AN: Here is me apologising for leaving it so long before updating and that this is so short.

I'm trying to upload good chapters that I properly work on, instead of upload rubbishy ones all the time because I think that you guys deserve the best.

I want to take this time to thank all of you for reading these, especially those who have reviewed and favourited. You all deserve awards for being the most supportive readers ever, because without all of you I wouldn't have written half of these. I seriously owe you all big time. YOu have all made me better writers and you have immensely boosted my confidence. Before I started writing fanfiction and stuff I just used to like writing in English lessons every now and again but writing this sort of stuff has made me realise how much I enjoy it and all of you people that have reviewed have given me passion to write and have made me strive to improve.

I don't know if all of you are writers yourself but if you are then you will probably understand this more. But everytime I get a review on one of these chapters it makes me smile, even if it is just a short: These are good, or a longer, more detailed review because it feels nice to know that people are out there appreciating what I am doing and enjoying my work.

I'm sorry for rambling and I'm sorry that I didn't update sooner but I'm trying to write as much as I can:)

Love you all,

-Erin:) xx

Prompt word from: Merthurr

Candles:

John Watson sank into his comfortable armchair with a mug of steaming tea in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He opened the paper and flicked through a few pages with his thumb, taking huge gulps of his tea every now and again. An hour or so passed in this comfortable way, although the tea only lasted about twenty minutes. Once he had finished the newspaper, John decided to get changed out of his jumper and jeans into a new blue shirt and tailored trousers that Sherlock had bought him. He pulled one of his nicer jumpers and wandered back to the living room, setting the kettle to boil as he strolled past it.

Today was John and Sherlock's 1 year anniversary. The pair had been in a romantic relationship for exactly a year and John couldn't be happier. Although Sherlock said that their relationship was more than friendship for a long time before that.

The ex army doctor made his tea and sat on the sofa, flicking on the TV to watch an episode of doctor who. He laughed along with the eleventh doctor as he did stupid things and met crazy aliens. After he watched an episode he checked the time nervously and texted Sherlock asking him where he was. The two of them were supposed to meet at the flat at six then head off to a posh Italian restaurant on the other side of London. It was seven now. Sighing, John got his Doctor Who DVD and watched another episode, fully expecting Sherlock to stumble through the door at any time, complaining that the case had taken longer than expected and he hadn't been able to pick up his phone. But he didn't.

John looked over at the clock at the end of the episode and watched the hands tick tock past 8. The army doctor felt anger fill him as he realised that they had missed their reservation. He grabbed a blanket of the back of the sofa and pulled it over his feet, kicking off his smart shoes and slumping back into the sofa arm. Dejectedly he hit play again and watched another episode. As he watched, John slumped down, falling into a light sleep at around 9.15. He was roused from his slumber by a sharp ringing and he clutched his head whilst he reached over and grabbed his mobile.

"Hello."
"Hi John, it's Lestrade."
"What do you need."
"It's.. About, uh, Sherlock."
"What about him."
"Look John, I'm not going to beat around the bush here. It's just.. He's been kidnapped by Sebastian Moran."

John felt his insides squirm unhappily and despair fill his whole body. He managed to choke out a strangled goodbye to Lestrade before collapsing back onto the sofa and pulling the blanket over his body. He rested his head on the arm of the sofa and choked back tears, hoping and praying that Sherlock would be okay.

The next morning John woke up at around tennish and stretched his aching back and shoulders. He had stupidly fallen asleep on the sofa last night and was aching all over. He rolled off the chair and pulled his favourite jumper over his head, rucking his shirt up as he pulled it off. Then somebody coughed from the corner of the room. John turned around and saw Sherlock looking almost as good as new. His hair was slightly dishevelled and he had a black eye forming but to John he still looked perfect.

"I'm sorry I missed our anniversary." He said, sitting down at the for once clutter free table that was now covered with a posh white table cloth and a lovely looking full English breakfast with candles burning softly beside the plate, "Please accept my apology meal. I know it's a poor substitute for our actual meal but.. I tried. You know I'm not good with sentiment."

John just smiled widely at his boyfriend and couldn't help but laugh at the image that sprung into his mind. Sherlock Holmes buying a set of elegant white candles.