Bit of pre-relationship for today. Who needs continuity?
The rich, dark square is melting over Sherlock's tongue, reminding him of coffee and salt and dark red berries. John had left the bar on the arm of Sherlock's chair before heading to work this morning, a small note with "For you. I..." and a large strange scribble below it Unfortunately, he'd written it in marker, quickly, so there was no visible imprint on the back of the paper, and the scribbling had bled through the message, obscuring it forever.
He scowls at the paper, at the chocolate bar. How had John known exactly what kind of chocolate Sherlock prefers? What exactly had John been trying to tell him with the note? And most importantly, why did seeing it there make Sherlock's heart flutter so erratically in his chest?
They've been dancing around each other for weeks now, and it's starting to drive the consulting detective up the wall. Why won't John just make a move? Why does he keep giving Sherlock oddly thoughtful little gifts and then going on dates with hideously dull women? Why is this such a ridiculous puzzle, anyway? John has so much more experience with this sort of thing, the first move really should be up to him...
Sherlock finds himself musing that love, much like chocolate, is much more interesting when it's complex and bittersweet.