John looked at his best friend, seated on the passenger sit at his side. Still too pale and thin. And obviously uncomfortable with the idea that John was driving them both to his parent's house.
"I could have gone there by myself, John", he said.
"No way. You're not yet in condition to drive that far. You've just been released from the hospital." And you nearly died, and had to stay there that long because I've been such a crappy friend and doctor, so focused on my own problems I forgot you had run off from the hospital to solve them for me, John added inwardly, with a renewedpang of guilt.
"Precisely. You already spent too many time with me at the hospital. You should be with Mary", said Sherlock.
"No. She nearly killed my best friend."
"But I already proved you that…"
"We've already discussed this. I know she called the ambulance for you. But she also willingly inflicted a life threatening injury on you, taking the risk to have you not making it in the end. You heart stopped in the ambulance, Sherlock. You could have died, actually."
Sherlock was confused and worried. It had seemed that Mary was necessary to John's happiness. So as his friend, he had tried to adapt to the new situation. And by some kind of miracle, Mary had appeared to be among the rare persons that could accept him, and even somehow like him a bit, or so it seemed. He had begun to like her too, not only as John's fiancee, but as Mary Morstan, whatever shady past he suspected she had. Was it that important she had shot him ? She hadn't wanted him dead, she'd only wanted to protect her secret.
A brief look to his friend was enough to confirm to John that Sherlock didn't really understand his reaction. For him, or so it seemed, being shot by his best friend's fiancee was no big deal. The doctor felt a sudden burst of anger mixed with sorrow at the idea of how little his friend still valued his own life.
"Look. I don't know how I could make you understand this once for all. But you matter to me. Hugely. Your life is far more important to me than my relationship with Mary." Yeah. As if my oblivious, selfish behavior at Leinster Gardens and at our flat, when I realized what Mary had done, hadn't given him perfect reasons to think otherwise. Hell, he'd even had to call his own ambulance !
Sherlock looked less please than even more confused by John's words.
"But you told me that what you had with Mary was the most important thing in your life."
"Yes well, it may have seemed the most important thing that had happened to me at a moment, but I never meant that I'd chose you to die over to have to put an end to my relationship with her. Can this idea remain at least for a while in that thick skull of yours ?", John yelled, even thouhg he knew it wasn't really Sherlock he was angry at.
Something flashed in Sherlock's eyes, a mix of amazement and warm emotion, so quickly that John could have failed to notice it, had he not glanced at his friend just at this moment. But within a second his expression had changed into a frown and a worried look, as he turned his head toward the older man.
"But didn't you make peace with her while I was at the hospital ?"
John sighed. "No, Sherlock, I didn't. If you have to ask, I barely saw her. When I was not with you, I was at Baker street. I wanted to be nearer to St Barth, and… I needed time to ponder over what had happened."
Sherlock's frown deepened. "I didn't figure that out. Obviously I've not fully recovered on the intellectual point of view either. So… ", he added with a very uncharacteristic hesitation, "would you be very upset if I said that I asked Mary to join us at my parent's house tomorrow morning ? I thought - apparently I was wrong- that you would have wanted it and wouldn't have dared to ask."
John remained silent for a while. He was not pleased at the idea. But on another hand, he had to admit that he could not avoid the confrontation for ever. And he did have to take a decision concerning a possible future with Mary. What might be on the memory stick that she had given to him was not the issue. He had not wanted to see it and was not sure he ever would. But he was far from sure that he could forgive her what she had done to Sherlock. Yet on another hand, she was the mother of his soon to be born child.
And wasn't he even more angry at her because of his anger at himself for having let Sherlock jeopardize his own life ? And if Sherlock had gone as far as to nearly die from internal bleeding for the sake of that relationship, didn't he owe his friend, in a way, to give a second chance to it ?
Feeling Sherlock's anxiety, he quickly made up his mind and smiled reassuringly.
"No, mate, I'm not upset. On the contrary, I thank you for forcing the issue. There is no point in hiding the way I did. It will take time for me not to be mad at her anymore, but I must talk to her. I'll try, at least for the sake of our child and… because of what you already did for my happiness. I owe you that much.
Sherlock closed his eyes, both relieved and already tired by the discussion. Maybe John was right after all. He was not fully recovered. And how difficult and confusing it was, as usual, to try to understand people's feelings and unexpected emotional reactions. Even John's.
Yet he musn't allow himself to sleep untill he had said another and very private thing to his friend. Something he had waited too long to tell him, untill he just have this moment left to do so.
"John… There is another thing you should know before we arrive. The people with whom we're going to spend Christmas are not our real parents."