He stared at the name printed on the mail slot in irresolution: Holmes.
Before he could talk himself out of it again, John knocked on the door. A woman – dark brown hair pilled on top of her head in a sloppy bun, no makeup, dressed in a white tank top and a pair of rugby shorts that showed off her miles of legs – answered with a laugh over her shoulder, "Marcus don't you dare put anymore chocolate in those! Oh, John!"
"H-Hi, Georgiana. I'm sorry, I hope I'm not-"
"No! No, John it's fine! Marcus and I are just having a bit of a lazy morning. Uhh…" She touched her hair self-consciously and pulled it loose from the elastic. John tried to ignore the clenching in his chest as she ruffled it in a similar fashion to how he brother did.
Had.
He couldn't do this. "Sorry. I-I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd… But I'd better go, I've –"
"John." She called after him. "Please come in, John. Please?" She looked at him with those gray blue eyes filled with concern and he was lost.
Pressing his lips together tightly, not wholly trusting himself to speak, John nodded and allowed Georgiana to usher him into the house. "Marcus will be thrilled to see you." John just made a soft grunt that sounded like an affirmative as he followed her through the flat.
"Hey! Have you been eating more chocolate while I was gone?" Georgiana called in a playful tone as they entered the kitchen.
The giggle of a little boy with a full mouth, "Mo, Mam!"
The two adults rounded the corner into the kitchen just in time to see the ten year old push the bag of chocolate bits away. "John!" he called as he jumped out of his chair and rushed over.
John stumbled back a few steps at the impact. For ten years old, Marcus was getting awfully big; he would have the Holmes height and cunning John was sure. Marcus looked very little like his mother or uncles – John found himself grateful for that this morning – and therefore must resemble his father remarkably, though John had never seen the man. "Hullo, Marcus. You've grown again haven't you? You're going to be taller than me in no time at all!"
The boy beamed up at him with a nod, "A whole half centimeter since last month!"
He sighed and wondered how it had really only been a month ago that he had seen Marcus at his uncle's -
"John?" Marcus asked, obviously having requested something while John was busy in his forlorn memories.
"Sorry, Marcus. What?"
"Stay for breakfast." Georgiana repeated for her son. "I've got plenty, though I hope you like chocolate pancakes as it seems I'm raising a chocolate monster here."
"Oh, I don't –"
"Please?" Marcus dragged out the word for several seconds, as children are wont to do when they beg. John smiled at the boy and took a seat at the table in defeat. "Yes!" Marcus cheered and threw himself quickly into the chair next to John.
"Tea or coffee John to go with the pancakes?"
"Oh, Georgiana, let me." John said, moving to get up.
"Don't you dare, John Watson!" She demanded, and waved a spatula at him from across the room threateningly. "You sit back down and keep that one from nicking anymore food before he gets a proper breakfast."
"Tea then, if you don't mind." John did as he was told and settled back in his seat, just in time to catch Marcus throw another handful of chocolate bits into his mouth. "You know," he said mischievously, leaning in toward the boy, "if you keep eating all that chocolate you're going to get fat like your uncle Mycroft."
"Will not!" Marcus said, trying to seem wounded, but couldn't quite fight back a smile. His mother chuckled at the stove.
Half way through his second helping of pancakes John wiped his mouth and rose for his seat, "Where's the loo again, Georgiana?"
"Left down the hall, all the way to the end, door on your right."
Marcus watched after John and when he heard the bathroom door shut he turned to his mother, "He still misses Uncle Sherlock, too?"
Georgiana smiled dolefully at her son and smoothed a bit of hair from his forehead, "Yes baby. Of course he does. We all do, right?"
Marcus nodded. He put another bite of pancake in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Mum?"
"Yes, luv?"
"It's 'cause he loves him, right?" he concluded, not quite looking at his mother.
Georgiana froze at her son's conjecture. She'd had her mug of coffee halfway to her lips and had to set it down slowly as her hand had begun to shake, as well as her eyes to water a bit.
"Yeah baby." She said with a nod, "It's cause he loves him."
After breakfast Marcus went up to his room to change out of his pajamas, John insisted on helping Georgiana do the dishes. The two worked comfortably in silence, John scraping the cooled chocolate off the tableware and Georgiana drying them and putting them away.
John spoke after many minutes, "Thank you."
"Don't thank me; Marcus and I adore you. You're always welcome here whenever."
"I know, but that's not –" Why couldn't he just say what he meant? John picked violently at an imaginary spot on the plate in his hand in frustration. He spoke slowly, as if each word cost him a great deal of energy. "Thank you, for not asking me how I'm holding up."
Georgiana placed her hand softly on his arm, stopping his scrubbing and spoke softly, "I wouldn't be a Holmes' if I had to ask such evident questions, John." She kissed him on the temple and drew the abused plate from his grasp to put it away. They finished cleaning in more comfortable silence.