A/N: Hey! First day back from spring break...I won't be writing as much but hopefully I'll be updating a small chapter every day or every other day. Honestly, I'm making it up as I go. I'm so tempted to give it a terrible ending...we'll see...*cackles*. Anyways, this one is from John's perspective. Also, some was written on my phone so it may have gotten messed up for some reason...Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show...
My life was getting really confusing.
Everything was in a middle-ground area-my marriage, my relationship with Sherlock, my life even...everything was between good and bad, between lovers and friends, between Sherlock and Mary, between gay and straight, between.
I didn't want it this way anymore. I wanted to say that I was in a healthy relationship, that I had my life sorted. I guess that can't really happen, especially with a life like mine. It didn't seem fair, but life isnt fair, I suppose.
I wanted so badly to separate from mary. It wouldn't be so hard to now, what with us not actually being married. The thought infuriated me, but I knew that it would make the whole Sherlock thing much easier.
Sherlock...when we had been able to cuddle, comfortably, I had almost melted. I realized how well we fit in each others arms. It had felt natural, warm, and real. But each moment that happened, I felt guilty because mary and I were together. I was cheating on my wife, and I hated myself for it almost as much as I loved Sherlock.
almost. key word.
Because no matter how guilty I felt, Sherlock was my everything. I was willing to do anything to be able to stay with him. I would see through separating from Mary, I would do anything.
"Do you want to separate?" I asked Mary. I was sat across from her at our dinner table. No matter how little I wanted to be there, it was for Sherlock. She nodded.
"It'll be easy, now. Now that you know," she said.
"I-what will we tell people? They'll...they'll be heartbroken," I replied.
"We'll...we'll tell them it didn't work out, and we got a nice, quiet divorce." Her pastoral mien infuriated me.
"Why are you so calm?! We're getting a divorce!" She closed her eyes, frustrated. She was acting like I was kid.
"You're acting like a child, John." When she saw my angry face, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just...I should've known you couldn't handle me." Back with the condescension.
"I couldn't handle you?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She steepled her hands under her chin and closed her eyes, in an infuriatingly Sherlock-like manner.
"I'm sorry. I always just say the wrong things at the wrong time and people go crazy, and-" I laughed.
"So it's my fault, now? No, you don't know how to speak!" I laughed, the sound strained, and more like choking than a chuckle. She shook her head.
"John, this is just an example of why we aren't staying together. Just leave, if you want! Get out! Pack up all your stuff and go to Sherlock's. Your boyfriend probably misses you. Go ahead, I don't care. Just come when I'm not around. I hate being with you." Her words seemed to slap me in the face. I felt sick to my stomach as she stood ("I'm going to work") and left.
Was this getting better or worse?
I packed up some clothing and other necessities that weren't at 221B, and took them there. Sherlock was glad to see me.
"I'd greet you in a more loving manner, but Mrs. Hudson is downstairs," he whispered.
"Okay, well, Mary threw me out," I told him. He looked happily surprised, which I ignored. "I assume I'm welcome here?"
"Whichever bedroom you want. Mine if you want," he flirtily whispered. I blushed.
"I'll take my old one, thanks." Dragging the suitcase to my room, I looked around and realized how little it had changed. Admittedly, I had expected to find that he had converted it into some sort of lab with various body parts and deadly chemicals. But it was just the same, with the bed, drawers, nightstand, a closet, and a door into the bathroom I shared with Sherlock. It was familiar, and for the first time in forever, I felt like I had a home.
After unpacking, I walked into the living room to find Sherlock lying on the couch in a very mind palace-like position. I turned on the telly and saw a news reporter telling me about an intentional explosion in Oxford.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"Thinking. Shoo." Unfazed, I looked at him in his beauty.
"And what, may I ask, are you thinking about?"
"You. Leave me alone."
"Sher, seriously. Mary kicked me out, and we-we can finally be together," I said. He opened his eyes.
"That hadn't quite hit me. John, we can be together! We can finally be together!" He jumped up and twirled me around the room. I knew how he felt. All of my dreams, my impossible, suppressed dreams, were coming alive. My guilt for being in love with Sherlock was relieved. I was free.
"Sherlock, do you dance?" He looked surprised at the question.
"Yes, when I was young. I remember it," he replied, looking up and accessing the memory. I walked to the radio as he did this and turned on a today's hits station. He chuckled. "No, John turn on a classical one. I like those much better." I obeyed and a quick, intense orchestral waltz came on. He bowed. "May I have this dance?" I bowed in response.
"Yes."
We waltzed around the room. He was graceful and fluid in his motions, and I followed his footsteps. We waltzed around the room and I closed my eyes, imagining a ballroom in which we could dance along with everyone else. In which there were no homophobic twats, no one wondering where Mary was. We were both free.
After the song ended, I watched telly and Sherlock left to his mind palace, and all I could think was: that man over there, he's my boyfriend.
A/N: Sorry for not having posted in forever! What with school and all that will occur pretty often. Sooo...sorry! And pllleeeaaassseee review. They help me to improve and motivate me to continue. They are beautiful rainbows and chocolate and Sherlock to me...so a lot!
I'm listening to Doctor Who score on Spotify ("I Remember You" in case you were wondering). If you don't already watch Doctor Who YOU MUST!
Okay I'm done. Byyyeee.
Sarah
