Sherlock never understood the thing with the flowers. Watching Lestrade buy them for his wife (stupid, she was cheating on him again), he gave the topic a few seconds of thought.
Why would a selection of cut off plant ends symbolise someone’s love? You can enjoy their fragrance and colours for a short period of time and then watch them wither and die. How is that for symbolism?
He turned his attention back to the case.
When he finally (yes, for someone this clever it took him an embarrassingly long time to figure it out) realised that he wanted John for more than a friend, he suddenly remembered that day.
He felt strange (and very much out of his depths) when he carried his present to John up the stairs of 221B. He felt strange (and very much out of his depths) and stupid when John – without even blinking in surprise – shook his head.
“No. I’m glad we are finally on the same page here, but flowers aren’t you. You want to woo me? (Yes, he said woo me.) Come up with your own way.”
Sherlock’s answering grin would have scared any normal person but John just smiled back, because what Sherlock would come up with would be exciting, crazy, possibly illegal and so much better than any bouquet.