It didn’t matter how many times John had rehearsed this in head. He was still anxious as Sherlock walked back into the flat.
The detective eyed him a moment, then walked over to his chair. Before John could react, Sherlock was on one knee in front of him, pulling the box out from he’d tucked it between his leg and the chair.
Flushing, John looked down at him. “What are you doing?”
“Proposing. Obviously. Will you marry me, John?”
“But…I was going to ask you.”
“Come now, John. All you have to do is say yes.”
“Yes. You arsehole.”
Smiling, Sherlock took the ring from the box and put it on his own finger before leaning up to kiss him.