It had been months of waiting, but he was finally going do it. John Hamish Watson was going to swallow his nervousness and finally propose to his long-time boyfriend, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

As he walked into the extravagant restaurant, Sherlock Holmes felt the small, velvet case burning a hole in his jacket pocket. He had been wanting to propose for months, but it had never seemed like the right time. Mycroft had nudged him, seeing the love Sherlock felt for John, and with a bit of disdain towards anything this adorable, helped him pick out a sleek gold band for his little brother's future fiance.

John stood when Sherlock arrived, his nervousness instantly returning with a ferocity silently and invisibly paralleled by an apparently stoic Sherlock.

Inwardly, Sherlock was panicking; how could he do this?

"Would you like to sit?" John asked shyly, snapping Sherlock from his internal struggle.

"Yes, yes. Of course," Sherlock mumbled in reply, sitting across from him.

"Sher-" John started, when he was cut off.

"John," Sherlock simply stated.

"No Sherlock, just listen to me for a min-"

"John, I have to ask you some-"

"Sherlock, won't you shut up for a moment so I can ask you to marry me?!" John finally yelled, standing up, red-faced.

Sherlock stood for a moment, then knelt to the ground on one knee, inducing many "aww's" as he pulled out a velvet case and opened it right in front of John.

John's jaw dropped, then and there, and all he could do was nod.

"I thought you'd never ask."