John's pretty sure he wasn't drunk last night, and he doesn't have a hangover now... But he's also pretty sure Irene Adler was in his living room with Sherlock last night. And that can't be right.
Everything seems normal when he goes downstairs, so maybe he just had a really weird dream. Sherlock is in the kitchen making tea, slightly more hyper than usual in his movements but nothing to worry about. He goes about making his own cup of tea, everything normal. Until he goes to the fridge.
"Watch the container of milk with the red label John, use the blue one." Sherlock warns, flitting around the kitchen looking for something, " Oh and can you grab the orange marmalade? Top shelf on the left."
John freezes. Orange marmalade? He hates orange marmalade. Never buys it. Sherlock hates it too, and he wouldn't buy it even if he did. So... Why is there a fresh jar of orange marmalade in their fridge?
"You hate orange marmalade."
"Yes."
"Then why is it in our fridge?"
"It's Irene's favorite. I went out and bought some when she told me she was coming."
John starts a little. "You, Sherlock Holmes, willingly went to the grocery. To buy /marmalade/."
Sherlock gives him an 'obvious' look and takes the jar from his hand, spreading it onto the toast in the focused way he does everything. John's still stuck on the jam. Sherlock bought jam, for Irene, who is presumably asleep in the next room. So last night actually happened. And Irene is alive and in a relationship of some sort with Sherlock.
This is too much for an early morning. "Ok then. Right." He says flatly, grabbing a cup of tea and turning to walk upstairs. He stops, turning back to study his flat mate "So. You two are... " the words get stuck somewhere on the way, and he can't quite finish. It's just too weird.
There's no understanding in Sherlock's eyes and John is forced to go on. "You two are together? And she's staying here?"
"I don't know if she's staying. And we are in some sort of arrangement, yes."
John gulps, moving his head something between a shake and a nod. "When did that happen?"
"Karachi, briefly," Sherlock replies, cutting up the toast and putting it on a plate. John notes the slight bittersweet tone to his voice. Sore spot then. "And then later, while I was after Moriarty's people..." He pauses for a second, looking away, "she proved an effective resource."
John rolls his eyes at Sherlocks choice of words, wondering how Irene feels about being a "resource." Then again, he doesn't know her, she might be fine with it. She seemed to like sherlocks oddities. "So you didn't hate her? After all that trouble with Mycroft?"
"That? No!" Sherlock looks puzzled, "Miss Adler showed me that people can be interesting. Very few people can not only tolerate me but interest me. Mycroft- by default. You- by choice. And Irene..." He fades off, slightly embarrassed (if that's possible for Sherlock Holmes).
"But she betrayed you."
"I assure you she has made up for it."
John nods, still very much confused, but when isn't he when it comes to Sherlock? "Are you happy?" he asks suddenly, and seeing Sherlock's incredulous look thinks he should have just left it be.
"What?"
"Are you happy? Now that Irene's here are you happy?"
"I," Sherlock doesn't seem to know what to do with the question. "Yes, I am happy."
"Good. Ok then. I'm happy for you." John smiles and claps his on the back, walking out of the kitchen and up to his room.
