Monday morning dawned bright and early. When John awoke, he found the flat empty and silent. Sherlock had been called onto a case last night, so John assumed that he simply hadn't made it home yet.

John tried not to worry too much about what Sherlock was doing, and what kind of trouble he was getting himself into. Instead John made quick work of getting ready and leaving the flat, heading in the direction of work.

When he entered the office, he was immediately greeted by Mary. She wore a light pink button-down shirt with long sleeves, a dark brown pencil skirt, skin coloured stockings, and dark brown heels. Her hair was neatly combed in it's usual easy-style. John had always admired her short-hair, it was very practical.

As he was shrugging off his coat, Mary brought over a cup of coffee that she had just made in the employee lounge. She was smiling, looking John up and down.

"Thank you Mary," John said as he took the warm mug. He could tell by the colour of the liquid that she'd already added his cream and sugar. "Good weekend?"

"Pretty boring actually. I bet yours was considerably more exciting." She raised her brow suggestively, and John could feel a little warmth creep into his cheeks. "How the date go?"

Memories from Friday night's escapade flooded John's mind. He started to chuckle to himself thinking about nearly having security called on them in the cinema.

"Come on now, what's so funny?" Mary peered at him from over her own coffee mug, willing him to spill all the dirty little secrets.

"Well, it was kind of difficult at first... But it turned out really wonderful in the end." The memory of Sherlock's warm body pressed against his own in the horse-drawn carriage made John's heart flutter as he recalled it.

"Difficult? How can a date be difficult?"

John wondered if he should be confiding his personal experiences with Mary, but at the same time, he was utterly thrilled to be able to share the romantic details of the date with someone at all. "Well uh...We were really stressed for time, the restaurant brought me the wrong curry, then we had to...leave the cinema."

Mary's eyebrows both shot up at the last detail John had provided. John couldn't help but chuckle at how ridiculous it all sounded in hindsight. Mary began chuckling too. Then she asked, "Oh God, what did Sherlock do to get you thrown out of a movie theatre?"

The laughter died in John's throat, his mouth slightly agape. He began mentally rewinding the whole conversation trying to recall what indication he'd given to the identity of his date. He couldn't think of a single one, he hadn't even mentioned gender. It wasn't that he was worried about what people would say, but rather, this relationship was still in its infancy and was therefore rather delicate. He'd wanted to wait until they got more established as a couple before deciding to go public.

After a moment spent of trying to collect his thoughts, John remembered that Mary had asked him a question, which meant that he was supposed to respond. "He uh...he kept using his mobile. I guess a couple people complained."

"Leave it to Sherlock to turn dinner and a movie into a disaster." Mary was chuckling still and shaking her head slightly. But John was only giving a half-hearted laugh because he was bristling at her assumption that Sherlock had ruined their date. Sure, it had been stressful at first, but Sherlock's intentions had been good. Not to mention, the plans he had made were nice, they were just poorly executed.

"You should meet him sometime," John said as Mary's laughing abated. "You seem to have a lot in common."

"Really? How so?"

"You both like to deduce answers to your own questions before you even ask them. How did you know it was Sherlock anyway?"

"John, you live with that exquisite creature for long enough, it doesn't matter what you were before, you'll fall for him eventually. If you don't kill him first that is. Or at least that's what I've gathered from reading about him on your blog."

"I didn't know you read my blog." Color tinted his cheeks once again. He hadn't told anyone at his office about the blog because he'd been too embarrassed. But, she had gotten her description of Sherlock as exquisite right.

"Oh yeah. Several of the nurses here do. Lots of them have enormous crushes on Sherlock. I can't say I'd be able to live with the man, but he is downright gorgeous. You're a lucky man John." Mary was giggling.

"Yes I am," John mumbled fondly.

The conversation was cut short by another doctor making his way into the surgery. After a brief "good morning" John turned round and headed into his office.

He sat at his desk, playing through Friday night over and over again while he waited for the first patient of the day.

Sherlock stumbled back into the flat around 1:30 in the afternoon. He was exhausted. He had chased down a suspect for over 3 miles, finally caught the man, only to have one of Lestrade's officers bullocks it up, meaning Sherlock had to go chasing the man down again. He'd probably ran a good 5 or 6 miles total last night, plus he'd nearly been hit by a car twice.

He made his way to his bedroom, only to find Mrs. Hudson in there, and no sheets on his bed.

"Oh Sherlock, I'm just doing your wash." She set the basket down and looked Sherlock over. "My goodness Sherlock, you look horrible. When was the last time you slept?"

"Don't remember." Sherlock could hardly lift his head, and when he shrugged out of his long wool coat, it landed on the floor and he just left it there.

"I'm sorry dear, your bedding won't be done for at least another hour."

" 's alright. I'mm sleep on the couch." Sherlock was turning to head back into the living room, but Mrs. Hudson caught him by the arm.

"Sherlock, you need more room to get comfortable. I'm sure John wouldn't mind it you took a nap in his bed, just this once." Even though she was concerned and fretting over Sherlock, she couldn't help the small twinge of a smile at her cheeks when she thought how little indeed John would mind, and how this probably wasn't the first nor would it be the only time.

"Okay..." Sherlock left her standing there and started up the stairs towards John's room, shedding his button-down shirt on the stairs.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, "I'm not your bloody housekeeper," she mumbled, but she picked his fallen clothes up off the floor anyway, and went back downstairs to finish washing his bedding.

John was on his lunch break, so he decided now would be a good time to text Sherlock and see what he was up to.

Gotten back to 221? -JW

John was starting to worry after 5 mintues of no reply. Sherlock was almost always monitoring his phone, and he hardly ever ignored a text, especially from John.

Sherlock? -JW

A few moments later, to John's relief, a reply came through.

Sleping Jon. Yes. home. -SJ

John rolled his eyes at the horrendous text, Sherlock must be exhausted.

Sorry I woke you. Get back to sleep. I'll pick up Thai on the way home tonight. - JW

No.

No? Okay, what do you want for dinner then? - JW

Date toniht. Me and ou-SH

Sherlock, you seem really tired, why don't we go out tomorrow night instead? -JW

No. TONIGHt -SH

Text me when you're actually awake and then we'll discuss it. -JW

Ok -SH

Sherlock woke up at 5:00pm feeling a little rested. He'd dreamt that he was texting John. Thinking about he, he realized he hadn't actually talked to John since last night, so he pulled out his mobile to text him. He was mortified to realize that what he thought had been a dream, had actually occurred. He'd asked John out on a date. He sat there for a long while, reading over the conversation. John had suggested going out tomorrow since Sherlock was so tired, but Sherlock, even in his sleep had been immovably stubborn.

John, what time will you be finished with work? -SH

Bout 6pm. Did you have a nice nap? -JW

Yes. Good, so are we still on for tonight? -SH

Are you sure Sherlock. If you're still tired we don't have to do it tonight. -JW

Sherlock bristled. Was John trying to subtly say that he didn't want to go on another date with him? Maybe I ruined the last one so badly that he doesn't want to go on another one. That thought caused a feeling a nausea to set into his stomach.

I'm fully awake and alert. So, shall we?- SH

I forget you're not like the rest of us and can live off of only 3 hours of sleep a day. Sure, I'd love to. -JW

Relief set in. John was okay with going on another date with him. But then Sherlock realized he had no idea what to plan. They'd just gone to a movie on Friday, besides nothing else looked acceptable to Sherlock anyway. Sherlock didn't want to risk another restaurant fiasco, and another carriage-ride would be just plain unoriginal. Now what?

Sherlock sat down on his arm chair in the living room and let his eyes flutter closed. He opened the grand doors to his mind palace and began searching in his John room.

"I know you wanted it to be perfect. But I told you earlier, not to stress this much about it. We could have gone anywhere tonight and I would have been happy as long as it was with you. Hell, we could have stayed in, ordered take-away and watched crap telly and it would have been fine. Don't overthink this Sherlock. Just be yourself." He had been listening to previous conversations when this one, from Friday night, had come up. His eyes popped open and his mouth formed a perfect "oh." This is good, he thought.

John sat in a cab, watching rain streak down the windows, while it wound it's way through London's traffic toward Baker Street. He'd sent Sherlock a message, letting him know he was on his way home. Truth be told, John was a little anxious about what to expect tonight. He was excited to see Sherlock, and going out on a date would be wonderful, but after the last time, he just hoped Sherlock hadn't over-thought this date too.

After paying the cabbie, John took the stairs up to the flat a bit quicker than usual. He fumbled slightly for his key, but before he got a chance to slide the ridged metal into the keyhole, Sherlock had opened the door and was smiling down at him.

John's breath was knocked out of him at the sight. Sherlock had rearranged the furniture, leaving a large open space on the floor in front of the telly, which he had covered in all sorts of pillows. John could smell his favorite Pad Thai from a take away down the street, which he spotted set out on a mat in front of the cushions. The only light being cast around the room was from candles, hundreds of them. Sherlock had placed a flickering candle on any flat surface he could find, and the effect was marvelous.

"How was work?" Sherlock asked. John gaped up at him. He could see a bit on anxiousness tracing the edges of Sherlock's eyes.

"It was uh...it was good. Sherlock this is...Wow." John couldn't find the words. He stepped tentatively into the flat and began to ease out of his jacket. Sherlock was behind him before he could realize and was helping the jacket come off. Sherlock hung up the rain dampened coat on the peg and then nodded towards John's feet, indicating that he should take off his shoes.

John followed Sherlock, still looking all around the barely-recognizable flat, and sat down in the heap of pillows.

"Do you like it?" Sherlock's voice was low, and the uncertainty in it, brought John's focus immediately to him.

"It's wonderful Sherlock. More than I could have ever hoped for." John looked at Sherlock fully for the first time since he'd gotten home. Sherlock was wearing a tight button-down made of dark blue satin. His trousers were black, but today he wore somewhat looser ones, perhaps because of the anticipation of sitting on the floor. He was bare foot, and John could smell the recent shower-scent still clinging to him. But John was most fascinated with Sherlock's face. It looked haunting in the constantly shifting light of the candles. His sharp cheekbones cast eerily beautiful shadows down his face, and his eyes seemed almost crystal in the low light. He skin radiated the warm orange glow, and John had never been so enthralled with anyone before.

"I picked up takeaway. And I thought we could watch some telly." Sherlock smiled shyly and John's heart felt like it was about to burst from joy.

"It sounds wonderful. I'm starving."

Letting Sherlock watch Britain's Got Talent had been a mistake. They had finished their food and were snuggled close, seated on the pillows with their backs resting against the couch. But Sherlock kept leaning forward into the TV and shouting criticisms and the participants and judges alike. Some of his comments were so icy that it had caused John to joke, "They should replace Simon with you."

Sherlock hadn't seen the humor though. "Why would they get rid of the only decent judge they've got?" John was rolling his eyes and Sherlock was sneering at the newest participant, when a flash of lightening lit up the flat and then as the thunder clap followed, the TV went off.

Author's Note:

Sorry it's taken so long for this update. For some reason I had a really hard time writing the opening to this chapter. For those of you that are waiting for things to get a little more...ahem...heated, please stay tuned for the next chapter. Things are going to get steamy.

Also, if you could please review, I would be extra happy. Thanks for reading everyone!