A/N: These 3am drabbles keep appearing on my phone. I guess they're the only good things to come out of staying awake until 6am. Although, this particular one is incredibly short...

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I do not own Sherlock or John.

John groans as he opens the front door of his flat, juggling grocery bags, to discover the state of his no-longer nice, clean floor.

"Sherlock! Why is the carpet covered in dirt and flower petals? You had better have a good explanation for this!"

"Of course I do, John. I thought you knew me well enough to know that I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything," he heard call back to him from somewhere in the room.

It appeared to have come from behind the couch, which made sense seeing as the dirt trail led towards that general direction.

"All will be explained."

John waited a few moments, but apparently all wasn't to be explained just yet.

Sighing, he made his was over to the kitchen, carefully unpacking the groceries around the various amputated body parts before flicking the kettle on.

As John reached for a mug, Sherlock walked out from behind the couch speckled with pricked and slightly-bleeding skin, and handed John what probably should have been a bouquet but actually looked like a bunch of flowers ripped straight from a garden bed. And knowing Sherlock, they probably were.

"Here. Happy 11 month anniversary." God knows why Sherlock decided to celebrate 11 months.

"Uh… thank you?" John took the flowers, but dropped them when a rose thorn pricked him.

"Yes, well, gloves would have been a good idea, now wouldn't they John?"

"You know, it's a good thing you're cute," John murmured as pulled Sherlock down for a kiss.