I would like to offer my heartfelt thanks to flyingmintbunnyisreal, reflectiveless, mishaminion42, jenpix, DoctorSherlockLove, The Lord Writer, Readerhaven, JGHB, zoe the god, HarmonyLover, incendiopuff, Akochan97, ENTWolf, Flavy, Kaz, and every person who followed/favorited this story. Your support means a great deal. It is always encouraging to know people out there like this story.
I would also like to thank my beta, Helena Chauby for her help with editing.
In addition, much thanks is owed to Lady of Clunn for her help BritPicking.
Also, I am grateful for the help of my flat mate, sounding board, and own personal Sherlock, Geoff. You've helped make this story what it is.
Brief reminder: I can make no promises, but you are all welcome to make suggestions on things you'd like to see.
And now, without further ado, onto the story:
Chapter 9: All In
John woke slowly, to the feeling of fingertips being traced along his back. As consciousness returned he realised he was on his stomach, and that Sherlock had slid his hand under John's oversized cotton shirt to trace looping patterns across the skin of his back. John arched up into the touch, mumbling contentedly.
Behind him Sherlock chuckled. "You know, the small muscle movements you're making are telling me all sorts of useful things about your particular nervous system. This kind of information could be put to quite deadly uses in hand to hand combat," Sherlock drawled, thinking aloud.
John smiled into his pillow and mumbled, "If you really intended to kill me you would've poisoned the milk." After a brief mental review of all the experiments Sherlock had conducted John felt compelled to add, "And let me drink it."
Sherlock 'hmmed' softly and, lifting John's shirt slightly, pressed a kiss to the small of John's back, before urging him to turn over. John did, and was mildly surprised when Sherlock moved on all fours to hover over him.
"I believe we decided we would pick out rings today," Sherlock mused, leaning back to rest some of his weight on John's thighs.
John stretched, yawned, and blinked sleepily up at Sherlock. "The wedding rings, right?"
"You don't want an engagement ring?" Sherlock asked, tipping his head to the side.
John smiled and shook his head. "No. I'd never thought I would be the one proposed to."
"Still, it's important this be realistic," Sherlock murmured, resting his hands gently on John's hips.
"I am being realistic," John yawned, "It's somewhat superfluous when you think of it. Once you're married it becomes just this extra piece of jewellery that symbolises a period of time from your past."
Sherlock's eyebrows raised slightly. "I didn't expect you to be so practical. You struck me as more the romantic type."
"I am romantic," John protested. "You've certainly interrupted enough dates to know that." John ran a hand over his face and thought for a moment. "Why?" he asked, "Do you want engagement rings? I wouldn't expect that of Mr. 'I don't do sentiment.'"
Sherlock offered a small smile. "I admit I agree with you on the superfluous nature of an engagement ring once one is married," Sherlock's leaned forward then, pressing his hands into John's, which were resting above the doctor's head. In this position Sherlock was still technically hovering over John on all fours, but this move brought his face much closer. "But I am a very possessive person. If I were moved to marriage I would want to make it known that my fiancé is taken."
John smiled. "I could see that." John interlaced his fingers with Sherlock's, securing him in place. "What about if we bought rings we could add something to before the wedding, like an engraving or small stones? That way, the engagement ring could become the wedding ring."
Sherlock nodded. "That sounds like a plausible compromise, especially because of our short engagement."
"Well?" John asked, trying, and failing to get up as Sherlock continued to pin him to the mattress. "Are you going to let me up or not?"
A wicked smiled curved on Sherlock's lips, and he leaned down to whisper in John's ear, "Now, what kind of fiancé would I be if I let you come ring shopping without looking...pleasantly rumpled."
John swallowed, feeling a sudden rush of heat in his face. Sherlock had been insistent on acting as a couple at all times so that they wouldn't 'forget' to do it. It made perfect sense to John, and the part of him that had a crush on his flatmate was quite grateful. After all, the more he did 'couple' things with Sherlock, the more it would get the whole notion out of his system, right?
Sherlock moved backwards slowly, his lightly stubbled cheek brushing against John's. John turned his face slightly to meet Sherlock as the younger man brought their lips together. John's hands pushed against Sherlock's, eager to bury his fingers in Sherlock's dark curls. Sherlock pressed his hands down against John's, keeping him pinned. Their lips were open against each other, sliding, wet, and hot. John captured Sherlock's bottom lip for a moment, worrying it between his teeth. Sherlock made a small sound, and pressed his tongue against John's lips, asking for entrance. John opened to him, morning breath be damned. Their tongues twined around each other, exploring. John lost himself in that moment, arching up to be closer to Sherlock.
Sherlock's head swam with chemicals and emotions that made him dizzy. He hadn't thought John would agree to his plan, much less so willingly. Mycroft was wrong. This wasn't playing with fire, this was a way to ease some of the tension he'd held inside him for so long...and move the case along. Sherlock let out a small gasp when John arched against him, brushing their chests together. Lord, he might give every power of deduction he'd ever had for John to love him back, to want him the way he was acting.
Sherlock pulled back when he felt the heat of arousal curl low in his abdomen. Neither of them were hard yet, but Sherlock doubted it would take much. John and he were both panting lightly, their breath mingled as Sherlock continued to hover over him. Opening his eyes, Sherlock saw that John's lips were slightly swollen, as his own must be. Sherlock leaned back slightly, and lifted one hand to run his thumb over John's lower lip. He smirked, and nodded in satisfaction.
"We should get dressed," Sherlock murmured, his voice an octave or so deeper than normal, before he rolled back to his side of the bed and stood.
John nodded, thankful he'd managed not to buck into Sherlock when he'd dragged his thumb over John's lip.
A short cab ride later, with a stop to get tea and biscuits for John, found them in front of the jewellers. "Wait," John murmured, tugging on Sherlock's sleeve to stop him from going in just yet.
Sherlock turned towards him, his brows knit in confusion. "Why?"
John smiled and leaned up on his tip toes to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair just as he'd wanted to do since morning. "If I have to look 'pleasantly rumpled,' so do you," John insisted.
Sherlock's eyes slid part way closed as he felt John's fingernails brush his scalp. It felt surprisingly good, but it was distracting. "Are you finished?" he asked a minute or so later.
John locked eyes with Sherlock and murmured, "Almost." John slid his arms around Sherlock's neck and used his leverage to draw the consulting detective into another kiss. It was a brief slide of lips over lips, and a hint of tongue. John grinned into the kiss when he felt Sherlock press his hands into John's waist. Now that Sherlock had permission, of sorts, to touch John, he found it rather hard to stop.
A passerby gave a small whistle, which caused them to finally break apart. John ducked his head, pressing his forehead against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock smiled, and pressed a small kiss to the top of John's head. "Are you ready now?" Sherlock whispered into John's hair.
John nodded against Sherlock's chest, and they turned to make their way into the jeweller's shop, arms around each other's waists.
The attendant that greeted them had warm honey-coloured hair, and soft green eyes. 'Natural blonde,' Sherlock mused to himself. Much to the delight of hair product companies, natural blondes were quite rare. Sherlock glanced down at his sandy haired doctor and smiled.
"Hello," the attendant began with an easy smile, "my name is Mary. How can I help you gentlemen this morning?"
Sherlock briefly scanned the women. She was wearing make-up, as her job dictated, but only lightly. She wasn't the type to wear make-up outside of work, but she had applied it with practiced ease. Sherlock could tell from the way she held herself that she was good at her job, and genuinely friendly. That had caused her some pain in her life, because genuinely friendly people were also rare. She was married, her plain gleaming ring proclaimed her to be both practical and very much in love. She'd been trying to get pregnant for a year or more if the books barely peeking out of her purse in the back corner were anything to go by.
Sherlock felt John nudge his side, and returned Mary's smile. John didn't like it when he deduced people outside of crime scenes. Something about invading their privacy. The thought almost made him laugh. "We're here to look at some wedding rings please."
Mary's smile brightened. "Wonderful, just this way." She ushered them over to a line of cases that held all the usual suspects. There were bands of every variety and metal from the plain to the ornate, ones with bevelled edges, bands with two metals fitted together seamlessly, and a fair amount of men's bands with jewels. Sherlock leaned down and tapped the glass just above one heavily-jewelled band grinning at John, "Could I convince you to try that one?"
John leveled a withering glare at him that said, "I thought we were supposed to be taking this seriously."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, and continued scanning, until he heard John say, "Could I see this one, please?"
Mary glanced up at John with a questioning look upon her face. "We carry many of these rings in a variety of sizes... Do you happen to know your ring sizes?"
Sherlock glanced at John's face, and seeing that the doctor clearly did not know his own size, let alone Sherlock's, proceeded to tell Mary both of their ring sizes.
John was not surprised, this was the kind of esoteric trivia and attention to detail that made Sherlock so successful. At the same time, John was honoured that Sherlock made the effort to both notice, and remember, John's fingers in such detail.
Mary obligingly scooped out a silver band lined with black on either side. The black edges were, in fact, more silver that had been treated to change the colour. "Come here," John murmured, slipping the ring onto Sherlock's finger so that he might see how the ring looked on the consulting detective. "It suites you," John murmured thoughtfully. It did too. The silver shone against Sherlock's pale skin, and the black edges of the metal accented the ring as perfectly as Sherlock's dark curls accented himself.
Sherlock looked at his hand, then at John's which was still wrapped around Sherlock's wrist. "I don't think it suits you though, and they should match." John looked up then, slightly surprised. Sherlock smiled and turned his hands so that his fingers could caress John's wrist. "I told you I was possessive."
John couldn't help but smile again, surprised at how much he liked the idea of one Sherlock Holmes being possessive of him. Taking a breath to steady himself, John removed the ring from Sherlock's finger, handed it back to Mary, and scanned the display.
"What about this one," Sherlock asked, untangling his hands to tap at the glass again. John could tell it was a serious suggestion this time, because Sherlock was pointing to a small gold band. Simple, traditional, and far more suited to John than Sherlock.
"Again, I don't think it will suit us both," John replied, saving Mary the trouble of fetching it.
Sherlock didn't bother to argue because, of course, John was right. The plain yellow band, as good as it might look on John, would feel awkward to him. They turned and scanned the rows of jewels again. Sherlock was grateful that Mary stood quietly by and let them. He couldn't stand pushy sales people.
Sherlock and John side-stepped in tandem, inching their way along the display case. Mary followed silently, waiting. Occasionally John would pause and open his mouth, only to close it again. Sherlock was also struck by a few rings, but reconsidered when he imagined them on his own hand as well as John's.
Finally, at the very end of the display case, they found something that looked like it might work. "That one!" they said in tandem, their hands brushing as they pointed.
Mary chuckled softly before pulling out two copies of the ring they had pointed at. Gold and platinum twined tightly around each other in one band; cold and warm at the same time. The coils were tight enough that neither Sherlock nor John thought they would need to worry about catching their rings on anything. That was always something to consider in their line of work.
"Let me see it on you, John murmured, taking up the smaller of the identical bands in one hand, and holding out his other expectantly. Sherlock gently placed his hands in John's and smiled despite himself as he felt John slipping the ring on. It was a perfect fit. The silver-coloured platinum still shone against Sherlock's skin, and now the gold added some warmth to it, just as John had added much-needed warmth to his life.
Sherlock turned his hand, and grasped John's. "My turn," he said quietly, taking the slightly larger ring from Marry, and slipping it onto John's waiting finger. The gold looked as good on John as Sherlock thought it would. The silver brought in a certain sharpness that looked better than it should have on someone as steady as John.
John and Sherlock's hands were tangled together, admiring the fit of the rings. Sherlock felt a simmering sense of satisfaction at seeing that ring on John's finger; it marked John as taken. John kept running his thumb over Sherlock's ring as it rested against his finger, feeling a strong pull that he refused to give any other name than 'crush.' The rings had a certain symmetry to them that mirrored the men who wore them. It was a perfect fit all around.
"Are you gentlemen sold, then?" Mary asked quietly.
John and Sherlock looked up a bit guiltily. Neither one realising they'd taken quite so long looking over the rings, and each other. "Yes, thank you," Sherlock replied, recovering first. "Also, I have some questions to ask you about modifications."
Mary smiled and nodded. "What kind of questions, sir?"
Sherlock looked at John over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. John looked back at him curiously. "What?" John finally asked.
"A little privacy?" Sherlock returned.
"You mean the modifications for the wedding, right? You want to surprise me?" John asked, taken aback.
"Yes," Sherlock insisted, making a 'shooing' motion with his hand. "Go look at some watches or something."
John hesitated. "When I told you to take an active part in the wedding planning, I didn't expect you to be this enthusiastic."
Sherlock turned to face John properly. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly.
"Yes," John answered without hesitation, "always." John didn't know why he felt compelled to add that last part, but when he saw Sherlock smile he was glad he had.
"Then go on," Sherlock insisted, gesturing with his chin towards the watch displays.
John smiled, shook his head, and went. He studied Sherlock's reflection in the glass as he spoke to Mary about whatever he wanted done to the rings before the wedding. John was surprised to find he really did trust Sherlock to make a decision he would like, as though they were really getting married. He almost laughed at himself then because, of course, they were really getting married. Sherlock had made it quite plain when he'd proposed that it would be an honest, legally binding union...one that would be promptly annulled once the case was finished.
John told himself he was not disappointed at that thought. He was just getting his crush out of his system. That's all there was to it. Focusing on Sherlock's reflection again, John noticed him lean closer to Mary. John closed his eyes, tilted his head, and strained his ears to listen. There weren't that many people in the shop, and they were all relatively quiet. John strained harder, tilting his body slightly towards Sherlock and Mary. He was just, barely able to make out the words...
"The due date should be in November, congratulations." Mary made a small noise and John turned, opening his eyes, to see her covering her mouth with her hands, tears glistening in her eyes. John saw her mouth the words, "Are you sure?" and Sherlock nod before he turned back to the watches to hide his smile. A few moments later, John felt Sherlock's hand settle on his shoulder. John smiled when he saw the gleam of Sherlock's ring. They'd not even taken them off before paying for them.
"Ready to go?" Sherlock asked in his ear. John nodded, and let himself be led out of the store, Sherlock's arm still around him.
John managed to get all of two hundred yards down the street, before he began giggling uncontrollably. They stopped walking.
"What's got into you?" Sherlock asked, ducking his head, to try to look John in the eye.
John saved him the trouble, and grinned up at him. "I heard you, Sherlock Holmes!" John said between chuckles.
Sherlock looked at him, confusion etched over his face. "What do you mean?"
"You told that women she was expecting, didn't you!" John spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard, his words rushed with his excitement. "She'd probably been trying for a while, and didn't even know she was finally pregnant."
Sherlock blinked. He was still confused. "So?"
John brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he giggled into it. "There was no benefit to you to do that. You just did it because you care."
Sherlock stiffened at John's words, slightly affronted. "I'm not sure I understand your amusement."
John lowered his hand now, grinning for all the world to see. "You care, Sherlock. You try so hard to make people think you don't, but you do."
"We should take care of some other wedding errands while we're out," Sherlock said, as he started walking again. Sometimes he wished John hadn't improved his observation skills as much as he had over the years.
John, still laughing, jogged to catch up with Sherlock's quick stride, and fell into step beside him. Smiling up at Sherlock as the younger man looked resolutely in front of him, John reached out and took his hand. This action gave Sherlock pause, and he slowed to a more normal walking speed.
"I like that you care," John murmured, squeezing his hand, and offering another of his damnable smiles.
Sherlock grumbled and, after an exaggerated pause, squeezed back.
John grinned, but managed to refrain from further comment. Instead, he asked, "What other wedding chores did you want to take care of today?"
They were seated at a small table for two, with a variety of cake samples spread out before them. Everything from light angel cake, to buttery yellow cake, to chocolate, to red velvet.
John poked at one sample with his fork, while watching a bit of red velvet disappear between Sherlock's lips. He waited until the consulting detective had swallowed before asking. "What do you think?"
"Sweet," Sherlock replied with a shrug.
John snorted and rolled his eyes. "That's helpful."
Another shrug. "I'm not one of those people who's been planning my wedding since I could toddle."
"Neither am I," John mused, sliding his fork lightly over his plate, to prevent squeaking. "Although this is kind of fun."
Sherlock looked up in surprise. "Really?"
It was John's turn to shrug, smiling as he met Sherlock's gaze. "Scheming with you always is."
A small smile quirked up on Sherlock's lips, and John badly wished he had a photo of that smile. He wondered, sometimes, if he was the only one who ever saw it.
"I have something else for you to try, if you'd like."
Sherlock and John turned to face the baker and owner of the little shop they were currently in. His name was Mark. He was in his early twenties with thick brown hair and dark brown eyes; just a little taller than John. In his hands he held what looked to be a tart. He shrugged under their combined gaze, embarrassed.
"It's just," he pressed on, "you didn't look like you were enjoying the cake so much, and there's really no rules to weddings when you think about it. So I thought you might like this," he gestured with the plate the tart rested on. "It's a blackberry and raspberry crumble tart."
John looked down at the tart, then back up at Mark, and smiled. "Sure, we'll give it a try. Thanks." Mark smiled and left the tart between Sherlock and John with two spoons.
Sherlock lifted his spoon and examined the tart. It looked like a well made base with pastry crust crumbles over the top of a blackberry and raspberry filling. He and John dipped their spoons in, pulling away twin mouthfuls. They smiled as they chewed, nodded to each other. This was much better than boring cake, in Sherlock's opinion. There was a good balance between pastry and filling; the acid/sweet combination of the blackberry and raspberry was pleasing. Also, these particular flavors were not a common choice for weddings. That seemed to be a theme in his relationship with John; uncommon things.
"Good?" Sherlock confirmed, once his mouth was clear.
John nodded, "Yes, this is good."
Sherlock nodded back and stood. "I'll take care of the details."
While Sherlock spoke with the baker, John trailed his gaze over the bag from the jewellery shop. Reaching inside, he pulled out the black velvet box that was big enough to hold both their rings. He opened it, closed it, and sighed. Fake wedding or no, it bothered him that Sherlock was paying for everything.
Arms encircled him from behind, and John leaned gratefully back into the embrace, tilting his head to look up at Sherlock. Sherlock leaned down, and pressed a soft, warm, chaste kiss to John's lips. As Sherlock pulled back, he whispered, "If it bothers you that much, you can pay for the flowers, the tarts, and the modification to the rings."
John smiled, leaning his head back against Sherlock's chest for a moment. His flatmate really did know everything.
Sherlock pulled his chair out for him as John moved to stand. "Come on," Sherlock said, gesturing towards the door, "We can get flowers out of the way while we're at it."
"Don't I need to put a down payment on the tarts?"
"Already done," Sherlock insisted, brandishing a card as he moved towards the door.
"But you said I-" John cut himself off when he realized that Sherlock was holding his card. John's hands fell to his pocket. His wallet was still there but years of being pickpocketed by Sherlock Holmes had made John more than able to detect his wallet was thinner than it should be.
"Sherlock!" John called after the infuriating, loveable man, chasing after him as he tore off down the street.
John leaned his head against the glass door of the cooler, which sheltered many bouquets. As much as John was enjoying spending time with Sherlock,-and getting his crush satisfied at the same time-he'd always found long shopping trips to be draining. "Can we make this the last stop, Sherlock?" he asked. "I'd like to go home and make tea."
"Already, John?" Sherlock was standing by a flower display, tilting his head disbelievingly. "Our cases usually take much longer than this, and involve at least one chase."
John rolled his eyes. "There was a chase, unless you've forgotten. You made me chase you all through Regents Park to get my card back."
Sherlock shrugged, and smiled mischievously. "You're the one who wanted to help pay."
John couldn't help it. He smiled back. "Next time, I'm pushing you into the duck pond."
John heard a small chuckle that wasn't Sherlock's, and turned his head to see two men snickering behind a bouquet of red and white roses. One man had choppy auburn hair and grey eyes, while the other had short, dark brown hair with amber-colored eyes.
"I'm sorry," said the man with dark brown hair, stepping away from his partner for a moment, and towards John. He had a flat, American accent. "It's just, you're such a cute couple." The man stuck out his hand to shake John's. "My name's Dylan and this is my husband, Kyle."
John shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. "What brings you to Britan?"
Dylan look back at Kyle, ushering him over, and slipping an arm around his waist. "We're on our honeymoon," Dylan explained, his amber eyes never leaving Kyle's grey ones.
John smiled as he took in their matching silver bands. They looked very much in love. When Kyle lowered the bouquet to his chest, John fought to keep his expression neutral. Kyle had a vicious bite scar on his left cheek. Probably the remnants of a dog attack. John had seen plenty of those as a doctor, and knew, having his own scar, how little people wanted attention drawn to their scars.
"Where are you from," John asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to be conversational. "You sound American."
"New York City," Dylan, Kyle, and Sherlock said all at once.
John's eyes widened and he rounded on his flat mate. "Sherlock!" he hissed "Behave!"
It was Dylan and Kyle's turn to look shocked. "The Sherlock Holmes?" They asked together.
"No wonder you knew where we're from," Kyle said with a shy smile. "It's nice to meet you."
John's eyes narrowed, and Sherlock reached forward to shake Kyle's hand. "Nice to meet you too," he said, glancing at John when he was finished, as if to say, 'See? I can be polite.' And he could be, when people weren't too intolerable. This couple both seemed genuinely interested in meeting him, even if Kyle was a bit shy. He kept staring at Sherlock's ring, the question so loud in his eyes, he may as well have shouted it.
"I'm not married yet," Sherlock explained, reaching out to squeeze John's hand, "Just engaged."
"Congratulations," Dylan and Kyle murmured together.
"Are you picking out flowers for the wedding?" Dylan asked.
"Trying to," John replied, "Only Sherlock's been lecturing me on the different meanings of flowers instead."
"It's important," Sherlock insisted, gesturing to the display of roses in front of him. "Yellow is for friendship, red is for love, pink is appreciation, orange is desire, red and white together are-"
"Unity," Kyle cut in, smiling down at his own bouquet.
Sherlock paused, then nodded. "Exactly right." Turning to John, Sherlock raised an accusing eyebrow and pointed to Kyle. "See? Even he knows."
John rolled his eyes, and laughed. "The roses are fine, Sherlock, but I like the unique theme we've been going with so far. Why not throw in something a bit exotic?"
"Such as?" Sherlock asked, hands held in front of him, waiting.
That was the problem; John wasn't sure.
"Orchids are nice," Kyle spoke up again, his voice still quiet. He blushed a bit when John and Sherlock turned to look at him.
Dylan slipped a reassuring arm around his husband and said, "Kyle owns a flower shop back home."
John smiled again. The two men in front of him really looked like a sweet couple. "What kind would you recommend?" John asked.
Kyle hesitated, his gaze sweeping over both John and Sherlock. "Purple maybe? It matches your shirt," he began, indicating Sherlock's shirt (one of John's favorites), "I mean, I know you probably won't wear that to the wedding, but I think it would look good, especially as a boutonniere." Kyle blushed a bit more, and pointed to the left, "There's some over there."
John turned to take in the delicate flower. It was pretty. It wasn't a solid purple, but mixed with white swirls, which complimented the purple well. John was reminded of Sherlock's pale skin peeking out at his collar. Turning to face his consulting detective, John asked, "What do you think about purple orchids and white roses?"
Sherlock gave him that small smile again, and John cursed the warm, tingly feeling that curled up in his chest.
"If that would make you happy," Sherlock conceded, reaching an arm around John and hugging him tightly. His hand was pressed tightly against John's hip, near his front pocket... John nodded to Sherlock, enjoying the embrace.
"We should get going," Dylan said, checking his watch, "We're about to be late for our reservations." Turning back to John and Sherlock, Dylan shook each of their hands in turn. "It was nice to meet you."
"Same here," John agreed, then reached to shake Kyle's hand as well. "Thank you for lending a hand."
"You're welcome," Kyle murmured with a shy smile. A smile that widened when Sherlock also reached to shake his hand.
"Have a good night," Sherlock said, "And enjoy your honeymoon."
Dylan and Kyle smiled in unison. "We will," Dylan replied, "You have a good night too."
Kyle waved with his free hand as they left. "Bye, good luck with your wedding."
John smiled and turned to face Sherlock, only he wasn't there. Scanning the store John noticed Sherlock speaking with the owner...brandishing a card. John felt his wallet, and groaned. "Sherlock!"
The younger man smiled at John over his shoulder, and John let out a frustrated sigh as he made his way over to Sherlock. As much as he was annoyed, John also found it endearing. Sherlock liked having John's attention, and John was happy to give it.