be loved by him. Anything John wants, Sherlock will do.

He holds both of his hands out in front of him and John smiles.

"If you change your mind…" John starts, but Sherlock cuts him off, leaning forward, kissing him as John fastens the first cuff around Sherlock's wrist.

They sit like that, slowly, deeply kissing and by the time John pulls back, Sherlock is shaking with need. John moves him, directing him to lie down on the pillows. He threads the chain around a headboard spindle, then pulls Sherlock's free hand over his head, cuffing it to the other one. For a minute, Sherlock feels a sudden rush of panic, knowing he is unable to free himself. Then John is there next to him, kissing him again, and all else is forgotten.

It's an interesting experience, knowing that John could do literally anything to him, including slit his throat, and Sherlock would be powerless to stop him. The thought should concern him more, but all Sherlock can do is ride the sensations that John is flooding his body with. Simple kissing should not be this arousing, but as Sherlock leans up, straining against his bonds, he can't stop the stream of needy moans.

John pulls back again, leaning behind and coming back with the blindfold. He looks at Sherlock, arching a questioning eyebrow. Sherlock nods and John puts it over his eyes, settling the straps around the back of Sherlock's head. This time, when John leans in to kiss him, Sherlock can feel his breath against his face, can smell John, and it makes the experience all the more intense.

John breaks the kiss again and for a second, Sherlock feels alone, abandoned. But he realises he can hear John's movements and he concentrates on deducing what he is doing. He hears the rustle of fabric, the metallic growl of a zipper and he can picture John getting out of his clothes, the soft whump as John's jeans hit the floor confirming Sherlock's hypothesis. There's a pop of a jar lid and he understands that John is opening the chocolate sauce. That knowledge does nothing to prepare him for feeling John's sticky fingers spreading the fudge across Sherlock's nipples. He gasps out a moan when John starts to suck the chocolate off. Sherlock thinks he might pass out for a second, so intense is the pleasure washing through him.

John pauses just above Sherlock's chest. Sherlock can feel his warm breath with each word.

"Damn, you have no idea what it's doing to me to have you this responsive." John's voice is deep and breathy.

John proceeds to spray the whipped cream on, the cold a contrast that steals Sherlock's breath. By the time he's moved down Sherlock's stomach and on to more interesting territory, Sherlock is shaking and begging, though he's not sure what he's asking for. His whole body is screaming with need, but he doesn't want this to ever end.

"What do you want?" John asks, his tone betraying how excited he is.

Sherlock is beyond thought now and he shakes his head, gasping in air.

"You…John…you…anything."

And he means it, which he thinks should worry him far more than it does.

"God, you are so amazing like this," John replies. "I've never seen you so…and damn, I'm doing this to you. You are begging and so aroused because of me."

"Only you, John," Sherlock says, just above a whisper and he hears the breath catch in John's throat.

"I want you, Sherlock, want to be inside you."

"Yes, please."

John leans forward, the bed shifting under his weight. Sherlock feels his breath against the sensitive skin of Sherlock's ear.

"I'm going to use the vibrators to prepare you," John says, his voice carrying an edge of command.

Though he'll never admit it, when John pulls rank on anyone, it goes straight to Sherlock's baser instincts. The thought of John controlling him like this shoots straight through him and all he can do is whimper. John chuckles.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

Sherlock hears a wet, sliding sound and understands that John is applying lube to the vibrator he's chosen. He can vividly picture the vibrators he set out and he's not surprised when John picks the thinnest one to start with. What does catch him off guard is how intense it feels. His hips arch up and he knows he's making obscene noises, but he can't help himself. He feels the bed dip slightly and John's breath brushes across his cheek.

"God, you are so damn sexy like this."

John's voice is low and barely controlled and Sherlock suddenly needs more, needs something. He gasps, trying to pull air in to articulate this, but he can't find the words. He tries to focus, to force words out.

"I want…I need…"

He arches up again, not entirely knowing what he needs, but trusting that John will. There is something freeing in giving up all control and trust to John, in knowing he will be cared for and that John will do all he can to give Sherlock pleasure. The vibration stops and John's hands are caressing Sherlock's wrists.

"I think these are starting to chafe, despite the padding," John says gently. "And it might give you more control if you move to your hands and knees."

Sherlock likely would agree to literally anything right now as long as John keeps touching him. He nods. John undoes the cuffs and helps Sherlock flip over, though he doesn't remove the blindfold. Sherlock leans forward, his hands finding the spindles of the headboard and he grabs on for leverage. John is moving behind him and it isn't long before he feels the next size vibrator being gently pressed in.

"Are you okay?" John asks as he turns it on.

Sherlock fully intends to reassure him, but all he can do is throw himself back and moan deeply. It must be enough for John, because he softly chuckles and turns up the power, slightly angling it as he presses it back in. There is an advantage to John being a doctor in that he knows pretty much exactly where he's aiming for and Sherlock's knees almost go out from under him as it hits the right spot. He's not sure how much more he can take and is trying to find the words when John is speaking again.

"Damn it, Sherlock, I need to touch you."

The vibrator is gone and Sherlock feels John's fingers slowly sliding in.

"God, yes," Sherlock gasps out, pushing back.

"You feel so good," John says, fingers circling and stretching.

"You…oh, god!" Sherlock loses his voice, his hips shifting as John hits the perfect spot, gently stroking.

Sherlock almost cries out a few minutes later when John's fingers leave him. He's about to protest when he hears a slight rustling and a low hiss. Sherlock's breath is driven from his lungs as a cold, wet sensation is against his heated skin of this most sensitive region. His brain is reeling, struggling to determine what's happening, but just as it registers that this must be the whipped cream, his thoughts are thrown offline again by the heat of John's tongue lapping at the sticky substance. The sensation is amazing. John licks around Sherlock's opening, across his buttocks, he veers off, chasing an errant streak that's run down Sherlock's inner thigh. But then he's back, and his tongue pushes inside and Sherlock can't even breathe.

They don't do this often, their sexual encounters are usually frantic and fast or slow and full of caresses and kissing. Right now, Sherlock is almost grateful they don't because he is pretty sure he's going to have a stroke if John keeps this up. The gentle twisting and fluttering is just short of maddening, feeling amazing and stoking his desire, but not firm enough to grant him release.

"John…please…god, please…" Sherlock's voice cracks, his breath catching in his throat.

"Yes, now," John replies, pulling back a bit. Sherlock shivers as John's breath ghosts over his wet, sensitive skin. John places a soft kiss to Sherlock's lower back. "I want to be inside you now."

The bed creaks as John's weight shifts and then Sherlock feels him hot and hard, gently pushing in. Sherlock is very close to the edge of something amazing and he fights not to tip over as John's fingers dig into his hip pulling him back.

"John I…this…you…please…"

He knows he's not making any sense and under any other circumstances he would be mortified, but his brain is functioning on limited power and he can't be arsed to care. Right now, all Sherlock wants to do is feel and be loved.

"Sherlock, I want to see you," John says, his voice urgent. "Can I turn you…"

"Anything. Just…please, I need…"

John pulls out and swiftly turns Sherlock to his back, settling him against the pillows. For a moment, the movement is disorienting, Sherlock's head swimming from lack of oxygen and visual input. John is pushing in again, adjusting his angle and any thought Sherlock had is gone. John leans forward, his hands on either side of Sherlock's head and he takes Sherlock's mouth in a needy kiss, his tongue thrusting a counterpoint to his hips. Sherlock can vaguely taste the whipped cream and the overriding flavour of John, deepening the kiss, needing more. This new position has the added stimulation of trapping Sherlock's erection between them and it isn't long before he's gasping and moaning, his hips arching up to meet John's. He breaks the kiss, pulling in a desperate breath.

"John, are you…I'm…"

"God, yes," John gasps. "Let go, Sherlock, I want to see you."

That's all it takes, really. Sherlock lets go his iron control and he's coming so hard that he thinks he might lose consciousness. His whole body is shaking and spasming and he's crying out so loud that his throat hurts. He had no idea he could feel this much pleasure. It's so intense that it borders on pain and Sherlock hopes it never ends. As the waves eventually recede and diminish, he pulls in deep breaths, feeling wrung out and exhausted. He slumps back into the pillows. John moves slightly, shifting and the blindfold is gently removed from Sherlock's eyes. He blinks up to see John smiling down at him. Sherlock's throat is raw and he's fairly sure he was loud enough for Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Turner's married ones, and half the neighbourhood to hear. And oddly, he doesn't care a whit.

"You okay?" John asks, bringing a hand up to stroke Sherlock's cheek.

"Very okay," Sherlock says, fighting a yawn and leaning into the touch. "You?"

"That was amazing," John whispers. "I love every time we're together, but that…"

Sherlock nods. John moves again, getting a towel and cursorily cleaning them up before he lies down, wrapping himself around Sherlock.

"It's your turn next?" Sherlock asks, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"As much as I love you, I think that might have wiped me out for the night," John says with a chuckle. After a minute, he leans up on his good shoulder, looking down at Sherlock. "I don't think I've ever come that hard in my life."

"So the toys made it better?" Sherlock asks, honestly curious.

"Is that what you think?" John asks, arching an eyebrow.

"That was the difference," Sherlock says, wondering what he missed.

"No, you were different," John whispers, touching Sherlock's face again. "The way you responded to me…god, I've never seen you so turned on before. The sounds you made…I nearly came twice before I even got inside you."

Sherlock blinks.

"The way I reacted made it better for you?"

"God, yes," John says, smiling.

Sherlock nods absently, moving the data around in his head.

"What is going on in that brain of yours?" John asks quietly.

"Hmm?" Sherlock blinks, refocusing on John's face. He smiles. "Oh, I was just thinking that tomorrow I'm going to collect more data on this when I use these things on you."

"You are trying to kill me, aren't you?" John says, laughing. "Though I suppose it's a hell of a way to go."

He pulls Sherlock closer and as Sherlock snuggles against him, he begins to understand what John is talking about. Knowing he makes John happy brings Sherlock pleasure. Translating that to a sexual context…Sherlock can see the potential. He feels John yawn against his throat and turns until they are face to face.

"I love you," he whispers, unaware that he's going to say it until it's out.

John smiles, his eyes going soft.

"I love you too. God, so much."

He pulls Sherlock in, his body relaxing as he wraps himself around Sherlock once more. Sherlock can tell from his breathing that he's right on the edge of sleep. As they drift off together, Sherlock thinks that he might be just that much closer to understanding relationships and love and he can mark this experiment as a complete success.

---

Do little things for him to show him you care. Buy him a small gift…

Sherlock spends three days researching gifts for John. The list said that a good mate gives tokens of affection to their intended, but outside of his birthday and Christmas, Sherlock's never given John anything. (He's pretty sure the preserved pancreas he gave John last month doesn't count.) He checks a few websites and dismisses suggestions such as putting together a striptease routine or taking John away on a romantic holiday. One site suggests, "get him a DVD of his favourite movie and watch it snuggled up with him." That actually doesn't sound so bad, so Sherlock sets off to the electronics store to get a copy of John's favourite Bond film.

Once he gets there, Sherlock remembers why he hates shopping. There are too many people and the layout of the store doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone put movies so far away from DVD players? And there seems to be no system for organising the movies, so Sherlock finds himself wandering in circles until a sales associate takes pity on him.

"Can I help you?

Sherlock looks around to see a young man with freckles giving him a forced smile. Sherlock's not at all sure about this. He has mould cultures older than this boy. He fights the urge to respond with, 'I don't know, can you help me?' and sighs.

"I'm looking for a DVD of Goldfinger."

"DVD or Blu-ray?"

"DVD," Sherlock repeats, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"You really should get the Blu-ray."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's so much better quality," the boy, whose name tag reads, 'Rodney', says.

"How is it better?"

"The picture is so much clearer. It's like you're really there. It's amazing, like the explosions are real."

Having experienced a few himself, Sherlock isn't sure why anyone would want to feel like they were in an explosion, but Rodney makes it sound like a positive attribute.

"I'm sure it's nice," Sherlock says. "But we don't have a Blu-ray player."

"What? You need one," Rodney says emphatically.

"Why do I need one?" Sherlock is starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

"Movies are much better on it. Don't you want the best?"

"It's not for me. I really don't watch television. It's for my boyfriend."

Sherlock was hoping he might frighten Rodney just a bit with that information, but the boy doesn't flinch at all.

"Well, don't you want to give him the best?" Rodney says, smiling.

Sherlock still isn't entirely sure how it happened, but answering, "yes" to that question ended up with him buying a Blu-ray player, a new television, a universal remote, a surround sound system, The Complete Bond Collection, and all nine Star Wars movies. Well, this should make up for all the times he's not given John anything.

Sherlock is just finishing hooking it up when John gets home.

"What is this?" John asks, frowning.

"A complete entertainment system?" Sherlock really hadn't meant for it to sound like a question.

"Sherlock," John says, his voice tight. "Where is our old television?"

"I gave it to Mrs. Hudson. It was larger than the one she had."

"But…" John crosses the room to stand in front of their new LCD television. "Why on earth do we need a television this big? It's what, fifty inches?"

"Fifty-five. It has a great picture, John. I was assured that it would make for a better viewing experience. And it goes very well with the surround sound."

"We don't have surround sound," John says, arching an eyebrow.

"We do now," Sherlock says, handing him the remote.

John frowns at him.

"Why did you buy all this?"

"For you, John."

John blinks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Now you'll have a better way to watch your shows and movies."

"I…but…" John breaks off, standing there, staring at Sherlock.

"I wanted you to enjoy them," Sherlock says quietly. He's starting to think he might have made yet another mistake. John doesn't seem as pleased as Sherlock was picturing. "John?"

"Sherlock, this is sweet, but we can't afford this." John sighs, then his eyes go suddenly wide. "Wait, how did you pay for this?"

"I put it on Mycroft's credit card," Sherlock says, shrugging. John groans. "What? He doesn't mind."

"Yes, he does," John says, shaking his head. "And he'll ask me why I let you do it."

Sherlock feels a distinct stab of disappointment. He went through a lot of trouble for all this. He talked to the salesman, got these things home, and even set them up. He pulls his lips into a pout.

"Don't you like your gifts?"

"Well, yes, I do, but…Sherlock, why did you buy this?"

"Because I love you."

"You bought me a television and surround sound because you love me?"

"Don't forget the Blu-ray player and the movies."

"I…" John pauses, his brow furrowing. "Okay, what the hell, Sherlock?"

"John?"

"You just put a fortune on your brother's credit card. He's not going to be happy. He's going to make you pay it back."

"I know," Sherlock says. "I've already arranged with him to work it off."

"And then he's going to make me…wait, you did?" John's eyes go wide.

"He has three cases he wants me to handle and we'll call it even. They are unreasonably simple. I honestly think he's making me take them just to annoy me. He likes you and he thought it was nice I got you something."

"Wait, you are taking cases for your brother?" John asks, frowning. "To pay for presents for me?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock says quietly.

"You hate working for Mycroft."

"But I love you."

John just stands there blinking and Sherlock thinks he must have messed this up again. He's about to ask if John wants him to take it all back when John suddenly walks over to him and kisses him. Sherlock is startled, but it only takes a couple seconds before he's kissing back. John breaks the kiss and looks up at him.

"You are amazing."

"Because I bought you an expensive television set?"

"No, you git. I would have been happy with…well, you didn't have to get me anything, but whatever you chose would have been nice. A card or even Penguin biscuits. It's not what you bought, Sherlock." John looks up at him and Sherlock's breath catches at the emotion he sees there. "It's that you are willing to endure something you really hate just to get me a present."

"I would do anything for you, John," Sherlock whispers, reaching out to touch his face. "I thought you knew that."

"Says the man who can't do his own dishes or keep severed fingers out of the vegetable drawer."

Sherlock smiles at him.

"Yes, but that's part of my charm," he says. John laughs and Sherlock feels his heart flutter. No one else ever understands him like John does. John looks at him, arching an eyebrow and Sherlock fights the urge to kiss him again. "I do love you, you know."

"I do know. You didn't have to buy me all this to prove it."

"You deserve it. I'm not the easiest person to live with and I rarely show you how much you mean to me." Sherlock nods at the remote. "Are you going to try it out? We could order Chinese and watch one of your Bond movies."

"Now that sounds like a perfect evening," John says, smiling. He pulls Sherlock close and kisses him, then steps back, heading for the kitchen. "I'll call it in."

Sherlock feels a rush of happiness as he watches John. Maybe this was a good gift choice after all. After a second, John pokes his head around the wall.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Sherlock nods and smiles.

---

Do little things for him to show him you care. Have his dinner ready for him. Men need to know they are important.

Contrary to popular belief, Sherlock isn't actually a bad cook. Cooking, by and large, is mainly formulas and chemistry, both things he has an aptitude for. Admittedly, Sherlock rarely ever makes a meal, but that's due to lack of interest, not a deficiency of talent.

Today, however, Sherlock is making dinner. John should be home any minute and Sherlock's research told him that a solicitous mate will have dinner waiting for their spouse at the end of a long day. John loves Indian food, so Sherlock is making chicken curry with yellow rice. He's following an authentic recipe he found on the internet while continuing his research and he's fairly proud of himself. Despite how boring cooking is, he didn't give up halfway through and leave it for John to finish, as tempting as that idea was.

He hears John coming up the stairs and turns down the heat on the hob. The door to the living room opens and he can picture John taking his coat off and hanging it on the back of the door.

"Sherlock?"

"In the kitchen," Sherlock responds.

"Did you order Indian?" John asks as he walks in. "Because something smells amazing."

"I made dinner," Sherlock says, trying to keep his voice level.

"Wait, you made dinner?"

Sherlock nods.

"As in, you cooked this yourself."

"Yes, John."

John frowns.

"What kind of experiment is this?"

Sherlock sighs, yet again. When had this become so difficult? John isn't usually trying to suss out Sherlock's motives for every little thing. When had this started? Sherlock takes a deep breath and tries again.

"It's not an experiment, John. I thought you might be hungry after a long day at the surgery."

"So you cooked me dinner?" John sounds confused.

"I did."

"Okay, did you set something on fire?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The last time you cooked was after you burned half the jumpers in my wardrobe trying to figure out how flammable sheep are."

"I did replace them," Sherlock points out. "With nicer ones, I might add."

"And you were forgiven," John says with a smile. "So, did something go wrong this time?"

"No," Sherlock insists. "I simply thought it might be nice if you came home to a hot meal."

"So, you cooked one for me?" John looks even more perplexed and Sherlock is once again wondering if he's really that horrible to live with.

"Shall we sit down?" Sherlock says, gesturing to the table.

Sherlock's also pretty proud of the nicely set table. It had taken him almost two hours to clear away all of his equipment and safely dispose of the experiments. (The one involving Dirofilaria Immitus had got a bit out of hand and Sherlock thought he might have to consult a biohazard specialist, but he'd been able to get it under control on his own.) Now the table is clean and set with two place settings, including napkins and water glasses. John looks at it and frowns.

"Seriously," John says, his brow furrowing. "I know you hate cooking, so what's going on?"

"Dinner?" Sherlock says, not entirely sure what John is asking.

"Whatever happened, you didn't have to make it up to me by doing this," John says gently. "You know I'll understand."

Sherlock feels his shoulders slump and he looks away, not wanting John to see his disappointment. This really isn't going according to plan and the harder Sherlock tries, the more it just seems to point out how terrible he is at it. How has John lived with him this long when he sees Sherlock as a self centred useless person? No wonder he doesn't want to marry him. Suddenly, Sherlock finds that he's not the least bit hungry. He sighs, draping the tea towel he was holding over the back of a chair.

"The rice is in a pot on the counter," he says quietly. "And you might want to turn off the burner under the curry."

Without another word, he walks out of the kitchen and goes to his old room. He hasn't slept in here in almost a year and a half and it smells a bit stale. Mostly Sherlock's used it to house his books and science equipment. They sleep in what used to be John's room as it affords them more privacy. Sherlock sits on the bed, going over everything in his head. He's following the guidelines he found on the internet, so how is he failing so spectacularly? Maybe John was right all along; maybe Sherlock isn't the type of person you marry.

There's a quiet knock at the door, but before Sherlock can say anything, John's already walking into the room. He sits down next to Sherlock, putting a gentle hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry," John says. "You just caught me off guard."

Sherlock nods, looking at the floor.

"Please come and eat with me," John says, squeezing Sherlock's knee. "It smells wonderful, but it won't be the same if I have to eat it alone."

Sherlock nods again and John pulls him into an embrace.

"I really am sorry. I know how much you hate tedious stuff like cooking, so I just didn't expect it. Thank you, though. It really is incredibly thoughtful of you to make me dinner." John pulls back from the hug and gets to his feet. He holds out a hand, which Sherlock takes, and he helps Sherlock up. "Dinner?"

"Starving," Sherlock says with a smile.

There is going to be a learning curve. Sherlock should have factored that in. John isn't used to thinking about Sherlock as husband material and there will logically be an adjustment period while he realigns his perceptions. Sherlock will just have to learn to be more tolerant of that. At least things seem to be going in the right direction now. He smiles as he follows John into the kitchen.

---

Stroke his ego. Tell him how well he does everything. Fuss over him…

Sherlock stretches out on the sofa, settling in with his head on John's lap. John is reading the newspaper and he smiles down at Sherlock.

Dinner had been a great success after the bumpy start. John had raved about the curry and had even done the clean-up to show his appreciation. Now, they are settled in as they usually do, John reading the paper and Sherlock lying down to read one of his scientific journals. Sherlock always enjoys the domesticity of these moments and can picture doing this every night for the rest of their lives.

As he starts reading an article about the use of insect cuticles in pain medication delivery systems, Sherlock's mind informs him that he's being derelict in his duties as a husband. How is John supposed to know how important he is if Sherlock ignores him for a magazine? Sherlock looks up.

"How was your day?" Sherlock asks.

"Hm?"

"At the surgery. How was your day?"

John arches an eyebrow.

"It was fine. Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious. What did you do?"

Now John is frowning.

"Seriously, what's up? You never ask about my work. In fact, you've labelled it boring."

Sherlock has to concede that he's called John's job boring on any number of occasions. Really, what is exciting about curing runny noses and lancing boils? But the article said that Sherlock needs to appear interested and honestly, there must be something more to what John does, because Sherlock can't see someone as interesting as John staying with a job that bores him into a coma.

"It has its boring aspects," Sherlock admits. "But I'm sure it isn't always tedious. Why don't you tell me about some of your cases today?"

John is still looking at him oddly, but he nods.

"I spent most of my day dealing with flu patients, but I did have a couple of good cases. I had a woman in who complained of cramping and dizziness. Turned out she had an ectopic pregnancy and we had to send her to A&E."

"Was it that severe?" Sherlock asks.

"She was close to rupturing her fallopian tube and she could have bled out."

"Was it easy to diagnose?"

"I did have to do a few tests and pull some rather unused knowledge out of my head. Luckily, you've trained me to think outside the norm."

"So, you saved her life by figuring it out?"

"Well…" John trails off, shrugging and blushing a bit. Sherlock decides there's something adorable about that. He can't help smiling at John and John is frowning at him again.

"What?"

"Nothing, John. It's just…I think I take back my previous statement that there are no heroes."

John's eyes go wide.

"Sherlock…"

"For that woman, today, you were a hero. You saved her life."

"Any doctor would have been able to do that, Sherlock."

"Yes, but any doctor didn't. You did."

John reaches down and starts running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

"Seriously, Sherlock, is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"The dinner, the gifts, the texts, and asking about my work. This isn't like you."

"It isn't?"

"No. Is something wrong?"

Sherlock looks up at John and he can only come up with one thing to say.

"Am I really that bad?"

John blinks, looking confused.

"I…of course not, Sherlock. I never said you were."

"But when I behave as a normal person would, it confuses you."

"Is that what you're doing? Trying to be normal?"

"I am trying to show you that you're important to me," Sherlock says, shaking his head.

"I know that I'm important to you. If I wasn't, you wouldn't keep me around."

Now it's Sherlock's turn to frown.

"Do you really think if you displeased me that I'd leave?"

"No, that's not what I said," John looks down at him, his eyes intense. "If you didn't think I was important, you'd have never let me in your life in the first place."

Sherlock has to agree that John is right, but something about this exchange bothers him.

"So, you are willing to put up with being treated as less than you are, simply because I allow you to be part of my world?"

"I…" John frowns again. "I wouldn't say that. I don't think you treat me as if I don't matter. I just don't need all the fuss that normal couples do because I know that you want me around."

"For now," Sherlock says quietly, understanding exactly what John isn't saying. He sits up, tipping his head in thought. "That's why you can't conceive of marrying me. You're waiting for me to grow bored of you. You don't see a future with me because you don't think we have one. You don't think I can stay committed for that long."

"Sherlock, I…" John breaks off, staring at him.

"I know that I've never shown that tendency in any aspect of my life before, but I need you to understand that you are different. You always have been. I love you, John. Do you think I say it to you because I have to or I think it's my duty as your boyfriend? Do you not remember how hard it was for me to tell you, how long I waited?"

"Yes, I do," John says quietly. "That's why it still means so much every time you say it."

"And yet, you can doubt your importance and how deep my feelings are for you?"

"Sherlock, it's just…" John frowns. "I don't understand how someone as amazing as you could love me. I'm so plain and ordinary and I suppose I'm just waiting for you to realise it."

Sherlock reaches out, stroking John's face.

"You are not plain and you've never been ordinary." John blinks and Sherlock smiles. "I know most people want to hear how normal they are, but you simply aren't. Normal people don't jump over rooftops and shoot criminals, especially if they don't work for the police. The first time you kissed me was after you pulled me out of a locked safe."

"I thought I'd lost you," John says, shaking his head. "I was so happy to see you that I didn't care who knew I'd fallen for you."

"Anderson's face was particularly satisfying," Sherlock says, his smile getting wider. "Almost as good as Sally's when you told me you loved me after I saved you from a serial killer. Now, tell me John, what in any of that is normal?"

"But you know we won't be doing that forever," John says quietly. "And what about me will you find remotely interesting when we're too old for this job?"

"You think that I love you because we work together?" Sherlock is incredulous. "So these emotions are a by-product of the adrenaline?"

"Of course not. But the life we lead is a large part of my appeal to you."

"No, John," Sherlock says firmly. "I will admit that your willingness to be part of my world is one of the many reasons I love you, but it's by no means the only one. Yes, I appreciate that you'll jump into danger with me, but if you couldn't do that anymore, I wouldn't love you any less."

"Sherlock…"

"Do you not know? Do you not understand?" Sherlock swallows down his frustration. Why can he never find the words when it comes to John? "Having you by my side when we are chasing through London is amazing, but I enjoy every minute we are together. I never thought I would appreciate sitting with your arms around me while I read a book, but now I find it strangely disappointing and hard to concentrate if I attempt to read any other way. Why do you think I sit up and wait for you when you work a late shift or go to the pub with your friends? I cannot sleep unless I can hear you snoring next to me."

"I don't snore," John says, looking at Sherlock.

"Then you do a fair imitation of it while you sleep," Sherlock says smiling. "You know that I don't place an importance on eating, but I look forward to sharing a meal with you. Every aspect of my life is made better having you in it."

"Sherlock," John says, sighing, but Sherlock cuts him off, shaking his head emphatically.

"I have never loved anyone, John, never thought that I would. But you…you see beyond my public persona, you know my faults, and you love me anyway. You understand my humour, odd and inappropriate as it is. You are my heart and my conscience and my better angels all rolled into one. I…you…"

Sherlock breaks off, flailing his hands. How can he make John see?

"Sherlock," John sighs again. "I know that you think…"

"Do you? You don't think I see a life beyond the work? I…" Sherlock pauses, suddenly nervous. What if John doesn't want the same future he does? He takes a deep breath. "I think we'll retire to the country. My family has a house and some land in West Sussex. Mycroft doesn't want to live there, so I think we'll take it. I'll raise bees and help the local police as they need it. It's also going to take quite a while for me to put all my case files in order, a few years, maybe. And the house has a large basement. Maybe I'll set up a proper laboratory there. As much as I tease you, you have literary talent, John. You might consider writing crime novels. As many fans of your blog as you have, I'm sure you'll be a great success. There's a large study in the house I always see as yours. With your abilities as a doctor, you might also want to volunteer at the local clinic, though I'm not sure I want you away from me that often. We'll take walks together every evening and you could get that puppy you've always wanted. I always picture us in our sixties or seventies, but if you want children, I think we could move out there sooner. The area is quiet with a lot of families and the schools are excellent. With the internet, I can always help Lestrade from there and London is only a couple of hours away."

John is staring at him with wide eyes.

"You've given this some thought."

"How could I not? Yes, solving crimes is my life, but you, John, are what I live for. And any future I might contemplate has you in it because I cannot fathom a life without you."

John blinks and then he is moving to kiss Sherlock.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against Sherlock's lips.

"As am I. I think I may have confused you with my efforts to make you see what I do."

"Is that what all this was?" John asks, pulling back to look at Sherlock.

"I don't want to lose you, John. I want to spend the rest of our lives together and you said you couldn't see marrying me. I suppose I panicked a bit."

"Sherlock…" Suddenly John's eyes go wide. "Wait, is that what this is about? You are trying to…what, be the marrying type?"

"I was trying to show you that I could be."

"By being something you aren't?"

"How do you know I'm not?" Sherlock whispers.

"I…you…huh?" John looks completely confused.

"Just because I don't always cook you dinner or ask about your day, doesn't mean I don't want to." Sherlock closes his eyes, unable to look at John. "No one has ever wanted me to do those things for them."

John's fingers move to stroke Sherlock's face and Sherlock opens his eyes, studying John.

"Sherlock…"

"I'm not asking for your pity, John. I'm simply trying to make you understand. I have no idea how to be a good boyfriend or mate because I never learned the skills. No one has ever wanted me in that capacity, so why waste the mental space on something I would never use?"

"So, now you're learning how to do this for me?" John asks, his voice gentle.

"I want to learn it for you," Sherlock says, looking down at his hands. "At first, I was trying to learn so you wouldn't leave, but John, I discovered that I like doing things for you. I want to hear about your day. I'm proud of you and the work you do. I'm sorry if I've made a mess of this."

"Sherlock, look at me."

Sherlock pulls in his courage, looks up to see John smiling at him.

"I love you," John says, his expression going serious. "I know you love me. You don't have to go through all this to prove it. As much as I appreciate the effort, I don't want you to change who you are for me."

"I'm not changing, John. I'm simply adding skills to what I already have." John looks at him and Sherlock sighs. "Though you might not want to get too used to some of these things. While I might enjoy seeing you eat something I cooked, the actual work makes my brain bleed, so I don't intend to do it often."

"I can live with that," John says, smiling again. "You can save it for special occasions, like our anniversaries."

Sherlock blinks, not wanting to jump to conclusions, but…

"That sounds suspiciously like a proposal, John."

"Not a very good one, but…" John says with a chuckle, though Sherlock can see by his posture how nervous he is.

Sherlock pulls John into his arms, looking into his eyes.

"If you are asking because you feel like you must, I'll have to say no," Sherlock replies. "I want to be with you for the rest of our lives, but only if that's what you want too."

"I'm asking because I love you and I suddenly realised what an arse I'm being and how much I want to be with you too."

"In that case, I whole-heartedly accept," Sherlock whispers, leaning in and capturing John's lips in a tender kiss.

John kisses him back, finally pulling back with a frown.

"You didn't even let me ask you properly," John says, furrowing his brow.

"I don't need proper as long as I have you," Sherlock replies.

"Still, you deserve better. I want this to be something we remember for the rest of our lives."

Sherlock smiles at him.

"Trust me, John, this is not something I'm likely to forget."

John returns his smile but moves out of his arms. Sherlock wonders for a minute, but then John is off the sofa, dropping down on one knee, reaching out to take his hand.

"John?"

"I love you so much," John says, his voice straining to stay steady. "You make my life worth living and I never want a world you aren't in. I'm sorry it took me so long to see what you do, but now that I have, I want it too. Sherlock Holmes, will you do me the honour of marrying me?"

Sherlock looks down at John, seeing all the love and affection in his eyes. He only hesitates for a minute, then he drops to his knees next to John, pulling him close to whisper in his ear.

"Yes, John. I am yours and I always will be."

Sherlock leans back and then they are kissing again. Sherlock is just losing himself in the feel and taste of John when John breaks the kiss and leans back.

"I love you so much, Sherlock," John says quietly, looking into his eyes. "I hope you know that."

"I do," Sherlock says, taking John's hand.

"Good," John pauses for a minute. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock feels his brow pull into a frown.

"Whatever for?"

"These past couple weeks, you've been trying to show me how much I mean to you, how much you love me, and I completely wrote it off."

"I understand," Sherlock says softly. "I only succeeded in confusing you. I don't blame you for reacting badly."

"Yes, I was confused," John says, pulling him close. "But I need you to understand why. Now that I know what was happening, I can see everything that you did for the amazing declaration of love that it was. I just didn't understand what was going on."

"I do know that," Sherlock says, sighing. "It was out of character for me and you couldn't conceive of me behaving in that way. I suppose I have never been demonstrative of my love for you before, so why would you expect it now?"

"That's just it, Sherlock," John says, squeezing his hand. "You show me all the time how much I mean to you. You just do it in your own, Sherlock way. No, you don't normally buy me gifts or ask about my work at the surgery, but you composed a nocturn for me a few months ago and it's always you who holds and kisses me through my nightmares. I honestly appreciate everything you did, but you do understand that I don't need all these other things, don't you?"

"But, when I brought up marriage…"

John nods, cutting him off.

"I know. But that's because I didn't understand that you really could see spending a lifetime with me." John frowns. "I'm really doing a terrible job of saying this."

"Take your time," Sherlock says, putting his head on John's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

John takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"It's more of a comment on how I see myself, not how I see you. I know that you love me. I know that I am important to you and that you would do anything for me. I suppose I just don't think I've earned such deep love from such an amazing man." John rests his head against Sherlock's. "But I'm going to spend the rest of our lives trying to be worthy of you."

Sherlock sits up and looks into John's eyes.

"You are more than enough, John. Please, just spend the rest of your life loving me?"

"Well, that's already a foregone conclusion." John says, smiling. "Whatever happens in our lives, I'm going to love you, unconditionally, forever."

Sherlock feels like he's drowning in these emotions, but far from scaring him as they've done in the past, he revels in them, knowing that John will be his for the rest of their lives. It's been a peculiar few weeks and Sherlock has learned a few things he plans to keep employing in the future. He leans in, kissing John, needing him to feel this love, to know that all Sherlock wants from him is his heart and that Sherlock is so grateful for the chance to spend every day for the rest of his life with his amazing John.

---

John snuggles deeper under the blankets, moving closer to Sherlock as he settles into the pillows. He wraps an arm around him, pulling him close and burying his nose in the hair at the nape of Sherlock's neck, just breathing him in. He cannot believe how lucky he is to have this remarkable man in his life and how thoroughly John has underestimated him.

A few weeks ago, when Sherlock brought up marriage, John was sure he was using it as a way to soothe his bruised ego, but tonight, John was humbled by the depth of love and commitment that Sherlock had demonstrated for him. Once he understood what Sherlock was saying, what he wanted, John realised that he'd got everything wrong and all he wants is to spend the rest of his life making it up to Sherlock.

Sherlock murmurs in his sleep and turns over, wrapping himself around John. For a minute, John thinks he's awake, as he plants a soft kiss against John's throat.

"Love you," Sherlock whispers, his voice muzzy. Then his breathing evens out and John realises that he's sunk back into sleep.

"Love you, too," John says, as he kisses Sherlock's forehead.

And he does. How could he not love this incredible, perfect man who gave John his life back and sacrificed everything for his happiness? Sherlock said that he couldn't picture a life that John wasn't in and John knows he had been foolish to ever think that his future wouldn't be with Sherlock.

John pulls him just a bit closer and closes his eyes, relaxing. He honestly hadn't expected that Sherlock would see the same future that he wanted, but now he understands how unfair he's been. They hadn't even discussed it; John had just assumed. But Sherlock has a talent for surprising John. Tonight, after they'd made love, as Sherlock held John close, John noticed a far away, thoughtful look on his face.

"What are you thinking?" he'd asked, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock blushed, looking at the pillows.

"What?" John asked.

"I was thinking…" Sherlock took a deep breath in. "I was thinking that you should be the one to father our children."

John blinked, taken completely by surprise. Sherlock had been thinking about having children with him?

"Wait…why?"

"Well, my side of the family, does come with a fair dose of emotional issues. I don't think I want our children to have to deal with that." Sherlock looked down, blushing again. "I'd also be lying if I said I didn't want them to look like you. I rather like the idea of a little boy with your blue eyes and blond hair."

"Really?" John asked, taking Sherlock's hand. "Because I'm picturing a little girl with your dark curls and stunning cheekbones."

Sherlock looked at him with huge eyes.

"I think we should have two children, one from each of us," John said, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "I think with as much love as we have to give that we'll do okay with those emotional issues you're worried about. From everything I've read we have a very good chance of nurture overcoming nature. I want to share that with you, have this family with you."

"I want that," Sherlock said, just above a whisper. "I can…is it wrong that I can picture the two of us in this bed, snuggling our children while I read to them from The Hobbit?"

"The Hobbit?" John said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"It was one of my favourites as a child," Sherlock said, smiling. "My father read from it to me every night until it was done, and then I made him start over."

"That actually sounds amazing," John said, running his thumb across the back of Sherlock's hand. "Can't say I pictured you as the story reading type, but I really love the visual."

"When I was sixteen a cousin of mine talked me into babysitting her children one night," Sherlock said, looking adorably embarrassed. "I took my copy of the Hobbit and read to them. They told me that I had the best dragon voice. Of course, they were only five and seven, so I'm not sure how reliable their opinion was."

And suddenly, John could see it. He could see himself sitting on the bed, leaning back on a pile of pillows with two children, one pressed on either side of him, his arms holding them close. He could practically hear Sherlock, his voice deep and rumbling. '"Well, thief! I smell you, I hear your breath, I feel your air. Where are you? Come now, don't be shy... step into the light.' John could picture the children giggling, burrowing deeper into the safety of John's arms.

He knew he must look as stunned as he felt, because Sherlock looked at him, his face etched with concern.

"John?"

"No, it's just…" John swallowed hard, looking up at Sherlock, overwhelmed by the love he felt for this man. "I want that too; so much. How could I not see how much I wanted this life with you?"

Sherlock smiled, leaning in to kiss John's brow.

"Well, it's not like I've ever shared that with you before." He pulled back and looked at John. "But I want that, I have for a while."

"Well, then, that's settled," John said looking at Sherlock. "We'll get that home, hearth, picket fence, adorable children, growing old together, happily ever after thing and we'll do it together. I really should have known that I couldn't have my perfect life if I didn't have it with you."

Sherlock looked at him, his heart in his eyes, nodding wordlessly and John thought his heart might burst from happiness.

Now John smiles as he drifts off to sleep, pulling Sherlock closer to him. Whatever the future holds, he and Sherlock will face it together, building the life they've always wanted and were always meant to have.