"John."
"…"
"John."
"…"
"John I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't ignore me."
"Piss off."
"… Okay, so I said the wrong thing-"
"You're damn right you said the wrong thing."
"… Look, John, to be perfectly honest with you I have no idea what I could possibly have said to cause you to swing your fist at my face in the middle of dinner." Sherlock said quickly, a tissue held to his lip. He turned to look out the window of the cab. To his left, he could hear John shift in his seat and sigh.
"On second thoughts, most of what I say does usually lead to someone punching me in the face."
He looked at John, hoping his comment would help his situation, but found his flatmate staring at him with a look of despair on his face.
"Sherlock, Mary and I are getting married in two days. And you shouting out her whole bloody life story in the middle of a restaurant isn't exactly what you're supposed to do!" He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I… I'm sorry John I didn't think-"
"No, no. You didn't-!" John stopped himself and lowered his voice, taking in a breath. "You didn't think that there were some things that she would want to tell me in her own time, rather than having them told to me by my pisshead flatmate two days before we're supposed to get married." John looked back up at Sherlock, and Sherlock knew this was the moment to apologise.
"I'm sorry John. Please, forgive me." Sherlock looked down at his lap. He knew he shouldn't have done it. He knew from the many times he had met people for the first time that deducing their eating habits or the condition of their marriage wasn't something that they particularly appreciated. But Mary… he read something in Mary. Something he felt he wouldn't have the heart to tell John. But then again, he was often reminded that a heart was something that he lacked.
As they reached the top of the stairs to their apartment, John threw down his coat down onto the sofa. He went into the kitchen and lit up the kettle. Sherlock dropped his coat lazily on the floor and curled up in his chair, bringing his knees up to his chin. He closed his eyes, having no intention of opening them any time soon. John would surely have another go at him if he made any kind of eye contact, and that was something he was determined to avoid.
"Sherlock, can we talk?" John walked into the living room with a mug of tea in each hand. He placed one on the table next to Sherlock's chair, then sat himself down in his armchair with a sigh. He put down his mug and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Sherlock opened his eyes.
"John, I need to tell you something about Mary."
"No Sherlock I wanted- " He stopped.
He looked up.
"Sherlock?" He paused. "What's going on?"
Sherlock looked into John's eyes, and could see the anger building up inside his friend. He had to phrase this carefully. He might get punched again. And that hurts.
"When I saw Mary tonight, I…" he stopped. He can't.
He can't tell John what he saw.
He can't tell John that Mary is a liar.
"When I saw Mary," he began, choosing his words carefully, "I knew she was right. For you. And… and I'm glad you were able to make the right choices in my absence." He winced internally. God, that was terrible.
Although John seemed to have bought it. He blinked a few times, nodded, and sat back in his chair.
"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" he said, frowning slightly.
"Well, um, yes. I- I thought you should know what I, uh, what I thought of your future… wife." He threw a smile at John. The doctor looked confused. Sherlock didn't blame him.
"OK, well thanks for that." John looked at Sherlock, then got up from his armchair. As he walked out the door to his room, he stopped and turned.
"Sherlock, you know nothing's going to change, right?" Sherlock looked at his friend with a frown.
"Just because Mary and I are getting married doesn't mean I'll forget about you." Sherlock felt his insides turn. "I'll never forget about you Sherlock." John looked away, hovering in the doorway for a moment. Sherlock looked at his flatmate. What are you talking about, John? He said to himself.
Of course you won't. He frowned. Won't you?