INDIA
Hrishikesh smiled as he listened to the increasingly frustrated thrums and twangs of the violin coming in short irritable bursts from the balcony. He gathered his laptop and writing pad and moved outside to join Sherlock.
It was brisk outside; the early morning mountain air was crisp, a phantom haze covered the Himalayan peaks in the distance, the aroma of damp earth complimented the fragrance of the abundance of jasmine flowers in the garden as it rose up to the second floor balcony.
Sherlock stood hunched over his music notes on the table, held in place by a bronze Ganesh statue, long finger tapping on the fluttering paper, scowling.
His eyes flicked up at Kesh briefly and then back at the paper.
Kesh seated himself on the large divan, adjusted his back comfortably and continued to do his work.
"It's not coming together the way I'd hoped," Sherlock's tone was petulant as he flung himself on the lounge chair opposite Kesh, long legs sprawled in front. "I'm working on a song for Meera's baby. It's proving to be elusive."
Kesh's tone was mild. "I don't know the first thing about music, Sherlock. But I know you will do it."
"Hmm….." Sherlock tipped his head back to look up at the cloudy grey sky.
"I'm off to visit Saavarni village this morning with Vedant. Uddhav goes there every month to get feedback on how things are going, ask whether the farmers need any help." Kesh looked up, eyes smiling. "But, both Meera and he are busy today. You do remember we've to go for dinner to Shanker's house at Chambal tonight? They've gone there to help out. So I thought I'd go to Saavarni this morning in his place."
Sherlock glared at the violin for a few moments, still preoccupied. Then as Kesh's words registered, "What is happening with Meera's delivery? Isn't she overdue?"
Kesh nodded, "Hmm… eight days! The doctor is planning to induce labour tomorrow."
After a few moments, Kesh added, "If you like, instead of going in the car with Vedant, you and I could walk to Saavarni instead. It will take an hour each way through the back trails. There are a few streams we'll have to cross and a little bit of hiking. But it'll be fun. And physical exertion always stimulates thought." He smiled. "And afterwards, I'll get Vedant to give you one of his body-melting massages. It is truly an experience. Perhaps that elusive tune will allow itself to be captured?"
Sherlock's look was suggestive as he dropped his voice an octave.
"If I wanted physical exertion and body-melting experiences—why then, Kesh, I could just shag you senseless."
The smile on Kesh's face was shy as he looked down and stared at his laptop, a faint blush creeping into the tips of his ears. Sherlock laughed. Damn. It has been over a year, Kesh. I've had you in every conceivable way devised by man! And you still blush. My Kesh…
A car roared up into the driveway just as he was about to tease Kesh some more. At the honk, he went up to the balcony and peered below. A rotund Vedant stood looking up with a huge smile, "Sherlock Sir! I'm here!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yes, Vedant! I can see that!"
"Sir, can you tell Hrishikesh bhaiyya we can leave now?"
Sherlock shook his head, "Kesh and I are going to walk up to Saavarni. And Vedant? I want you to come back at…" He turned to Kesh, eyebrow raised in inquiry. Kesh replied sotto-voce, "Noon." Sherlock nodded.
He turned back, his forearms digging into the cool stone railing as he leaned forward, one foot arched back and drawing a lazy arc on the marble floor. He yelled down to the waiting Vedant, "I want you to come at noon. You are to give Kesh and I a massage."
Vedant grinned even more broadly. "Ha, Sherlock Sir! You'll be so happy with my massage. It is world famous."
Sherlock laughed, good humour restored. "But of course it is! I've read about it in The Guardian!"
"What?"
He shook his head, "Never mind. Go now and come back around noon."
LONDON
John looked at the fluorescent green numbers on the bedside clock with bleary eyes, eyelids feeling like they had stones hanging over them. 4.53 AM. Fucking hell!
It was still dark outside. The only light in the room was from the eerie green glow of the digital clock and the thin sliver of yellow light under the closed bathroom door. Sounds of retching. A toilet flushed. Silence. He passed a weary hand over his eyes and sighed. Bones creaked as he sat up. Four fucking days. Four days now since Mary had woken up at some unholy hour of the blessed morning, vomiting. This never happened with Rosa. Goddamit!
He stood up. Scratching his thigh through his pajama's, he knocked on the bathroom door.
"Alright in there?"
More sounds of retching. John frowned as he turned the doorknob.
"No, I'm not bloody alright!" Mary mumbled, her head bowed over the toilet bowl, face covered with sweat.
"Jesus!" John murmured as he grabbed a towel from the hook and bent down to wipe her face, his hand gentle as he swept the sweat soaked hair back.
He looked up as a loud wail came from the other room.
"Go," Mary waved him away as her face contorted, a trembling hand covering her mouth as she turned to the toilet bowl again and vomited. John looked torn as the volume of Rosa's cries increased. The smell of vomit was off-putting to say the least but he didn't want to leave Mary alone either. Damn!
"Where does she get the energy for this every damned morning?" He flung the towel on Mary's lap as he left.
It was an hour and a half later that he finally picked up the morning paper from the porch and carried it to the kitchen. The morning had flown by as usual. Heating milk, feeding Rosa. Bathing her as she giggled and played with soap bubbles. Showering himself. Cooking breakfast and making tea. Mary had finally joined them, looking washed out and exhausted. Welcome steam rose from the tea in his RAMC mug as he took his first sip. Rosa sat tucked into her high chair and fussing over her food as Mary leaned across and fed her. He opened the newspaper.
"You're going to have to drop Rosa today," Mary said as she wiped Rosa's face.
"Hmm….." he hummed irritably.
"Maybe I should take the day off?"
"What?" he folded the newspaper reluctantly. "You can't! They'll dock your pay. You've already had too much time off."
Mary's face took on a familiar stubborn look.
"Look at me, John! Do I look like I can work today?" She groaned as she buried her face in her hands. "I feel like shit."
John looked at her as he sipped his tea. She looked tired. Pale. Hair mussed up. Dark circles under her eyes. He put his cup down.
"Suit yourself. They're looking for an excuse to cut staff anyways. If only you'd allow us to use the money you've put away….." his voice trailed off.
"No!" Mary hissed. She flung the napkin down. "I'm sick of having this conversation with you." She stood up and started picking up the dishes. "I will NOT let that money be frittered away, it's been put aside for the kid's education when they grow up. You and I can work right now."
"Yeah? Well, I for one am sick of it! Same old bloody patients, same old staff. There's nothing new. Bloody tedious!"
Slamming the dishes in the sink, Mary turned to him. "What's the alternative, John?"
John stared at his wife for a few moments and then let out a long sigh. They'd been bickering constantly since returning from India. Was it frustration at coming back to their 'happy' but mediocre suburban existence or envy at what they'd seen in India? Envy at two men in love, so obviously suited to be together? Who knew? But this is the life he'd chosen and he'd be happy with it if it killed him!
He stood up. Coming closer he slipped his arms around her waist. "Let's not fight, okay?" After a moment, her arms came up to return the embrace. "I'm just so tired. I don't feel right." She rubbed her face on his chest. "All this vomiting. Tired all the time. No sleep. Looking after Rosa. Bloody work." She sighed.
"Maybe it's twins," John teased softly.
Mary snorted, "Bite your tongue, husband!"
John laughed. "Seriously though, what if….." His hands came up to cup her breast and squeezed softly.
Mary swatted his hand away. "We should have had the scan in India."
"No way! I don't think the doctors there know what they're doing!"
"Oh yeah! So the population of over a billion just magically appeared?" Mary scoffed. "Never mind, we'll know on Monday. I've made an appointment with Dr Burrell at 11 am."
"Another day off! We can't keep doing this," John stepped away and glanced at his watch. Rosa's day care was three blocks away. After dropping her, he'd need to walk some more to his bus stop. "Well, I'd better get going. You're not going? Seriously?"
She shook her head as she sat down. "I don't feel right," she repeated, looking morose.
He picked up his keys and bent to get Rosa out of her high chair. "I'll get some Maxolon on the way back"
It was hour later that he stood at the bus-stop, staring into the distance.
Wonder what he's doing right now? Fuck, I hope Meera delivers soon and he comes back. He belongs in London! It is not the same without him. Who'd have thought that Sherlock would ever settle into a relationship? With a man! I mean, Kesh is nice, I suppose. And Sherlock is just so…. Extraordinary. Beautiful. Who can blame Kesh? Look at that fucking Adler woman! She was gagging for it, flashing her naked tits and pussy at him, asking him to have 'dinner'! Jim bloody Moriarty! Couldn't leave Sherlock alone! And poor Molly! Desperate for even one look from him! Never imagined that Sherlock was capable of love. Mr Spock, himself! Cold calculating machine. Seriously, who knew he had a heart? And could commit himself to anyone! After he had shunned all of these people. Kesh is a good man, I suppose. But….
He climbed into the bus, staring blankly at other fellow-travellers as his stream of consciousness continued. Mary… Maybe we should have blood tests done on Monday too? Wonder what the scan will show? Twins? Fucking hope not…. I love Rosa! I'll love this one too! But hell! Should have used better protection. Who knew a child generated this much work? Sherlock would call this TEDIOUS. Can't imagine him with smelly nappies! Will probably run tests on it or something! Can't imagine him holding Kesh's head as he vomits. So fucking posh all the bloody time. Posh boy… How DOES he hold Kesh? Fuck! Wonder what it must look like? Sherlock fucking some dude in the arse. Didn't even know that he liked that! Or does Kesh fuck him? Do they take turns?
He tried to clear the disturbing lewd images that popped unbidden into his head. It had been an ongoing battle, here in the deep recesses of his head. Stop it. Think about the patients you'll see today. Yes. That's safe. Yes. Mrs Chapman, need to get her admitted, her haemoglobin was just 65. Evans… ah, good old Evans, his PSA is down, he'll be happy with that. Betty. Fuck, if I've to listen to her whine about her anxiety at everything under the sun one more time, I swear to God….
His eyes fell on the woman sitting across him. Pretty. Red hair, red lips, pretty dress. Smiling invitingly at him. Yeah, still got it. He combed his hair back, smiling to himself and came away with a flower stuck in his hair behind his ear. Fucking hell, how long has this been there? He smiled back at her self-consciously. She grinned and looked out of the window. Down boy, stop thinking you're a stud. Used to be once upon a time. Hard enough to get a leg over with the wife now….. This is what you are now! A sweet doting dad…. He sighed as he stared out at the morning traffic streaming past. That case Greg texted me about…. Yeah, definitely an eight. Can't imagine Sherlock passing that up. Can't wait to see his eyes light up. Can't wait for him to come back.…..
The bus rolled on.
To be contd...
