"Take this back," Sherlock instructed, shoving forward a small, velvety box that sat perfectly in the palm of his hand.

John recognized it immediately and frowned in thought as he stood at the stove frying bacon in a pan. He'd managed to keep the jewelry box hidden for weeks but it was Christmas eve now, the morning of, and Sherlock had obviously been snooping around the flat if he'd come to possess the black gift box with its red ribbon and bow. Spoil sport. Even if he hadn't been expressly searching for his present, he knew better than to look in disused places around the flat this time of year. John shook his head and turned back to the sliced pork belly while Sherlock stood haunting his side. "Where did you-"

"Not an important or necessary line of inquiry." He kept his hand thrust out, waiting for the box to be removed from his palm in acceptance. "Return this to the store you bought it from," he ordered. At least, it seemed he wanted it to be just a simple order. We was too tense for that, though. Too static. He held the jewelry box as though he were afraid to touch it, held it out far as though it might bite. It'd given him a bit of a shock, it seemed, and not at all in a good way.

John cast him a quick glance then back at his task. The ribbon was intact. Sherlock hadn't the patience to retie it. "You haven't even opened it," he said, paying more mind to the spittle of animal fat than he did Sherlock's insistent command.

"I know what it is and I know what it isn't. Take it and get your money back."

It was far too early for this. And not at all the way John had planned it. This morning was about being lazy and fat with nothing to do but complain about Mrs. Hudson's joyful singing and get things prepared for the Christmas party that night. Even the later bit was basically him getting out of Mrs. Hudson's way so she could make Sherlock hang things for her in the absence of a decent stool and two well fairing hips. Instead, Sherlock wanted to be dramatic at breakfast time. He was setting the bar rather high for the rest of the day if this was where he chose to start off in the morning.

Frowning, John cast him another glance over his shoulder. He was still in his dressing gown, pajamas visible as it hung untied, and his hair was a fluffy mess having not even managed the time to comb or wet it into order before discovering the small, black box. The look in his eyes was worth taking pity on. He hadn't just shocked him, he'd hurt him. Sadly, that was exactly what he'd been trying not to do. "It's not what you think it is."

"It's a ring," Sherlock insisted. "It's obviously a ring."

"Nope." John let the plosive pop with finality as he carefully flipped the frying strips as though all were normal and right. "Not a ring. Despite what you think, I'm not that stupid. You took your ring off for a reason and I respect that. I'm not going to insult you with a ring to replace it." It wasn't worth it to admit he'd thought of doing just that. He'd thought better of it in the end and that was all that mattered.

Sherlock's fingers curled back along the jewelry box as though no longer afraid to touch it. He bent his arm in towards his stomach, brows falling heavy over his insinuating stare. "What makes you think I didn't lose it?" he asked, not exactly denying it but certainly curious as to where he'd failed and where John himself had been more observant than credit had been given.

John leveled him with a sideways scowl that begged not to question too deeply his intelligence as he turned and kept his back to his husband. Things were almost always easier said without direct eye contact. Sherlock would certainly be able to read his ease and sincerity without facial cues meanwhile the bacon would certainly burn without his direct attention. "Because that would make it a coincidence. And I know what you say about coincidences," he said, prepping the kitchen roll as the slices in the middle of the pan seemed to quickly be coming ready. "I complained about taking the marriage too seriously and suddenly your ring gets misplaced? Doubt it-especially the part where you can't find something. I think you were having the same problem I was and you realized the same night I did. Except while I acted like it being too real was a problem, you actually wanted it to be real. You'd been enjoying it. And you made the same mistake I did which is why I know you care. You took your ring off. And if it hadn't meant anything to you, it'd still be there." He transferred the bacon over piece by piece, being as obvious as possible that none of this mattered in a way that caused judgement or change. "You're in love with me," he said, as though remarking that the sky was blue, "and I've behaved like a jackass. I'm sorry. That's why it's not a ring. That would be beyond insulting and insensitive and... yeah, I'm not that guy."

Sherlock was quiet. John continued to cook. He didn't need to look back and see if Sherlock was struggling with a means to deny it or working out flaws in his junior deduction skills. It was important to just carry on like it was something that they'd both known the other knew all along. Sherlock was in love with John. Maybe he always had been. John was over feeling stupid for not having noticed before. It'd only taken four separate jewelry stores and several dozen rings for him to realize they'd both invested meaning into their supposedly meaningless non-wedding bands. They'd both let the symbolism get to them and complicate their simplified understanding.

John turned the stove off as he removed the last few strips of bacon, giving a warning rubbing of his palms before turning around and leaning his hand against the chair beside him. He smiled politely at the still frozen form standing just a few feet away. "May as well open it now that you've found it."

Sherlock hesitated, staring at John with a sad sort of confusion before looking down at his hand and slowly pulling off the red ribbon and bow. His every movement was precise and drawn out, as though waiting for some sort of repercussion to evolve from this new revelation that John was married to a man who loved him. He seemed to anticipate some sort of cruel joke or hanging punchline. So it was of little surprise that when the box opened and the band of polished titanium shone into view, his expression was more akin to betrayal than non-comprehension. "You said it wasn't-"

"It's not. It's a wedding ring," John clarified, shrugging one shoulder with nonchalance. "I love you too."

Sherlock did not move. Even his expression seemed fixed in an almost unhappy panic as he stood stock-still and blinking. John smiled gently and slowly took the box from his palm and removed the ring from its crescent cradle. It was lightweight and durable, perfect for their lifestyle, but unlike the one the detective had purposefully hidden away, it was inlayed with a band of smokey diamonds that were subtle at a distance but under the lights above their kitchen table glittered like a hidden prize. John turned Sherlock's left hand over and slid the wedding band into place, happy to see the finger adorned once more with the mark of their marriage in full view. John gave the back of his palm a brief caress, squeezing his hand before granting it release. It did not fall without his guide, it stayed exactly where John had left it, though Sherlock's eyes had fallen from John's face to the band he'd placed on his hand.

John's smile deepened, his neck feeling warmer as Sherlock continued to remain mute and static despite what he'd expected to be happy news. He rubbed at the warmth, trying to catch it before is spread to his ears. "I've still got breakfast to make. Try not to track down any other presents while I've got my back turned, yeah?"

Sherlock said nothing, not even granting a nod of comprehension as he stood like Daphne, transformed on the spot.

John rolled his eyes, not able to disguise his smile as he played into his eery silence. "Though, ya know, you could make it even and give me something to unwrap afterwards. You in that dressing gown for starters."

That worked. Sherlock's chin jerked up, his eyes finding John's without searching, no longer clouded in dismay but widened in the same regard. "You really mean this," he said, searching for a reason to disbelieve it.

John nodded, laughter light on his breath. "Yeah. I really do."

Still perplexed, Sherlock frowned and stepped closer, head tilting to the side to ease the the bend of his throat. "What changed?" he asked, his voice almost dripping in accusation as though all this were a misguided attempt to fix what was not yet broken.

"Nothing," John replied, still smiling, still sure. "Which is probably why it took me so long."

Sherlock's frown broke with a soft chuckle, his lips turning first before his eyes shed their clouds and brightened like the stones of his ring. He seemed to settle into his skin better, loosening at the joints until he was whole and present, no longer restricted by fear or reservations. It had been his stupid idea to have them married in the first place in which case no proposal could ever do. But John was happy he could deliver an admission of love that still worked to define them as they were and always had been. He was proud to pronounce them husbands for life. And he wanted very much to kiss his groom.

As Sherlock started to leave the kitchen, backing away to leave him to the cooking as he'd asked, John smirked and called out, "So was that a yes to sex later?"

The detective all but tripped into the glass partitions, stumbling towards John's chair as he tried to collect himself and seem cool. "Yes. What? No. yes. Yes. Yes, that's... fine. Good," he stammered, making a point not to go to his own chair, in view of the kitchen, and to attempt a disappearing act on the other side of the wall.

"Not making you nervous am I?"

"No."

"Good," John stated, getting down a can of beans with a chuckle disguised under his breath. "I love you."

"Yes. Good."

"Sherlock. Try again."

"Yes. I do. That. As well," his husband's voice echoed back with his own improvised admission.

John had a feeling he was going to enjoy married life. In fact, he already did.