100 Must-Read Sherlock One Shots

1.

JohnLock

Secrets

Sherlock paced about the room, with a box in hand. He was nervous and sweaty, and he didn't realize John had walked in and saw him.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell is that?" Sherlock panicked and shoved the box into the nearest crevice.

"Nothing, John. Go on your way, I have things to finish before we leave." Sherlock ushered the good doctor out of the room and hid the box very well. John was terrible at looking for things. John was terrible at a lot, Sherlock thought to himself.

Molly was watching little Hamish and Hannah for the night, so Sherlock and John could have a small break. The children wore the men out, but it was fun to have a family. They enjoyed it, and Molly was gracious enough to be their surrogate mother. But when Hamish and Hannah were found to be twins, it was a blessing to the men, and to Molly. She made a job of being a surrogate.

Sherlock wondered of what Hannah and Hamish were doing. The curly haired, blue eyed, five-year-olds were always performing experiments. Sherlock hoped they hadn't taken anything with them to Molly's home. They might make a mess of things. Their favourite thing to do was boil Barbie Dolls in various substances. Bubbling Vegetable Oil, Water, various juices. Whether the liquid came from the fridge or from the toilet, the two children were always curious as to what would happen. One night, Sherlock awoke to a loud noise coming from the kitchen, to see Hamish and Hannah with sulfuric acid in the sink, dipping dolls' heads into it. Sherlock promptly put them to bed and locked the bedroom door, which was now a nightly routine to prevent any more "Midnight Expreimentation."

Sherlock rubbed his hands together and wiped the accumulating sweat on his trousers. He looked at a picture of him and John, with Hamish on John's shoulders, and Hannah on his own. The children truely were beautiful. Hannah had long, curly, dark brown hair and bright, galaxy-like green-blue eyes. She had the high, godlike cheekbones of her father. Hannah's hair went down past her belly button, and no matter how hard John tries, he can't get Hannah to let them cut it. The only thing they can trim are her bangs, which sweep across her forehead. Hamish looks like Sherlock in almost every way. High cheekbones, unruly curly hair, same galaxy eyes as Hannah, and both of the children were very tall and willowy.

A smile glimpsed across Sherlock's features. He was happy for them, for him, for the family. Nad tonight was going to be the night that completed it all. He only needed to keep a small secret, and John couldn't find out, no matter how hard it was.

Sherlock shifted across the room, and looked for the outfit. The one he knew John couldn't resist. Once he had found it, he shoved off his old sweats and T-shirt, and shrugged on the black trousers and tight-fitting purple button up. He smiled at his own appearance, and to know that about six years ago he wouldn't dare care about what he wants to look like.

He thought of John and all of the things he does for the detective. Sherlock thought of all of the cases that could have killed the good doctor, and the bomb they diffused so long ago that would have killed not only them, but so many people in the rooms above them.

Outside, John was waiting in his nicest red jumper and khakis. He whistled to himself and daydreamed of the date he and Sherlock were going on. An extremely nice restaurant catered by the French, that's where Sherlock had set up the date. It was known for it's very high prices and extremely delicious food and wine.

"Ah, Sherlock you slow arse, hurry." John was beginning to get impatient, and paced on the sidewalk of 221B. A woman or two winked at him, which he responded "I'm gay," and shot them down.

Sherlock barreled out of the door. "We're going to be late!" He shouted and hailed a taxi. John was grabbed by Sherlock, and playfully thrown into the taxi.

"La Rouge, please. If you find the fastest way, I'll pay you double," Sherlock said to the man. He sped up and got to the restaurant in half the time. Sherlock kept his promise and paid the man fifty quid.

"Let's go, John." He said, and pulled the blond man into the palace. It resembled that much,and should be called such.

A French man took the detective and his blogger to their table. Inside looked like Ivory, Satin, and red. They lived up to their name.

The men drank wine and spoke fondly of their children while eating the most delicious food. Caviar, Poached Fish, Escargot, and many other French delicacies. The price did not matter to Sherlock. He had been saving up for about a year now.

Sherlock fondled an object in his pocket and smiled to himself. He had written up his speech a day and a half ago, and he was going to give it soon. John was carrying on about how smart Hannah was, and how athletic Hamish was. But how they were both geniuses, and being five years old, are already in first grade. They skipped kindergarten.

"John," Sherlock said to the man. Yes, he realized that he was in the middle of a sentence, but this was important.

"Sherlock, I hate when you keep secrets. Please, just tell me what's been bothering you lately? Why are you pacing, nervous and stressed? But, why have you gotten so much happier today?" John reached across the table to Sherlock,but he scraped his chair back.

"No, John." He said. "This is my secret." He pulled a small box for his pocket and got down on a knee.

"John, I love you. We have two beautiful children together, and I know we are both men, but I don't care. I just want to know, will you marry me?"

John cried, not in anger, but in happiness. In his bliss, he nodded and hugged the tall man that he was soon to call his husband.