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"… you brought me flowers?" Sherlock asks, sniffing the bouquet, Bellis perennis… the common daisy. Hugging the bunch to his body for a moment, he sets it down on the coffee table, Do I even have a vase?
"Yeah." Jim says carelessly, ruffling his hair, "I read somewhere that you're supposed to do that." He sits down, swiping up the abandoned asterids.
"Well… thank you." Sherlock says over his shoulder as he wanders off to find something to contain them, "I've never gotten flowers before."
"Is that right?" Jim says absently as he fidgets with the flowers, pulling them out of their paper sheath and twirling their long stems together.
Sherlock returns and watches in awe as he realizes his boyfriend apparently had adept skill in making daisy chains, "This is something I certainly didn't expect."
"You're more interested in my clever hands than the supposedly romantic gesture…" Jim grimaces, "I suppose I could live with that." The chain begins to form an oblong shape.
"I never took you for someone who messed around with flowers in his spare time."
"Well I thought you might like them." Jim stands up, lifts his hands above Sherlock's head and drops the crown, letting it rest in his ebony curls.
Amazingly, Sherlock allows it, "See me in a crown."
"I always do, honey." Jim perches on his tip toes for a kiss.
Sherlock blocks it before he loses this train of thought, "You have absolutely no idea what being in a relationship is like, do you?"
"Don't be preposterous." Jim averts his face, (poorly) trying to conceal the signs of the lie, "I've seen people before."
"Interesting choice of words there, seen." Sherlock mocks, "Not been interested in, or spent time with, or heaven forbid, dated."
"No one was worth the time, Sherly." Moriarty sighs, "I am a rather busy man. A murder here, grand larceny there. Not everyone is quite as indulgent."
"All one-night stands then, Jim? Or were some of them on-and-off?"
There's a pregnant pause.
"If convenient." He finally responds.
"We've been on two dates now. About to go for a third. What can I deduce from that?"
"That you're interesting." Jim chirps, "And that very soon, we're going to be late for our reservation."
"Am I special?"
"You already know that answer, doofus."
"Odd, shouldn't you have read somewhere that you need to answer my pointless, obvious questions to bolster my self-esteem?"
"I don't know all the rules yet." Jim mutters, looking down, "I'm new at this, okay?" Clearly, it pains the criminal mastermind to be an amateur at something.
"So am I." Sherlock slides his long fingers under Jim's chin, tilting his face back up, "We can forge our way through the novice levels together."
Jim blushes, "Do I look pretty to you, Sherlock?"
"The prettiest." The detective finally plants a light peck on his lips, "Do I have to wear this to dinner?" He gestures to the crown, dropping a few petals in the process.
"You'd better." Jim winks, "How else shall I tell the world you're mine?"
Whether or not that was a threat of dastardly things to come, Sherlock will be prepared. But for now, he thinks, taking Jim's hand as they leave the apartment, Flowers, kisses and Jim's company are what keeps me sane.