There had been many times when John Watson had thought about marriage. When he got his first girlfriend he wondered if they would remain together long enough to contemplate the union, when his sister got married he started questioning whether or not he would ever do the same and as he lay bleeding surrounded by gunfire he resigned himself to the fact that maybe marriage just wasn't in the cards for him.

At first he told himself that he was waiting for the right woman to come along, afterwards he told himself that if he jumped into a serious commitment after coming out of a stressful event it wouldn't be real, but after meeting Sherlock Holmes his life became one stressful event after another. As his feeling for his flatmate grew more than a little platonic he completely disregarded the thought of marriage. He always assumed he would be too busy, or the one person he would never be too busy for just wouldn't be interested.

He should have known better than to think he could predict life with Sherlock Holmes. His thoughts had vaguely wondered back to marriage after Sherlock's casual mention. In retrospect it was clear he should have realised there was something strange about that. Sherlock liked to complain about everything, that was never surprising, but it wasn't often that he asked how John felt about it. He usually assumed John agreed or waited until he voiced his opinion. That time, however, he had asked John rather eagerly, clearly anticipating the response. But John's mind had missed the strangeness of Sherlock's behaviour in lieu of the strangeness of the question itself.

When Sherlock proposed John suddenly saw their whole life together, side-by-side in vivid detail, something he had never allowed himself to do before. He had been utterly unprepared for it and the question had frozen him on the spot, something he now realised was probably a bit not good and had most likely worried Sherlock. But there hadn't been a shadow of doubt in his mind when he had said yes; yes to spending the rest of his life with the madman, yes to showing the world how much they truly meant to each other, yes to officially becoming Sherlock's other half. Not that they needed marriage to tell them any of that, they'd known that long before, when they realised how much they truly meant to each other and how much they complemented each other. The detective and the doctor, side by side.

Marriage did serve, however, as a reason to bring everyone together to celebrate them as a couple. Sherlock, of course, despised social gatherings of any kind, but John knew that deep down he was enjoying this. Their special day, where they had confessed their love for each other, exchanged vows, exchanged rings, had sealed their lives together again. Just like so many events before had; a bullet to the shoulder, walk through the park, a nice little flat. Then grimmer times had come; a bomb, a woman, a hound, a fall. And the return had brought them closer together than ever before. It only made sense that this latest act should come of their own free will with no threats or sacrifices necessary, just the two of them.

It was still early in the morning when John woke up in his husband's arms. Husband. The word brought a swell of happiness along with it every time. For so long he had wanted Sherlock, longed for him, his company, his attention, his love, and now he had it. He had all of him, forever.

Sherlock's right arm was stretched across the bed beneath the crook of John's neck and his left arm was wrapped around John's waist. He took the opportunity to wrap his hand around Sherlock's and bring it close to his chest. He felt the smooth metal of his husband's wedding ring, placed in Sherlock's elegant and long finger by John.

The image brought memories from their wedding day back to the forefront of his mind. The jitters, the anxiety, the swell of expectation and finally the moment when he saw Sherlock, elegantly dressed in a suit, tailored to curve around his long, lean body, smiling expectantly up at him. Everything felt just right in that moment. He and Sherlock were about to promise to spend the rest of their lives together. It was something that John had been looking for throughout his whole life, no matter how much he tried to deny it, and now he had the perfect man right in front of him, just as eager and expectant of what lay ahead for them.

A lot of promises were made that day, many of which- if not all- had been all but unspoken in their time together already, because they had never needed words to communicate before. They simply knew what the other felt, thought or needed because they knew each other so well, and because deep down, they felt the same, and they understood.

There was one thing though, that John had fervently insisted that Sherlock needed to promise; that he would be exceedingly cautious about losing or damaging his wedding ring. To this day Sherlock hadn't had to remove it once.

John felt Sherlock stirring against him, bringing John back to the present moment. The detective curled up slightly in bed, bringing the two of them closer together.

"John?" Sherlock mumbled sleepily.

John tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand and started stroking it. "I'm here, Sherlock."

"Hm," the detective murmured, "love you."

"I love you too, now go back to sleep."

Without needing to be told twice the detective went back to sleep, nuzzling John's neck from behind.

Their room was bathed in silence once again for the next half an hour, Sherlock still asleep and John still happily thinking about their wedding and the enjoying the feel of Sherlock all around him when the sound of a phone ringing broke through the quiet haze.

John reluctantly let go of Sherlock and got up, picking up the ringing phone on his way out of the room, silently hoping that it wouldn't wake up the detective.

"Hello," he answered.

"John?" Lestrade replied on the other hand, sounding confused. It was only then that John realised it was Sherlock's phone that had been ringing, and not his own.

"Yeah, Sherlock's asleep. What is it?"

"I've got a case I could use some help on."

After a short relay of the facts John deemed the case a 7 which would hopefully get Sherlock out of bed and to the crime scene. He should have known it would never be that easy.

When he walked back inside their room he saw Sherlock laying stomach down completely stretched across the bed.

Deciding that a direct approach would be best he opened the curtains, letting all the morning light in, and stripped the sheets off Sherlock's body in one swift move. The detective woke up, clearly annoyed at the light and cold, and started shouting at John.

"Close the damn curtains!"

John chuckled, unfazed by Sherlock's words, and sat down next to the grumbling detective in a scarce patch of emptiness on the bed. "Come on, get up. We have a case."

"I don't care," Sherlock replied, "I want to go back to sleep. Give me back the sheets."

"It's a seven."

John noted amusedly how Sherlock stopped squirming in bed and narrowed his eyes. "A seven?"

"Yes," John confirmed, "I assumed you wouldn't get out of bed for anything less than that."

And he'd assumed correctly. While Sherlock may be reluctant to go to bed at times, once he found himself there it was rather difficult to get him out, especially when he had a certain army doctor in his arms. "I still don't want to get out of bed."

"Well, I've already told Lestrade we'd be there, so you have to."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No."

"Yes."

"Make me."

That was all the invitation John needed. He lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and dragged him off the bed. His grip on Sherlock wasn't the best and the detective was squirming against him and they both quickly tumbled to the floor laughing.

When the laughter subsided John picked himself up and helped Sherlock off the floor. As soon as he did so Sherlock threw him down on the bed and climbed on top of him, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked.

But Sherlock didn't do anything. He simply sat on John's lap looking down at him. As the moments passed Sherlock's grin turned into a soft smile that had John wondering what exactly was going on in his husband's head.

Before he had a chance to ask, Sherlock cut him off. "I was worried, you know."

"About what?" John asked, surprised that Sherlock was voicing such a thought, no matter what it was about.

"That you would say no."

John frowned. He knew it must have been difficult for Sherlock to work up the courage to propose but he never would have thought that Sherlock might have been worried about rejection. "And why would I do that?"

Sherlock fidgeted with the hem of John's pyjama top, avoiding looking at John and avoiding the question. He wasn't even sure why he'd brought up the subject, but somehow it felt strange to hide anything at all from John, even if there was nothing to do be done about it anymore.

"I just…" Sherlock stammered, unsure of how to reply, "I didn't know if it was something you'd want, much less with me. But… I thought that it would be better to ask and have you say no than to wonder what your answer would have been."

John sat up slightly, balancing himself on one elbow while he brought Sherlock down closer to him with the other. He kissed Sherlock, lightly at first, and then more passionately, pouring all the love and understanding and reassurance that he could into that kiss. Sherlock should know that John would never say no to him- to being with him- would never reject him. The thought was unfathomable.

When they pulled apart Sherlock had a wide smile on his face. "That's very reassuring," he said.

"Glad I could be of service," John replied. He sat up on the bed, carefully pushing Sherlock out of his lap and they both stood up. "Time for a shower. Are you coming?"

"Of course."

John was, as always, quick in his shower but Sherlock lingered even after John left to get dressed. He stood under the spray of hot water, thinking back to the last few months. It hadn't taken long to organise the wedding, thanks to the combined forces of Mycroft and Mrs Hudson, and while he was glad for it that did leave him with less time to get prepared mentally. He'd been the one to do the proposing but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous about the idea of marriage, because he was. But every time he started worrying that something would go wrong, or one of them would change their mind, or that he didn't know what he was getting himself into John was always there.

Sherlock didn't even have to say anything, John just seemed to know whenever he was nervous or worried and always tried to comfort him, without making it too obvious, of course. But nevertheless he was always there when Sherlock needed him. And that was all it took to convince Sherlock that they were ready for this; they were ready for the next step, and they were going to take it together and everything was going to be just fine.

He had stored all the memories of the wedding in John's room in his mind palace, cherishing them forever. He had never deleted anything that pertained to John in any way, especially time that they had spent together, but this held a special place for him. Whenever he saw John's wedding ring or his own, or their suits placed carefully in the closet, or the photo album Molly had so kindly organised for them all the memories came rushing back and he felt a swell of happiness.

Never in his whole life had he even considered the thought of marriage, and seldom had he allowed himself to contemplate a relationship with anyone. He never thought he would be happy to spend so much time with any one person or that they would reciprocate the feeling, but John Watson was in a league of his own. He was everything Sherlock never thought he would have, and he turned out to be just what he needed. Someone who enjoyed the same things he did, someone who could appreciate him and not expect him to change but at the same time felt comfortable enough telling Sherlock whenever he did something that was a bit not good. And Sherlock cared enough to listen, which was what surprised him the most.

Throughout the last three years he had grown to know and love John Watson for all his loyalty, intelligence and unpredictability- John Watson who, unlike love, was still a mystery to Sherlock- and the detective was looking forward to spending the rest of his days side by side with him.

Finally realising how long he'd spent under the shower Sherlock turned off the water and got out, wrapping a towel around himself. As he made his way up the stairs to their room he saw John walking down towards the kitchen, no doubt on his way to make breakfast. Sherlock sneaked in a quick kiss before John left and then made his way to their room and quickly got dressed.

His hair was still wet when he arrived in the kitchen and immediately went over to the fridge and took the milk out, placing it next to the two mugs John had already prepared, ready for when the kettle finished boiling. On the stove sat a pan filled with bacon and eggs which Sherlock kept an eye on as John finished preparing the tea.

They both moved fluidly around the kitchen. John went back to his post by the stove as Sherlock got two plates and some cutlery out of the corresponding cupboard and drawer and placed them next to the stove. He grabbed the two mugs of tea and took them over to table. He was joined by John not a minute afterwards with two plates of food which they promptly started eating.

"What did Lestrade tell you about the case?" Sherlock asked.

John smirked. He'd been wondering exactly how long it would take until Sherlock asked about details of the case. He might have been reluctant to get out of bed but he was definitely interested in the case. "It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises."

"Yeah, you do."

"A different kind, maybe, but not when it comes to a case."

They shared a knowing look across the table, clearly remembering quite a few times when Sherlock was more than happy with John's surprises.

"Today you're just going to have to put up with it because you're not finding out anything until you get to the crime scene."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed.

"Fine," John returned.

John tried to stifle a laugh at the look on Sherlock's face. The detective looked both annoyed and amused at the same, a very interesting combination. It was clear he wanted to know about the case, but he seemed to want to humour John, so he just let it be.

While John washed the dishes Sherlock checked his blog. There were a few cases that needed his attention, but they were all simple enough and he could easily solve them when he returned from the case with Lestrade tonight. He closed his laptop as John came back into the living room.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" John asked.

"What?"

Instead of replying John walked over to stand in front of Sherlock and started running his hands through the detective's still wet curls doing his best to try to tame them in place. He would take any excuse he could to play with Sherlock's hair, and the detective didn't seem to mind either. He had his head in John's chest as he continued running his hands through it slowly untangling it and watching as it curled back into place once his hands moved.

Sherlock was still slumped against him when John stopped and placed his hands on the detective's shoulders, squeezing slightly to get his attention. "We should go, Lestrade's waiting."

Reluctantly Sherlock got up, ready to leave. He put on his coat and scarf as John opened the door and started walking downstairs, his own coat already on. Sherlock quickly caught up and managed to call a taxi while John was still locking the door.

They rode silently in the backseat close together, thighs touching and hands held, and waited to finally arrive at the crime scene. John was surprised at how still and quiet Sherlock was seeing as he must have been anxious to arrive and learn all the details that John was keeping from him.

There hadn't been any particular reason for keeping the details from Sherlock, but in a way it was John's little present for him.

When they finally arrived Sherlock quickly got out of the cab, leaving John to pay, as usual. He walked over to Lestrade who was smiling widely at the oncoming detective, and from behind John smirked. He'd warned Lestrade not to say anything- or at least try to not make it too obvious- but he knew there was no point. If Lestrade wanted to say something he would, and Sherlock probably wouldn't like it very much, but he'd just have to deal with it.

"Hello, Sherlock," Lestrade greeted, "how's your special day been so far?"

Sherlock scowled at the detective inspector before crouching down to inspect the body, ignoring Lestrade.

When John arrived he gave Lestrade a pleading look, hoping that the detective inspector wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

"When was the body found?" Sherlock asked, already absorbed in the case.

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine," Lestrade replied, still smirking.

Sherlock huffed, clearly annoyed, and got up with a dramatic swish of his coat. "What do you want?"

John could see Lestrade trying hard not to laugh at Sherlock's annoyance. "Like I said, I was just wondering how your special day had been so far."

"It's not a special day, and it's been fine so far, thank you for asking," Sherlock replied rather more sarcastically than usual. "It would be even better if you were to focus on the case and answer my question."

"Alright, alright," Lestrade conceded, raising his hands in surrender, "you shouldn't be so cranky; it's your birthday after all, enjoy it."

Lestrade looked much too pleased with himself and Sherlock shot him a death glare that would have silenced just about everyone, but Lestrade just burst out laughing. "I don't see why you have such a problem with people knowing, Sherlock."

As if on cue Anderson showed up, having clearly heard that small revelation Sherlock was trying to avoid. He sauntered over to where Sherlock, John and Lestrade were and addressed himself to John.

"Have you bought your boyfriend a gift yet then?"

"Husband," Sherlock and John corrected at the exact same time. Anderson looked shocked for a moment before looking down at their fingers and seeing the silver rings encompassing them. They hadn't made an effort to hide them, but aside from Lestrade they hadn't told anyone at the Yard.

Anderson walked away without another word, no doubt to tell everyone else what he had just discovered. As soon as he left Lestrade started laughing again and John couldn't help but join in.

"Did you see his face?" Lestrade asked, still laughing. "I thought he wasn't going to move, he looked so shocked."

John grinned at Sherlock who seemed to be over Anderson's comment after seeing the look on his face. The detective smiled back at John and got back to work.

By the end of the day the case was solved and they headed back home. As soon as they got in Sherlock took off his coat and scarf and turned towards John with an eager look in his eyes.

"Can I?" he asked, with a note of pleading in his voice.

John didn't even have to ask what he wanted. He knew there was an experiment Sherlock wanted to do that John would have said no to at any other time, but he had promised after all, that Sherlock could do whatever experiments he wanted on his birthday.

"Of course you can, I did promise."

John couldn't help but smile at the look of excitement on the detective's face and the spring in his step as he went to his old room to gather everything he needed.

Hours later when Sherlock had satisfied his need to conduct strange experiments he had finally settled down on the sofa with John. He had his legs folded under him and his head on John's chest. John, in turn, had wrapped his right arm around Sherlock and was slowly stroking his arm up and down with his fingers. Their hands were entwined on John's lap, fingers twitching and fidgeting with one another absentmindedly.

Eventually Sherlock broke the silence.

"Was this better than last year?"

John's memory took him back a year, remembering coming home and drinking himself into a stupor and seeing Sherlock, wondering whether or not he had really been there. He had no doubts now.

"You're here," he replied, "of course it's better."

Sherlock craned his head up to meet John, their lips brushing softly before they went in for a kiss. Sherlock's and John's hands tightened together, John hugged him closer to his chest needing to feel his husband next to him.

When they finally broke apart Sherlock rested his forehead against John's, eyes open, staring intensely into his husband's. "I'm never leaving you again, John. I love you."

"I love you too," John replied, "And I won't let you leave, not again. We're in this together."

"It's just the two of us against the rest of the world."