John is sleepy and hungry, particularly first thing of a post-case morning, which is the excuse he gives for eating the ANGEL and the XOXO sitting on the edge of his saucer. The fact that Sherlock has made him tea ought to be a clue. John is absent mindedly lifting the third sugar shape to his mouth, not really focused, when Sherlock’s disgruntled huff reaches his ears.
He pauses, blinks at his companion, who is sprawled on the sofa in his dressing gown (and apparently nothing else). Sherlock is steadfastly not looking at him but obviously not really reading the newspaper he’s holding .
The tea and the first two doses of sugar are stirring the old grey matter now, though, and John registers ‘tea’ and ‘treats’, and looks at what he’s holding.
It’s a little pink loveheart. It says SWEET PEA.
John grins, pops the heart in his mouth and sucks on it slowly, dissolving it against his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
His eye catches a purple shape on the edge of the table. It’s sitting so resolutely alone that John realises that portion of the table has been cleared especially for it. He has to tilt his head to read the little purple heart. CRAZY 4U. He’s not quite game to eat that one; he never trusts flat surfaces in this room, no matter how clean the table looks. But now he’s looking, he can see the next heart, sitting on the windowsill. MISS YOU.
The next sugar loveheart is on the desk. CUTIE PIE. That makes him snort a laugh. Sherlock rolls his eyes at him, frowns, and goes back to not-reading the paper.
The trail is easy to follow, now that John’s actually awake and functioning. He reads the lovehearts across the room. SOUL MATE. ME & YOU. FIRST KISS. That makes him smile fondly, knowing that he was, indeed, Sherlock’s first kiss. First everything.
The trail seems to end at the sofa, where Sherlock’s feet are propped against the arm. Except that one heart is affixed to the top of Sherlock’s foot. John slides a finger under it, and realises that Sherlock has licked the back of the heart, moistening the sugar so that it will stick to his skin. This one says ADORE ME.
Another heart is affixed to Sherlock’s thigh. It says BE MINE.
“Already do, already am,” says John, lifting the paper away to find those astonishing grey eyes regarding him intensely.
Another loveheart is stuck to Sherlock’s chest, over his heart. SAY YES.
John blinks at it, grins, and finds Sherlock’s expression has become faintly concerned.
“As proposals go,” says John, “I can’t tell if it’s very romantic or just very odd. It’s very you to be both, though.”
Steadying a knee on the seat, a hand on the arm beside Sherlock’s head, John leans down and lips the SAY YES heart free from skin, crunches down on it, and kisses Sherlock gently with his sugary mouth.
“Of course, yes, you daft sod.”
And Sherlock relaxes, tosses the paper aside then pulls John on top of him, where they celebrate their engagement with proper enthusiasm.