John stood in front of the stove, one eye on the eggs he was stirring in the pan and the other on the toaster. He didn't have much faith in the toaster – not since Sherlock had gotten hold of it and played with the insides in an attempt to increase the temperature of the heating elements. Now, you either got toast that was barely the colour of a parsnip or it was blackened and burnt and completely inedible.

John's mind, though, was a million miles away.

Actually, it was only about 15 metres away, focused as it was his long, lanky, curly-haired love who was presently spread across their bed like a starfish and snoring gently.

Ten years, thought John. It was almost too much to comprehend. It had been ten years since he followed Mike into that lab in Bart's, a sad, broken … and yes, suicidal, man. Ten years since he had met the force of nature that would change his life in so many ways.

The passage of time had been hard on both John and Sherlock. Sherlock's "not dead", John's bullet wound at the hand of Andrew Garrideb, various aches and pains accumulated over the years. Still, John would not have changed his life for anything.

The passage of time had also brought love, joy and blessings.

The smell of almost-burning bread brought John back to the present. Quickly rushing to rescue the toast – which was perfectly browned; John's entreaty to the Toaster Gods had been heeded – his thoughts turned to the wonder his life had become.

At the top of the list: Sherlock's love. John had been immediately attracted to his flatmate, and that attraction quickly turned to love. But respecting Sherlock's comment of being married to his work, and not wanting to risk their friendship, John kept mum.

It was Sherlock who found the courage to speak of love. While John was in hospital recovering from the bullet to his leg, Sherlock was a continual presence. When the wound became infected and everyone feared for John's life, Sherlock spent days at his side brokenly whispering, "John, I love you. Please don't leave me."

When the fever broke and John finally opened his eyes to see Sherlock collapsed in a chair, his hand clutching John's, his first words were "I love you too."

Since that day, Sherlock and John had become SherlockandJohn and neither man couldn't have been happier.

Picking up the breakfast tray, John trotted down the hall and into the bedroom where Sherlock was just waking up.

"What's this?" asked Sherlock as John placed the tray on his lap.

"Happy Anniversary, love. Breakfast in bed."

Author's Note: This double 221B is my small contribution to the 10th Anniversary of the first airing of our beloved "Sherlock". Note Word says this is 442 words in length.