'John, I'm bored,' Sherlock moaned. He leaped out of his armchair and began to pace restlessly around the untidy flat, kicking aside any stacks of paper or books which came in his path.
John rolled his eyes. This was definitely not the first time he'd heard the taller man say this over the past few weeks. A lot of the time living with Sherlock felt like having a puppy as a pet, he constantly required entertainment and John couldn't leave him alone in the flat for any length of time without returning home to find furniture or walls ruined as a result of his boredom.
'Well why don't we do something then?' John asked, feeling slightly exasperated. 'You know, have dinner, talk, watch crap telly.'
'Like what couples do?' Sherlock raised an inquisitive eyebrow at John.
'No, Sherlock. Like what normal friends do.' John often wondered why everyone always thought of them as a couple, so Sherlock's last statement alarmed him greatly; even he was making the comparison now.
'Boring. You know I hate "normal" or "ordinary", John,' Sherlock said, twirling around elegantly to return to his favourite armchair.
'How would you know?' John smirked. 'You've never tried it.'
Sherlock glared at John for a moment before picking up his violin and starting to play, wordlessly telling John that that conversation was over.
John bit his lip to try and stop himself from laughing. He grabbed his jacket and turned to head for the door, knowing he'd won that battle.
When John returned from the shop, he found Sherlock sat in the same armchair with his legs tucked underneath him, his fingers drumming quietly on the padded fabric.
The sun was just beginning to set, and the warm orange glow bounced delicately off his face, accentuating his perfectly chiselled cheekbones and highlighting his unique face in such a way that was almost angelic. John knew he wasn't attracted to Sherlock in any way, but his beauty was undeniable, and he often found himself in awe of it.
'Where have you been?' Sherlock demanded. John had known him long enough to know the question didn't require an answer.
Sherlock swung his legs out from under him and reached to grab the shopping bag out of John's hand.
'You forgot to get milk,' he stated bluntly, emptying the contents of the bag onto the table in front of him. 'And why have you bought wine? You never buy wine.'
'Well aren't you the observant one,' John said sarcastically. 'I'm making us dinner. Seeing as you're not working on a case I thought it was about time we had a proper meal for once.'
'Fine. Just watch out for the fingernails in the oven,' Sherlock said with a look on his face that told John he was joking, though he still felt slightly uneasy.
While John was in the kitchen, he could hear Sherlock in the next room playing his violin. He didn't have a vast knowledge on classical or romantic composers, but he recognised it as a Beethoven piece. John always enjoyed listening to Sherlock play. He was extremely talented, and his playing always helped John to relax. While he cooked, John drifted along with the music, completely lost in the melody and his own thoughts for what could have been hours for all he was aware. He could have happily stayed like that forever, but he quickly came back to reality when he heard Sherlock cursing rather loudly over something or other.
'You all right, Sherlock?' John called to the next room.
'Fine. Just fine,' he hissed in reply. He had stopped playing and was now heading towards his bedroom. Apart from the bubbling of the saucepan, there were no other sounds in the flat. Without the music, John thought it felt rather empty.
John began quietly laying the table in the kitchen. He had managed to carefully shift some of Sherlock's elaborate experiments to make room for the two of them to eat. Just as he was setting down the last piece of cutlery, John heard footsteps enter the room. He looked up to see Sherlock stood in the archway between the kitchen and the lounge. John was surprised to see that Sherlock had changed out of his pyjamas and silk dressing gown and into trousers and a deep purple shirt which he hadn't seen him wear before. He decided against commenting on this change of attire.
'Ah good, dinner's ready. I'm starving,' Sherlock said abruptly. He dragged out a chair and sat down, watching John like a hawk as he decanted the wine into two glasses.
John sat down opposite Sherlock and raised his glass in the air.
'Cheers,' he said, clinking his own glass against Sherlock's.
They both ate in silence for a while, but it was by no means awkward. They were simply enjoying the food and each other's presence so they felt no need to make conversation. John found it rather incredible that they had come to find each other and become such firm friends so quickly. He didn't believe in fate, but he found it difficult to believe that meeting each other had been purely a coincidence.
'Happy Valentine's day, boys!' said the cheery voice of Mrs Hudson. She stopped as she entered the kitchen when she saw the situation and looked rather embarrassed. 'Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude.'
'Oh god, no, it's not like that, don't worry,' John stuttered quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a smirk appearing on Sherlock's face. 'We're just having dinner, honestly.'
'Oh. Well I'll leave you two to it anyway. I've got myself a date for the evening!' she said, grinning.
'That's fantastic, well you look lovely, Mrs Hudson,' John replied.
'Oh you are sweet, John. Anyway, I'd better be heading off, just popped in to say hello. You two enjoy your meal,' she said, winking slightly at Sherlock before leaving the flat.
'Why does everyone think we're together, Sherlock?' John asked, feeling slightly irritated. 'And why do you never deny it?'
'Why does it bother you so much that people think we are?' Sherlock responded.
'Because we're not!' John slammed his fork down aggressively. 'I'm sorry, just forget it, okay?'
They returned to eating in silence, however this time there was a definite tension in the air. It was a while before either of them broke the silence.
'So, did you get any cards today?' John asked tentatively.
'Cards, why would I be given cards?' Sherlock asked. He seemed genuinely confused.
'You know, for Valentine's Day.'
'Oh, of course. Yes, just the one. What about you?'
'I got one, don't have a clue who it's from though. It's typed, not handwritten. I suppose it's easy for you though, working out who your admirer is,' he joked.
'Yes, it really is rather dull.'
'So who's yours from then? I'm guessing Molly?' John asked. He was finding it rather difficult to make conversation with Sherlock this evening, more so than usual.
'Obviously. Even you knew that, and you haven't even seen the card,' Sherlock replied quite bitterly.
'Well come on then, aren't you going to use your special detective skills to work out who mine's from?'
Sherlock's eyes suddenly brightened and he looked at John with a sly grin on his face.
'What's in it for me?' he asked. John was surprised by the question.
'Well, you get to show off and I find out who my admirer is, everyone's happy,' John replied. 'Come on, Sherlock, I've made you dinner!'
'I don't need to show off in front of you, John,' Sherlock said, clearly avoiding the latter statement.
'Is that supposed to make me feel special or what?' John asked, trying hard to suppress a smile.
Sherlock simply laughed and continued eating. John couldn't work out why he was being so secretive this evening. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to it by now, but he was surprised Sherlock had refused to help him out. He always loved to have a reason to show off his deductive skills.
'What do you want then, sexual favours or something?' John offered jokingly. He regretted saying it immediately, and was worried Sherlock might think he was being serious.
'And you wonder why everyone thinks we're a couple.' Sherlock raised his eyebrows at John.
'And what's that supposed to mean?' John asked defensively.
'It means that you keep making it seem so bloody obvious!'
'I was only joking though, you know that, Sherlock.'
'I do. But not everyone else does.'
'Fine. Whatever. I didn't realise I made it seem that way. Now will you please just tell me who gave me the card?'
'You could always try and work it out for yourself,' Sherlock said, and gave John a half smile.
John didn't know how he had resisted punching the man in the face for so long. He could be so infuriating at times. John could completely understand why he didn't have many friends. But there was something about him that was so likeable and endearing to John, and that something had made him put his trust in him the first day he met him. He just hadn't worked out what it was yet.
'Come on. Let's go and finish this wine and watch some crap telly,' John said. He grabbed the bottle and his own glass and headed for the lounge. He sat down on the sofa and turned the telly on, then poured himself another glass of wine. He felt the sofa sink slightly as Sherlock sat down next to him, and he handed him the half empty bottle.
'What are we going to watch then?' Sherlock asked as he poured himself a rather large glass of wine.
'Well I was going to suggest Midsomer Murders, but something tells me you might take it a little bit too seriously.'
'That's not fair!' he protested. 'I've never even seen it before, at least give me a chance.'
'Trust me, it would annoy you. Let's just watch some sort of property buying programme instead.' John flicked through the channels until he found a rerun of an old episode of Escape to the Country. 'This'll do.'
'Shit, is that really how much wine we've gotten through?' John said, noticing the three empty bottles strewn across the floor.
Sherlock let out a rather high pitched laugh and took a final swig from his glass.
'I think you're a bit drunk, John!' Sherlock exclaimed, poking John playfully in the ribs and collapsing sideways into his lap.
'Says you!' John laughed. He felt like he should push Sherlock back to his side of the sofa, but he had neither the energy or the desire to do so. Besides, it felt quite warm and comforting having the other man's head resting in his lap.
'Did you manage to work out who gave you that Valentine's day card in the end?' Sherlock asked, shifting himself so he was facing upwards.
John shook his head.
'Fine, bring it here,' Sherlock said, sitting up. 'I'll see what I can do.'
John smiled and stood up to get the card from the table. He stumbled and had to grab the side of the table to regain his balance.
The card lay face up amidst disorganised piles of books and paper. It was a typical Valentine's day card; on the front was a picture of a teddy bear holding a heart and on the heart was written "Be My Valentine". John picked it up and fell back onto the sofa.
Sherlock laughed and took the card out of John's hands.
'You do realise I'm not really going to tell you who gave it to you don't you?' he said, glancing quickly over the card. 'I just wanted to see you attempt to make it over to the table and back without taking a detour to the floor.' Sherlock kicked his legs up onto the sofa and started laughing hysterically. He gave the card back to John, picked up his violin and started playing the same piece he'd been playing earlier, only this time it sounded considerably less polished than it had before due to his drunken state.
'You really are an arse, you know,' John said, but he knew better than to expect an answer while Sherlock was engrossed in his music.
John opened the card again. The inside read "To my dearest John. Will you be my valentine?". There was nothing special or unique about it, it didn't give him any clues as to who had written it. If he had Sherlock's brains he would probably notice some sort of smudge or tiny dust particle which would tell him exactly who it was from but unfortunately he was just an idiot in Sherlock's eyes, and always would be.
'Have you honestly not figured it out yet?' Sherlock sighed. As he placed his violin on the floor, John noticed Sherlock's hands were trembling slightly, but he put it down to the effects of the alcohol.
'No, I haven't. I presume you already know?'
'Of course I know,' Sherlock replied smugly.
'And I don't suppose you're planning on giving me any clues any time soon?'
'I don't know, maybe one or two.'
With these words John felt Sherlock's hand slide beneath his. Their fingers gently intertwined and Sherlock shifted to face John. He wasn't sure whether it was the alcohol talking or whether he really wanted it, but either way he instinctively reached forward to pull the other man closer to him until their heads were touching and he could almost hear his heart pounding against his chest. John lifted his free hand to Sherlock's face and slowly closed the distance between them. A shiver ran up his spine as soon as he felt Sherlock's lips brush against his, and in that moment he knew it was not entirely the alcohol controlling his actions.
The kiss didn't last long, but John had never experienced anything more exhilarating in his life. He was quite content just sat there with Sherlock, his warm breath tickling his skin and his thumb making small circles in the palm of his hand.
'So, do you still need any clues?' Sherlock murmured sleepily.
'I think I may have a vague idea who it's from,' John said, 'but a few more clues can't hurt.'
Sherlock chuckled quietly.
'Happy Valentine's day, John,' he whispered, before leaning in to kiss him once more.