tartanfics

Title: Valentine’s Day at 221B Baker Street
Fandom/Ships: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock/John
Word Count: 365 words. It’s a year’s worth of a ficlet--one word a day!
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Only borrowing, more’s the pity
Warnings: None
Notes: I wanted to write something for Valentine’s Day. So I wrote this. On my phone. While at work. I consider it part of the same universe as my camping fic, which I should be posting soon.

Harry is only teasing when she asks. "What are you and Sherlock doing for Valentine’s Day?"

"Is it February already?" John asks, honestly surprised.

He can’t see Harry’s face over the phone, of course, but he can imagine it. She snorts in amusement. "You two really aren’t much for dates, are you?"

"We’ve been busy lately. Cases. As Sherlock says, the police are being less competent than usual."

"You quote him even when he’s being an idiot, you should buy him one of those giant fluffy pink teddy bears."

John chooses not to answer that. "We’re just not interested in Valentine’s, Harry. Its not our thing."

"What is your thing? Getting shot at and blown up together?"

The sad thing is, that sort of is their thing. "I imagine we’ll just go out for Chinese, what we always do. You have met Sherlock, you know he’d never do something like Valentine’s."

John is right, of course. He doesn't mind--far from it. He knows who Sherlock is, and he knows what kind of relationship they have. Oh, he’s done romance, bought flowers and chocolates for various past girlfriends. He had even enjoyed it, had given girls gifts not out of a sense of duty but because he was a bit of a romantic himself, because he had wanted romance.

He never could have predicted how drastically he would change his mind about what he wants.

-

He wakes up on February 14th with Sherlock's limbs pinning him to the bed. Sherlock's head is tucked into his neck and John has a mouthful of Sherlock's hair. He reaches up to pick hair off his tongue, and nudges Sherlock.

"John?"

“Yes?”

“Did I forget to put away the toes last night?”

“Sherlock!”

“It’s your job to remind me, John.”

“It isn't. Your experiment, you clean up the mess. I will not be responsible to Mrs. Hudson when she complains about the smell of decomposing human appendages.”

Valentine’s Day at 221B Baker Street starts like any other day--Sherlock wrapped around John, talk of rotting body parts, minor threats.... This normalcy is a much better Valentine’s gift than any fluffy pink teddy bear.