It was 14 February and it was blistering cold. People were holding hands and kissing in doorways, flower stores filled, gift shops bustling and Sherlock felt even more like an alien amoung the commonwealth.
He’s never really understood the whole concept of St. Valentine’s Day. He understood the supposed history, but in a day and age where people could marry practically anyone they wanted, why was this one day dedicated to amour? The card manufactures, the flower salesmen, the sweet store procurers; they were the ones who really loved this day. The people just played along, and pretended they didn’t hate each other so they can feel better about their boring lives.
Under all the logic he put forth to find reasons to despise this day, the truth was, he was just bitter. Never having had someone he could call his Valentine before.
Sherlock came into the flat from checking up on a case at the Yard to find John in an alarmingly hideous jumper. Red, white and pink with hearts and cherubs on it. He was holding something behind his back as he stepped up to the detective.
“Morning.” John said cheerfully, watching Sherlock strip off his coat.
“Morning. What are you wearing?” John rolled his eyes.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Yes, I know, again, I ask, what was you wearing?”
“Sherlock, please, play along, just for a little while. Hold out your hands.” Sherlock stared at John, but when his eyes turned as red as his jumper, he reluctantly held them out.
His smile returned and placed what was behind his back into them.
When Sherlock looked down, he found a red and gold box. It was thin, and light, and smelled of chocolate, tied neatly with a sparkiling ribbon. Again, he felt so alien to all this.
“Why have I been handed this?”
“Open it. I think you’ll like them.” He started untying the ribbon and proceeded to complain.
“John, while I agree that I do enjoy sugary confections, the idea of sentim—” He stopped, having opened the box and seen what was inside. Twelve, anatomically-correct heart-shaped chocolates.
“Do you like them?”
When Sherlock didn’t speak, John continued and point to the chart on the inside of the lid.
“Some of them are filled with cherry stuff, to look like blood.” John’s smile was beaming and Sherlock couldn’t help but smile back.
“This is…amazing, John. Where did you find them?”
“A specialty store. They do all types of weird, romantic gifts. I thought they would be right up your street. And they’re a little reminder.”
Sherlock popped a cream-filled one into him mouth and asked, “Reminder of what?”
“You’ll always have my heart.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave John a kiss before taking a cherry one and putting it against his lips.
“And you mine, John.”
“Now, shouldn’t I be getting you something?” He watched John chew the sweet and swallow it down, a drop of red on his lower lip, near the corner of his mouth.
Before John could answer, Sherlock dipped down and cleaned his lips with a sloppy kiss that seemed to make John dizzy.
“Dinner,” John said, blinking back into reality, “sounds nice.”
“I’m not going out with you dressed like that.”
“Well, or course I’m not going to wear this if we go out. I’m not stupid.”
Sherlock wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders and whispered, “Dinner isn’t for quite awhile. What should we do while we wait?”
John smiled and whispered back.
“That…activity usually comes after dinner, Sherlock. At least today it would.”
“We aren’t usual people are we?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“No you aren’t.”
“You’re right.” John laughed as Sherlock scooped him up and walked him to the bedroom.
“Now, to get you out of that horrendous jumper.” He shouted, kicking the door closed with his foot.
Happy Sherlock-Meeting-John Day everyone!