A/N: Hey guys, this story is unBETA'd as always, I hope there aren't any mistakes, but if there are let me know and I'll fix it :)

Thanks for reading!

Let me know what you think in a review!

Any requests/prompts? I need inspiration

Once again, please review!


John sighed, settling himself against Sherlock's shoulder on their sofa. It had been a standard day at the surgery, but he somehow felt exhausted, Sherlock wasn't on a case but seemed content to spend his time reading or with John, which was good for everyone – including the walls.

Sherlock looked down at John, "You're working too hard," he said, placing his book down on the table in front of them.

"I'm not, it's just all this wedding planning, it's more exhausting than I thought it would be." They wanted a small ceremony, but they also wanted it to be special, so they had been working on keeping the delicate balance between special and tacky.

"Hmm, Mycroft could do some of it?" Sherlock wasn't keen on this idea, but he didn't want John to be tired of their wedding.

"No way, he'd let your mum near it and before we knew it the queen would be invited. I love planning it, I can't wait to marry you, it's just people seem to want to make the process so tiring. I'm so excited to be your husband, to show everyone that you are my husband and I am yours." John smiled, genuinely loving everything about his life.

Sherlock leaned down, he pressed his warm, soft lips against John's. John pressed back against them, slowly opening his mouth, as Sherlock did the same, opening his mouth for John. John's tongue slid in, pressing against the roof of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock groaned, fighting for control, wanting to taste John desperately.

John chuckled, and slowly ended the kiss. Settling his head back against Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock looped his arm round John's shoulder, sliding his hands down the man's left arm. He pulled John's fingers into his hand, it was always startling to John that a man who looked as cold as Sherlock did could have such warm, strong hands.

"Will we wear rings?" Sherlock asked, unsure. They hadn't discussed this yet.

"I thought we might, but I meant to talk to you about it, I know our jobs aren't perfectly suited for jewellery."

"I would like to wear one, if you are also willing?"

"Of course I'm happy to wear one, we can wear the same or pick different? What would you prefer to do?" John asked, happy to know Sherlock wanted to stick to this tradition.

"I'd like for us to wear the same, we can visit some shops tomorrow to find some that will be adequate for our work, I would hate for them to be damaged or lost."

"As would I, any ideas in mind? Colour preference and the like?" John was very traditional, but Sherlock's style could be so surprising.

"I'm not sure yet, but I will know when we find the right ones." Sherlock was keen to wear something that would show he was loved, and keen for John to have evidence that he loved Sherlock, and was loved in return.

"Okay, I've got the day off tomorrow anyway, so it should be perfect." John was starting to feel his eyelids become heavy, but loved these moments with Sherlock and didn't want to pass one up.

"I know you are off tomorrow, John, that's why I suggested tomorrow." Sherlock tried to address John icily, but the smile that spread across his features ruined his attempts.

"Of course my love," John squeezed Sherlock's hand which was still holding his. He lifted his head to kiss Sherlock once again, keeping it light this time, "Alright, I'm off to bed now, you coming?"

"Yes, right behind you."

John stood, walked towards the door and glanced at Sherlock with a smile before carrying on towards their bedroom. Sherlock stood and followed, making sure to check his experiment and turn out the lights, John liked it when he did that.

As he slid into the warm bed next to John he smiled, content and complete, he'd never been as happy as he was doing the simplest things with John.

John grunted a little as Sherlock rolled most of his body onto John's, a habit he had developed after a particularly stressful case when they had been separated for a few days, John had been stabbed and Sherlock had been forced to leave him alone in the hospital while he caught the worthless, idiot who had done it to John, but it still hurt him to think about leaving John so vulnerable, so he tried not to.

"John," Sherlock mumbled, mostly into the pillow, "can we get our rings engraved?"

"Yeah, of course, anything in particular you want them to say?"

"Do you trust me to surprise you?"

"Sure, so long as if I'm really unhappy with what it says we can change them? I'm sure I'll love it, but just in case."

"Yes, John."

"Okay, then of course."

"Good." Sherlock smiled into his pillow, resting his forehead against John's cheek.

"Goodnight, Sherlock. I love you."

"I love you too. Sleep well."

And with that both men drifted off.

When the freshly engraved rings arrived a fortnight later Sherlock was eager to show them to John, having struggled to keep the words a secret.

He headed up the stairs to their flat, gripping in the box in anticipation.

He opened the door to their living room, and saw John relaxing on the sofa, watching some mind-numbing television.

"John, the rings are here!" He couldn't contain his excitement, and would have been embarrassed with anyone else but John.

"Lovely, let's see them then."

Sherlock walked towards John, nervously opening the box and presenting it to John.

John plucked out one of the rings, and held it near to his face to read the words.

"'Could be dangerous...'" John read aloud, and smiled, "its perfect Sherlock, just perfect."

"I'm very glad you like them, they both have the same."

"Perfect." John repeated, pushing the ring back into the box and placing it on the coffee table, then standing and walking up close to Sherlock. He lifted onto his toes, slid his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulled him into a deep kiss.

After a while John pulled away a little, and looked directly into Sherlock magical eyes.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Sherlock. Any of it." He whispered.