100 reviews! We did it! Thank you guys so much for all your support, if you weren't reviewing I wouldn't be writing!
In honor of 100 I decided to do a special chapter, I debated what it would be for awhile before deciding to go big or go home. So...enjoy!
(Also just so we're clear I hate the formatting on this site. All my paragraphs get lumped together or chopped apart. I apologize for all this nonsense, I hope you can follow along regardless.)
When John came home to a clean flat, he knew something was wrong.
In fact he was so shocked by the wrongness of it all that he dropped the groceries at the door and ran through the flat looking for the source of the notoriously cluttered flat.
"Sherlock!" He shouted, and the curly haired detective appeared behind him with his hands up in a calming gestured.
"Did someone break in and clean the flat?" John asked only half joking. Sherlock shrugged, giving John a look that the army doctor had never seen on his face before.
Now that was odd.
Sherlock without a witty response? Clean flat? Something was definitely wrong.
John did a quick sweep of all dangerous topics. Sherlock's pupils were fine and there were no pinpricks about his wrists, nothing appeared to have been lit on fire, and the fridge was surprisingly free of body parts.
"Sherlock...what's going on?" John turned to the man who had left his side and moved to the couch.
Sherlock picked up his violin and took great care in tuning it before answering.
"You tell me, John." He replied, his voice languid and bored, sounding like the growl of a cat before it springs.
John blinked, completely puzzled. He was unsure of what Sherlock wanted him to do, so he decided to do what Sherlock would do. He investigated.
He searched every place he knew had been specifically cleaned: the desk where millions of case notes once stood, the table where the chemistry set had resided, the bookshelf that had been littered with knives and bullets as well as books on the dissection of different bodies.
"Good, John." Sherlock praised, placing his violin on the table and sitting back on the couch in a relaxed position. "You've started out well enough, but you won't find anything there. Think harder."
John bit back a smile, he had to act like he was annoyed by this playfulness or else he'd never find out what he was looking for.
He remembered when Sherlock had been searching for cameras in the house, he had mentioned dust. Maybe that was it? Look for breaks in the dust lines? No wait...Sherlock cleaned the flat because he wanted John to think about things he asked Sherlock to do that he never did...should he look in the fridge near the milk?
Then it hit him.
Sherlock was sitting there with a smug smile on his face, amused by John's antics. This wasn't a problem to be solved by deduction, just another instance in which John knew exactly what his boyfriend was up to.
John walked up to Sherlock and reached inside his pocket with a tentative hand.
"Well done." Sherlock smiled, taking John's wrist and pulling his hand away before John could find out what exactly it was Sherlock was keeping hidden from him.
"What did I find, exactly?" John laughed, leaning over his boyfriend.
Sherlock smiled and took John's hand again. He slipped something cold into the palm of John's hand and then curled his fingers over it.
John uncurled his fingers and his heart stopped. Sitting in the palm of his hand was a silver ring engraved with dark ornate designs.
"Sherlock?" He choked.
"I am not very good with this sort of thing. What you normal people do. So I had to change the tradition a bit to fit with my talents. I hope you don't mind." Sherlock smirked slightly, his smile holding just a hint of nervousness. He took the ring from John's hand and held it in front of him wearing a questioning glance. "John, marry me."
John twisted the golden wedding ring around his finger while he thought of what to write in his blog. The last case had lasted nearly two weeks and seeing as Sherlock insisted on no sleep and no food during cases due to convenience and time saving, the detective was now going through his post-case recovery period.
John could hear small movements coming from the bedroom which told him that his husband was awake, and not long after Sherlock emerged into the living room with bleary eyes and bedhead. Sherlock stumbled over to John and then lay down with his head in the doctor's lap.
"You wouldn't feel so bad if you didn't treat your body like garbage all the time." John chuckled.
"I don't need to take care of myself. That's what I have you for." Sherlock mumbled in reply.
"I suppose that's true." John rolled his eyes. "Get dressed. I'm going to take you out for breakfast."
"Why are we doing that?" Sherlock asked in disgust, clearly preferring to lay on the couch for the rest of the day. John smiled and kissed him on the forehead.
"It's one of those annoying things normal married people do."