Thanks to AGirloftheSouth for looking this over. :D
I do not own, nor do I profit from.
John woke with a gasp, forcing himself out of a nightmare of heat and restraints. A glance to his left and he saw it was only four o'clock. John tried raise his hands but found his movements restricted. Panic flooded through his veins and his tired mind tried to make sense of what was going on. Why couldn't he move? Had someone broken in? How could he have not woken up?
Slowly turning his head to the right, his mouth brushed against black tousled hair. Black tousled hair that belonged to a six foot man-child John knew intimately. A man-child who was supposed to be meeting John at the airport in eight hours time, but who, instead, had his arms and legs wrapped firmly around John's body. Well, that explains my dream.
John toyed with the idea of waking Sherlock up but decided against it. Chances were the idea of rest had been disregarded while his lover was away. Considering the discussion they needed to have, it would be best to let him sleep a few hours. John snuggled closer to his limpet and closed his eyes.
The next time he woke up sunlight streamed through the open curtains and Sherlock was gone. John wondered if he had dreamed the other man's presence but the sound of a violin confirmed his earlier belief. Forcing himself from their bed, he put on his robe and made his way downstairs. He found Sherlock looking out one of the front windows, instrument in hand.
"Good morning, care for some tea?" John offered as he headed for the kitchen.
"Mmm," was the answer given and it was lucky for Sherlock that John understood the sound meant yes.
While the kettle heated up, John made toast topped with honey and set the kitchen table. It was rare for them to be able to use the space, and John wanted to take advantage. Once everything was ready he called out to Sherlock and took a seat. As he had known, the chair across from his was soon occupied.
"You came home earlier than I expected," John raised his teacup to his lips and sighed contentedly as the liquid warmed him.
"Managed to get an earlier flight at the last minute. Since I wasn't going to arrive until two in the morning it seemed best to simply take a cab and let you sleep." Sherlock reached for the morning paper and began to scan the headlines. "After working a full schedule during my absence you would need a full night's sleep to thoroughly enjoy our next few days. Less than five hours would leave you disgruntled."
Seeing an opening, John took it. "Yes, about the next few days. You don't happen to have anything special planned do you?"
Sherlock continued to read the nearby print seemingly oblivious to the question just asked.
John leaned forward slightly, "Sherlock, did you hear me?"
Sherlock stood abruptly from his chair and left the room calling behind, "Special plans are best enjoyed without a great deal of foreknowledge I'm told. I need to shower and we have an appointment that needs keeping."
The sounds of water running through the pipes could be heard before John stood and began gathering the dirty dishes. He wasted no time heading up to dress for the day.
All right, you helped invade Afghanistan, dealt with Moriarty and lived through three years thinking Sherlock was dead. Just breathe Watson and it will all be fine. Shoulders squared, John began pulling on clothes as Sherlock flew into their bedroom.
Soon both men were ready and Sherlock was tugging on John's arm. "No time to waste, things to do and places to be."
John allowed himself to be dragged down their stairs and out the front door. Deciding it was best to let Sherlock take the lead, since he was already determined to, John followed Sherlock's lead. They walked through Regent Park in silence, except when Sherlock shared information about the people near to them. John felt himself gradually relaxing.
They continued on until Sherlock guided them to a bench on a small rise in Primrose Hill. Looking at the view in front of them John could see the London skyline. St. Paul's and then the London Eye caught his attention and John couldn't help but be struck by the beauty of the city they lived in. So often they spent their time running after criminals, when John wasn't working, and it was easy to forget to appreciate their home.
"It is lovely isn't it?"
"Lovely, complex, ever changing," Sherlock agreed, leaning into John's side.
Time passed without notice until John felt his right hand being clasped between Sherlock's. Public displays of affection had never been a part of their relationship and John was confused by the gesture. Before he could question the reasoning, Sherlock stood up from the bench and faced him. John opened and then closed his mouth.
This is it, he's actually going to ask me. A quick breath in was all he could manage before he saw Sherlock begin to lower himself down. Tearing his hand out of Sherlock's grip, John grabbed hold of Sherlock's coat and stopped him from moving further downwards.
Pushing his face against his lover's throat, John quietly whimpered, "No, no, no."
Sherlock gave a soft chuckle. "You're going to have to let go of me John. My ability to move depends on it."
John whined, "no," once more as Sherlock released himself and knelt on both knees. John closed his eyes as he caught sight of a small black box.
The words, "marry me John," were carried to him on the wind and, fighting every part of his body that screamed don't do it, John looked to Sherlock's palm. There, in that little box sat a wedding ring. It was two toned and had white gold in the middle with a thin band of yellow gold on either side. No rose stone or graphic inscriptions lay on its shiny surface. It was simple and perfectly showed how the two metals could coexist.
Trying not to faint from relief, John moved his gaze from the ring and studied Sherlock's face.
"This is the ring you bought before you left?" he queried as he grabbed hold of nearby thin wrists in an attempt to steady himself.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson said I should make certain it was something that would represent the two of us. Choosing the two metals seemed a good way to do that. But there is something else if you look inside." Sherlock took the ring out of its case and offered it to John.
Taking the ring carefully, John was able to see words wrapping around the inside. Drawing it closer to his eyes he read, i carry your heart with me. The significance of the phrase was not lost on the doctor. Shortly after Sherlock's return, John had voiced a love for the poet e.e. cummings and the poem the words came from had quickly become their own.
Raising his eyes to Sherlock's, John asked hoarsely, "and your ring?"
Reaching into his pocket once more, another box was soon opened and a matching ring was seen. Silently, John took hold of it and looked to the inside where the words, i carry it in my heart, could be read.
John was surprised when he felt Sherlock's thumbs wipe away the thin trails of moisture streaking his cheeks.
"You really are something else," John whispered, as he leaned forward to rest his face against Sherlock's.
Both men chuckled before sharing a brief kiss.
"I don't believe you were courteous enough to answer my question." Sherlock teased as he safely returned the rings to their cases before placing them in his coat pockets.
John giggled. "Honestly, I don't remember hearing a question. It seemed to be a bit more like an order to me. But I will marry you nonetheless you daft git. After all, I wouldn't want my life to become boring now would I?"
"Perish the thought," Sherlock murmured, moving to reclaim his place on the bench as he took John's hand again. "I must admit to being curious about your odd behaviour when I attempted to kneel."
A blush filled John's cheeks as he groaned. Leaning his head against his fiancé's shoulder, John told Sherlock all that had happened between himself, Lestrade, Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. He finished his tale by admitting, "Honestly it doesn't make any sense to me Sherlock."
"Truly John, there are times when I despair of you. It is all quite simple if you would only take the data you were given and apply my methods."
John promptly flicked the tip of Sherlock's ear, a move he knew would annoy the man, and rolled his eyes. "All right genius, tell me what's going on then."
"Mrs. Hudson's conversation with you was quite innocent. The discussion we had had was beneficial in helping me choose the rings I purchased. I had initially thought to have a stone of hermatite placed in the wedding bands but she, quite correctly, led me away from such a thought. It was unlucky for you that she happened to be the final conversation you had on the subject when you were already quite paranoid."
John had to agree. If he and Mrs. Hudson had spoken hours after Sherlock's departure John would have paid little attention to what she shared.
"What about Lestrade and Mycroft?"
"Lestrade was also an innocent party in this scheme it would seem. Being at Mycroft's beck and call when it comes to our lives, he would have only been relaying information given to him. His friendship with you is one he appreciates and he would not wish to do anything that would make you anxious. No, this smells of Mycroft."
Sherlock stood from the bench, took John's right hand in his left, and lead them back towards Baker Street. John waited patiently for Sherlock to continue but no further explanation was forthcoming.
"But why would Mycroft want to wind me up? And how did he know what you and Mrs. Hudson talked about?"
Sherlock scoffed. "Mycroft has had a bug in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen since the American's forced their way in. And before you become outraged on her behalf, he did so under my instructions to ensure her safety."
Yet another example of protecting those he loves, John thought fondly.
"No, gathering information would have been simple. Using Lestrade to share the news meant you were initially approached by one you trust. And even if you didn't believe him, which I'm glad to say you didn't, speaking with you after would have allowed the seed of doubt to be planted. He also knew that, at some point while I was gone, you would interact with Mrs. Hudson and her excitement would cause her to unintentionally share bits of our conversation. Bookending his visit with those you are safe with would certainly be enough to weaken your beliefs in my choice."
Glancing around, John saw they were now only five minutes from the flat. He took hold of Sherlock's coat with his free hand and brought them to a stop.
"But why Sherlock? Is this some sort of twisted prank to, I don't know, welcome me to the family or something?" John scratched the back of his neck.
"I told you before John, Mycroft does not prank. No, this is revenge, pure and simple." Sherlock's eyes followed the biker passing them by.
"Revenge for what?"
A smirk fell across Sherlock's face. "Have you forgotten when you attempted to connect romantically with his wife?"
John's mouth dropped open in disbelief.
"That was six years ago and I barely spoke to her! She couldn't be bothered to look up from her phone for more than a few seconds. Also, I looked for a ring and she didn't have one. I couldn't have known she was married to the British Government!" His lips pursed into a frown as he shook his head in irritation.
"Yes, despite your efforts at being considerate, Mycroft did not appreciate your attempt to chat up Anthea and expressed to me his annoyance and promised retaliation." Sherlock once more started for 221B.
"Of all the childish things," John exclaimed as he hurried to catch up.
"Yes, but we must hurry. Wouldn't want to be late," Sherlock advised as they continued walking.
"What appointment do we have back at the flat? Is it a client?"
"No, when I shared my plans for today with Mrs. Hudson, she insisted that we gather with a small group so they might offer their congratulation on our engagement. I contacted her when my arrival time changed and she prepared accordingly."
"Pretty sure of yourself weren't you?" John joked, as he beamed.
"Of course," Sherlock answered, smug smile firmly in place. "Any plans for revenge in your future?"
John was silent for a moment as he thought. "It would be impossible for me to outsmart Mycroft. He'd always be at least four steps ahead of me. Best leave it alone."
Sherlock opened the front door and hung his coat up before turning towards the stairs.
"Wait a minute," John quietly instructed. "Exactly who are all upstairs?"
"Mike Stamford, Lestrade, Molly, Sarah, stupid Mycroft, Anderson and Donovan were certainly not invited."
A grin came to John's face. "Make sure you have the rings with you when you come up."
Confused, Sherlock went back to his coat before following up the stairs.
Their entrances were met with cheers as a glass of champagne was placed in their hands. Toasts were made by Mrs. Hudson and Mike before Lestrade pulled John off to the side.
"So, you made it through all right then? Did you manage to talk him into seeing some sense?" Greg asked.
John found Sherlock standing by Sarah and called out, "Sherlock, show everyone the rings you choose for us! I'm sure they'd all love to see them."
"You are a very brave man," Greg muttered as everyone gathered close.
John remained silent and let the rings speak for themselves.
Molly's, "Oh! How beautiful!" while Sarah cooed in agreement, caught Lestrade's attention and he pushed forward to snatch one of the wedding bands.
Turning the ring in his hand, Greg took in the colours, lack of stone and inside inscription before searching for the elder Holmes. Outraged, Lestrade pushed the ring back into Molly's hands, and stalked over to where Mycroft stood.
"What the bloody hell were you talking about the other day? Those don't look anything like the rings you told me about! You better have a good reason for taking me out of work, feeding me lies and then having me come over here and 'prepare' John for the hideous rings Sherlock was supposed to have bought!"
Greg's finger index finger was forcefully poking Mycroft's chest for extra emphasis.
"I assure you Inspector –"
Hands on her hips, Mrs. Hudson advanced. "What hideous rings? Sherlock told me that you had seen the rings before he left on his trip." She paused a moment in thought before her eyes narrowed. "What sort of mischief are you up to Mycroft Holmes? I told you before that family is all we have and John is family in all the ways that matter!"
Sarah and Molly, both wearing unhappy expressions, followed. God bless loyal women, John thought. Go after someone belonging to them and the culprit will surely pay.
John sighed contentedly as he sat down on their sofa, eyes following Mycroft as the politician attempted to back away from the small crowd quickly closing in on him. Mike simply looked on confused. Sherlock seated himself beside John and chuckled at the verbal tongue lashing his brother was dealing with.
"Nicely done John, nicely done indeed."
"I thought so," John took a drink of champagne and giggled. "Your mother doesn't really buy your clothes does she?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No, not really, she pays for my clothes but that is the extent of her involvement. It's an agreement we reached many years ago after her horrendous taste caused a very uncomfortable situation for me."
"I see." A mischievous smile appeared on John's face. "So, so you actually have any plans for the next two and a half days or are you open to suggestions?"
Brows raised in interest Sherlock answered, "Nothing that can't easily be rescheduled. Why? Do you have anything specific in mind?"
Leaning over, John kissed Sherlock on the cheek before moving to whisper in his ear. "I say we let everyone stay for another half hour, then throw them out before I tear off all your clothes, throw you on the bed and shag you till you scream."
Sherlock's breath caught.
"Of course, you'll be lucky if I let you leave the flat before I have to work in a few days. I'm thinking I'd like to keep you naked for every minute of our mini-holiday. Make it easier to do whatever I want with you, faster too."
Oblivious to Mycroft's farewell as he made a hasty retreat, Sherlock closed his eyes, leaned his head back and took a deep breath.
"Everyone out now!"
A/N: This is the end of the story. As you can see, things turned out well for John in the end. The chapter listed next is simply an explanation of what inspired me to write this piece.
Thank you all for reading!