Alrighty, this is it, the LAST chapter! But, I'm working on another multi-chapter that will take place at the end of chapter 4 :D Sooo, thanks for reading!

Flynn was anxious to get home. He'd spent nearly a month planning what he wanted to do for Sharon for this Valentines Day. Sharon had been asking him for days what he had been so secretive about, like a kid at Christmas begging their parents to tell them what their presents were. Out of desperation to keeps his plans safe, he had hidden the picnic basket and food that he had bought at Provenza's apartment, clearly marking the food with post-it notes that contained threats of torture and death if anything went missing.

Glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder at the office, he could see Sharon sat at her desk, her head bent over the file she was reading. He hoped that it wouldn't be so important that she had to stay later than she had promised. That morning, he had made Sharon swear that she would be home by 5pm at the latest, even if the rest of the team still had work to do, their latest case was closed so any remaining tasks could be delegated to the members of the team who didn't have plans, namely Provenza and Sanchez.

He smiled as he thought about his plans again. It hadn't taken him long to persuade his friend Jonathon to allow him to use the private section of beach that ran along that back of John's property. She had told him once how much she loved the beach, especially at night. He couldn't wait to see Sharon's face when she saw the wooden deck at the back of the house lit with fairly lights and candles.

Flynn checked the watch on his wrist and smiled; it was almost 5pm. He heard the office door open behind him, closely followed by the familiar rustling of her trench coat as she slid into it. He bit back a smile as she walked back his desk to where Provenza was standing; she was leaving earlier than planned. He didn't need to hear the conversation to know that she was leaving him instructions for while she was gone.

He was slightly surprised when she caught his gaze and smirked before leaving the murder room. She had taken to being more professional than normal when they were at work, rarely smiling fully at him, doing everything she could to alleviate any claims of favouritism towards him by the rest of the squad; instead she saved it for when they were away from the prying eyes of her superiors who had been keeping close tabs on her performance since she had taken over the role as head of Major Crimes.

Flynn sighed heavily and went back to writing his report; the quicker he finished it, the quicker he could leave and take Sharon to the beach.

"What're you huffing for?" Provenza asked from the other side of the room.

Flynn looked up in surprise; he hadn't been that loud, had he? "Nothing," he replied vaguely, even though he knew that his old friend wasn't going to believe him.

As he expected, he heard Provenza snort, "Bullshit," he wasn't expecting the older man to stride over and whip the report off his desk. "Get going, you can do this in the morning."

Flynn knew he should at least protest, but Provenza was already giving him the 'don't make me make this an order' glare. He nodded half-heartedly and collected his jacket from the back of his chair before making his way towards the exit, barely stopping long enough in his badly contained excitement to wave a hand at Provenza.

The parking garage was dark and his footsteps echoed wildly as he walked to his car, mentally calculating how long it would take him to get to Provenza's apartment to collect to supplies and comparing it to how long it would take Sharon to get home and change.

As he went to throw his jacket onto the passenger seat, he was surprised to see a white envelope already there. He picked it up and went to get in the drivers seat, where he flicked on the overhead light and examined the envelope. He was sure he hadn't left it there that morning, and the car had been locked.

It wasn't until he saw the neat, flowing script on the front that his worries faded; he'd recognise that hand anywhere.

"I thought it was my turn to surprise you this year"

Flynn ripped open the envelope and was sure he had a minor stroke when he pulled out the contents; a shiny photograph of a deep red corset with matching panties and heels, that he thought would be impossible to walk in, laid out on his bed.

Suddenly his plans paled in comparison.