A/N: No update yesterday, but don't get too discouraged; they're bound to get a lot choppier than they have been, as warned from the get-go. Anyways, enjoy.

Word Count: 630

Pairing(s): pre-Sherlock/John

Warning(s): shameless fluff, quite cheesy, dancing circles, Sherlock acting a bit like a little girl. Or completely like one.

Charmed

John is used to a lot of weirdness. He lives with Sherlock Holmes, after all – his whole life is weirdness and, well, it takes a lot to faze a guy after finding a severed head beside the mayo.

Still, John is surprised when he wakes up to find a bracelet on his wrist. In and of itself the bracelet isn't that unusual save for that he hadn't put it there. It was a loose-fitting silver chain; a single small, half-circle charm dangled off of it. Upon further inspection, it had initials on it. Not John's.

SH.

The discovery was unnerving enough that John bided his time mentioning it, especially since he wasn't 100% convinced that it had been Sherlock's doing. After sneaking enough glances at Sherlock's own wrists it became evident that Sherlock wasn't wearing one himself. On the other hand, when John continued wearing the thing around the flat that day Sherlock looked markedly victorious. No explanation presented itself.

Finally, that night, John had to ask.

"OK, Sherlock, I give up. What's with the bracelet?" John held up his wrist almost accusingly; the threat behind his demand was thoroughly ruined, however, by the tinkling of the little charm.

"Is it not obvious?" Sherlock sighed theatrically. "Pity, I was rather hoping you were simply chuffed into speechlessness."

John's eyebrows scrunched. What?

"It has your initials on it," John said, slowly.

Sherlock's eyebrows arched. "Is that not how these things work?" When John just stared at him Sherlock rolled his eyes and (John balked at this) removed his scarf. Beneath it there was a quite familiar looking chain and the other half of the shape-charm dangling from it. He couldn't see from his distance, but John could guess the engraving.

"I'm not the bracelet type," Sherlock said, as if this explained anything. "And I thought having each other's initials was more suitable; what would be the point of having our own initials?"

John stared. It was hard not to notice Sherlock's neck when it donned a choker with your initials on it. It was probably one of the most appealing things John had ever witnessed.

Wait. What? John shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought.

Sherlock sighed, unhooked his necklace with one hand and grabbed John's wrist with the other, eyes screwing momentarily with dual concentration. John could only stare as the brought the charms together.

"They're friendship bracelets," Sherlock said, ungodly amounts of childish satisfaction leaking into his voice. John gawped. His charmed, it seemed, was not a half circle after all.

"They… they make a heart." John's ears weren't turning red, no sir, definitely not, not even pinkish.

Sherlock's gaze hardened. "Friendship bracelets," he repeated. "We're friends, are we not?" He still hadn't released John's wrist. When the doctor didn't respond, Sherlock huffed. "It's sentiment, John. I thought you appreciated that sort of thing?" Sherlock paused and – John's eyes widened – actually blushed. "Bit Not Good…?"

Everything in the Straight Guy Handbook demanded the following response: "Yes, Not Good, are you daft? Good God, only little girls and silly, love-struck teenagers exchange charm bracelets. What planet are you from?" This response did not even occur to John Watson.

John closed his hand over his wrist and, coincidentally, Sherlock's hand. "No, I do. I do like it. I'm just… surprised." John smiled and did his best to ignore the way his heart was quivering. "Thank you, Sherlock."

"Yes, well." Sherlock moved away, blush deepening. "Do not mention it to Mycroft, that's all I ask." He hooked the matching necklace back around his neck, the hint of a smile fighting its way onto his lips. The feeling in John's chest at the sight was something like adoration, something like possessiveness, something like love; John carefully deemed it fondness.

In public, John wears the bracelet on his ankle.

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