The Problem with Engagements

Aug 23, 2010 22:50

The Problem with Engagements
Author: Karesu
Pairing/Series: Sherlock/John [BBCs Sherlock]
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Isn't mine, I promise.
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. 5 ways in which Sherlock almost proposed marriage to John and 1 way he actually did propose. If the 5+1 thing is not of your liking, then a general "Sherlock proposes to John" fic is equally appreciated.


Sherlock's childhood really only ever had one constant in it. That constant would be the continuous rivalry that he shared with his older brother, Mycroft. In his brain he had dubbed the older Holmes as a rival, the first of many, but it wasn't until he was about twelve that it just bumped up to 'arch enemy.' Mycroft had gained this title when the school science fair was happening, but at the same time so was one of the final rounds of Mycroft's debate rounds. Science, of course, was much more important than people standing around arguing the moral and social obligations of current events. It was boring to listen to the way his older brother went back and forth about the current administration in parliament.

Who cared?

Evidently, his mother did. She had kindly apologized to her youngest son that she wouldn't be able to see his project, but she assured him that it would win first prize. She had told him this while fixing Mycroft's tie so they could head off to the debate tournament. Sherlock was forced to go with his uncle, who was only taking him to the fair as a favor to his mother.

He had won first place. So had Mycroft.

The medal that Mycroft Holmes had won was placed on the mantel.

It was by that age that Sherlock had decided that he was going to one-up his brother when it came to the woman that gave them both birth. In most cases he failed miserably, to a point that he wasn't sure that he should even continue to try. He had even tried to join his schools debate team, but found it positively mundane to talk about useless things. Plus the other members got fed up with him when he exposed that their president was seeing the treasurer for the art club.

He had gotten used to the phrase, "Oh Sherlock, I do wish that you would just try. Your brother is doing so well, I just you could be doing the same."

It all came to a halting stop when he had finally gone through the education system and decided to become the worlds first-ever consulting detective. She had argued with him, she had also sent flowers to Mycroft's new office with a congratulations on his promotion.

:-:-:-:-:-:

"It was hardly necessary to kidnap me." Sherlock growled out to his brother, sitting next to him in the back of some mundane black government car. Brooding came pretty naturally to him when he was in the presence to family, it was the main reason he tried to avoid it as much as he possibly could. The memories of his childhood just seemed to disrupt his train of thought and he really did have much better things to do than be forced into cars by his brother.

"Of course it was necessary, Sherlock. We both know you wouldn't have come if I had simply asked." The elder Holmes scoffed, eyes not leaving the paper he was reading. They were avoiding the topic of where they were going, because both of them knew exactly where they were going to end up. Sherlock grimaced out the window, he would prefer a standoff with Moriarty any day. Unless John was there, then he might actually find his bearable in comparison.

Ah yes, John Watson. They had been flatmates for some time before Sherlock finally decided to do something about the apparent sexual tension that was between the two of them. Usually it would be unwelcome, but there was just something about the good Doctor that unearthed some of the emotions he wasn't sure he would be able to feel anymore. It had to be his gentle ways or the fact he seemed to be so completely enamored with Sherlock that he would do anything for me. Had, in fact, done everything for him already. The detective had even considered John's presence in his life to be a miracle, something that saved him. If it was a ploy from God to make Sherlock start believing in him... it was working.

"You're using a different route, even though it is less efficient. You know it wouldn't throw me off, I don't see why you bothered to change the directory to the same location." Sherlock commented dryly, looking out the window at the street passing around him.

"It was my assistants idea, actually. I told her that it wasn't going to work... but I felt the need to humor her. This way you have some time to think about what you are going to say." Mycroft sighed, thinking back on the conversation he had with his assistant on how stubborn his brother was and what needed to be done about it. She had, of course, come up with the easy solution; those rarely worked when the detective was concerned.

"There is nothing to say."

There was silence until they pulled up to a ritzy looking apartment complex on the outskirts on central London. They both knew it was there but only one of them did anything about it. With a resigned sigh Sherlock got out of the car and waited for his brother to do the same before they were let into the lobby by a doorman. It was elegant, but the kind of cheap elegance that comes from people wanting the best but not having the money for it. The floor was a granite pressed to make it look like marble, while the art pieces that littered the modernistic lobby were either done by un-knows or cheap knockoffs of originals hanging in museums. Usually this didn't bother Sherlock, he had to settle for second rate criminals sometimes too. What did annoy him was how tasteless this meeting was going to be, in an equally tacky setting.

"Come, let's get this over with." He muttered and followed his brother to the elevator. Mycroft cheerily hit the button for the eighteenth floor and Sherlock refused to even look at him while they moved upward. Once the door opened he swiftly moved out and counted down the door numbers on the floor 1889... 1890... 1891... 1892. Tapping his knuckles against the wooden door frame he waited for the answer he knew was coming.

The door opened to reveal a man in his thirties, hair graying at the edges a bit. He was dressed in business casual, slacks and a button down shirt. He nodded at the Holmes men and let them in. "Mr. Mycroft it's good to see you again, and Mr. Sherlock this is... a surprise." He said, trying to cover up his curiosity with formality. He was very bad at this.

"You make a terrible assistant." Sherlock spat, finding someone other than his sibling to vent his anger at. "You are far too emotional, and informal. You don't even dress correctly! Plus you're daft if you'll work for-"

"Sherlock, leave Marcus alone! He is a fine assistant and it is far more comfortable to be dressed like that than in a suit and tie. Plus having some actual emotion is an asset, I don't deal well with robots. Now please stop patronizing the help and come here and have tea with me." A distinctly feminine voice called firmly from the sitting room of the suite. Glaring at Marcus for a couple more seconds, just for good measure, he actually did what he was told. In the sitting area sat a woman who truly had aged gracefully. Her long silver hair was pulled back and curled at the ends, make-up done tastefully even if she wasn't leaving the house that day, and her black and silver gown was draped so perfectly on seat she was sitting on it would make any type of model envious. "Do sit." She motioned to the seats across from her. Mycroft immediately took her up on her offer, while Sherlock just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You really should sit, it is much easier to drink tea that way." Mycroft said simply, leaning over to pour himself a cup.

"I would like to know what I am doing here. If I hear it is for tea, then I shall be on my way now. There are things to do, murderers to catch, and this doesn't exactly fit with my schedule." He didn't mention that he had also promised John a proper date that evening and he didn't want it to be ruined like the last one. Sometimes cases really did turn up at the most inopportune of times.

"You can't just come and visit you dear old Mum, you have to have a reason?" She asked annoyance tinging her voice. He knew it was partially from the fact she had mentioned his job, which she didn't approve of in the least. "Plus you should know why you're here, Sherlock. I need to know when you are setting a date. Dresses don't sew themselves and I need to make sure my seamstress has an opening. I would ask if you have a theme or color scheme yet, but I highly doubt you're the one in charge of them."

For the first time in recent memory, Sherlock Holmes was greatly confused as to what his mother was talking about. He expected the run-around when talking to certain people but she wasn't one of them. Taking the seat previously offered to him he rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers in thought. "I am going to have to ask you to elaborate."

She rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Your wedding, of course! Now I would have rather been told about the engagement, let alone the chap, through you instead of your brother... but that is just how it worked out. He told me all about this John that you're seeing. He seems to be the type of man that I can rely to keep you safe, because it seems that he won't keep you out of harms way all together. I'll just have to settle with that."

"Mycroft told you that... we were engaged?" He asked, masking his anger and surprise so it wouldn't show on his face. He glanced over at his brother who was hiding his own feelings, only his were amusement.

"Now didn't I just say that? For someone so observant I would at least expect for you to keep up me." She sighed and waved Marcus over, talking with him for a moment she nodded and looked back over to her boys. "Unfortunately I have a business engagement. I will just have to get the wedding invitation for the date, but please do sent them with plenty of time so I can get my dress done." Putting down her tea she stood up gracefully [obviously where both of her sons got it from] and turned to go into her office. "Mycroft, I trust that you can take Sherlock home." With that she left, Marcus at her heels.

As they moved out of the suite and back onto the elevator it was silent until Sherlock turned to his sibling and growled out in annoyance. "You told her that we were engaged?"

"Of course I did, it is bound to happen isn't it? You've wasted enough time, and she would be oh so proud to see one of her children finally settling down. Unfortunately I am far too busy with work to appease this, and you are in a much better relationship status. It seems only natural that you are the one of get married, and it's not like John is going to say no." His logic is carried in a conversational tone, as if he was commenting on the weather.

"Mycroft, John and I are not engaged." He decided to clarify, even though he is sure that his brother knows the facts of the matter.

"Then you should go about fixing that, shouldn't you?" Mycroft says, brow lifted in expectation. The elevator door opens and he steps out, heading across the lobby and into the first of two black cars idling outside the apartment complex. Sherlock is close on his heels, trying extremely hard not to resort to physical violence. Before he can say anything the door closes in his face, it's obvious the second one was for him. Smart move on his brother's part, it really is. Sherlock gets into the other car, not needed to specify that he wishes to go back to Baker Street.

Great, Now he was going to have to kill his brother and propose to John.

:-:-:-:-: Attempt One :-:-:-:-:

Thinking about the meeting he had with his family, he came to the conclusion that he should ask Dr. John Watson to marry him. It was because he wanted to [which was completely true] and not because anything he mother thought [which was completely untrue].

The first attempt, he figures, should be the most direct. Tell John the truth of the matter, that they were getting married, with as little hassle as possible. Grabbing the phone from his pocket he stared at the screen for a few minutes before typing the simple message on it. Really this was a great plan, even though John would just roll his eyes at how matter-of-fact he was lover was going to be. Going to the contacts list he quickly scrolls to 'John' and clicks send.

It isn't until he gets the reply that he realizes text messaging might not have been the best way of conveying his message.

Think you've got the wrong number, mate. Glad to see you finally got yourself a girl though, Watson. Oh and if you want my advice, text isn't the best way for that question, ai? -John Derez
Looking at the phone in his grasp he sighed, it was John's phone that he had taken earlier to send a threatening text to Anderson. He was too pre-occupied by getting his point across he hadn't even noticed it. Before deleting the text from 'other John' he re-read what it said. Was texting really not the best way to communicate that? It was good for getting across any other type of data. He would have to re-think this whole thing.

:-:-:-:-: Attempt Two :-:-:-:-:

It was not the right time, in fact it was probably the worst timing in the history of marriage proposals. John was lying on the pavement gasping for breath. Their murderer had run and the two of them had chases off of him. Sherlock hadn't been anticipating the person they were pursuing to swing back a heavy metal pipe into John's ribcage so he could flee. The sound of cracking ribs of unmistakable, and of course Sherlock was there by his side, waiting for the police to finally catch up, and trying to keep his lover with him.

"John, you have to keep your eyes open." His voice was strained, almost desperate as he pleaded with him. He hoped that the bones hadn't punctured a lung. The crack had been deafening loud, along with the gasping breaths that followed. He couldn't lose him like this. He couldn't lose him at all. "You have to stay with me, John. Just... keep breathing. Please." He wasn't begging, refused to think that it was anything of the sort.

"John, please, I haven't even asked you to marry me yet." Unfortunately, John had already passed out by the time those words left his lips.

It turned out that the injuries caused some internal bleeding, a few cracked ribs, but nothing life threatening. Even though he was glad for John's safety, it also meant that he needed to try a different way of proposing marriage.

:-:-:-:-: Attempt Three :-:-:-:-:

They were coming back from the hospital, John's torso wrapped tightly as to stop shifting. Not that it really did any good, every movement was obviously uncomfortable for the doctor. Sherlock could read it in every tense of his mussels and the way he bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't feel guilty, he never really did when a case was concerned, but he did feel anger toward the man who had done this to his... and that was the thing wasn't it? Now that he had resolved to ask for John's hand, labeling him in his mind had become kind of tricky. He was his lover, certainly, but he also wanted to say more.

He blamed Mycroft for this.

Staring out the window, trying to ignore the slight shifting from the other side of the cab, he just went for it. Plain, simple, there. "We should get married." He finally voiced.

"I'm sorry what?" John asked, not paying attention [he was a bit preoccupied by the pain he was feeling in his chest.] He turned to see Sherlock better, only to jar his torso again and cry out in pain. Sherlock turned and placed a hand on John in order to stabilize him and make sure he didn't move again. His earlier statement wasn't re-voiced.

:-:-:-:-: Attempt Four :-:-:-:-:

"Sherlock, were you on my computer again?" John asked, brow raised at the man who was sprawled over the couch. Sherlock spared him a glance, which John knew by now was the motion for him to continue to inquire. "I know you aren't fond of social networking sites, but re-doing my settings and profile isn't very funny."

"I haven't the faintest idea of what you are talking about." lie.

"All of my interests have been erased and re-set to 'Sherlock Holmes'." Alright, that one might have been a bit much.
"And it says that I'm married! I'm not married, Sherlock."

Sherlock groans to himself, did he really have to remind him?

:-:-:-:-: Attempt Five :-:-:-:-:

"You know, as a subculture, homosexuals have come a long way." Sherlock says one day as they lounge around the living room, him on his couch and John sitting in his chair reading the paper. "In fact if this was the Victorian Era the two of us would have to go through some great lengths to convince people that we were just companions of a non-sexual type. They used to throw people into jail for that sort of thing, if I can recall correctly."

John stared at him. Really, he could remember that and not the solar system? He really was an odd man. "Yes, I suppose so."

"In fact one of us would have had to marry some mundane woman to keep up the charade. It would probably be you, I'm not personable enough to do it. She would probably have some sort of mundane name like Jane... Mary... Sarah... something like that. I don't remember the term for it, but it would be necessary to keep the relationship hidden." Sherlock looked over at John for a reaction and only seeing confusion, it seemed that he would need to make his intentions more clear.

"Now, though, it's amazing how much we are accepted. In fact if we wanted to, we could married." He left his gaze on John, waiting for some sort of reply to that. Certainly he was clear enough that time, he couldn't miss it.

"That is all very interesting, but we aren't in the Victorian Era and I'm not sure what this has to do with your current case." John wasn't getting it this time, either. Sherlock sighed and flopped back onto the couch defeated.

:-:-:-:-: Attempt Six :-:-:-:-:

John just gets back from the store and has put the milk away [he is grateful there is no head in the fridge this time.] As he finishes putting things up he is grabbed by the shoulders and pushed against the wall by Sherlock. Their lips meet in a harsh and desperate kiss, Holmes using his advantage of height to completely dominate Watson under him. His hands run through the short strands of John's hair and he moans into the contact. When air finally becomes an issue they part, foreheads pressed together with both parties panting.

"Wh...what brought that on?" John asked, meeting Sherlock's gaze with his own. Instead of answering the question Holmes instead blurts out the one thing that has been on his mind for the past month.

"Will you marry me?"

Time seems to stop as he waits for John's answer. They are so close Sherlock knows that John can feel is racing heart, he really hopes that after all this time the answer doesn't become a 'No'. There is no evidence that it will be... but sometimes John can still surprise him. He doesn't want that, he wants John and everything that comes with him for as long as he possibly can.

"I... I..." Instead of answering right away, he pulls Sherlock down for another bruising kiss. "Yes, absolutely, yes."

"Good, I've already sent out the invitations."

holmes/watson, fanfiction, sherlock holmes, slash, watson

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