A short one shot set before John's wedding.
A drunken exchange and old wounds are opened- but answers are found.
I do not own Sherlock.
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"What would you have done?"
"Mmm?"
"If it had been me? If you thought I was dead?"
Sherlock eyed John for a second over his glass, filled to the brim with brandy.
"Have we not spoken this thing to death?... excuse the pun"
"No, not in the least. I haven't even started."
Sherlock let out one of his long sighs, downed the majority of his glass and reluctantly put it down, moved the wedding list aside and gave his attention to John.
"Okay... but please, let it all out now. I can't cope with you springing it on me at every opportunity... or when you've had too much brandy."
"I haven't had too much brandy"
"Mmm... two glasses ago went past your 'too much' "
John sighed but defiantly topped up his glass, filling Sherlock's as he did so.
"I sense the conversation isn't going to be a short one?" Sherlock hadn't taken his eyes off John since he had last spoken.
John shrugged. "I can't force the words out of you."
Sherlock smiled slightly, finally averting his eyes away from John.
"I don't deal in if's and but's John."
"Metaphorically then."
"Metaphorically doesn't help anyone."
"It helps me in this situation."
Sherlock smirked. "Touche."
"So..."
Sherlock sighed. "I'm guessing just asking you to move on to wedding talk is out of the question?"
John shrugged and Sherlock sighed dramatically.
"Well... if it had been you... I'd... well, obviously..."
John watched half amused, half touched by Sherlock's awkwardness.
"I'd... I'd be, most upset, John. Most upset."
John blinked a few times.
"Most upset?"
"Yes. I'm sure I would be."
"...and when you found out I was in fact very much alive and didn't tell you... causing you months of being, 'most upset'. What then?"
"I'd have understood perfectly that you had no other choice."
"Even it meant keeping my best friend out of the loop?"
"Even if that were so."
John frowned slightly and reached for the bottle to pour another shot.
"John... it is still... unusual... to hear you call me your best friend"
"A best man usually confirms... that you're the grooms best friend."
"No. No, not at all. I was Mycoft's best man during his ill-advised two week marriage to Alicia Armstrong, the CIA agent. I feel he felt it would please our mother."
John gave a laugh. "Well, for me... best man means a best man. You know?"
Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, then you are a poor, unfortunate man, John."
"Don't I know it."
The two shared a laugh and a silence descended the flat once again.
"I trust you are staying over tonight?"
"I can walk."
"Ill advisable. Stay. You'll make Mrs Hudson's day to have two cups of tea to bring up tomorrow morning."
"Or just start her rumours again."
"They never stopped."
"Even with the engagement?"
"Ah, she's sure that's denial."
"Ah. Of course."
"So... night cap?"
John smiled and passed his glass over.
Sherlock poured and then said slowly, "You know... I did consider telling you sooner... about me... I just... it had to be the right time. I had to put emotions, everything else aside, until I was sure... completely certain that it was safe. That you were safe."
John eyed him for a second and then nodded.
It was difficult sometimes to understand his best friend's brain... but tonight he had cracked through the armour. At least slightly... and he was starting to realise what a rare privilege it was.