John looked around longingly in the flat. There was definitely something he was missing, he just couldn't place what. He brought his hand to his pocket, feeling the lump of his phone warm his hand. He had his phone…. and he was obviously wearing his clothes… but he didn't have…. "Sherlock?!" John put his hands behind his back, clasping them, an old habit of his. "What in the name of Mycroft is taking you so damn long?" A grunt was heard and Sherlock appeared, his phone in his ivory-pale hands.
"I don't do anything in the name of Mycroft." He said, looking up from his phone at John. He cocked his head, giving John a funny look. "Why are you dressed up so nicely?" We're only going out for dinner."
John bounced on the balls of his feet, biting his lip. "Sherlock." He said in a motherly voice. "For God's sake, Sherlock, we're going to Mycroft's for dinner!"
"So? Does that make Mycroft anymore special?" The young man retorted, looking down at his phone.
John bounced again and gave a heaving sigh. "Sherlock, behave yourself for once. Your brothers practically the queen of england!"
"Practically." The young detective snapped at the army doctor. "Have fun at dinner." The puff of dark hair started bouncing back to it's room.
"Sherlock. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Are you kidding me? I wasn't even invited! You were, because Mycroft's your BROTHER. I'm just tagging along. Now if you could kindly get you and your coattails out of this flat before I slap you,-"
"Okay, okay." Sherlock huffed and pulled himself to that the flat's rustic door. "Let's go."
Mycroft's house was bigger than John could ever imagine. On the outside, peachy-white marble pillars held up the porch of a huge black marble house freckled with silver.
"Gorgeous." John breathed under his breath, looking up at the neoclassical house.
"Just like you…" John could barely hear Sherlock whisper on the wind. He wasn't sure he heard right, but he asked just the same. "What?"
"Huh? Oh. Nothing." Sherlock glanced up and quickly looked away, but not before John caught his cheeks flushing bright red.
"Nothing at all…." Sherlock shook his head at himself.
John turned his body away from Sherlock's, thoughts rapidly pouring into his head. Did Sherlock have feelings for John? John was pretty sure he heard Sherlock correctly- it's not so easy to misunderstand the words 'Just like you.'" Of course, John loved the man. His raven-brown curls were like a jungle- John could rake his hands through that for hours. And his voice, oh his voice! The deep rumble reminded John of a volcano. John sometimes felt like he could almost float in the rumble. And the cheekbones….The army doctor could cut his hands over and over on those cheekbones and still be smiling. There was no doubt about it. Sherlock was perfect. To tell the truth, John had been pretty damn sure he was straight until he moved into 221b baker street. There was just something about Sherlock, that radiated love. Of course, Sherlock himself didn't do so, in fact, if John randomly met Sherlock on the street, he would've thought the raven-haired man was made of ice. Sherlock certainly acted like it sometimes, but there were definitely different layers to him that John clearly saw.
As the two men walked up to the porch, Sherlock gave a fleeting stare to Watson.
"Sherlock, are you alright?" The doctor looked closely at his friend. He looked fine, maybe just a little embarrassed. "Sherlock, what's wrong? Do you need to tell me something?"
Sherlock gave a grunt and reached into his pocket, his cheeks flushing an even brighter red.
The man got down on one knee, his head bowed as he worked on whatever he was doing. John, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on. "Sherlock?" He said again. "Are you-"
"Will you marry me?" Sherlock held up a silver band with flashes of black in it to John.
"Um...sorry?" John pursed his lips and shook his head in an inquisitive way.
"Will you marry me?" Sherlock asked again.
"Oh Jesus Sherlock…...I, I wow. Um…." John's eyes became blotchy and red.
"Yes or no?" Sherlock gave John an impatient stare. He was still on one knee. "This is an uncomfortable position."
"Well than get up. There's no use staying on one knee. This is a tough decision, I mean, we haven't even dated at all but I love you so much oh god why did I say that and you're wonderful Sherlock and I didn't even know you cared and I thought you never noticed me but oh god you're gorgeous-"
"Yes or no." Sherlock said, standing up, arm still outstretched with the ring.
John took one more look, suddenly wondering why he ever doubted himself.
"Oh. My. God. Yes." Then the army doctor threw his arms around his new fiance, reaching up and kissing him on the lips. The first touch was just contact, testing their strengths and fit of their lips. Than John fully kissed the man, lips fitting perfectly together as they swung around the small porch and pushed back and forth.
"I love you so much. You should've told me you loved me a long time ago." John said while kissing Sherlock.
All he received was a grunt of satisfaction.
As minutes passed, the men got more experimental. John bit Sherlocks lip and he received a moan of satisfaction.
"You're great." Sherlock smiled as he pulled away from John. "I really don't know why I didn't ask you sooner." The couple reached in for one last kiss- and then the doors opened.
"Ah, I've been expecting you. Come-" Mycroft's voice faltered. "Ahhum."
All that could be heard was the clinking of John's engagement ring dropping to the ground.
"So brother, tell me how you've been?"
The dining hall of Mycroft's house was huge. Huge dogwood boards lined the hall into a castle-like shape. Giant wool tapestries hung in the far corners of the hall. John gawked, looking around the room, unaware of Mycroft's voice shouting his name. "John. John? JOHN?!"
The sandy-haired man shot his head downwards, looking at Mycroft.
"Oh, yes, sorry?"
"So do you and my brother have a relationship, or….?"
John licked his lips, wiping his mouth with a sparkling white napkin. "Well, up to a few minutes ago, no. I mean, now we are, but Sherlock just asked me to marry him, so….I guess so."
Mycroft gave his brother a funny look before turning back to John.
"So…. Are you saying you never dated at all?"
"No, not really….I mean-" John was cut off by Sherlock before he could continue.
"Yes brother, he is my fiance. Now, if you could kindly excuse us, we must go and, ah, discuss our current case."
"Ah, of course brother. Good luck." Mycroft nodded his head in compliance.
"Um...Sherlock?" John sat up in his chair. "I think-"
"No time to think, John. Lestrade just phoned me- Let's go!"
"Um…. bye Mycroft! Thank you for the meal!" John shouted before rushing out the door.
"What, was that all about?" John asked as the taxi sped through London.
"No time. I can't explain now. Just…. a case."
"This isn't about us getting married is it? We need to talk about the finances later. But…. it was so rude to walk out on Mycroft like that."
"So? Anyway, I think this could lead to a big breakthrough for a case with Lestrade I've been doing. And no, this is not about "our marriage." Turn here." Sherlock pointed to the taxi driver. "Stop." The two men got out of the car. John thanked the taxi driver, giving him a generous tip along with the fee.
"Where are we going?" John asked, running up to Sherlock.
"You're not going to propose to me again, are you?"
The path they were taking was a dimly lit concrete trail through dense trees, obscuring their view to the sides.
They walked for about 15 minutes, neither of them speaking.
This is such a romantic spot. John thought as they walked. Maybe he is re-proposing and just doesn't want to say so. I'd be happy to kiss him again here. It's- John's thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang. Sherlock froze beside him, grabbing John to his side.
"John. Be QUIET." The raven-haired man hissed under his breath.
"John! Shut up!"
all the lamps in the park began to click off in a simultaneous order. First, they only heard the clicks, but soon the dimness became visible until only the lamp in front of them was left on.
A mouth full of shining white teeth appeared next to the lamp.
"Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god." Sherlock breathed almost silently.
The teeth stepped forward, then the body appeared.
"Hello Sherlock." An all too familiar voice said.
"Moriarty." Sherlock hissed.