Mary Morstan quietly approached Sherlock Holmes. He stood with his back against the wall, still wearing his coat and scarf tight around him. His eyes drifted around New Scotland Yard's press conference room, frequently lingering where John Watson was chatting with Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.
Observing the other early arrivals, Mary experienced the isolation that surrounded the newly returned consulting detective. Members of the Met, old and new, worked to avoid his contempt, skirting a wide berth around the two of them. A professor, neuroscientist and fiancée to his closest friend, Mary was not intimidated by Sherlock. "Will this be the final press conference?"
"I certainly hope so," replied Sherlock, who glanced towards Mary, but did not make eye contact.
"Cleared to go back on cases. You must be thrilled," said Mary. The hectic nature of the past week had not afforded her the opportunity to properly converse with Sherlock. She wanted them to be on friendly terms, for John's sake.
Sherlock nodded. "It will be good to have the work in my life again."
Mary could not help but notice how Sherlock's eyes kept flickering over to John. She smiled at his complete lack of awareness of his action.
"You should invite John to go on cases with you."
Apparently Sherlock Holmes can be surprised, from the look on his face.
"I have no objections, and he misses you."
"He does?" Sherlock could not hide the vulnerability in his voice.
"Of course, he does. John missed you every day for three years, Sherlock. Now you're back, and he's angry with you, sure, but can't you see how much he needs you?"
"He has barely spoken to me since the night I came back."
"Yet you are with each other almost every day. Wonder why that is?"
"Because it is expedient for him to have his side of the story told."
" 'You see, but you do not observe.' "
Sherlock started.
"He misses you." Mary grinned at Sherlock.
The tall man inclined his head towards her. "Mycroft said you were intelligent, Dr. Morstan. I concur."
Now it was Mary's turn to be surprised. "I think I'm flattered."
Sherlock smirked. "You should be."
The two looked at John and Greg, both men still talking. Mary wondered if Sherlock noticed how many times John's gaze rested upon him. Despite his skills of deduction, Mary believed Sherlock had a weakness in his abilities when it came to John.
With obvious effort, Sherlock said, "I like you more than the others he brought home."
"That doesn't mean you like me."
In response to his cocked eyebrow, Mary said, "From what I've heard, you didn't like the others at all."
"They were invariably insipid."
"Really? I thought the problem is that they were with John."
Sherlock's lips thinned. "Did he say that?"
Hit a nerve, Mary thought. "He did mention you would text while he was on dates."
"Trying to save him from evenings of boredom. He had more fun with me," said Sherlock, waving a hand dismissively.
"Did you ever think that John was looking for more than fun?"
"Dr. Morstan," he began, before Mary interrupted.
"Mary, please."
Sherlock took a deep breath. "Mary, I know that John thinks love is a mystery to me."
"Not any more. After the last three years, not any more, Sherlock." Mary's voice was rough with emotion, wanting this awkward man to understand his connection to John.
"I was…" he seemed to have difficulty finding the correct word and sighed, "… glad to see the two of you together. I was, am, glad to see John happy."
"He waited for you. A whole year, he waited, convinced you'd come back. That's part of why he is so angry."
"It was worth it, Mary. It was worth the wound to him, to me, to our relationship for him to live. Even if he hated me."
"He does not hate you, never, not even for a second."
"It would be okay if he did. You must be alive to hate."
"Alive to love, too."
Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm glad that John is alive to find someone who can love him as he deserves."
Mary reached out to touch Sherlock's arm. "Between both of us, Sherlock, I think John is quite well-loved."
Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but instead closed it, his eyes darting around in a manner that John had once described as Sherlock's nervous tell.
Greg and John had approached as Mary and Sherlock talked. John observed Sherlock's demeanor and asked, "Everything alright here?"
Mary improvised. "I mentioned we'll be throwing an engagement party in a few weeks, and that Sherlock must attend. You, too, Greg."
"A party sounds good right about now," said Greg. "I'll be there. Just name the time and date."
Looking at John, Mary said, "Also, I told Sherlock that he needed to invite you on cases because you drive me batshit when you're bored."
Over Greg's howl of laughter, Sherlock said, "Anything for you, Mary." And then he bowed over her hand.
John deadpanned, "I've been in combat, I've been shot, and I've never been more terrified than I am right now."
Mary giggled and kissed John's cheek. "Looks like it's about time to get this presser underway." She nodded towards the reporters who were filling up the room.
"Come along, John." Sherlock guided him up to the front of the conference room, his left hand on the small of John's back.
"Mary, let's get you situated away from the press, shall we?" Greg indicated chairs up front, off to the side of the conference table.
"My hero, thank you."
Mary took her seat, directly in line with the conference table. Whereas the previous press conference had been open only to a few traditional news outlets, this one was allowing entertainment media and bloggers to attend. Mary knew from previous encounters that some of the questions were going to test the meager patience of Sherlock and the quick temper of John.
As someone accused John of being in a relationship with Mary to help keep Sherlock's cover, Sherlock gently placed a hand on John's knee. When somebody questioned the doctor about collaborating in the fake suicide, John nudged Sherlock's leg with his own as the consulting detective interjected sharply on his blogger's behalf. By halfway through the press conference, Mary could see that their legs were in complete contact, giving comfort through each other's presence.
Greg elbowed Mary and whispered with a grin, "Glad the press can't see under the table. They'd have a field day."
When John clutched Sherlock's wrist when the detective spouted a particularly acerbic retort, curiosity got the best of Mary. "Were they always this physical with each other?"
"Nah, at least not John. Sherlock has no respect for other people's space, period, but he always treated John differently. The touches seemed more friendly than inconsiderate, you know?" Greg settled back into his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles and stretched out in front of him. "God, just watching them together again makes me feel better about life."
"Me, too." John and Sherlock did look right together, Mary thought. The deep blue of Sherlock's scarf seemed chosen to bring out the color of John's eyes. Fair alongside tanned, light against dark, tall and aloof next to short and welcoming. What should have been a study in contradictions somehow became a thesis in complements.
As Mary toyed with her engagement ring, she relaxed, accepting that all was returning to what it should be.