Day 4 – Thursday 17th December, 2016

Sherlock had swooped into the offices of Intuition at closing time like a vampire bat and John nearly jumped when the detective walked into his office.

"Hey." John greeted, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not allowed to surprise my boyfriend?" Sherlock asked innocently, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward to capture John's mouth in a kiss. "Come on, I'm taking you to dinner."

Over the initial surprise, John's eyebrows furrowed in accusation. "Why? What's the occasion?" He asked suspiciously.

"No occasion." Sherlock insisted, with that glint in his eye that suggested that he was lying and not being remotely subtle about it.

John, however, didn't seem to pick up on Sherlock's mischief so had no choice but to smile and graciously accept.

But inside, his stomach was flipping uncomfortably.

When Sherlock said 'take John to dinner', the now-editor had assumed he meant a gastro-pub or something similar, a quick bite and a laugh before they went home together and did...other things. John certainly wasn't expecting a full-blown French restaurant with ridiculously expensive wine where even the waiters were wearing bow ties.

As John sat opposite Sherlock at a round table with an embroidered table cloth and an unlit red candle in the centre, he felt embarrassingly under-dressed. Sherlock, clad in his usual black suit, seemed to fit in quite well.

"Pardon me, gentlemen." The waiter said, before taking the unlit red candle from the centre of the round table and removing it, Sherlock wasn't even paying attention. John frowned. He waited until Sherlock had finished perusing the menu and ordered some posh French wine he couldn't pronounce and then leant across the table to him.

"What's wrong with the candle?" He asked, genuinely confused.

Sherlock looked momentarily confused before his eyes zeroed in on the empty place where the candle had been and his clever mind apparently deduced what he'd missed before. He chuckled. "I don't think he knows you're my date." Sherlock told him.

"Oh." Said John sitting back and feeling instantly stupid before grinning. "Are we on a business meeting then?" He joked.

"In a way." Sherlock replied coyly and John narrowed his eyes.

As Sherlock continued to perused his menu, John took a moment to look at his surroundings. The walls were a deep brown and gold lights hung low from the ceiling, bathing the entire restaurant in an Autumn glow.

"How did you even get a reservation at a place like this?" John asked, slightly stunned.

"Friends in high places." Sherlock murmured.

John's gaze returned to him and he raised an eyebrow. "What? Even though you're not the incredible Sherlock Holmes anymore?"

Sherlock smiled. "Oh I'm certainly the incredible Sherlock Holmes," he assured him, "I just play to a smaller audience now."

John's heart broke and burst at the same time, because he knew, of course he knew, that Sherlock gave his whole self to him and there was a part of John that still didn't think it was enough.

Even right now. If John were any less sane than he arguably was, and any more normal, he would have made the most natural leap in human assumptions.

When your boyfriend of a year impromptu brings you to a fancy restaurant swathed in low light and is being oddly coy and mysterious, you assume he is going to pull a ring box from somewhere and propose marriage and happiness for the rest of your fairytale lives.

Interestingly, John had no idea what his reaction would be should that be the case but he didn't waste a moment thinking on it because he knew that it would never be the case. That was why he didn't make that natural human leap, because he knew Sherlock Holmes, and Sherlock Holmes was already married. To his job.

Sherlock loved being a detective, and he loved London, and he loved John. And John was fairly certain it was in that order, as well.

He hadn't meant to but he'd taken Sarah's joke-advice from the day before rather seriously and had spent the whole night contemplating if he and Sherlock had a future, if their love was enough to ride out whatever the world would throw in their way. John couldn't lie to himself, he wasn't getting any younger, there were things he wanted in his life and things he was fairly sure that Sherlock Holmes, no matter how incredible, would never give him.

It wasn't even that Sherlock was an oddity incapable of human wants and desires, it was the fact that Sherlock lived in such a way that he didn't want those things. And John wouldn't want to force the best and most incredible man he'd ever known into a life of unhappiness with him just when he'd talked him out of one.

So perhaps, and even though it hurt just to think it, it was time to let him go.

John felt tears well up in his eyes at the mere concept and quickly hid behind his menu, he knew Sherlock well enough to know that if he caught one look at his face then he would immediately deduce what was wrong and John would have to do this here, in front of everyone.

Sherlock, however, was a little too preoccupied in his own thought process.

He never really made big announcements or requests, especially when it came to relationships so was unsure as to how to approach such a thing but he assumed that romantic dinners were an appropriate occasion.

Sherlock had spent the best part of the previous night thinking about Mrs. Hudson's comments, about how drifting along wasn't going to keep John forever. John wanted more in his life, Sherlock could see it in his eyes. Perhaps a year ago Sherlock would have simply concluded that he wasn't that way inclined and John should just find someone more suited to his needs but now...he'd spent time with John, he loved John, he wanted John in his life and had only just realised that perhaps he needed to give just a little more.

It wasn't necessarily as major as he was making it out to be but he'd come to the conclusion that he was going to ask John to move in with him.

He liked having John around and knew that John preferred 221B to his flat, always complaining that 221B was bigger and nicer and nearer to his office, and Sherlock was more than willing to give him everything he had.

Plus the thought of waking up with the love of his life's arms wrapped around him every morning for the foreseeable future was more than a little appealing. Suddenly energised, Sherlock put his menu down and noticed the moisture teasing the sides of John's eyes.

"John, are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

John didn't immediately reply, instead, he remained silent for a long moment before he sighed. He looked up at Sherlock's expectant face.

"Actually, Sherlock, there's something I need to tell you." He said, despite every fibre of his being telling him that he was making a huge mistake.

"Yeah, so do I." Sherlock said, sounding suddenly nervous.

"I..."

"I think...you should move in with me."

John blinked, hard, and it took his brain a moment to process. All he could do was stare at Sherlock's distractingly innocent expression.

"I...what do you mean?" He finally asked.

Sherlock laughed gently and his cheeks tinged. "We've been together for a while now." He admitted honestly, playing nervously with his cutlery. "And...I know I'm not...normal..."

"Oh, Sherlock..."

"No, no, I know I'm not. You taught me to be myself and I've never felt more free...and I owe you so much and I need to show you, I want to show you that I'm capable of that kind of commitment. I know it's only baby steps but I'd love it if you wanted to call 221B 'home'...with me."

John couldn't precisely pinpoint what he was feeling. He was relieved and overwhelmed but most of all, he was in love.

He was in love with the beautiful man blushing opposite him. Sherlock's speech reminded him of everything they'd had to go through to be together in the first place, and just how horrible it had been for John when he thought Sherlock was leaving for America and yet here he was actually about to send him away?

You're an idiot. He told himself.

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked after a while.

"I think it's a brilliant idea." John admittedly honestly, watching as Sherlock physically deflated in relief. John reached his hand across the table and held Sherlock's tightly, simply refusing to let go ever again.

"Do you want the candle back?" Sherlock asked, grinning, and John laughed despite himself. It was a joyful, glorious sound. And Sherlock knew now, he understood now that it wasn't his life with John in it; it was their life. The life they shared. Together.

He'd never spent his life with anyone before, not even his family, he'd never even thought he would have.

But right now he was grateful to have the chance.