This story takes place between the fourth and fifth chapters of "John and Mary Go Out to Dinner"—just before Mary is kidnapped by the computer criminal's sons. It's an untenable idea that newlyweds should manage never to have a difference of opinion! So here's John and Mary's first fight.

000

John pushed back his plate and sighed contentedly. It was nice to eat dinner in his own flat with his wife, for a change. The case he and Sherlock were working on was going nowhere. Sherlock had taken off to canvass his homeless network, leaving John with nothing whatever to do but go home early. It was pleasant to cook a meal with Mary in their little kitchen, chatting about their day and giggling together over Mary's amusing patients and what outrageous things Sherlock had said and done. They had been married for almost seven months now, had been together over a year, and life just kept getting better and better.

They quickly cleaned up the kitchen, and then Mary curled up on the sofa while John made tea. He handed her a cup and settled into his favourite armchair and sighed in perfect contentment. And then Mary said it.

"It's Harry's birthday next week, isn't it?" she asked innocently.

John frowned. "Yeah. I'll send her a card," he said shortly. Mention of his sister put him instantly on edge. She had always been difficult, but her treatment of Mary was just unconscionable.

"I was thinking we might go visit?" Mary suggested carefully. "It might be a good excuse for me to finally meet her in person." Harry had refused to come to their wedding and had consistently fended off any overtures on Mary's part, successfully avoiding any encounters with her brother's wife. On the phone, she had varied her approach to Mary from cold indifference to shrieking accusations. John had washed his hands of her. Mary, it seemed, had not.

"No. Absolutely not," John said firmly. "I won't put up with her abuse of you for one second. Until she is ready to treat you with respect, I'll have nothing to do with her."

Mary cleared her throat. "Don't I have any say it? I thought we made decisions like this together," she said evenly. That little muscle in her cheek was twitching, a sure sign that she was annoyed. John deliberately chose to ignore it.

"We do; of course we do," John assured her, a bit too casually. "But I know Harry; you don't. You don't know what she's really like, and I know best how to handle her. Just trust me. It's best this way." He sipped his tea, signalling that this conversation was over.

But Mary was nothing if not tenacious. "She's your sister. All the family you have left. That's important, John. She's important. We need to deal with this breach between you like adults."

John clenched his teeth, forcing himself to speak gently. Mary's use of his given name set him on edge. "When Harriet is ready to act like an adult, we'll deal with her like an adult," he said, far too calmly. "Meanwhile, I'll not have you in the same room with her."

Mary sighed. "She called me today. She's so very unhappy, Captain."

"She had no business calling you!" John was angry now. "What did she say to you?"

"She's just so unhappy, John. She doesn't like me because she thinks I'm keeping you away from her. And that's sort of true, isn't it?"

John was exasperated. "No, it isn't true at all," he insisted earnestly. "Harry is keeping me away with her own bloody attitude. You are the most important person in my life. When she's ready to accept that, I'll be happy to make things up with her. But as long as she persists in this delusion that your presence in my life is optional, I'll have nothing to do with her." He picked up the newspaper and tried to read the headlines. Mary picked up a book and leafed through the pages listlessly.

Silence prevailed as they each pretended to be engrossed in their reading. Finally, Mary spoke up. "Perhaps you could just go by yourself, then. Just to say 'happy birthday'. It would mean a lot to her, I think."

John kept his newspaper in front of his face, refusing to look at her. "I won't go anywhere you're not welcome. You're my wife. She's just going to have to accept that," he said quietly but intractably.

"I realize you're just trying to protect me, but, Captain. . . ." Mary pleaded gently.

"No." He was using his army officer's voice now. "Absolutely not. That's my final word."

"But, John. . . ."

He dropped his newspaper and stood up. "I'm going out for a bit of air," he said tightly. And he walked out of the flat.

"Erm. Okay," Mary said to an empty room.