Sherlock had in fact, asked me to marry him while we were having tea. I had not been in a relationship for quite some time and Sherlock was as single as ever. I was on my laptop, updating the blog when Sherlock popped the question.
You see, this would have been perfectly normal if we had been dating for some time, which we haven't. As far as I was aware, my feelings for the man were unrequited. Sherlock had never come out to me officially, but never once in all 7 years of knowing him had he dated a woman (besides Janine, but no affection was true.) so I assumed that he was gay, or some variation of.
I chocked a little in my tea, burning my mouth, before turning to my curly haired friend.
"Sherlock, you can't just ask me to marry you."
"Why not John? You and I have known each other for a deal of time, I've had strong feelings for you since we met, as have you. Only recently I have realised what we could be." I shook my head a little, smiling.
"You can't just propose. Do you have a ring?" With a flick of an eye brow, he produced a ring from the breast pocket of his blazer and flicked it over to me. I caught it and admired the silver band. "Fine," I sighed, picking up my tea "but you have to date the person first. You have to see if you want to be with them." And with that, Sherlock changed the question to 'I'd like it very much if you would be my boyfriend, John.' To which I said yes. I then went back to my tea and blogging, while Sherlock stood up to get a biscuit.
For the next 6 months, Sherlock would pop the question at least twice a week. In truth, it wasn't much different to us being friends; except he would get sudden urges of affection. Sherlock would wrap his gangly arms round me (usually when I was cooking or washing up) and rest his head on my shoulder. There wasn't a better feeling in the world, even though the position was probably uncomfortable for Sherlock.
I finally said yes on the 20th of April 2017, after we had dated for 6 months. Sherlock had made a bigger deal of this proposal, putting on that bloody tight purple shirt and trying (but failing) to make risotto. He'd almost cleared the kitchen table of experiments, except for an eye, and put a red candle in the centre. There were rather impressive folded napkins shaped like swans on the table, next to plates of ruddy risotto. After smiling down a plate of the main, Sherlock proposed.
Unlike before, he had a genuine smile on his face. In that moment, I realised how much I loved that man. He asked very simply. "John, you make my thoughts and feelings make sense. I cannot stand them sometimes, but your love has helped me. Saved me."
"Yes, Sherlock." And he met my lips before we went to bed, leaving the candle burning on the table.
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We are getting married tomorrow, 8 years to the date of meeting. We'd prepared everything months ago. It turns out Sherlock had a lot more money than expected, he certainly didn't need a flat mate. The general theme of the wedding was blue, a soft duck egg colour. The bridesmaids (Molly, Janine and April, a girl from the surgery whom had come for tea many times) wore soft pretty dresses that came slightly below the knee with pearls boardering the sleeveless dresses.
Sherlock and I are wearing matching tuxedos, with light blue ties and white roses in our breast pockets. Mike is to be the ring bearer and Greg the best man. It only seems fair for Mike to be the ring bearer; have brought us together after all.
"John," Sherlock calls from the living room. "Please come here." Please. He started to say please. I pad into the living room, smiling at my fiancé who is draped across his seat, feet dangling over the arm.
"John," he says again. "Are you scared?" I furrow my brow.
"No," I say, taking my seat. "Nervous. But not scared." Sherlock nods and steeples his fingers, resting them under his chin.
