Cinders, chapter 1
Well, thought Mary Morstan-Watson to herself as she sank deeper into the full bathtub, today has certainly been interesting, hasn't it? She smiled to herself, enjoying the heat of the water, wondering what John and Sherlock were up to. Were they talking about the events of the day? Or, perhaps Sherlock had gone back to Baker street… Although that was unlikely, considering that he was the one who had suggested this arrangement. A rather good one, if you were to ask Mary.
Sherlock had appeared on the Morstan-Watsons' doorstep at seven o'clock that evening, spot on time- an unusual enough thing on its own. He had brought thai take-away and, though it didn't fit the mood of the meal at all, a bottle of Riesling. After dinner, as the three had lounged, Sherlock had asked John and Mary something incredibly unusual, and yet not at all uncomfortable, for some reason.
"John, Mary, I've something to ask you. I'm probably entirely out of line- and I wouldn't blame you if you never want to speak to me again after I say this. I know that I am not the most affectionate or sentimental of men- and my lifestyle leaves a lot to be desired- but I've recently been thinking about something you once said to me, John, and I've realised just how right you are. Friends do protect people, and the two of you are the dearest friends I've ever had. Now, I know that I'm not the best at gauging human emotions, even in myself, so I'm probably completely wrong-" here, Mary interjected.
"Sherlock, what is it? Lovely speech and all, but it would be nice to know what you're talking about. Preferably at normal, conversation speed- I can hardly understand what you're saying, it's coming out like a deduction." Sherlock hadn't realised this. He took a deep breath, considering how best to tell the two of them. Simple? Simple. Best approach, least likely to wind up with a broken nose, courtesy of John.
"I believe- oh, this is going to sound silly, now, isn't it?" he grit his teeth. John, having been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, reached over and pat his arm. "Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's important to you or you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble, yeah?" He smiled at Sherlock, trying to be reassuring. "But- John, you don't understand, I've never- I've never done this before, any of it, I don't understand how it's supposed to work! If it was anybody else I would just ask you but it's kind of difficult to ask your best friend for help telling your two favourite people in the world that you're in love with them both when he's one of them!"
John and Sherlock both froze. Mary, on the other hand, grinned and went to the kitchen to make tea, feeling rather pleased with herself. She had noticed, of course, that Sherlock seemed to like her, and it was plain as day to everyone except those involved that he fancied John, but she had been, up till this moment, convinced that he would never say a word. She cautiously returned to the sitting room, wary that John might not be quite as pleased.
John and Sherlock sat, awkwardly, on the sofa, not quite making eye contact, John still deciding how he would react, and Sherlock silently cursing himself for his stupidity. Mary sat between them, placing the tea-tray on the coffee table gently. She looked first at John, raising an eyebrow and trying to convey that the way he was acting was entirely out of line and that he should at least say something. Then she turned to Sherlock, smiling gently at him, and hugged him gingerly, as if he might break if she weren't careful.
"Sherlock… How long?" John asked, still a bit cautious, as he made eye contact with the detective. "John, I… I've known for a while now that I love you. I was actually going to tell you when I got back, but then of course, Mary, lovely Mary, you showed up. And I thought, 'Oh, no, there's no way he'll have me now, she's so gorgeous and lovely and so much more human than I am…' so of course I was worried. Still am. Sorry."
John rose from the sofa and strode to the kitchen, leaving Sherlock gasping for breath and Mary trying to calm him down. He soon returned, however, pouring a generous amount of whiskey into his tea before leaning down and whispering into Sherlock's ear: "I… I love you too, ya git." He pressed his lips against Sherlock's temple briefly. "Alright, you two lovebirds, I'm going to have a bath."