So I started writing this on Valentine's Day, funnily enough, meaning it's taken me almost exactly two months to write this. Although it's felt like longer. I'm just glad it's finally finished, to be honest.

It feels like a while since I published any shameless Johnlock fluff, or equally shameless Johnlock smut, so yay. I'm back in my comfort zone.

Anyway, reviews would be nice so please throw some at me.

And obviously I don't own Sherlock or John or the concept of Valentine's Day or anything like that.

Obligatory Romantic Gesture Day

John knew that Sherlock didn't believe in Valentine's Day. Their first ever Valentine's Day as a couple was spent in the flat, after solving a particularly grisly double murder case, Sherlock explaining in detail over a cup of tea exactly why he didn't care for this romantic occasion.

"It's complete nonsense, John. Valentine's Day was just created by greetings card companies as a way of bleeding money out of us all, forcing us out of guilt and obligation to buy pointless and overpriced rubbish covered in love hearts that nobody really needs, because apparently it's romantic. Surely if you're in a loving relationship you don't need one designated day a year in which to show it, and if you're not in a relationship then the whole day is just a cruel taunt about your own inadequacies. And you wouldn't believe the amount of Valentine's related crimes I've solved over the years. The double murder this afternoon barely covers it. I swear, this wretched day is worse than Christmas."

"So does that mean I shouldn't expect any roses and chocolates from you then, Sherlock?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

That had been three years ago, but a rather annoying part of John's brain still wouldn't give up hope that Sherlock would give in to the Valentine's pressure and do something romantic. Of course, Sherlock's idea of a romantic gesture wasn't quite the same as a normal person's – in his mind, lifting up the police tape at a crime scene for John was probably the equivalent of pulling a chair out for him at a swanky restaurant – so John certainly wasn't expecting the roses and chocolates and candle lit dinner that every other couple enjoyed this time of year. But still, getting something this time around would be nice. If completely out of character as far of Sherlock was concerned.

John woke up alone in his bed on the morning of the 14th, and once his eyes adjusted to the sunlight the first thing he noticed – besides the fact that Sherlock wasn't there for some reason – was the large red envelope on the bedside table with his name written on it. Still half asleep, John sat up and picked up the envelope, opening it with a yawn. He was surprised to find inside it a Valentine's card, the most Valentine-y Valentine's card he had ever seen, covered in pink and red hearts and the words To Someone Special written across it in glitter. But instead of some cheesy poem inside, John found Sherlock's untidy handwriting.

Dear John,

Happy Obligatory Romantic Gesture Day!

You know I don't believe in this ridiculous occasion, but I see the disappointment in your eyes every time I don't do anything romantic. So consider today to be three years worth of obligatory romantic gestures.

Because I love you and I want you to be happy.

Sherlock xxx

John couldn't help but laugh. Obligatory Romantic Gesture Day had a surprisingly nice ring to it. He placed his first ever Valentine's card from Sherlock to stand on the bedside table and got up to get ready for work.

When John came downstairs for breakfast he was met with another surprise. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, and the table was beautifully laid out. There was a delicious cooked breakfast plated up, a hot mug of tea, and a red rose in a vase with another large red envelope propped up against it. It actually looked as if Sherlock had tidied the living room up a bit as well. John sat at the table with a smile, taking a sip of his perfectly made cuppa before he opened the second red envelope. Inside was yet another nauseatingly sweet Valentine's card – this time with a picture of two chubby little cherubs holding hands – with another message from Sherlock inside.

Dear John,

I'm going to be at Scotland Yard for most of the day (dull paperwork that Lestrade is insisting on) but the obligatory romantic gestures shall continue. Enjoy your breakfast, and I'll see you this evening.

And in case you were wondering, I am still very much in love with you.

Sherlock xxx

It was all strangely sweet, John thought to himself as he set down his second card and tucked into his breakfast. He was surprised Sherlock even knew how to be so romantic, but then John supposed it was all just observation. Either way, he certainly wasn't complaining, although it would have been better if Sherlock could have actually been there in person.

John turned up to work exactly on time, not even rolling his eyes at all the gaudy Valentine's decorations in the surgery waiting room – which, much like the Christmas decorations, didn't so much cheer the place up as serve to highlight exactly how gloomy the waiting room really was just by comparison – as he was in too much of a good mood for anything to irritate him. And that good mood was only going to continue.

The sight that met John in his office made him actually laugh out loud. Covering his desk were three large bouquets of red roses, three huge boxes of expensive looking chocolate, three teddy bears the size of toddles holding plush red love hearts, three helium balloons shaped like red hearts floating by the ceiling, and yet another big red envelope.

"It all arrived about twenty minutes before you got here," said Sarah, coming up behind him. "The delivery man just said it was from a secret admirer."

"It's all from Sherlock," chuckled John as he sat down in what used to be his office but what now resembled the display window of a greetings card shop.

"Sherlock?" Sarah scoffed, picking up one of the teddy bears. "Really?"

"I'm just as surprised as you are," said John, moving one of the chocolate boxes out of the way so he could get to his paper work. "He doesn't normally do anything for Valentine's Day. Says it's a pointless occasion for people who want to be romantic but don't have an imagination. But this is our third Valentine's together as a couple so he's making up for all the neglect. That's why there's three of everything."

"I honestly can't imagine Sherlock being even a little bit romantic," said Sarah, tossing the teddy back to John. "At least not in the traditional sense."

"I know," said John. "I'd have been less surprised if he'd given me an actual human heart in a gift wrapped box or something."

Sarah laughed, cringing at the idea. "Thank goodness he didn't, that wouldn't exactly be sanitary in a doctor's surgery. Anyway, if you're feeling generous with all those chocolates feel free to pass them round to the rest of us."

Once Sarah had gone, John had just enough time before his first patient to clear all his gifts out of the way and open his latest big red envelope. Inside was a card with a picture of cupid firing a heart shaped arrow on the front, and yet another untidy handwritten message from Sherlock inside it.

Dear John,

Hope you enjoy the three years worth of clichéd Valentine's gifts.

I suppose having them delivered to your office may cause some inconvenience while you're trying to work, but obligatory romantic gestures need an audience of some kind. I'm just following the unwritten rules of this so-called 'special occasion'.

And I'm doing it all because I love you.

Sherlock xxx

John struggled to keep the smile off his face as he saw to his patients that day, although all professionalism was out of the window whenever one of his (usually female) patients asked about the roses, teddy bears and balloons in the corner of the room. It was surprisingly satisfying to be able to tell complete strangers that his boyfriend had sent them all to him, not to mention the rest of the staff who were in and out of his office all day, helping themselves to his chocolates. Sherlock had been right – romantic gestures, however completely clichéd they were, really did feel better with an audience.

Sarah had to help John carry all his gifts out of the building and into waiting black cab when the end of the day came, and when he finally got back to Baker Street he decided to just leave it all at the bottom of the stairs before making his way up to the flat. He was desperate to see Sherlock. It had been all day, and what with all the gifts and romantic gestures John hoped that Sherlock was prepared to be jumped on.

The living room was lit with candles, and John was even happier to see that the table was set for two. There were more fresh roses in a vase in the centre of the table, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and John's favourite Chinese takeaway plated up and waiting for them. He was expecting yet another big red envelope, but instead there was music. There was a beautiful, swooping composition coming from behind him, and as John turned he was met with the wonderful sight of Sherlock in his best suit, playing his violin.

Once Sherlock had finished playing the beautiful, melodious piece, he stood in front of John with a small smile.

"You composed a song for me?" John said, the butterflies in his stomach making him blush.

"Actually, I've unconsciously composed many songs for you," said Sherlock with a little shrug. "This one was just on purpose."

John chuckled, before he rushed into Sherlock's arms and gave him a long, lingering kiss. They were both slightly breathless when they finally separated.

"I've been dying to do that all day," said John, happily. "I'd love to just skip the dinner and go straight upstairs, but I'm actually starving, so..."

"Also that's quite an expensive bottle of champagne," Sherlock added. "It would be a shame to waste it."

"Exactly."

They separated and sat down to their dinner, Sherlock pulling John's chair out for him and everything. Sherlock even ate without John having to nag him first, although he still ate considerably less than John did. After polishing off half the bottle of champagne they were both pleasantly tipsy, shamelessly flirting with each other until Sherlock finally led John upstairs by the hand. John couldn't help but giggle at the sight that met him in their bedroom.

The whole room was lit with candles. There were rose petals everywhere, scattered across the floor and made into the shape of a heart on top of the bed sheets. And right in the middle of that heart of rose petals was one last big red envelope. Sherlock Holmes really didn't do anything by halves.

"I can't believe you did all this, Sherlock," said John, grinning like an idiot as he went to pick up the envelope.

Sherlock shrugged, once again acting like it was no big deal. "I only did it because you wanted me to."

"I never said I wanted you to."

"You didn't have to say it."

John smiled even wider and opened the big red envelope. Instead of yet another Valentine's card, there was a letter in Sherlock's wonderfully messy handwriting. John sat down on the edge of the bed and began to read.

Dear John,

While researching appropriate Valentine's gifts I stumbled across the tradition of love letters and, as obligatory romantic gestures go, this seemed to me to be considerable more meaningful and heartfelt than all the roses, chocolates and tacky greetings cards that I've already given you.

I've never actually told you out loud exactly why I love you, although I suppose this doesn't really count as 'out loud'. But now seems like as good a time as any to explain myself.

I love the way you worry about me.

I love lying in bed in the early morning and watching you beside me, sound asleep and so peaceful. And I love the way you say it's creepy when you catch me watching you sleep, even though you never actually tell me to stop.

I love the way you giggle, even though you say we shouldn't giggle at crime scenes.

I love the way you always feel warm, even when the heating's gone.

I love the way you smile at me when I make a particularly amazing deduction. And the way you sigh and roll your eyes when one of my deductions is apparently inappropriate or offensive.

I love the feel of your heartbeat when I lay my head against your chest.

I love how you always make sure I eat something, even when I'm in the middle of a case and you know digestion slows me down.

I love that, even though you find me impossible and insufferable most of the time, unlike everyone else you've never tried to change me and make me normal and ordinary.

I love the way you kiss me good morning and goodnight every single day.

And most of all, I love the way you make me actually want to do all of this romantic Valentine's stuff. You make me want to do anything and everything just to make you smile.

That's why I've never been fond of this ridiculous occasion, because I don't want to have to spend just one day a year showing you how perfect and special and extraordinary you are. I want to do that every single day that we're together, for as long as you'll put up with me.

I love you, John Watson, forever and always.

Sherlock xxx

John had a lump in his throat once he finished the letter. He looked up and found Sherlock still standing there, watching him closely, observing his reaction.

"Sherlock, this is beautiful," said John, his smile now a little watery.

Sherlock didn't look convinced. "Really?"

"Yes, really," John laughed, standing again and hugging Sherlock tightly. "This letter is amazing. It's the best gift you've given me today."

Sherlock took a second before he hugged John back. Even after all this time, a hug that he hadn't himself initiated always took him by surprise.

"Better than all the cards?" Sherlock asked, holding John close. "And the roses, and the chocolates, and those ghastly stuffed animals...?"

"Yes!" John laughed into Sherlock's chest. "I love this letter better anything else you could have given me."

John looked up and kissed Sherlock on the lips, gently and sweetly, smiling into it as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Does that mean I have to do all this again next year?" Sherlock asked once they separated, the slightest touch of anxiety in his voice that someone other than John would have missed.

John stroked his lover's cheek and shook his head. "You don't have to do all the roses and gifts and the cheesy stuff like that. I mean, it was great and everything, but I don't need it. Just write me a letter."

Sherlock smiled, one of those wide, genuine smiles that made him look almost human, and wiped the tears off John's face. "I think I can manage that."

John pulled Sherlock into another kiss, the letter falling out of his hand as their kissing became a bit less sweet and romantic and a bit more passionate and urgent. The rose petals were pushed off the bed as John pulled Sherlock on top of him, their clothes being thrown haphazardly around the bedroom floor as they kissed each other desperately.

Once they were both completely naked, already sweaty as they rutted against each other, Sherlock kissed his way down John's body, knowing from instinct and experience exactly where to kiss and nibble to make John completely incoherent with pleasure. John's moan was loud and needy once Sherlock finally reached his aching cock, taking it in his hand and running his tongue lightly up and down the shaft. Sherlock stroked his lover slowly, sucking on his crown and lapping at the drops of pre-come. John knew Sherlock could happily tease him like this for hours – there had been many occasions in the past when Sherlock had done just that, occasions that had driven John close to madness and he wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry – but John really wasn't in the mood for teasing right now. Not after all the gifts and the romance and that surprisingly beautiful letter.

"Sherlock," John groaned dangerously. "Don't you dare... don't you dare tease me!"

Sherlock just chuckled, still slowly stroking him. "Why not?"

John sat up on his elbows, trying to glare even though Sherlock's hand around his cock felt so good. "Sherlock, I haven't seen you... all day... please, just... just..."

"As eloquent as ever," said Sherlock, chuckling even harder. "But I get the gist. I'll show some mercy."

With a final smirk, Sherlock sank his mouth down on John's hard on, taking the impressive length all the way down until his nose was pressed again John's pubic hair. John let out a long, low growl of pleasure as Sherlock relaxed his throat and bobbed his head quickly up and down, swirling his head around the beautiful, leaking cock filling his mouth. John tangled his fingers in Sherlock hair, thrusting up into the hot, wet perfection and revelling in Sherlock's apparent lack of a gag reflex. He had to bite his fist to stop from immediately coming down Sherlock's throat when he looked down to see Sherlock's beautiful lips stretched around him, those piercing eyes that he'd been thinking about all day staring up at him as his cock disappeared effortlessly in and out of that glorious mouth. And then, quite abruptly, it was over.

"What – why are you st-stopping?" John stammered breathlessly.

Sherlock smirked, crawling onto John so he was straddling his hips. "You're close, but I'm not done with you yet."

He reached over to the candle-covered bedside table, rooting around in the draw until he found a half full bottle of lube. John regained his composer immediately, taking the bottle from Sherlock and flipping them over so he was between Sherlock's legs. He slicked his fingers up with a generous amount of lube, making Sherlock shiver as he smeared some of the cool liquid over his hole. Sherlock gasped, a mixture of pleasure and surprise, once John pushed two fingers inside him, all the way up to the knuckle, and the detective's whole body began to shudder as those fingers were thrust in and out, curling just right to stroke wonderfully against his prostate until he was seeing stars.

In what felt like no time at all, John was covering his cock in more lube, Sherlock spreading his legs wider in anticipation. They both groaned as John finally pushed himself into Sherlock's opening all the way to the hilt in one swift movement, the tight heat absolute perfection. They moved slowly at first, kissing sensually, running their hands over every inch of hot, sweaty skin they could touch. Sherlock wrapped his legs around John, meeting ever thrust, squeezing his walls around the beautiful cock filling him up so perfectly as his own arousal was leaked pre-come between their stomachs.

All too soon their movements became desperate and erratic. John sat up, hooking his hand around Sherlock's thighs to spread him wider and slam into him even deeper. Their moans grew louder, the bed creaked under them and banged against the wall, probably noisy enough to be heard several houses down, but they honestly didn't care. Sherlock clung onto the headboard until his knuckles turned white, crying out John's name in between a string of barely coherent expletives, while John was so close to his climax that he could hardly get any words out at all. He wrapped his hand around Sherlock's dripping cock, pumping him fast, desperate for he and Sherlock to come at the same time. And he got his wish. Only seconds apart their orgasms crashed over them like a tidal wave, Sherlock screaming out John's name, John's own cry of pleasure muffled against Sherlock neck, both of them riding it out messily until they were both completely spent.

They collapsed in a breathless heap on top the bed sheets, a few stray rose petals sticking to their sweaty skin. It was a while before either of them had the energy to clean themselves up and move under the covers, and even longer before either had the energy to speak. Eventually John broke the silence.

"This has, by far, been the best Valentine's Day I have ever had. Thank you, love."

Sherlock smiled drowsily, resting his head on John's chest. "You're welcome."

"Although we should probably blow all these candles out before we burn the flat down."

"Later," Sherlock said with a sleepy chuckle, sighing as John held him closer. "So I definitely don't have to do all this next year, right?"

"No," said John, smiling. "I can live without the cards and the chocolates. And all the roses. And I can definitely live without the teddy bears and balloons. Not the love letter though. I can't live without that. I'll certainly be needing another one of those next year."

"Glad you liked it," said Sherlock, barely able to keep his eyes open. He had been a while since he'd actually slept, so his body was really fighting to stay awake after the evening's energetic sex.

"I loved it," said John, kissing the top of Sherlock's head. "And I love you."

"Love you too," Sherlock's whispered. "Happy Valentine's Day, John."

"Happy Obligatory Romantic Gesture Day to you too, Sherlock."

Hope you enjoyed, Humble Readers.

If you did, tell in review format.

xxx