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This isn't the happiest chapter - but one that just flowed with me.
Dinner had become a noticeably strained affair after the shouting. John was still tomato-red and glaring as his sister continued to sniffle, whimpering whenever she caught John's disapproving look.
Sherlock's own parents were making small talk with the Watson's, and even by Violet's quick assessment over Beatrice's outfit, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Sherlock knew, by the delicate pink spots on her cheeks and the subtle gleam in her eyes, Violet was slotting Beatrice into her column of possible friends.
And the consulting detective himself was trying to keep the tension from rising between the volatile Watson siblings.
However, keeping a peaceful and calm atmosphere wasn't Sherlock's forte.
"Would you like some cake, John?" he asked in desperation. His fiancé's eyes flickered to meet his, and Sherlock felt his heart jump slightly. Obvious pain and disappointment were clear in the usually placid orbs, and it felt like a dagger in Sherlock's side that somebody else had caused that.
He also had a selfish part of him, gleeful that for once it wasn't him who caused his anguish, but Sherlock easily ignored this.
"How could she do it, Sherlock?" John kept his voice down, but it broke under the torment Harry had put John through just by revealing her alcoholism ways were thriving once more.
"Do you want the logical I-tell-you-all-the-facts-bluntly-and-you-get-hurt-even-more answer or the sympathetic tabloid paper way?" Sherlock questioned. After trial-and-error session with John, in which the Captain remained oblivious and Sherlock gained information, he knew that his bluntness and eagerness to answer the question without any emotional ties could provide unnecessary hurt on his fiancé's part, so Sherlock tried to adapt his answer to a more understanding level.
John smiled briefly, the movement so quick it would've been missed on a slower man. "Right now, I think bluntness is the kindest solution actually, Sherlock".
Sherlock nodded, and preceded to stare unblinkingly at his future sister-in-law whilst narrating to John what he deduced.
"Although Harriet appears to have hidden the alcoholism fairly well with a sustainable cover of foundation – a shade which doesn't suit her pale skin – she failed to cover her neck and other visible parts of body. The yellow tinge is the most noticeable there, but like you John, she also seems to tan fairly well. But the shade of her recent sun worshiping – which, incidentally, seems to have come from a bottle due to the streaky patterns on her legs – and the jaundice clash quite obviously. However, with the cover-up of those 'natural tights' and her heavy suit, she seems to be fully aware of what she is doing. Especially with her clothes. The suit seems to be made to hug the curves of a woman, which I suspect Harriet had when she bought it. However, it droops over her, emphasizing her alcohol-emancipated frame. However, with the use of the thick tights, and the bulky material of her suit and undergarments, I suspect she has attempted to cover up the majority of her weight-loss. Alongside the dark, sleep-deprived circles under her eyes and sunken but flushed cheeks, this seems to point to a woman who knows how to deal with her drink and her family. Now…" he paused, and leaned forward to face the woman, whose eyes seemed to be out of focus and drooping. "HARRIET!" he called loudly and clapped his hands on her shoulders.
She jolted and dropped the cup of tea she was clutching on to. Her eyes flew up to meet his and he smirked as he stared into them. Every single pair of eyes from their table moved to stare at Sherlock now clutching hold of the clearly-panicked Harriet Watson. Violet silently groaned and squeezed the bridge of her nose in frustration.
"Clever… Contact lenses to disguise the fact your sclera has turned a startling shade of yellow. Somebody has been reading up on how to hide their dependency from their family, hmmm?" Sherlock lowers his voice down, so John has to lean closer to hear what he's whispering to his sister.
"Now, Miss Harriet, this isn't fair. What you're doing to John and your loving family on the lead-up to our wedding should be stopped immediately. You're stopping us enjoying our forthcoming marriage, and the union of our two families. And if you didn't suffer from a degrading illness and weren't John's sister, I would have you forcibly taken to rehab on some remote island. If you don't believe me, shall we test it out? I'm trying to understand why you're so tormented, but I can only speculate. It is clear the breakdown of your marriage started it, as well as Clara's refusal to communicate with you, which is clear by your wedding ring. But there is something else…" He stared deeply into her eyes, before scanning over her clothes.
Suddenly his face was alight with realization, as he smiled triumphantly. "I see… Clara is getting remarried again or something to the same effect. You've seen her with a new partner and she looks happy, whilst you are still battling with your own demons. But listen to me now, Harriet. If you still want to be healthy and part of this family, I can make that happen. If you want to stop drinking and be a part of our wedding, it's a possibility. But I can't make you do anything. I can't make you accept treatment. But Harriet… Clara is happy now. And surely you living in the past won't change anything. I know these are just words, but look around and see, for the first time, what you're really losing."
Sherlock pulled away and rested back in his chair, clasping John's hand. John stared at him in disbelief. It took a lot to surprise him about his future husband, but now… He couldn't quite believe what Sherlock had done.
He couldn't believe what happened next either.
Harriet turned her head woodenly, staring intently at each member of her family as well as her new in-laws. As she turned, her eyes filled with tears, drenching her cheeks.
"Mum…. Dad?" her soft voice waivered as she stared at her parents.
Her mother shook her head slowly, but a smile still broke out on her face. "You do worry us, Hattie." She reached out and squeezed her daughter's shaking hand. Her father nodded in agreement.
As she turned to John, she whimpered as her younger brother sighed heavily and leant forward, kissing her forehead lightly.
"Please… get help," he whispered as his lips lingered on her forehead. She nodded, finally defeated.
"Mr. Holmes?" she turned to Sherlock, her head bowing slightly. "Please… get me some help."
Sherlock nodded once and stalked off, ringing Mycroft as he left the Watson family to embrace each other.
"I can't believe you did that" John shrugged out of his coat as they stood in the doorway, later that evening.
"You were there, John, why can't you believe this?" Sherlock replied, chucking his coat over the back of the settee.
"I don't think any of us have ever talked to Harry in such a manner. Mum and Dad try and talk to her but can't get through and I just end up losing my temper." John shook his head as he padded to the kitchen.
"I suppose this has increased your desire to marry me now?" Sherlock mused as he joined John in the kitchen, pulling two clean mugs down from the highest cupboard.
"You do have your uses," John smirked as he turned to press a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips. The detective responded immediately, wrapping one arm around the smaller man to hold him tightly around his waist.
"Thank you," John whispered, as they broke apart, his lips travelling down to Sherlock's pale neck.
"What for?" Sherlock threaded his fingers in John's sandy hair, holding him in place.
"For just being the demanding, arrogant sod who I feel in love with," John replied lightly and pulled the detective by the loops of his belt to the bedroom upstairs.
NOTE - I researched alcoholism symptoms and this is what I found. I apologize if I missed something. I don't mean to be disrespectful if this comes through in the text at all, which I hope it doesn't. Please message me if you've got any queries.
Disclaimer - I don't own any characters - everything to BBC/Sherlock/Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and any necessary parties.