Mary Morstan watched the consulting detective sway to the rhythm of the beautiful music from his violin. She rested on the arm of the chair where John Watson was sitting. They were in their flat, surrounded by their closest friends and relatives to officially announce their commitment to each other. The gathering appeared entranced by Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps they did not expect such beauty from a caustic man. Mary knew better, though. John had spoken of his friend's violin playing many times before his return. She turned her head slightly to towards John and saw deep sadness on his face.
Mary had been concerned about having the party only a few weeks after the return of John's best friend and suggested that they cancel. John, however, had been adamant.
"Nothing has changed between us, Mary," he had insisted as he drew her into his arms. "I want to celebrate our engagement, just as we had planned."
As Sherlock finished his piece, the sound of applause replaced the last fading notes from his violin. He bowed slightly.
Greg Lestrade called out, "So what is the name of that? It was lovely."
Sherlock walked to the chair where his violin case lay. With his back to the crowd, he started to put away the fragile instrument. "I did not know an appropriate gift to bring for such an occasion, so I composed it."
"Oh, Sherlock, that was very sweet of you." Mrs. Hudson had tears in her eyes as she beamed at him.
Turning around, Sherlock looked at John and Mary. "There is no better man than John Watson. No gift worthy enough." He lowered his head and turned back to his violin case. "Especially as he already has what he always wanted the most, a good woman."
Mary struggled to interpret the inflection on those last words. Bitterness? Regret? Her thoughts were drowned out by Harry Watson shouting, "Let's hear it for John Watson and his beautiful bride-to-be!"
The partygoers raised their glasses and then conversation resumed. Mary looked down as John's hand gave hers a firm squeeze before letting go. As he rose from his chair, he asked, "Shall I get you some more wine?"
"No, thank you, sweetie."
"Okay, I'll just…then." He broke off and moved towards the table where the drinks were laid out. The table was opposite the end of the room where Sherlock now sat on a couch between Mrs. Hudson and Molly.
Mary sighed.
Over the past few weeks, she'd witnessed this dance between the detective and his former blogger. John never told her what was said the night Sherlock returned, and she never asked. Both men avoided speaking to each other directly, avoided being alone together. But the two men could not stay away from each other for long.
Mary studied Sherlock as his gaze followed John. She saw Sherlock relax his shoulders, as if relieved, when Harry chatted with John while drinking nothing more potent than sparkling water. Sherlock flinched when Lestrade slapped John on the back in congratulations. Sherlock tensed as Mycroft passed by close to John. Mary wondered what Sherlock thought about as he shuttered his expression when John glanced back towards him.
"It's so good to see my brother happy again." Harry nodded towards John and Clara, laughing while talking to friends.
Mary sipped her drink and agreed. "He deserves to be happy."
"You're a big part of that, but… " Harry paused. "I still can't believe Sherlock is alive." Familiar deep blue eyes were focused on the resurrected detective in a mixture of awe and horror.
"What are you afraid of?" Mary asked.
Harry favored Mary with a keen look before answering. "That he'll hurt my brother again, and that John won't survive this time."
Mary wondered if she should be pleased or insulted that Harry did not consider her to have the power to hurt John.
Mary extracted herself as some friends tried to draw her into some detective-related gossip, and she walked over to John. "Enjoying the party?"
"I'd enjoy it more if he wasn't here." He waved his glass towards Mycroft.
Mary giggled. "Really, John, you wanted me to tell Sherlock he couldn't bring his own brother as his guest?"
"You mean he actually asked to bring Mycroft?" John asked, his voice full of surprise.
"I was shocked, too. I know they don't get along."
"Maybe things changed while…" John's voice trailed off, his voice too bitter for the happy surroundings. Mary doubted that John would ever completely recover from his feelings of betrayal.
John would eventually forgive Sherlock, though. She saw him smile as Molly took Sherlock's plate, recently emptied of chocolate cake, while Mrs. Hudson replaced it with another full of tiramisu. Both women talked and laughed as Sherlock continued to eat, with Mrs. Hudson's arm around his shoulders.
Mary touched John's shoulder and asked, "What's so funny?"
John replied, staring at his old flatmate, "It's just good to see him eat." His voice said Sherlock was too thin, too frail after years away.
"A steady diet of dessert?"
"Anything it takes." The expression in his eyes was as soft as his voice, and Mary wondered if John knew he used the same tone for Sherlock as he did for her.
"Thanks for the introduction, " Sally Donovan whispered into Mary's ear.
"You like Paul, hmm?"
"Handsome, intelligent, funny… what's not to like?"
Mary grinned. "I was talking to him and instantly thought of you. A trauma nurse shouldn't be surprised about the nature of your work or have trouble with your hours." Mary nudged Sally's arm. "And he's actually single. I double-checked."
"You and John are terrible people and deserve each other," responded Sally with a smirk.
"I think so." Mary playfully waved her back in Paul's direction.
"Before I head over to flirt more, how is John?"
"He's getting there."
"Sherlock isn't the same as he was." Sally hesitated. "Do you know what happened during the past three years?"
"Perhaps someday he'll tell John, but that day hasn't arrived yet."
"Yeah." Sally reached out to touch Mary's shoulder. "I hope you'll be okay when the day comes."
As Mary watched the police sergeant walk away, she wondered what revelation Sally thought that day would bring.
"So, Mary, what's next for you?" Molly looked up where Mary perched on the arm of the sofa next to her.
"Well, I have some decisions to make."
"You still thinking about that job at UCLA?"
"UCLA?" asked Mrs. Hudson, from Molly's other side. "In California?"
Mary took a deep breath. Behind her, John chatted with Harry and her partner Clara, but Mary could tell that he was paying attention on her conversation. With his back to her, Sherlock was seated on the coffee table, listening to Mike Stamford. The detective had noticeably stiffened at the mention of UCLA.
"My appointment at Bart's is coming to an end," Mary explained to Mrs. Hudson, as Molly nodded encouragement. "I have my position at the Veteran's Administration I can return to, because I had just taken a leave of absence to be a visiting professor here. Bart's is making a counteroffer. However, there is an opportunity at UCLA to study traumatic brain injuries using a new imaging technique that allows neuroscientists to visualize markers in living brains…" Mary paused, laughing at her own enthusiasm. "Well, let's just say there is a great opening at UCLA that would be my dream job."
Mary watched Sherlock, as his right hand trembled while reaching behind him for his glass of wine.
John sat on the coffee table in the location where Sherlock's glass had rested and asked Mrs. Hudson, "Isn't my fiancée brilliant?"
"Yes, yes, she is." Mrs. Hudson smiled, but her eyes showed concern as they flickered towards the men she loved as sons.
Molly joined in. "Any institution would be lucky to have you on their staff, Mary."
Mary quickly glanced at John and noticed he sat so close to Sherlock that they were almost leaning against each other. She reached out to grab John's hand.
"Thanks, Molly. My decision would have been easier a few months ago, but I know staying in London is more important to John now."
Mary wondered if she was the only one who saw John's and Sherlock's backs briefly touch, as they both relaxed with relief.
Mycroft walked to the front door of the flat while Sherlock was gathered his coat and violin. Mary and John accompanied him to say their farewells,
"Thank you for joining us, Mycroft."
Gently shaking Mary's hand, Mycroft said, "It is always a pleasure to see you, Doctor Morstan."
John said, "I'm not going to thank you for being here."
Mycroft shrugged with a forced casualness. "It was easier this way, as my little brother will be spending the evening at my townhouse."
"Why the hell would he do that?"
Arching one eyebrow, Mycroft replied, "Surely, Doctor Watson, you recognize that tonight is a danger night."
John flinched as if he'd been punched, and Mary heard the message in Mycroft's words. Any follow-up question she had was quieted by Sherlock's presence. Enveloped his familiar coat and clutching his violin case, he somehow had the countenance of a soldier going into battle.
Mary grabbed Sherlock's free hand. "I'm so glad that you could be with us tonight, Sherlock. And thank you again for the beautiful song you composed for John."
"John Watson cannot be expressed by a song. He is a symphony. One I hope to spend the rest of my life composing." Sherlock kissed Mary upon her cheek.
Then Sherlock moved to stand in front of John. The detective tentatively extended his hand, and John reached out to shake it. When their hands clasped, Sherlock dipped towards John in an identical fashion as he had kissed Mary.
Mary observed John's reaction as Sherlock leaned towards him. A tiny start, a parting of his lips, a slight turn into the kiss.
And Mary no longer had to wonder.
She knew.