So, this is a new challenge for all of us. Though there's a few of us in number, this explores some of the lighter sides of Sherlock Holmes. It may be considered fluff, but more so on my end, that there is sweetness and light amongst the sea of angst and troubles.
So, for fourteen days in February, come join me for the… lighter side of things.

Here we go.

As per usual, I determine which timeline my stories are set in, so for this prompt, we are taking this back to the beginning, just after 'A Study in Scarlet,' though after 'This is No Time for Humbugs,' so I suppose 1882.

As per usual, canon typical Sherlock Holmes warnings occur in this chapter. And with that, on with the show.

Author's Note: This was meant to come out much earlier, but given that FFN has been… corrupting fics and making fics vanish on my end, I have been unsuccessful so far.

From Ennui Enigma: Watson explains Valentine's Day to Holmes

And

From GWBear: Favorite Foods

On the Story of Valentine's

"Watson, you have seen me miss my mark before, but I must confess I am… unknowledgeable in this area."

It was February 1882 when Holmes approached me about something that even I knew to be part of his thoughts in curiosity, given that it pertained to our case at hand. Scotland Yard had called the fellow 'Cupid the Thief,' striking couples as they went about on Valentine's Day.

We had deduced and uncovered it was a scorned sailor of her Majesty's service, whose love had left him while he was off at war, and thus, according to him, had no choice but to make others feel the same pain that he had.

And it had confounded Holmes, on a level of emotion that he had yet to understand. Logically, scorn drove men to do things that they believed to be as such, so it made for a criminal.

But as for why others placed so much value on Valentine's Day? That was utterly lost to him.
I paused as Holmes plopped onto the couch next to me, a finger against his lips in thought. "What is it about Valentine's Day that makes things seem more criminal?" Asked he.

"Well, for one, love does make people do… strange things, my dear Holmes," I said slowly. His brow twitched in—scorn or amusement; I couldn't tell at the moment, though he said nothing.

"And Valentine's Day, given that it is a celebration of love in all forms makes it also prone to other sides of love, even the worst, to grow stronger."

"That still does not explain half of it!" Holmes exclaimed, shooting to his feet and shaking his fists in the air. "Why is it that this holiday drives those to be either even more thoughtful with their loved ones or truly worse? I perceive that parts of London display laces and displays of 'romantic colours,' and it is…" He paused, shaking his head. "Pah! It is a foolish trapping, Watson."

"Well, there are other ways to celebrate besides love between a husband and wife, Holmes; sometimes dear friends celebrate with each other as well." I retorted with slight indignation. Surely he'd have learned by now from Christmas?

At that, however, Holmes tilted his head. "Between dear friends, you say?" He mused before stalking off to his chemistry experiments, leaving me bewildered.

Hadn't he wanted to know?

Bewildered was now an understatement.

Since I had told Holmes of the nature of Valentine's Day, he had been acting odd, perhaps odder than he had been prior.

He seemed fixated on my needs, hovering closer whenever my leg gave way with a supportive shoulder and a gentle hand to lead me back to my chair.

If I even mentioned I was hungry, Holmes would dart off to the kitchen, returning to me with one of Mrs. Hudson's cakes or another food that I had mentioned as my favorite.

Even more bewildering was Holmes hadn't taken to playing the violin while I was writing; instead, watching with intense interest, asking questions.

Questions? He would rather sit here and critique my work.

Most unexpected of all? Whatever case would usually have him send me off so he could 'work better for silence,' Holmes instead swept me off into the cases immediately.

"Come, my dear Watson, we shall take the forger case together. Would you be more at ease in a hansom cab or by foot?" Holmes asked.

"I believe I can walk," I said as Holmes nodded, slipping his arm into mine. "Then we shall set off at once!" He cried.

By the time it got closer to Valentine's Day and two days after our case with the forger, I awoke to an assortment of small gifts at the foot of my bed.
There seemed to be a box of my favored cigars, a new quill pen, and an ink set, all nestled against a pair of yellow roses with a pink ribbon tied to their stems. But…?

Was this Holmes's doing?

He could walk in rather stealthily without my knowing, given his slender build and proclivity for sneaking around for the sake of a case—

And hadn't he been fascinated by the idea you could celebrate it as friends?

I groaned as the realization hit. In his strange, roundabout ways, Holmes had been trying to celebrate Valentine's Day with me.

He did not have to, though I will have to get something for him as well.

"Holmes!" I called after I had spent the day looking for something to return the favors that he had been giving me, settling on something that even he could not deny.

"Yes, my dear Watson?" He called, glancing over his shoulder from where he'd been studying his notes for the case of an opal tiara that he'd retrieved some time ago.

"I found your gifts on my bed," I said softly as Holmes blinked and turned in his chair.

For once, I could not read the expression on his face. Was it concern? Alarm? Worry? All and none?

"Is it not enough?" Asked he, frowning. "Do you require anything more, as I could go now? I remember that you were paying attention to those cigar lighters the other day."

Oh, this man. Warmth arose in my chest as Holmes jumped to his feet, attempting to make his way out the door.

"Holmes." I chided, blocking the door to 221B Baker Street. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Why don't you deduce it off of me?"

Holmes frowned as he tilted his head again. Then, the tension melted, and as usual, the polite smile that he had reserved for myself and Mrs. Hudson reappeared.

"You deduced it then, Watson. I was doing everything I could to show you that I could celebrate Valentine's Day as friends should, as you suggested." Holmes said as I chuckled.

"You did not need to prove it to me, Holmes. You have been a dear friend to me, even when I may not deserve it, bullpup, nightmares and all." I muttered.

"Dear me." Holmes tutted, shaking his head. "Watson, you have been a most excellent friend to me, even when it is I who may not deserve such affection. I have been quite unusual to live with, foul-tempered, inconsiderate-"

"Would I have gotten reservations at Simpson's tonight and this if you were any of those things that took away from your character, Holmes?" I asked before dramatically revealing my gift: a pipette he'd been looking for to complete his chemistry table.

"Watson," Holmes murmured, his grey gaze returning to mine.

"Holmes," I cut in, placing the gift on his chest. "Valentine's Day is about love and all forms of it. For the love between dear friends—" "We are dear friends?" Holmes murmured, as if even he could not believe what he was hearing.

"We are, my dear Holmes. And for that, you do not need to give me gifts or anything else. Having you with me is enough of a gift for the season." I said.

As the room fell silent, I went to grab my coat as Holmes gripped my wrist. "Watson?"

"Thank you. Your company and your friendship have been a gift for me as well." Holmes murmured. "And I will endeavor to continue to be that friend for you."

"And I, you. Now, shall we? Simpson's is making my favourites, and I do not want to miss it." I said.

As I recall, that was one of the first instances that Holmes and I engaged in hugging each other, allowing gentle touches when warranted and welcomed, strolling together arm in arm to whoever would see us, or grabbing each other's wrists in a show of comfort.

Even if Holmes presumed I would want, I have been most grateful for that Valentine's Day, as it has given me the singular constant in my life that I have grown to treasure.

And that's it for this chapter. I had a lot of fun thinking of a sweet little response to this, on how Watson and Holmes grew comfortable with each other, and Holmes trying his hardest to be a great friend on Valentine's Day.
Friends did indeed celebrate Valentine's Day! In the Victorian Era, friends would send each other little gifts, or exchange cards, hence what Holmes and Watson did here. Finally, yellow roses symbolize friendship, thus their appearance in the story.

Also if Holmes seems rather emotional, it is a story where he is ruled by emotion. He has realized that he might have angered Watson, and has tried to do things that would be 'better'... something that does seem to happen in fics and stories. He might be our favorite 'reasoning machine', but he does have a genuine, great heart that I love getting to showcase.

References this time are just a few: 'A Study in Scarlet,' 'This is No Time For Humbugs!', 'The Adventure of the Resident Patient,' 'The Adventure of the Speckled Band,' and 'The Hound of the Baskervilles.'
Next time? Let's return to a favorite AU, and see how magic is made…

Cheers,
Blue