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Chapter four

Meet me at The Flower Walk, Kensington Gardens. GL

"Lestrade's not at the Yard," Sherlock informed John before he addressed the cabbie. "Take us to Kensington Gardens, please."

"Kensington Gardens?" John asked.

"I asked him for information on the Aldershot murder. Davies and I are not on good terms. Lestrade will have to tell him I'm investigating the case."

"Right. Didn't you say just this morning we will start the case in three weeks?"

"We will investigate in Aldershot three weeks from now. The victims were murdered there. However we have to prepare ahead of time."

"Doing what?"

"Relationship therapy sessions in London. Victor will get us an appointment for our intake interview on Thursday morning."

"This week?"

"We need to do some sessions in the next couple of weeks so we can take part on a workshop in Aldershot three weeks from now. We may be able to find a suitable one. Besides I need to speak to Victor's partner as soon as possible. Lestrade will have to do me a favor. "

Since he owed him several, John knew that wouldn't be a problem. When Sherlock returned from the dead Lestrade already had three unsolved murders that year. His career had been somewhat damaged. Sherlock let him get the credit for arresting Moriarty's henchman Sebastian Moran and solving the murder of Ronald Adair. One could say Lestrade even owed him his career.

As soon as the taxi stopped, Sherlock stormed out to find Lestrade. John quickly paid the cabbie and followed his friend.

"There you are, Inspector. Do you have my information?" Sherlock inquired immediately.

Lestrade smiled and welcomed them both. "Afternoon, Sherlock, John."

"Afternoon, Greg," John replied. Detective Inspector Lestrade had become a good friend in the last couple of years. Dealing with Sherlock, who could be a little trying at times, certainly had created a bond between them.

Sherlock only rolled his eyes.

"What brings you on that case, by the way? Aldershot is quite a distance," the DI asked smiling.

"I've been consulted on the case, Inspector," Sherlock remarked impatiently.

"Getting famous are we?" Lestrade asked jokingly.

"I believe I have already made my name." There was an air of haughtiness in Sherlock's voice.

"No one has forgotten that, Sherlock. Behave!" John whispered angrily. He had a problem with Sherlock's egotism which was a strong factor in his singular character.

"Sherlock, really, there is no…..Oh my God. You're wearing rings," Lestrade suddenly yelled. The officers around them turned their heads in their direction. John realized too late that Sherlock wasn't wearing his gloves. So the silver ring was shining brightly on the ring finger on his left hand. Somehow Sherlock was wearing it like other people wear a crown. No denial was possible. Three people in one day. He couldn't believe his bad luck.

"You are stating the obvious." Sherlock remained perfectly calm.

Lestrade took a close look at him. "But you are wearing the same rings".

"You were right John. This really is embarrassing," Sherlock groaned. "Of course we are wearing the same rings. Why would we wear different ones?"

John was sure Sherlock had no idea what John had meant earlier- and meant something very different himself.

Lestrade looked at him with a quizzical expression. "You mean….they mean something? "

Sherlock only frowned at him.

"You proposed?" Lestrade asked perplexed.

Sherlock glowered at him. "Good deduction, Inspector. I have high hopes for your career if you carry on like that."

"Holy Moly," Lestrade cried.

"Jesus…This really is embarrassing." John sighed. He already felt somewhat guilty about the whole affair although no lie had actually been told. Sherlock did propose in his own way and the rings did mean something.

"I know. I told you we should have texted," Sherlock muttered darkly.

"You know what? Have it your way. Text the rest." John gave in. Sherlock could text whomever he wanted to. Unfortunately there was no way for him to get through this by just sending a text to his sister.

"I mean….well guys…..It's not that we didn't expect you to but…There is a pool going on at the Yard actually, but …..well…...Congratulations…It's great. I hoped you would get there eventually. Especially after…you know," Lestrade stammered somewhat helpless.

"Good. Great. Greg, maybe we can discuss this at some later time. This is a crime scene for God's sake," John almost shouted.

"Right. Of course. Well, now you're here, maybe you would like to take a look at the victim?" It seemed that was Lestrade's way of apologizing.

"What do you have?" Although Sherlock wasn't enthusiastic, he went along. He knew John wouldn't talk to him for hours if he got a row with Lestrade for nothing.

Lestrade gave them the details. "Female. Approximately forty years old. Strangled. Dead for probably six hours. No sexual abuse, nothing is missing. No one heard or saw anything."

Sherlock went around the body, knelt beside it, measured God knows what. While he inspected the surroundings, John stayed next to Lestrade.

"I apologize, Greg. He is, well…."

"Himself?" Lestrade tried but couldn't help smirking.

"Yeah," John chuckled. "Very much so."

"I'm sorry, John, if I didn't react….well. I just didn't expect Sherlock to be a traditionalist after all. You must know I really am glad you have come to terms," Lestrade apologized and patted John on the shoulder encouragingly.

"I know. It's just that it is…..new, for all of us," John replied evasively.

"What did Mycroft say?" the DI asked with a mischievous smile.

John smiled faintly and shrugged. "He doesn't know yet. You know Sherlock."

"You're looking for a male Caucasian, approximately six feet. He is probably working at the Docklands, has two terriers and is her ex-husband. And you should talk to Detective Inspector Gregson." Sherlock returned to them, looking very pleased with himself.

"What? Where does that come from?" Lestrade inquired, baffled.

"You should be able to do it on your own from here. My name doesn't need to appear in your report. My information, please." Sherlock hold out his hand, watching Lestrade expectantly. Stunned, he handed over the documents without comment.

"How did you know?" John asked him, interested, when they left a very confused Lestrade behind.

"Gregson found a male victim two days ago. I investigated for him while you were at the surgery. Gregson's victim was the new boyfriend of Lestrade's victim. I shall spare you the details. It was a rather boring case," Sherlock explained.

"You know the two don't get on well with each other," John remarked.

Sherlock grinned broadly. "Yes. That just makes my day!"

"You're evil, you know that?" John asked, but couldn't suppress a smirk all the same.

Got engaged. S

"What are you doing?" John inquired suspiciously when he entered their living room, finding Sherlock stretched out on the sofa with his phone in his hands.

Sherlock didn't bother to look up. "Text. Mycroft."

"Are you serious? You really are texting your brother about our engagement?" John asked. His voice clearly showed his disapproval of Sherlock's behaviour.

Sherlock looked at him for the fraction of a second. "Problem?" he asked, indifferently.

What's going on? MH

"He is texting me, now. Why do I end up telling everyone? Don't be so cryptic," John remarked, irritated.

Sherlock proposed. JW

Thank God. The happy announcement at last….. Congratulations. MH

It took you ages. M

Predictable! S

Behave. M

Predictable is boring. S

I admire your nerve. MH

You're lucky he is saint like. M

At least he is not predictable. S

I send you my best wishes. You are good for him. MH

Thank you. I suppose. JW

Nevertheless….I am very happy for you. M

Great. Sentiment. How dull! S

Tell him that I mean it. MH

John scrutinized his friend sternly, arms akimbo. "What have you told him? He says he means it," he demanded to know.

Sherlock sighed and sat up. "He probably does. He is so sentimental. You know, John, you are supposed to hate him, actually."

Despite himself, John had to smile. "Really? Interesting. So I am supposed to hate him because he was in on your faked death, although I forgave you?"

"I never expected you to forgive me. You know that," Sherlock replied.

"That's not the subject. And just for the record: I was bound to forgive him, too. He kept you alive."

"You're supposed to be on my side. You're my fiancé." Sherlock pouted.

John was unmoved, since he was accustomed to his every mood. "Yes, I am. And he is my brother-in-law to be. One, who occasionally is the British government. I am determined to be on good terms with him. And besides, he is on your side too."

"He likes you, John."

"He likes you, too. I am not going to stand between you two. Just get on." John knew that Mycroft and Sherlock's relationship had improved he met them. Especially the year in which he believed Sherlock to be dead helped the brothers get on better with each other.

Sherlock made a face. "Not my concern right now," he stated and dismissed the subject with a wave.

Just when John wanted to make a point, his phone rang. At first he was afraid it might be Mycroft, not being too busy anymore to call, but then he recognized Harry's office number. Oh, no…

"It's Harry," John said with a sour look.

"Get it over with," Sherlock remarked impassively, walking over to the window.

"I can't. I just can't."

"You were a soldier, John. Don't be such a coward," Sherlock replied, looking out of the window thoughtfully.

John was fuming by now. Sherlock knew exactly which buttons to push to get John right where he wanted him to be. And he was right of course. Besides Sarah already knew and Harry and she met occasionally.

"Hello, Harry," John picked up the phone, greeting his sister.

"Hi, John. I was wondering if you would like to come over to dinner. I have invited two lovely colleagues who would be happy to meet you. They are just your type," Harry replied cheerfully.

"Uhm…Harry, that's very nice of you but I already have other plans," John answered, hesitating.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"John, you really should…," Harry started, but John interrupted her.

"Harry, I have to tell you something. I wanted to come over and tell you personally but we have a new case and I won't have much time in the next couple of weeks."

"What's wrong?" she asked, worried.

John sighed. "Don't worry. Everything is fine. Uhm….I really have no idea how to tell you this."

"Just get out with it. John, stop scaring me. What is wrong? Shall I come over?"

Heaven forbid.

John quickly allayed her fears. "No, no, there's no need to. You know about the discussions I had with Mary. About Sherlock."

"Yes."

"She was right."

"About what?"

"Us."

Please, just understand this. Don't make me say it.

"I don't understand."

John swallowed hard. "We are a couple, Harry."

"Couple? Of course you are." She sounded confused.

"We are actually an engaged couple." There was no lie in that ironically.

"Like in engaged to be married?"

John winced. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After a few seconds, he realized what his sister had said a moment before and his eyes flew open. "In what other sense? What do you mean you know we are? Harry, less than two minutes ago you wanted to hook me up with some of your colleagues."

"John, I'm sorry. But it was always so obvious. I mean I would never have believed it because of the way you looked at Clara but… the first time I saw you two together I could see what people meant," she replied nervously.

"What?" John gasped disbelievingly.

"You lived under my roof for several months, John. I'm not blind. He faked his death to protect you and you left your wife for him the moment he came back. Of course you are a couple."

"You never said a thing."

Why didn't she? Should she have? Why was he even thinking about it in the first place?

"I knew you would tell me in your own time. When you realized it yourself. So you are engaged? That's great, John. I like him."

He could hear her honest joy over the news in her voice.

"Glad to hear it." John felt miserable now.

"Go to him then. I'll call you back later."

"Right. Thank you."

Harry giggled. "Bye and give him my love."

"Will do. Bye."

"My own sister believes this. MY. OWN. SISTER," John said when he hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sherlock looked at John closely and shrugged. "Well, that's the point of it, John."

"She gives you her love."

"Urgh. Great," Sherlock grimaced, still playing with his phone.

"So it's done. Everyone knows. Everyone's happy." John was surprised it only took them one day and no one doubted the story even the slightest bit.

"Good. The tedious part is behind us then," Sherlock stated with a tone of relief in his voice.

John frowned at him. "You know that I could feel insulted by your unromantic feelings towards this engagement."

"I know you're not. You are John and you know me. Besides I initiated this engagement and therefore made my intentions clear," he dismissed John's objection.

In other words, he showed enough emotion.

"One day you will be death of me," John exclaimed and heaved a sigh.

"I believe that to be highly improbable, John."

John decided to change the subject. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

John made his way to the kitchen, poured the tea into two cups and returned to the living room. He placed Sherlock's cup in front of him and took his usual seat on the sofa. It had certainly been one of the hardest days of his life and he longed forward to a silent evening of watching his favorite crap telly.

"So it's time for practice then, John. Where do you prefer to do it? Sofa?"

Do it?

"You can't be serious. It's Tuesday. You are serious, aren't you? Oh my God…"

"John, why do you keep saying that?" Sherlock inquired, irritated.

"What are we going to practice then?" He wasn't sure if he would want to find out.

Why do I have to ask? Stupid!

"Being together," Sherlock remarked.

"We always are….never mind." John watched Sherlock's every move suspiciously as he sat down beside him. Sherlock suddenly took his hand into his own. He practically crushed it.

"You are not supposed to break it, you know," John stated after a moment.

"Err, quite right. Sorry." Sherlock kept staring at him.

"I still feel uncomfortable. This is not going to work this way."

"How am I supposed to do it then, John? I told you I have no experience." Sherlock sounded embarrassed.

The practice obviously wasn't meant for John only. What had he done with Victor then? Since it was Sherlock he probably skipped a few steps. Like turning from friends into fiancés.

"That's OK. We both need practice. That's good."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"Because I'm not the only idiot here, then."

"Alright."

John took Sherlock's hand gently into his own, still feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation. Being intimate with your best friend was a bit weird after all. "There you go. Just watch telly with me or read a book. We need this to be natural. Second nature. Don't focus on it."

"OK. Fine." Sherlock let him take the lead. Probably for the first and the last time in their relationship.

Absentmindedly, John kept caressing Sherlock's hand with his thumb.

"How do you feel?" John asked when Sherlock suddenly shifted his position some time later. When not thinking about it, it felt surprisingly…..nice, John had to admit.

"Good, I think. Relaxed." That didn't happen often, since his mind was like a rocket.

"Really?"

"Been to my mind palace. Stored the data," Sherlock replied.

Of course. He couldn't not just turn his brain off.

"Not deleted it then?" John teased him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I never delete your data, John. I actually had to move you in my palace."

John was taken aback. "Move me? Inside your palace?"

"Yes the room was getting too small, obviously. We've been together for several years now."

"I have a room in your palace?"

"Well, actually you take up quite a lot of space. We always are together."

"You never delete data about me?" John inquired, surprised.

Sherlock looked at him closely. "No why would I?"

"You deleted the solar system."

"I only delete what is not important, John. My work is important and you are a part of my work."

That was as close to a compliment as you would get from him.

"How much space do I own?" John was curious.

"A wing, actually," Sherlock answered.

The palace had several wings, of course.

"I own a wing in your palace." John said more to himself than to Sherlock.

"Yes, but I wouldn't blab about if I were you, people might talk," Sherlock answered, smiling cheekily and winking at John.

"Funny, Sherlock. And if someone asks you, I have that space because I am your friend, and not because I am part of your work." With that John stood up and brought his cup into the kitchen. "I am really tired. Being your fiancé is exhausting."

"Well, I have my standards. Don't worry. So far you are doing just fine," Sherlock replied with a mischievous grin.

"Night, Sherlock."

John made his way to his bedroom but stopped dead at the door.

"Sherlock, why are your bed linens in my bedroom?" He shouted downstairs, anger building up inside. Don't forget he is your friend. Your best friend. He could have been dead. You could have been alone. He is a good man. A difficult man, but good nevertheless.

"Our bedroom."

John shrieked. Sherlock had suddenly appeared behind him, whispering in his ear.

"Oh, no. No way. I am not letting you sleep in my bedroom. There are limits," John exclaimed.

"We are fiancés. I believe we are supposed to sleep together," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

John shot him a glance. "We are old-fashioned. No bedroom sharing until we are married."

"People believe we do a little bit more than just sharing the room, John." Sherlock gave him a meaningful look.

"Oh my God."

"We have to share a bed in Aldershot, too. Better get used to it. We could have shared mine but I think yours is a bit more…..cosy, I believe, is the word people use," Sherlock grinned.

John grimaced. "I just hope you're not a snorer."