Maybe eventually I'll form a plotline.
Chapter 2:
Things were getting, well, stale, between Mary and I. This obviously saddened me, but besides that, life was alright. Mary had gotten herself a new job working nights, and I've been working steadily at the hospital. Jerry was now six months old! But I had been feeling more and more depressed lately.
I'm not really quite sure why, but Sherlock has been coming over basically every night. Some nights he evens sleeps over. He never bothers with pajamas, he just curls up in my bed or on the couch in his usual tucked in shirts with his rolled up sleeves. I'll have to wake him up before Mary comes home so that she doesn't have to sleep on the floor, or even worse, she gets the wrong idea about me and him.
Because of Sherlock, I've barely gotten any sleep lately. If he's not at my home, watching television and playing with the child, then we were together solving crimes all night. Even on the quiet nights he kept me awake. Just him being next to me in bed felt so… strange. I just don't feel tired around him.
Anyway, things went from strange, to just unimaginable pretty quickly. It started with a fight.
"John, really? You've called for a babysitter three times this week! Why can't you just stay at home for once?"
To be completely honest with myself, I think I deserved this. I hadn't been telling Mary about all of the time I'd been spending with Sherlock lately, and this week it'd cost a totally of sixty quid. I sat and listened as she rambled on.
"You have a daughter now, John! You can't just run around solving crimes all the time with Sherlock! Don't you even feel bad about it? Leaving your kid like that, for him?"
Well, jeez, I thought to myself, it sounds like she's marrying us off.
"I've told Marissa not to come here anymore unless I verify it. I'm okay with Sherlock coming over here whenever he wishes, but John, you have to be mature about this! Alright?"
I nodded my head in acceptance. "Alright. I understand completely."
Sherlock won't.
Mary seemed pleased with my response and didn't press much more on the subject, until Sherlock showed up, approximately 10 minutes later.
Sherlock hadn't been bothering himself with knocking lately and I hadn't been bothering myself with arguing over it. He strode into the living room happily and sat down on the couch next to me. He smiled. "So, Watson, how about we go out on a case-"
"Ah, hell nah!" Mary screamed. I winced. "Sherlock," Mary continued, "Could you just go home?"
I stood up. "No, Sherlock, don't go home."
Mary looked genuinely shocked. "No. No, no, no! This is not happening. I'm your wife, for Christ's sake!"
"Um," Sherlock chimed in, "maybe I should just…"
"No!" I said. "You're perfectly fine here, please don't go."
Mary was staring at me intensely, her entire body was shaking. "Why don't you both go?" she said at last. I was about to protest, possibly to tell her to leave, or something else incredibly stupid, but Sherlock stopped me.
"John, how about we just go?"
I sighed. He was absolutely right. Mary was angry, and alone time was probably the best thing for her.
"well, c'mon then, I guess. See you tomorrow, honey."
I walked out the door without looking back at her. I sat down on the steps and ran my hands through my hair as I waited for Sherlock to come outside. Why was everything so… strange lately?
Sherlock grabbed a cab and we set off for 221b Baker Street. "I thought we were going on a case?" I asked.
"You don't really seem up for it right now. It wouldn't be any fun if you weren't enjoying yourself."
I laughed out loud. "you've never felt that way before…"
Sherlock became silent the rest of the way to the flat. I wished I could hear what he was thinking. Sherlock's face was always so composed and hard. What was he thinking?
As we got out of the car, Sherlock stopped and stared at the door for a few brief moments before walking in. It was the knocker.
We walked up the stairs quickly and into what used to be our flat. And there was Mycroft, sitting in Sherlock's chair, umbrella in hand.
He smiled. "I had a feeling you'd be here, Dr. Watson."
"Anything you can say to me can be said to John as well," Sherlock said.
"Oh, no! You're mistaken! I actually just wanted to talk to John, privately."
Sherlock and I appeared to be equally confused. We looked to each other, then back to Mycroft. "Why?" we both asked at last.
Mycroft scowled, and twirled his umbrella around in his hand. Sherlock looked over at me, as if he thought I actually knew what was going on, but I of course had no clue what was happening.
"That's none of your business, little brother," Mycroft stated, a smug grin forming from his lips. "Now, let me talk to John, alone. Shoo. Bye-bye!"
To my surprise, Sherlock actually nodded his head and left the home. I stared at the door in amazement for a few seconds, before actually turning around to look at the man that had wanted to talk to me.
Mycroft watched as I sat down in my usual chair. I stared at him blankly for a few moments, waiting for him to initiate whatever conversation he was planning to start. After a while it began to feel awkward, so I coughed and began to speak.
"So, uhh, Mycroft? What was it that you wanted?"
He continued to smile his strange, disturbing smile. "John, you like him, don't you?"
I gulped. I knew somehow who he was talking about. It was Sherlock, but I decided to play dumb. I suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Who are you taking about, Mycroft?"
He laughed menacingly. "I can read right through you John. And Sherlock as well. And, as his older brother, I can tell you that Sherlock's going through a rather large emotional dilemma at the current moment, and, to be frank… I'd like you to be with him. Romantically."
My jaw dropped. "Uhm, that doesn't make any sense. Mycroft, I'm married, and I have a kid. Why would I just leave them for Sherlock, I'm not gay."
Mycroft stared back at me once again, his smile was making me feel strangely bare and exposed. Goddammit, how does he do it?
I felt like I was going to cry suddenly. Mycroft was still staring at me, his grin appearing to be larger and larger. Like it was filling up the entire room. I couldn't look away. I felt sick. My stomach was flipped upside down and my heart was bursting out of my ribs. Finally, I gave in.
"Okay! Okay, I think I might actually have feelings for Sherlock, but I can't okay?! I can't!"
Mycroft nodded his head. "I knew you did, John. And now you know as well. Let's see what happens now. I'll be leaving."
And so Mycroft got up and left the room. I put my face in my hands and sighed. Why had this happened? Why had he said that to Mycroft? Just… No.
"John? Are you alright? What exactly was that all about?"
I looked up, and saw Sherlock sitting in his chair. I hadn't even noticed him enter the room. Seeing him now felt… Different, somehow.
"Well, why don't you tell me?" I asked.
Sherlock looked at me questioningly. "Well," he said at last. "That's just the thing. I don't know."
Well… Do you like? Not as much effort was put into this chapter as the last one, and it definitely wasn't as cute, but I promise the next chapter will be full of angst and lots of fluffy awkwardness, okay? Please review!