Jim was nervous as hell and a big part of him wanted to stand up and run far, far away.

Eight months.

Thirty two weeks.

Two hundred and forty four days.

That's how long they'd been together. Eight whole months, and Jim was very much ready for the step he was about to take. That didn't stop him from feeling on the verge of vomiting because he was as so nervous.

In front of Jim sat a small rectangle box, the lid closed and keeping what it held within a secret for now.

He just stares at it. God knows for how long.

When he hears a knock at the door, Jim snatches the box from the table and stands in a rush. The box is stuffed inside his blazer pocket before he pulls it down, straightening the suit.

They were going out to some fancy restaurant that Sherlock knew and so Jim was taking full advantage of the formal dress code and was wearing one of his favourite Westwood suits - the navy one. He loved this one and thought that Vivienne's suits were worth every pay check he had to save (which, really, wasn't any because Jim always saves and saves - he's like his mother in that sense).

After he's straightened his clothing, Jim walks over to the door to let Sherlock in. Another rush of nausea washes over him and he frowns a little, thinking maybe that ill feeling wasn't just because of his nerves.

Then he's grinning, sick feeling forgotten, because in front of him is his gorgeous boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. He's dressed in that damn purple shirt too.

"Hello, Sher-cock."

Chuckling, Sherlock steps close and plants a kiss on Jim's lips. That makes Jim huff and frown. Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"You're meant to get annoyed by the nickname," Jim explains.

Sherlock just shrugs, his fingers sliding down Jim's arm and lacing with Jim's own fingers. "Ready to go?"

Jim shakes his head. All his nerves hit him, full throttle, again.

Oh, God. He thinks he's going to be sick...

"I.." Jim clears his throat, head spinning. He swallows. "Before we go.. I.. There's something I want to ask you."

It probably seems out of the ordinary to ask him now. Jim had his reasons.

For one, he did not want to ask with people around. And secondly, this way they could celebrate two things at dinner. Jim thought this method was rather genius, actually.

Frowning, Sherlock nods. "Okay." Jim doesn't say a word for a moment. "You look a bit pale... Are you okay, James?"

Jim nods and breathes out slowly, not realising he'd been holding his breath. He reaches into his blazer pocket and as his fingers close around the little box, he looks up to meet Sherlock's eyes.

"I..." He can't speak.

Instead, he pulls the box out and thrusts it into Sherlock's hands. He's panting now, breaking out into a sweat. He can feel the ill feeling rising and he very nearly doubles over and ruins their nice shoes. Somehow, he stills, breathes deeply and stops himself.

Sherlock's eyes are fixed on the box. Then he's shaking his head rapidly and Jim can see his mouth forming the word 'no' over and over. The box is practically launched back at Jim.

"James... I.. Fuck, I love you, okay, but no. No. This is.. Just no."

Jim frowns and looks down at his feet, box held limply in his hand. He nods, swallowing back tears now. Sherlock said no...

His mum was wrong. She said Sherlock would love this and think it was rather amusing. The amusing bit struck him as odd but he let her convince him either way.

"O-okay," Jim mumbles the word. He can't bring himself to look at Sherlock. He winces at the stutter and clenches his free fist.

"God... I.. Maybe in a few years I'll be ready. But for now, I don't think we should take the step up to being fiancés."

That causes Jim's head to snap up. He frowns, bemused. Then it all clicks.

"I am going to kill my mother..." He looks down at the box. "How the hell didn't I see that?" Jim mutters to him, shaking his head.

When he looks up, Sherlock looks confused. Jim takes his hand and places the box in it.

"Jim, I said-"

"Open it," Jim says, smirking.

Sherlock's eyebrow knit together but he does as he's told. Jim can see his fingers shaking as he goes to lift the lid. Jim's eyes stay on Sherlock's face as he lifts the kid and he can't help but smile when Sherlock's eyes light up in realisation and shock.

"I'm not proposing," Jim laughs.

Sherlock pulls the key out the box. He meets Jim's eyes. "Who the hell puts a key in a box like this?!" He half-shouts.

Jim still smiles. "Er, my mum said it was a good idea.. I didn't think about it - didn't think about what it looked like."

Sherlock breathes a sigh of relief and wraps his arms around Jim, holding him close. Jim hugs back, burying his face in Sherlock's chest.

"You really want me to live here?" Sherlock whispers, voice shaking slightly.

Jim nods. "You practically live here anyway."

Laughing, Sherlock presses a kiss to Jim's head. He then pulls back and goes to lean in for a proper kiss. Jim's stomach rolls and he turns his head away, panting again. He then realised he was still sweating.

"Jim?" Sherlock asks, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I, er, don't feel so good" Jim admits, pushing a hand to his head. "Think maybe I'm coming down with something."

Sherlock moves Jim's hand away and presses the back of his hand to Jim's head. His eyes widen and he looks down at Jim's face, eyes shining with worry.

"Jesus. You're burning up," Sherlock quickly pushes Jim back inside the door and closes it behind them.

"The reservations!" Jim whines. "We're meant to be celebrating."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Nope. You've got a fever. I'm not taking you out like this. We're going to stay here and I'm going to look after you." With a warm smile, Sherlock kisses Jim's nose which makes him wrinkle his face up like always.

Jim wants to argue some more because it's their anniversary and Sherlock's going to be moving in but, in the end, he sighs and nods because he doesn't feel like using energy or - if he's honest - going out.

Sherlock gets him to change into his pyjamas and Jim silently asks Viv for forgiveness and promises that he will use one of the suits soon. When he's tucked into bed, Sherlock makes them chicken soup and basically becomes Jim's tea maid for the night. He also checks Jim's temperature with one of those strip things that came with the first aid kit. He then makes a call to John to get Jim a quick prescription for some medicine. After said medicine arrives, they cuddle and talk about when Sherlock will move his things and Jim decides that, even if he was sick, it was a pretty nice way for them to spend their anniversary.

In the morning, Jim trails out of bed with a headache and a runny nose - not to mention his stomach was still verging on the edge of imploding and making him puke up his insides. He groggily makes tea for himself and Sherlock before returning to the bed and poking his sexy boyfriend's cheek.

"Ugh," Sherlock grunts, slowing waking up.

Jim waits patiently while Sherlock stretches and slowly sits up, ruffling his curls as he does. While Sherlock's half asleep, Jim takes a moment to appreciate his boyfriend's body and curses whatever God up there decided he should have a cold on their anniversary.

Whimpering, for numerous reasons, Jim snuggles against Sherlock and hands him his tea.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asks, an arm wrapping around Jim while his free hand accepted the tea.

"Worse," Jim pouts, shaking his head.

Sherlock makes a noise that could only be described as a concerned tut. Like he was concerned for Jim but tutting at the cold for even existing. Jim agreed wholeheartedly that colds should be tutted until they disappeared from existence.

Jim presses his face into Sherlock's bare chest, thankful for the warmth and comfort. He was a terribly whiny and needy person when he was ill. So, really, he was lucky that Sherlock worried about him so much. This was the first time Jim had been ill since they got together though, so Jim doubts that in a few years Sherlock will be able to tolerate him as much.

"Hate being ill," Jim mumbles the words, turning his face a moment later to sip his tea.

His stomach immediately gives a lurch of disapprove and, grimacing, Jim puts his tea on the bedside table. He then proceeds to go back to cuddling Sherlock, who was extremely cuddly (despite all the sharp lines and general bony-ness of him).

They spend the day doing nothing at all. They move into the living room and watch crappy telly, Jim calls in to tell Molly he wouldn't be at work for the day (seeing as Monday was already upon them). Jim also spends a good portion of his time refusing to kiss Sherlock while he was all bunged up.

Being ill is the worst. Especially when you have Sherlock Holmes pouting at you with those big, sad, blue eyes that Jim found very, very hard to resist when he was 100% percent healthy - never mind when he was ill.

"Awh, Jim, c'mon, one kiss!" Sherlock is practically begging.

Jim shakes his head, silently thanking his mother for being stubborn as hell and a bad example. "No. You'll get ill too."

"I won't. Just one kiss!"

Jim shakes his head again, firmly standing his ground and avoiding those irresistible eyes. Sherlock jumps up, having one hundred  times more energy than Jim, and sinks to his knees so he could lift Jim's chin and force him to look at him.

Ass, Jim thinks. Knows he's irresistible.

"One kiss?" Sherlock raises an eyebrow, voice all innocent as his eyes sparkle in that way they do when he's being manipulative.

Jim sighs, melting as Sherlock's hands smooth over his upper arms and slide around his neck. Jim leans forward, down a little bit too considering Sherlock was kneeling, and kisses Sherlock softly. His eyes slide closed as Sherlock let out a little hum of approval and moves his lips with Jim's.

It's slow and sweet and makes Jim's heart do one of those painful but nice stutters that Sherlock seems to constantly make it do. Jim told Sherlock once how he made him react and Sherlock had smiled wildly and teased Jim relentlessly before admitting that Jim had his heart do the same.

When he was growing up, Jim always imagined being with some shining prince of perfect with soft, fluffy blonde hair that would hold him and be the sweetest person ever. But he found that he much preferred this relationship full of teasing and sarcasm and laughs with this curly haired devil. He wouldn't trade Sherlock for that blonde prince any day.

He really couldn't imagine being without Sherlock. Especially when the detective kissed him like this; full of emotion, full of desire, sweet, gentle and loving.

When they pull away from each other, Jim's panting lightly and not because he's ill. Blushing softly, Jim averts his eyes.

"Idiot. Now you're get ill," Jim mutters, feigning anger.

Sherlock jumps up with a chuckle, picking up their tea mugs.

"I hope not. Because that kiss wasn't really worth it," He teases as he straightens and turns towards the kitchen.

Jim narrows his eyes, sniffs, and allows his fingers to wrap around the slim remote control that sat beside him. With a devilish grin, he raises his arm and takes aim at the unsuspecting Sherlock.