A/N: Reference to past character death, implied past relationship. Sherlock/John - - kinda.
The first section is a texting conversation. The second is not.
Milk and beans.
Sorry, what?
Need milk and beans, bring some on your way home.
Sherlock? Is that you?
Of course it's me, who else would it be?
John?
I'm sorry Sherlock, you'll have to get your own milk and beans. We've talked about this.
Dull.
Yes, well, that's real life. It's what normal people do, they get their own groceries and run their own errands.
Do we need to have another conversation about 'real people' and 'real lives', John? Besides, I'm not normal people.
Obviously.
I can't be bothered to run to the store, I'm in the middle of an experiment.
Then wait until after you've finished.
Milk is crucial to said experiment.
Then why didn't you plan accordingly?
Dull.
Of course.
Look, Sherlock, I don't have time to chat right now, I'm at work.
Oh please. Your shift ends in thirty minutes, and you have no more patients scheduled. The only thing left to do is finish up paperwork, which won't be even remotely challenging, since the only procedures you've performed today were annual examinations and vaccinations. I'm not interrupting anything.
How do you do that?
Do what?
Know things that you shouldn't possibly know?
I know you, John.
That's amazing.
You really think so?
You know that I do. Stop fishing for compliments, it doesn't suit you.
That's the only way I can get any these days.
Sherlock.
Sorry. So will you?
Will I what?
Pick up the milk and beans.
No.
Why not?
Because I'm not your errand boy, Sherlock. Not anymore.
I'll watch the new episode of Doctor Who with you if you do.
You know that I can't. Not tonight.
I apologise; I had forgotten. I could record it and we can watch it tomorrow night?
That could be arranged.
So have you given it any thought?
Yes, of course I have. But I need more time, Sherlock. Can you understand that?
How much longer do you need? It's been ages, John – six months.
Christ, Sherlock! Grief doesn't have a timetable, you ma –
[Deleted]
There's no timetable for grief, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I'll be ready when I'm ready, that's the best I can do right now.
You still there, Sherlock?
Yes.
Look, I suppose I'll have time to swing by and drop off your milk and beans for you if you really need it.
That's not actually what I need.
What do you need, then?
I miss you, John.
I miss you too. You know, you don't have to manufacture reasons for me to come over. If you'd like to spend some time with me, you could just come right out and ask.
Obviously.
Right. So, are we good for tomorrow night then? Doctor Who?
Of course.
Would you like me to bring anything? Some popcorn, perhaps?
That would be acceptable. Seven o'clock?
Works for me. I'll see you then.
John?
Yes?
Say hello to Mary for me.
I will, Sherlock. Good-bye.
Good-bye.
"He can be so bloody childish and oblivious sometimes." John ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Two months ago, he swans back into my life, expecting me to drop everything and pick right back up where we left off. After three years of creating a new life with you. As if he were the only loss I mourned during that time." He sighed. "I should have been furious. I should have refused to ever speak to him again. But I can't do that. Not after he gave me the miracle I asked for.
"Oh, and apparently I owe him my life – again. I swear, if this trend continues I'll end up being indebted to him forever. Mycroft thinks that he's more in my debt than the other way around, but honestly, I stopped keeping score ages ago. We've both saved each other's lives more times than I can count." John shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, I'll always owe him for being the first to make a difference. I may have saved him from putting a poisoned pill in his mouth that first night, but he saved me from putting a loaded gun in mine."
John placed a warm hand on top of the rough stone. "He texted me for the first time in two weeks today. He asked me if I'd thought about moving back into Baker Street. He couldn't seem to understand that I'm still trying to come to terms with my life without you. I've had over three years to heal from his 'death'; it's only been six months since yours. I'm sure I'll do it eventually; I just don't think I'm quite ready yet to become so tightly bound to someone else again, even if it is him."
John gave the gravestone a small pat before stepping back and stuffing his fists in his jacket pockets. "He told me to tell you hello," he said softly. " I really think you two would have hit it off, if you had had the chance to meet." He swallowed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe I'll bring him by sometime. Introduce you properly. Once I get used to the idea of him being back."
John lowered his chin and contemplated his feet. "I miss you," he whispered. He stood there silently for a few minutes before lifting his eyes to the engraved name and the dates signifying her brief time on earth. "I'll give Sherlock your regards. Rest well, love. I'll see you next week."
He turned smartly on his heel and walked slowly out of the cemetery. The evening sun filtered through the trees, bringing the letters and numbers on the headstone into stark relief.
MARY WATSON-HOLMES
Cherished and Beloved Daughter
2013-2015