A Very Special Valentine's Day ~john!lock~

John sat on the couch, sipping tea and reading the daily paper. Sherlock was in the bathroom experimenting on a certain unlucky severed head. As usual.

"Make sure you clean that crap up when you've finished, Sherlock," John warned, knowing full well the order would 'slip the mind' of his friend and flatmate, and the army doctor would have to spend a perfectly lovely day sometime soon scrubbing blood off of the walls, floor, ceiling, and bathroom fixtures. John sighed, resigned. Sherlock, a grown man, acted like a child - a genius of a child, definitely, but a child all the same. He was unruly, disobedient, stubborn, and completely mannerless. Any other person would have left Sherlock ages ago, but John, patient, brave, determined, and kind John, didn't mind. Actually, he found it rather charming.

John glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. "Sherlock?" Sherlock grunted from the bathroom in acknowledgment. "What do you want for dinner? I'm ordering out tonight." When Sherlock didn't answer, John hesitantly went to the bathroom himself. Sherlock's head snapped around when he entered, hands elbow deep in the head. John shuddered, though he didn't know why. He was used to sights like these by now. Maybe it was because of Sherlock's eyes, glowing with interest in his experiment. They were beautiful whenever Sherlock was interested, as John had gathered over time. He could never resist staring at them when this happened, hoping the man wouldn't notice. But John shook his head. It was because of the head, of course it was.

Of course it was.

~

The next day, John accompanied Sherlock to Bart's, as he was off from work that day. When they got there, the two found Molly reading a pink note attached to a small, red, heart-shaped box. She shoved it into a drawer as soon as she noticed Sherlock and John.

"G- good morning," she said stiffly, smiling awkwardly. Molly Hooper apparently wasn't very good at keeping secrets. But Sherlock said nothing, only moved away to play with some chemicals he had just found. John sat at the desk, the one that Molly had so ungracefully shoved the box into.

"So... who gave you chocolates? Valentine's Day present, I suppose." John said carefully.

"That's none of your business," Molly snapped back. John raised his eyebrows, and Molly gasped at how rude that had sounded. "I- I'm sorry, John." John shook his head.

"No, it's fine, really. I won't pry if you don't want anyone to know. I won't tell..." John nodded to Sherlock. "And I'm not sure he'll remember." Molly smiled gratefully.

"Happy Valentine's Day, John," she said. "Are you and Sarah doing anything special?"

"It's that day already?" John thought aloud. He knew full well that he and Sarah weren't doing anything special tonight, as they were really only friends now, but even so he nodded and made the necessary conversation to take the topic away from the previous subject that had made Molly so uncomfortable.

Seemingly unimportant, the box was never given a second thought by neither John nor Sherlock (the latter had, as John predicted, erased the event from his 'mind palace'), and Molly sighed in relief when they were gone.

"Well, that was dangerous," said a quiet voice from behind Molly. She gasped and spun around.

"Jim! How many times must I tell you not to sneak up on me like that!"

"But, my dear, your surprised face is so very attractive," Jim Moriarty whispered and moved forward, pinning Molly against the desk, his arms on either side of her. He stared directly into her eyes. She blushed and looked away.

"You shouldn't be here, Jim. What if someone comes in and sees you? You'll be done for!" Molly cried.

"I appreciate the sentiment, love, but you were the one that was caught with my Valentine's Day gift because of your carelessness. If those two idiots had realized who you got it from, we would both be 'done for'." Molly bit her lip in worry, but Jim just laughed. "Don't be silly. If we got caught, it definitely wouldn't be your fault. You're the sensible half of this."