"So, how do you feel about your current situation, John?", Ella asked, scribbling on her notepad. Closed off, resisting, fighting.
John brought his hand to cup his chin, shifted in his seat and glanced down then back up at Ella's impassive face. She refused to fill the silence. Tapping the foot of his crossed leg mid-air, he shifted again.
"How would you feel?" He countered, mouth forming a hard line across his face, anger shining in his eyes.
"This isn't about me, John."
He nodded sharply and looked away.
"I'm angry. I'm tired. But mostly angry."
"I see, do you know why?"
"I just lost my wife and became a single parent?" He responded indignantly but it was more of a question than an answer.
"Was that a question?" She asked flatly.
"I don't know."
"How do you feel about losing Mary?"
"I'm angry."
"Can you be more specific about that?"
"Not really. Anger is pretty much a constant in my life. You think I'd be used to it by now"
Ella wrote down 'anger issues'.
"Tell me about that then," she asked flatly. "Have you always had some level of anger?"
John gripped the arm of the chair and uncrossed his legs.
"I suppose I have. My father was either screaming at us or drinking, I guess Harry got the drinking, I got the rage."
"I see. So is that why you joined the army?"
John shrugged.
"Perhaps. It certainly gave me an outlet to channel it for a while."
"Was that the only reason you miss it?"
"No."
"Care to elaborate on that?"
"I miss the... Sense of purpose."
"You miss the thrill too?"
John hummed in response.
"Is that what Sherlock represented to you? In the beginning?"
"Why is this suddenly about Sherlock?"
Ella leaned forward slightly in her seat.
"Is it?"
"Yes. No. Possibly, I don't- how is this relevant?"
"I'm just posing questions, John. That's my job." She paused and waited a few beats. "So how are you feeling about that?"
John smiled tightly, the edge of suspicion & anger still there.
"About Sherlock? What's to say? My wife chose to die to save him & stick the knife in one last time & then I decided that ignoring him wasn't enough so I called him a monster & beat him to a pulp instead. My best friend. So, what does that make me, eh?"
"I'm sensing regret."
John laughed.
"Regret? Yeah, good call. That's what it is. I beat him so badly he ended up in a hospital bed. And, as it turns out, he only did it on the orders of my wife, who shot him then drugged him, in order to save me from my own self-inflicted destruction. So, yeah, not too proud of myself. You could say. I'm not sure I deserve anything from anyone at this point. I went to see him and you know what happened? I went to touch him and he *flinched*. My best friend and I made him afraid of me touching him!"
"Why do you think you lost control?"
John bounced a fist on the arm of the chair.
"I don't know." He glanced away, pinching his lips together and looking up and to the right. Classic lie.
"Are you sure?"
"Hmmm." He crossed & uncrossed his legs, the fist tapping getting faster & faster.
"What drew you to Mary?"
"I thought we were talking about Sherlock?" John responded, slightly irritated.
"We are," Ella said gently, "But sometimes exploring other avenues may lead you to the answers you're struggling to find." A beat. "So, what drew you to Mary?"
John sighed.
"She was sweet. Kind. Willing to tolerate my mood swings. She represented everything I'd been missing from my life. Stability, normalcy, a home, a family. A place away from the danger & the dark places I'm drawn to."
"And is that what you want? Domesticity and all of the things that come with that?"
"Shouldn't everyone?" He asked tensely. Bingo!
Ella glanced down at her notepad, schooled her expression and looked back up to stare at John directly.
"Should. That's an interesting choice of word."
"I assure you that it wasn't intentional."
"And yet it was the word that sprung immediately to mind." Ella let her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "What do you think you should want from your life?"
"I don't know, what everyone else does, I suppose. Marriage, kids, someone waiting for you at home, someone to care for besides yourself."
"You have Rosie," Ella stated.
"I do. She's my responsibility. I need to provide her with the kind of life I never had. She doesn't deserve any less because she was unlucky enough to be born to a mother & father who would rather chase down criminals than attend church on a Sunday."
"Are you a religious man, John?"
"I was raised a Catholic," he shrugged.
"And how would you say that that impacted your upbringing?"
"I don't know, it gives people a sense of community, I suppose."
"People? But not you," Ella observed.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Too much concern about how others live their lives", John acquiesced. "But Mary wanted to give it another shot."
"And how did you find that?"
"Much the same," Another seat shift. "There is nothing new under the sun."
"An interesting turn of phrase?"
"One of Sherlock's," John confessed, shrugging.
"Sherlock doesn't judge you, does he?"
"He should after what I did to him." The anger was back.
"But he doesn't. How does that make you feel?"
"Worse?" He offered, eyebrows raising to his hairline and down again.
"Yet you are back in touch with him on a regular basis?"
"It's early days."
"On your part or his?"
"Mine. I'm not sure I trust myself with anyone these days."
Ella nodded knowingly and scribbled another note.
"So how are you getting on with Rosie?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," he sighed, "Caring for a baby isn't quite like they advertise on tv. Especially without a spouse. Mary was Rosie's main caregiver from the moment she was born, I guess I was too busy missing Sh-" He abruptly stopped speaking and looked away from Ella, clearing his throat before continuing. "Missing my freedom, I guess. I suppose I deserve my current situation given how selfish I've been."
"No one deserves grief, John."
John wiggled his eyebrows sarcastically and resumed his fist-bouncing.
"Grief? Yes. Of course."
Ella narrowed her eyes at John and shifted in her seat, placing the notepad to one side.
"John, how do you feel about Mary's death?"
"I'm... not certain." He responded hesitantly, biting his lip.
"Would you try to put it into words?"
"Sadness that Rosie will never know her mother. Anger, that I'm left with a child to care for by myself... Guilt."
"Guilt?"
"Yes, guilt."
"Do you feel that you are in some way responsible for her death?"
"Her death? No."
"Well then what?"
John stood & began pacing in front of the window, hands stuffed in his pockets. He paused & toed at the corner of the rug for a moment before continuing.
"For not loving her the way I should."
"Understandable given what she did to your friend."
John balanced on one foot & swung his leg idly across the wooden floor.
"It always comes back to Sherlock, doesn't it?"
"Does it?"
"Apparently."
Interesting, Ella noted.
"And how do you feel about that?"
"About that? Or... about...", John licked his lips and stared at his feet, hesitating & lowering his voice to a whisper. "him."
Oh. Ooooh.
"John-"
"I miss him. I miss waking up to fingers in the fridge & late-night chases through London & not knowing what adventure the brilliant madman has up his sleeve today. So, the guilt. Understandable now, right?" He swung round to face Ella and carded a slightly shaky hand through his hair.
Ella's eyes softened.
"You said when he died that there were things you wanted to say to him but couldn't...John, are you gay?"
He rolled his eyes.
"No."
Ella considered her next words carefully.
"Are you straight?"
He paused.
"No."
"I see." A moment passed to allow his words to sink in. "Have you ever been in love?"
John resumed his pacing.
"I... Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Yes."
"In the army?"
"You know the regulations prohibit that."
"That wasn't a no, though."
He kicked at the rug.
"No, it wasn't."
"Since then?"
"Yes."
"With Mary?"
"I don't-... No. No, I don't think so. Especially not after..."
He let the words hang in the air.
"With Sherlock?" Ella ventured.
John sunk back into his seat & chewed his lower lip.
"I'm not sure I even... It's complicated. Besides, he's married to his work."
Ella sighed.
"But it's a possibility which you have considered? How can you be sure?"
"Because it came up. When we first met."
"And how did he respond?"
"Said he was married to his work. That was all that mattered to him. Everything else is 'transport'. His words, not mine." John clasped his hands together on his knees. "Besides, after everything I've done to him, I don't deserve his friendship, let alone anything else."
"Is he gay?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I used to think... But lately he's been seeing The Woman."
"A woman?"
"No, he calls her 'The Woman'. She's a former... client, I guess. A professional dominatrix. She's texted him a lot."
"How often?"
"57 times in one day once."
Ella struggled to hold back a smile.
"You counted?"
John looked away.
"She changed her text alert to a rather, um, distinctive noise."
Ella nodded.
"Have you ever spoken to him about her?"
"Last month," he confessed.
"And how did it go?"
"I told him he was an idiot for not pursuing it, he told me he doesn't reply and that he had all he needed in m-" Another abrupt halt. "Turns out he does occasionally text her back."
"So nothing has happened with this woman?"
"I... Don't think so."
"Has he ever had girlfriends before?"
"One. But it was a rouse to get some information out of her for a case. He didn't seem interested in her at all."
"Has he ever had any boyfriends that you're aware of?"
"I don't know. He never said. Until last week I was sure that it wasn't his area. Dating, I mean."
"And now?"
"Now I have bigger problems than working out whether my best friend might be interested in taking the place of his substi-" He stopped himself dead in horror of the thoughts he had been about to finally admit out loud about what his marriage had meant to him. Standing again, and visibly distressed, he turned to Ella with tears in his eyes. "You see? This is my problem! I can't just be satisfied with a normal, safe hum-drum life of wife, kids, stable 9 to 5 job & without getting shot at every week. Normal lives are for normal people and I've tried to do the normal thing six ways to Sunday and I keep finding myself dragged back into the fire and, in the process, hurting people I'm supposed to care about!"
"Dragged or attracted to?" Ella countered.
"Both, I don't know!"
"How were things with Mary before she died?"
"A bit not good. I was climbing the walls and she was about doing the same, I think. She disappeared for a few months & left a note saying that she'd come back when she'd eliminated the threat to us & Rosie."
"So she also led a less than ordinary life?"
"I suppose so, yes. Why?"
"You said that you were bored with the domesticity. Yet she offered you more?"
"I... Maybe, I guess it seemed like an inconvenience at the time."
"Inconvenience?"
"An annoyance. She was supposed to be the safe one, you know?"
"Ah, I see."
"See what?"
"You said that what draws you away from that life is domesticity & its dullness compared with the attraction to the danger others provide. Mary apparently offered you both & yet..."
She let her statement hang in the air as John stared at her as though she'd slapped him. Hard.
"So is the danger really the only draw for you?"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that perhaps it isn't safe vs. Danger that compels you, but perhaps certain people who may be able to offer both?"
John didn't respond.
"Well, I'm afraid that's our time up. Same time next week?"
...