You laid your head on Sherlock's shoulder gently swaying to the music while enjoying his company. Lately you had been quite sad considering you just finished visiting your mother which had left you quite homesick. So you decided what better to do than slow dance with Sherlock.
It's not that you were in love with Sherlock or anything. After all Sherlock was right, love was a disadvantage and would only lead to more problems. You two weren't in love you just had... interest in each other, or something of that sort. Whatever it was you two enjoyed the company on one another.
"Sherlock," you whispered into his ear. He hummed a response, urging you to continue. "Thank you... I really appreciate you being here."
You felt him smile before he replied, "Anything for you, Y/N. Besides you'll get over this soon enough," Sherlock reassured before lightly pecking you on your lips.
"Thanks," you told him, unwrapping your arms from around him. "I think I'm going to go read in my room, if that's okay."
"Of course it is." Sherlock watched as you walked away to the bedroom, completely infatuated with you. "Love is a disadvantage," he reminded himself, solemnly walking over to his chair.
Plopping down he surveyed the room, noting that it seemed so much emptier with only your body missing. Out of sheer boredom he entered his mind palace and reorganized somethings before thoughts turned to you. "Wait a second... do I love her?" Sherlock asked himself but immediately shoved it off as he got up to join you in the bedroom.
You were reading a book like you had said you were going to when Sherlock climbed in next to you, admiring your studious face. "What are you staring at?" you finally asked.
"Well you, of course," Sherlock said obviously.
"Now why on Earth would you be doing that?"
Sherlock thought for a moment, not quite sure himself. "I have no idea."
You rolled your eyes and returned to the book you were reading, ignoring Sherlock who disappeared in his thoughts again. Soon enough he was reevaluating his feelings for you and quickly came to face the hard reality. Maybe he was in love... would it be that far-fetched of an idea?
Yet again he turned to you, he was going to tell you he loved you. He had to, could he go another minute without you knowing? "Y/N?" Sherlock nervously called.
"Yes Sherlock?" you returned, closing your book and looking into his eyes.
He took a deep breath, not quite sure where to start. "I, uh... I might have developed some... feelings... that we had previously put off limits and called a disadvantage. After thinking about you and your... your everything really, I've decided that it's the only logical thing to conclude."
"Nothing about love is logical Sherlock," you told him, opening your book back up.
"That's the point Y/N," he retorted closing the book again. "I'm in love with you and it's completely illogical. It's hopelessly irrational, considerably foolish, and positively unreasonable."
You looked at him again and saw that what he was proclaiming what indeed the truth. Your eyes moved away from his not wanting to have him look at you. "I uh... I don't know Sher. We talked about this, we drew the conclusion that it wasn't right for us."
"But the best part of the scientific method is to draw new conclusions when facts and data are presented to us. In the case of love, however, feelings have quickly changed my few."
"Not only is there nothing scientific about love but... feelings have no place in science."
Sherlock sighed, knowing this was going to be a long drawn out conversation. "This isn't science, this is love, and this is human emotion."
"It's never really been my area," you admitted looking back at him. "I wouldn't know where to begin."
"Let me show you," he urged, slowly moving his face towards yours and interlocking lips.
Shamefully you pulled away and Sherlock saw you quickly enter your own mind palace. Finally you rejoined the rest if the world and turned to Sherlock again. "... I think I love you too... That terrifies me."
He smiled up at you and your goofy proclamation. "It's supposed to. Why don't let we do a little experimenting with this then, shall we?"
You angrily threw your bag off your shoulder before plopping onto the couch, ready to forget about your day. The flat was eerily quiet which made you look around to see it quite dim, the only light a small candle on the dining room table. "Sherlock?" you called hoping it wasn't some twisted burglar.
He slowly walked out of the hallway wearing an expensive tux with a flower in his hand. "I see you're in a... cheery mood," Sherlock said, awkwardly before handing you the flower.
"Just a tough day at work," you admitted, taking the flower.
"I bet those bacteria keep you busy."
You rolled your eyes, "They're Deinococcaceae," you corrected. "Anyway what's this?"
Sherlock spun around directing you to the nicely set table, pulling out your chair, and gesturing you to sit down. "One of our romance experiments. The last one didn't work out too well so I figured why not try again?"
"By 'didn't work out too well' do you mean ending the night in a Scotland Yard jail cell wasn't your plan?" He sat down across from you before pouring you some wine before looking at you expectantly. "Well... what do you want to talk about?"
Sherlock looked around the room, not quite sure himself. "... The flat looks clean." You followed his lead and glanced as well before awkwardly agreeing. "Have, uh, you been... cleaning it?"
"Yeah... Yeah I have..."
"Right... so... what else do you... clean?" he asked, quickly coming up with conversation even if it was dreadful conversation.
"Typically I clean the bathroom... and the bedroom, the kitchen, the dining room. My flat mate isn't one for tidiness."
He breathed in uncomfortably before looking down at the food he had haphazardly prepared. His mind raced for a more normal date discussion but came up blank. Sherlock looked up and saw you had quickly finished your food. "Was it good?"
You nodded your head before scooting your chair back. "It was lovely actually. My date was a little awkward but what can ya do," you told him, pecking his cheek. "I think I'm going to read in the bedroom, feel free to join me."
"It was that awkward?"
"It was more than awkward Sherlock. Your dating game is quite weak."
"Mycroft I need your help," Sherlock pleaded with his brother over the phone. "I really love her and I could use your advice." He was met with complete silence as he had been for the past four minutes or so as Mycroft tried to process this information. "Mycroft?"
Back at his office, Mycroft stared off in a corner still not quite comprehending the fact that Sherlock was in love. "Wait, sorry. What was that?"
On the other end, Sherlock let out an audible groan. "Keep up, old man."
"Just repeat what you said, is all I ask, brother mine."
He took a deep breath and fought the urge to slam down the phone. "So, women... I have one who I... developed sentiment for. Now we're together and I need your help."
"Why of course I'll help you. The Ice-Man has plenty of experience in that area," Mycroft replied sarcastically. "What do you require of me anyway?"
"Honestly I don't know how you could help with anything... So Y/N, that's the woman I speak of, and me are trying to do something romantic. I want to do something big and show her how much I care for her."
Mycroft remained silent on the other end his mind working particularly slow today. "Wait, sorry. You have a girlfriend?"
"What do you think I've been going on about?"
"I don't know... a hamster maybe."
Sherlock scoffed before retorting, "Yes Mycroft I've fallen in love with my pet hamster and I've called you to discuss it."
"With you, I don't know anymore..."
You returned home from work ready to fall into Sherlock's arms like you did every day after work. The flat seemed quiet as you walked up the stairs wondering if maybe Sherlock was attempting to get some sleep. You turned your key and walked into your dimly lit flat. "Not another romantic idea..." you groaned to yourself.
But sure enough there sat Sherlock in your living room on a picnic blanket along with food, Champaign, and your favorite book. "Welcome home darling. Care to join me?"
"Not particularly but I'm not quite sure if I have a choice," you admitted sitting on the blanket next to him. You looked through the basket at the assorted food. Thankfully everything in there looked quite good so if this didn't pan out right at least dinner would be nice.
"Y/N I really want to do more romantic things with you."
"Sherlock, we've been over this. It never turns out well."
"How could Champaign, dinner, and books turn out bad?" Sherlock asked.
Your mind raced before you came up with 24... 25... 26 possible ways this could end in a visit to the police station, 13 ways with a trip to the hospital, and 3 ways with a trip to the funeral home. "Trust me, we're not going to die," Sherlock assured after you shared your data. "But if you're so concerned just let me say this and we'll be done."
"Alright, shoot."
Sherlock held up one of your books, Anna Karenina to be exact. "So I've been doing some reading that you've enjoyed and I've highlighted some of my favorite quotes." Sherlock flipped through the pages until he came to a bookmarked one and stopped. "It's hard to love a woman and do anything," he quoted. "This quote really couldn't be more accurate Y/N. I've tried doing everything for you but I just can't seem to get it right. I'm trying to do nothing and it so far has been the best option because honestly Y/N I can't do anything when I'm around you. I get nervous, I get clumsy, and I get foolish."
"Awh Sherlock-" you began before he flipped to another page, cutting you off.
"He was afraid of defiling the love with filled his soul," Sherlock quoted again. "Everything about you, everything about us, it fills my mind it consumes my soul. I can't escape Y/N and I don't want to try. But what's on my mind more than our love is the fear of losing you and ruining us. Y/N I love you so much and... when I do something wrong please, please remember I probably am doing something rash out of fear."
Sherlock began flipping to another page but you leaned over and closed the book before kissing him lightly. "Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget..." you quoted back at him, making him smile a genuine smile. "Now, Sherlock I'm exhausted. Come join me in bed," you invited with Sherlock right behind you.
"Sherlock we have to leave any minute now. The best man really can't afford to be late," you shouted down the Baker Street hallway, still tightening your earring back. "The cab's been outside for ten minutes."
You heard a frustrated trudging from his bedroom similar to an oncoming storm as he shoved open his doorway. "Winsor knot or Pratt knot? Why did they leave me with so many options?"
"What else did you want them to do? They picked out your tie, they picked out your color, and they even picked out the time the cab was going to pick us up. Which was ten minutes ago if I have to remind you."
Sherlock pulled the tie off of his neck and crumpled it up in his pocket. "Let's go," he muttered.
You stopped and looked at him. "Sherlock are you okay? Do you want to talk-"
"No," he said, storming out of the flat and climbing into the cab.
The wedding eventually began and ended like most weddings typically do. "That was beautiful," Mrs. Hudson mumbled afterward, wiping budding tears from her eyes. Sherlock stood next to you, hand around your waist, while you all waited for the reception to officially start.
Sherlock gave his speech, played his song, and solved his murder before everything returned to regular wedding fashion. The music picked up before slowing down and Sherlock pulled you out onto the dance floor. "I didn't know you were the dancing type, Mr. Holmes," you admitted, happily obliging to his dance invitation.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," he cheekily returned.
He gently raised his hand to place peacefully on your waist as the music enticed you both. His feet working perfectly in time with yours following unceremoniously. "This really was a beautiful day. When we get married I think I'd rather have it be a small occasion," you spoke.
"I think we both have significantly less friends than John and Mary, so I don't think it'll be a problem," Sherlock said. "I'd also like to have a different color scheme. There's something about this one that makes me anxious."
"I concur."
You head laid on Sherlock's shoulder as the music continuously droned on and the pair of you were thrown in an ocean of music, gently washing over you. As it pulled you in and released you, Sherlock slid his hands down your back and unto your bottom.
"Why don't you save it for the wedding night Sherlock?"
"How much longer will that be?" he exasperated, a smile spreading across his face.
"I don't know, when are you going to get around to it? We're going to have to wait for the weather to turn a little colder. I'm already overheating in this small dress, imagine me in a wedding gown."
Sherlock leaned down close to your ear before whispering, "I already have."
John and Mary danced over to you, both trying not to get lost in the blue abyss of rhythm. "Is there an upcoming wedding I keep hearing about?" Mary asked.
"It was you two just talking about color schemes and seasons, wasn't it?"
You and Sherlock both looked up at each other. "Humph, I guess it was."
