Title: Marry Me a Little

Author: Rewrittengirl (or Leffie)

Fandom: Sherlock (TV series)

Wordcount: 2,198 words.

Rating: T for teen

Characters: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. And a copper. :3

Pairing(s): Shwatsonlock

Genre: Romance, fluff, marriage

Warning(s): Gay loving and shoplifting

Contains: A marriage proposal, sequined jackets, and hand holding.

Notes: So I got the idea for this little oneshot while watching Company, from the song "Marry Me a Little." I thought it would make a good fic, so there you have it. Enjoy while I try to finish up the next chapter of Written in the Stars!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes, nor any of the characters mentioned in this fic (apart from one introduced later). Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owns the characters, and the BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss own the modernized version. If I owned the BBC version, Holmes would have kissed Watson in a dark alleyway in thanks for saving his life. Episode one. :3

Summary: No one can catch Sherlock, or so John thinks. Little does he know that someone might have caught the man's heart a long time ago.

"Run, John, RUN! Haha!" Sherlock cackled.

He was running, as fast as he possibly could. It was all in great fun, even though a copper was chasing them. He wouldn't catch the uncatchable Sherlock Holmes though. No one could. And he supposed being Dr. John Watson, he was entitled to being uncatchable as well.

"Sherlock! Sherlock where are we going!" John cried, tears of laughter streaming down his face.

"Just follow me, John! Wait and see!"

The detective gripped his hand and sped up through the streets of London, the officer yelling things like "Oi! Slow down! You no good buggers! You're coming with me!" Well, they sort of deserved that. John was always following Sherlock, like a loyal dog, and Sherlock was always getting into trouble. Watson had no idea what Sherlock had nicked off the street vendor, but the officer no doubt thought he hadn't paid. Sherlock didn't. John had. He always threw a couple hundred bills down whenever Holmes got into trouble. Whether it had been enough for the trinket or not, the man didn't know.

What he did know, though, was that they were trying to loose the man who'd see both of them in jail. That was statistically unlikely, however, since every time they did get into trouble, Mycroft usually bailed them out.

But the chase was fun, and John was having the time of his life.

"This way!" Sherlock said, pulling him through an alley way. The officer still pursued them, but they would be lost in the dark soon. John almost slipped on a leftover puddle from when it rained on Sunday, but Sherlock's hand gripping his own kept his balance. He thought he saw Sherlock glance back in concern, but maybe it was just a trick of light. He never knew with the man.

"They'll never catch you, Sherlock," John whispered in admiration as they slowed their pace a bit, the place to dark to just go out running around. They were sure the cop had slowed his pace too, as they maneuvered through the dank passages. "No one can catch you!" He giggled, high on adrenaline. His face was red and his breathing labored from all the running, but he had a huge grin on his face.

Sherlock did too, though John didn't know it was for completely different reasons.

"Shhh, don't speak. Let's get out of these alleyways, shall we?" Sherlock slipped into a random door in the side of a building, just near the park. John could feel the police officer stalking them, but Watson knew his efforts were futile.

They'd just walked into a school dance.

It was his formal all over again, as he was caught up in the swirl of brightly colored dresses, polka dots, balloons, and loud music. He grinned sheepishly, coming up closer to his companion and saying, "Are you playing teenager now, Sherlock?" He giggled.

Sherlock giggled back, moving through the crowd with swift ease. "I don't think either of us look the part John. I'd rather not relive my younger years, thanks."

They both ducked slightly when they realized the officer had followed them inside.

"Haha! Sherlock we need to lose him!" he whispered close, the pair of them walking fast through the incredulous teenagers staring at them and the cop.

Sherlock nodded, and managed to pull him and John into the coat rental shop placed conveniently in the venue for any man not wearing proper attire (it seemed to be an upper class black tie event at an attempt to seem more common) with the pulse of the black light pounding out to the music.

They left the little area a few minutes later wearing matching sequined coats (though Sherlock's was purple and John's was blue) that had been deemed too tacky for the dance committee, the pair grinning at each other from ear to ear. They still held hands, not willing to let go should they lose each other in the crowd, though their coats gave off enough light to gain the attention of a satellite dish.

They noticed the copper still looking for them, but he would never notice their appropriate costume change. The pair ducked out of the building, and entered the park area, laughing their arses off.

"Oh, this is all good fun!" Sherlock exclaimed, leading John over to the gazebo set up for couples to dance and gaze at the stars.

"Everything's good fun with you, Sherlock," John grinned. They both leaned against a pillar, finally letting go of each other's hands, and took a deep breath.

"Is it? Oh, I hadn't noticed. Its an every day occurrence for me," he said sarcastically.

John laughed. "It is when you're not bored."

Sherlock scoffed, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Please, John. I haven't been bored in years."

John was confused, and leaned his head up to look at Holmes. "Yes you have! I've watched you ruin two walls and three perfectly good television sets out of boredom."

Sherlock rolled his eyes with a smirk, clicking his tongue. "That's just because I like to annoy you. You see, I'm never bored when you're around, and you're always around."

John blinked, smiling a little, his heart fluttering. He attributed it to the loud music. "Okay," he said in affirmation, looking away.

Sherlock was silent for a moment, the pair's adrenaline fading as the music blaring from the main building slowed its tempo, leading into a love song. John rolled his eyes, not caring for any of this romantic silliness, especially since he wasn't there with a girl. Just Sherlock. Though the man was girly enough with that sparkling amethyst jacket.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"We look quite dashing, don't we?" he joked, but his voice was soft.

John chuckled, crossing his arms and looking up at the stars. "Just princely."

"What a pair."

"A true dynamic duo."

"Quite."

They grinned impishly, neither looking at each other. Just at the stars.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock."

"Marry me."

John was used to never truly thinking about his answers when he and Sherlock quipped back and forth, and always played along. So it was really no surprise when he said yes.

But as any normal, typical man might do, the doctor did a double take immediately following.

"Sure- wait what?" he said, stammering back.

Sherlock rolled his head against the pillar to look at him, almost too lazy to actually pick his head up and turn it. "Marry me...?" His eyes were sincere, but he reinforced his question with a flighty hand gesture. "Just a little."

John was shocked. "Marry you? A little? How do you marry someone a little and not a lot?"

The detective shrugged. "I dunno. I doubt I'd ever be able to take it seriously, without heavy sarcasm. So a little seems best. A little at a time." He grinned. "Don't you think?"

His friend blinked. He really didn't have any words, and proceeded to lean back against the pillar and back up at the stars.

"If you want to think it over, I'll give you exactly three days to decide, but really, I'd much prefer an answer now. I even went through all that trouble nabbing this when the copper started chasing us. I'm sure I know him from the squad though. Should've recognized me... Hmm."

John was staring at the box resting casually in the detective's fingers. Sherlock wasn't even looking at it, or him, but was humming to himself as he watched a young couple dancing near them in the gazebo.

"Sherlock... Is that what I think it is?"

He looked back at John. "Of course it is. What do you think would be in it? A button? A lizard? Something small enough to fit into the capacity it offe-"

John cut him off by placing his whole hand on the man's mouth. "Sherlock, shut up. Please."

Holmes raised his eyebrow, but nodded. John removed his hand and touched the little black box with his fingertips. "Why would you want to marry me?"

Sherlock shrugged again. "You're my companion. My best friend. My only friend. I like your hair. I like the shampoo you use. I like the way you lick your lips when I talk to you. I like the way you learn quickly when I'm observing things. I like the way you make me sleep when I don't want to. I like the way you tolerate my violin playing. I like the way you risked your life for me at that pool. I like the way you got jealous when we met Irene Adler. I like the way you worry about me when I'm hurt. I like your cooking. I like your look of surprise when you find heads in the fridge and fingers in the kettle. I like the way you describe me in your blogs. I like the way it makes me think you like me back too." He smiled vaguely. "And I love you."

John nearly started to cry. He had to keep his balance on the pillar, else his legs give out on him. "Sh-Sherlock..."

Sherlock looked at him quizzically. "Yes?" He still held out that damned box.

When he saw John wasn't even going to take it, he moved to completely face him, opening the box and taking out the simple gold band and holding up John's palm. He placed it neatly in the center and smiled.

John stared down at it. The gold glimmered in the white Christmas lights lining the gazebo. It reflected their eyes, both blue, Sherlock's a light color, nearly steel gray, John's a dark azure.

The detective pulled his hands out of his pockets again, and surprisingly got down on one knee. John thought he looked strange, almost normal, and that was strange indeed for Sherlock Holmes.

He took John's free hand, and looked positively cheesy, but completely happy, his face a kind of calm and serene light that John had never seen before. "I reiterate. Marry me a little." He kissed John's knuckles in a surprisingly affectionate effort. Sherlock was never this affectionate.

"Please?"

Those almost slate colored eyes stared up at him in expectation. John looked back and forth from the ring to Sherlock, clearing his throat and finally letting a tear fall. "I... I never knew... I never knew that you loved me. I didn't think you could."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Honestly John, you really are terrible at the most simplest observations. I've loved you since we ran away from those coppers the night you shot the cabbie. When we first met."

"Yes, yes," he nearly cut him off. "I remember." He felt foolish not to see it before.

Sherlock smiled sympathetically. "And I've known you loved me since you pulled the trigger."

John blushed furiously red. "That's... I mean... I couldn't just let you kill yourself!"

Sherlock nodded. "I know."

John was at a loss. "For three years, you've loved me? You never said anything?"

Sherlock shrugged, standing up, seeing John wasn't going to answer him in the immediate future. "You've loved me."

John nodded in defeat, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "This is... This is... A shock."

Sherlock grinned.

John closed his fingers around the ring, to reassure himself that it was still there. "I hadn't realized I was in love with you myself." He looked up at him through heavy lashes. "Thank you for enlightening me."

The man nodded in a "you're welcome." He leaned back against the pillar, hands in his pockets, and just stared down at John. "Remember earlier this evening when you said no one could catch me?"

John said he did.

"Well, it probably didn't occur to you that I was caught a long time ago. I was caught blinded. By you."

John laughed awkwardly. "I guess I did, didn't I?" He swallowed.

Sherlock was silent, obviously waiting for his answer, through with explaining and conversing. He looked as if he wouldn't open his mouth until John said yes or no, his lips in a thin line and his brow furrowed in observation.

It was then that John realized how absolutely perfect Sherlock looked. How absolutely real, with him, there, safe, and his. He'd never looked at anyone that way before. John thought Sherlock might kill for him at that moment. After all, Sherlock himself said love is a strong motivator.

It came as no surprise to John when he slipped the ring on his finger without so much as blinking his gaze away from the detective's. It really didn't surprise him when he heard himself say yes. And it really didn't surprise him when Sherlock swept him up in a kiss, just as fireworks rang out overhead.

So there they were, two brightly colored jewels in a mine of coal, sparkling and glittering like a fading dream.

D'AAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW! Isn't that sweet?

As always, read and review!