#baker st

Sherlock:

Sherlock conveys an exterior of cold reason he has a soft side. He loves you dearly and there are several things you do that make him blush but possibly the best is when you display any form of PDA. You know it makes him uncomfortable so you don't do it often but on occasion you will kiss his cheek or hold his hand. The first time you kissed his cheek in front of John made him a lovely shade of pink for a solid ten minutes 

John:

Unlike Sherlock, John is generally an expressive person so PDA doesn't bother him at all. One thing though that will always get him is when you dance. He loves the way you swing your hips in hypnotic circles. Once while everyone was out from drinks you had decided to start dancing to the music in the bar. This drove John mad, Lestrade couldn't stop laughing at the way he was staring at you. John started blushing harder when Lestrade started laughing.  

Mycroft:

Mycroft is not one to let his emotions show. He is the British government after all, keep calm and carry on, that sort of thing. When in the office his emotions are invisible, however that won't stop you from trying to break that hard exterior. The most effective method you have found is to bend all the way over while wearing a pencil skirt. He already adores the way you look in the skirt and once you bend over its abandoned ship. Some of the best responses you have ever elicited from this action is him excusing himself from an important conversation. As he walked away you could see his cheeks starting to redden.

Greg:

Greg Lestrade is a confident man. He knows his job and for the most part he does it well with little distraction. However this does not mean that when he is on the job he is exempt from being head over heels in love with you. Whenever you turn up on the same crime scene he does he is always delighted to have you with him. However, he was a little embarrassed, however secretly excited, when upon arriving at a crime scene you didn't know he would be it you yelled out his name. It made him blush in front of everyone but he liked it when you yelled his name. ;)

Moriarty:

Mary: or what?

John: or I’ll marry you.

221B Baker Street - Sherlock Holmes

"Rosie, come here, honey,"

"Yes Daddy-" she grinned as she toddled over to me, "What's wrong, Daddy?"

"Oh, nothing, honey- I just think you look like the prettiest witch I've ever laid eyes on, that's all."

I pulled her close and she squirmed and giggled in the breadth of my goliath Frankenstein costume.

"Careful, Daddy, don't elec- don't eltrec- ezzec-"

"Electrocute." Corrected Sherlock. "Say it phonetically Rosamund: ee-lec-tro-cute. Go on."

"Ee-ee-eelectrocoo?"

"Not quite there, my dear Watson."

Sherlock twirled around magnificently, his cape flouncing decadantly in the sweet exilhiration of youth, scooped Rosie up with two outstretched arms and held her from underneath her arms.

"Electrocuted. A difficult word to say. Especially for a two-and-three-quarters year-old child." He teased, "Now, don't you look magnificent!"

He gasped sharply in mock awe and cried, "But doesn't Daddy over there look terrifying?!"

"Scary Daddy!" She laughed.

He gently put her down, went to walk away, but was stopped in his tracks by a little witch's broomstick being jabbed in his shins.

"Hubble, bubble, toil and rubble!"

"Trouble, Rosie, trouble is the word."

"You're teaching her Shakespeare now?" I huffed in a disgruntled moan, "Come on Sherlock, she's only three for Christ sake."

"Wrong. She is not yet three. For a Frankenstein, your brain is very slow. You'd think your creator would have plucked a better one from the earth. Of all graves, he picked John Watson's. He could have taken your arm," he pulled my arm upwards, "Your leg", he kicked my leg to the side, "Your fantastic, incredible pelvis", he slid his hand from the bolts on my neck, down my tingling spine, to my lower back and gently pulled it forward- ever closer to his frontage.

"Perhaps your neck?" He leaned down to my painted countenance and stroked my cheek with his bladed face, fangs and all touching my jaw seductively.

He grazed my shaven face with his deathly pale undead smirk and looked into my eyes. My heart raced.

"Your lips..." I drew in my breath as he came nearer to my unquivering mouth.

"But no!" He spouted, causing me to be plucked from my dreamlike trance and thrust into grim reality. Or Grimm's reality. I wasn't really sure. All I new was that Count Dracula was staring me in the face, holding me tight, and that I had nowhere to run.

"He neglected all of your wonderful physical features and took your ordinary brain."

"Is that an insult or dirty talk?!" I chuckled, "You're not too good at these things, you know!"

"Oh, but I am. You see- you hadn't allowed me to speak of your fantastic optimism. The benevolence and passion which resides in that relatively ordinary mind of yours."

"Relatively?"

"Mmm. Yes indeed. For a mind such as yours is commonplace and ignored in the nonchalance of the social majority. The public. But here, in my vampire lair," he joked, "It is a trophy. A gift. And I want to spend every single day with it in my keep. In my keep. In... my... keep. Rosie, that's your cue!"

"Sorry Daddy!" She bounced across the floor and clicked a button on the millennium era stereo which I'd never bothered to upgrade. Upon which, a beautiful serenade began to play and the flat was filled with the pungent shrillness of a violin masterfully played.

Still in possession of my faculties, Sherlock raised my arms and lurched my hips deep into the depth of his. He lead and I followed his sensitive sway. We were dancing.

I embedded myself into his shoulder and inhaled the intoxicating fumes of the world's only Consulting Detective. He smelt clean and sharp. The world's only. One of a kind. I was locked into his posture and our two movements became one singular structure of motion.

As I sunk further into his breast, I felt my shoulders be pushed back, then my chest, my front and then my...

"Erm, Sherlock, you're awfully close to my-"

"No words."

He kept lowering himself down the straight of my body. Slowly, methodically, studying my every dimension, before slumping at the floor and unfurling from his leathery shawl.

He pulled something from the plumage of his collar.

"Sherlock..."

"No words!" He scolded. "Ah, erm, where was I?" He composed himself and took a full set of lungs. So full of oxygen, I thought he might combust.

"John Hamish Watson. We have known eachother for some time now. Throughout thick and thin, life and death, you have stood by me. You- ha, you- ahaha, you-"

He convulsed into a fenzy of uncontrollable laughter. Shaking with humour, he tried to stand, but then failed disgracefully. At this moment, I siezed with guffaws and clutched my stomach.

"Sherlock, you're not meant to be laughing right now!" I giggled.

I helped him up and we leaned together, each stance entirely depending on the other's.

I looked up and smiled- now at his dislodged fang- "I never thought I'd say 'yes' to Count Dracula himself."

His grin dissolved and his brows closed together. His nostrils flared like a beast and his lips were pursed and bitten.

"You're... saying... yes?"

I smiled at the idiot trying to propose to me and took the ring from his sweaty palm and placed it firmly on my finger.

"There, look- now we're engaged."

"We're... engaged. We're engaged!" He pulled me back in and spun me around innumerable times before planting me back on the floor and staring at my misty eyes with glee.

"We're engaged!" He gasped, "We are engaged."

"Yay! Daddy and Dad are en... enga... enrag?"

"Engaged, honey," I corrected, "Daddy and Dad are engaged."

"So... can we go trick-or-treating now?!" She bounded up and down with pure excitement.

"Yes!" Sherlock and I chanted in unison.

We marched downstairs, hand-in-hand, clad in our monstrous battlesuits and opened the door of 221b and stepped into London as an engaged couple.

There, to my suprise, stood a greeting party!

Fairy Molly Hooper! Werewolf Lestrade! Poorly-wrapped-toilet-roll-mummy Mrs Hudson, and last but not least... er... Mycroft?

He wasn't dressed up.

He whipped his umbrella from behind him and put it up.

"I'm Mary Poppins." He mocked.

"HAPPY ENGAGEMENT!" Roared our friends.

"You told them?!"

"Oh, deary, you couldn't possibly think Sherlock Holmes could have made that beautiful proposal without consulting actual humans, do you?" Spoke a teary Mrs Hudson. "I'm just glad you finally realised-"

"I'm not gay!" I yelled,

"Oh, yes dear, we know. You're... bi-sex-ual." She stammered, marvelling at this newfangled concept.

"I just meant that we're glad you finally realised that you two were simply meant to be, that's all." She whimpered, before she and Molly hugged a very tearful embrace.

"Congratulations, boys. I do really hope you two will be happy together." Said Mycroft with just a tinge of genuine happiness on his face.

"Lads!" Cried Lestrade as he rushed us with a brutush cuddle, "Lads I gotta tell ya, I am so happy for you. So happy!" He reiterated with a second hug.

"But," questioned Molly, "Where are the balloons?"

"Balloons?" All but Sherlock queried in chorus-

"Yeah," nodded Greg, "Or the race cars?"

"Race cars?!"

"Or the fireworks?" Asked Mrs Hudson.

We all turned to Sherlock.

"Although those ideas were... marvellous, I felt that I was really obligated to manifest my own proposal. I do hope you all understand."

The group nodded sheepishly.

"However, I hope you are all ready for a fast paced, helium filled, dazzlingly bright wedding!"

We all rejoiced together. Our wedding was to be a ridiculous, high-octane, childish and extremely loud family affair. Mummy Holmes wasn't going to be happy!

Rosie interjected; "Sweeties!"

"All right love, let's go." I said. Rosie slipped her hand into mine and Sherlock was hesitant, but did the same with her little talons.

"I want sugar!" She ran off and laughed with the girls. The lads hung at the back of the ghoulish procession,

"Tell her not to worry, John. Her father will be getting enough sugar for the both of them tonight, eh brother mine?" Taunted Mycroft.

"You bet." He turned to me.

All. The. Sweater.

Falling asleep together watching telly.

Always giving kisses goodbye.

Worrying about him.

Him constantly being worried something would happen to you.

Melting every time he uses his “Captain Watson” voice.

Editing his blog for him.

Fixing his shocking number of miss spellings.

Always holding hands when the two of you are out.

Calling him “Hobbit” just to annoy him when he can't reach something.

Calling Sherlock “Legolas” all the time till one day he says “You know, I always preferred Smouge.”

 Him always looking out for you.

Always feeling safe when he was around.

Being one of the few people to know about John's nightmares. 

Being the rock that he needs.