A/N: This is the shortest thing I've ever written. A bit of Valentine's Day fluff I've had in mind for awhile but didn't want to wait on any more. This is set after they become partners but before they married, so February 14th, 2011 according to my ridiculously extensive timeline.

Also, I now have a tumblr site for those of you didn't see the update on my profile page. It is, unsurprisingly, http: / scopesmonkey. tumblr. com/ (but, y'know, without the spaces). Huge thanks to those already following me (in case I do something interesting!) and those who have recommended my work.

I do not own, nor do I profit from. Enjoy!

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Sherlock raised his head from his pillows and saw John grin at the sight – probably at his hair, which he could feel sticking up in all directions, as was its wont in the mornings. He blinked himself awake fully, noting that John was holding a plate in his left hand and a mug of tea in his right. He was dressed only a pair of pyjama pants that were too long for him because they were Sherlock's but he wore them low on his waist anyway, providing a tantalising view of the defined muscles of his abdomen and hips.

"Eyes are up here," John said with a grin, gesturing very minutely to his face with the hand holding the mug. Sherlock raised his eyes to meet John's – they were equally as pleasurable to look at.

"It's my job to make breakfast," Sherlock pointed out, letting a petulant note slip into his voice. This didn't work; John's grin only widened.

"Yeah I know," his partner replied. "But today I wanted to return the favour."

"I can think of other ways for you to do that," Sherlock murmured, his eyes sliding south again.

"Oh, we'll get there," John promised, a hint of laughter in his voice. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him. "But I do want you to keep up your strength."

Sherlock gave a huffy little sigh that was undermined by the smile tugging at his lips. He adjusted his pillow so he could sit comfortably against the headboard and John put the tea cup down on the bedside table.

"What have you made for me?" Sherlock asked.

"Toast, with some of the honey that you bought in Bristol because I know you like that, eggs and bacon."

Sherlock smiled, reaching for the plate, which John passed to him carefully. He looked down at the meal, then frowned slightly, his brows drawing together. He glanced up at John, back down at the plate, then back up at his partner again.

"You cut the toast into little hearts," he said.

John's grin widened even more and he folded his arms comfortably.

"Yes," he replied.

"But real hearts," Sherlock said.

And they were. They had been carefully cut and the details of the chambers, veins, arteries, and the superior vena cava had been delicately incised with a butter knife so that the impressions stayed true but did not cut completely through the toast. There was even a little pot of raspberry honey on the plate along with a knife so that Sherlock could admire the hearts before covering them.

"I thought you might like that," John replied with a chuckle.

"You are, without doubt, the most brilliant man I have ever known," Sherlock said firmly.

"Aside from you, of course."

"Of course."

John chuckled again and Sherlock reached up with his free hand, lacing his fingers into John's hair and pulling him down into a kiss. He caught John's laughter, feeling the deep rumble in his own chest.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock," John repeated when they pulled apart. Sherlock kissed him again, lightly but lingeringly.

"Happy Valentine's Day, John," he replied.