Sherlock fiddled with the box in his hands as he patiently waited for John to finish in the bathroom. Sherlock had set up a candle lit dinner, well, it had a candle and a slightly burnt Pasta Bake, but it was the thought that counted.
Sherlock wasn’t sure why he was getting so worked up, it was only a question. If he had been asked a year ago if he would ever ask anyone ‘The Question’ he would have argued that Love Is a Chemical Defect Found on the Losing Side.
“And what’s all this?” John asked, ruffling his hair with a towel as he walked in the kitchen area. Sherlock quickly hid the box back in his trouser pocket.
“I decided to cook us some food.” Sherlock replied, almost stuttering, Dam Nerves.
John eyed the food suspiciously as he came and sat down across from Sherlock, worried it might just be poisoned.
They both ate the, unpoised, dinner while they chatted about current affairs with the both of them. Once done Sherlock got up and took Johns plate over to the sink. What John wasn’t expecting was, on the way back to his seat, for Sherlock to crouch down onto one knee. John’s heart suddenly felt like it was in his chest.