I wake up the next morning because Sherlock's already up and he's on the phone, pacing the room as he kicks clothes about the floor and fights his way into his trousers. I close my eyes again, trying to savour the morning doziness which makes me feel heavy and warm before I have to wake up and start for the day, it's going to be a busy one. Because today is Sherlock's birthday.
"Thanks, stop singing Mycroft, you really do have an awful voice. No, I haven't looked at the post yet. Thanks, I will. Yes, I'm sure it's lovely. Yes, I'll tell her later. The Ritz, no he doesn't. So, are you going to find out for me? Thank you. Very kind." He sighs, looks over at me and rolls his eyes. I grin and stretch, folding my arms behind my head and watching him stride about half naked. He's abandoned the trousers and is pulling on a shirt. He sees where I'm looking, grins and advances towards the bed.
"I've just thought of a present I do want Mycroft. No, not from you, from John. He's awake now. Ha ha," he laughs, "yes, I think you'd better go too. Bye." He clicks off the phone and throws it onto the floor.
"Happy birthday Sherlock!"He kneels on the bed, his groin level with my face; he looks like he's having a happy birthday so far.
When he's finished exacting his birthday entitlements from me I finally get to go and shower. We're going for lunch at the Ritz apparently. I've never been and I have no idea why Sherlock would want to take me there. He says there's someone he wants me to meet.
Jamie's not downstairs when I go into the lounge and I decide to give Sherlock his present now. It's been hard to get sorted out and, even if he knows about the party, I doubt he knows about this.
"Close my eyes? Why? It's not like we're going somewhere I don't know, we're still in the building." He complains good naturedly as I lead him downstairs. I knock on Mrs. Hudson's door, after all this present is from her too.
"Ooh happy birthday Sherlock darling! I hope he likes his present John." I smile, I'm sure he will. It's taken us ages to organise and I've had to get a lot of my mates to help out. Clara and I have spent hours painting while he's been out. Even Lestrade did some wiring, apparently it's what his dad does, and he knows his stuff I have to give him that. Laura paid for everything; I think she's got him a present too though.
Mrs Hudson unlocks the door to 221c Baker St, the smell of fresh paint wafts towards us. Sherlock smiles, surely he has no idea about this? I click on the hard, bright lights and I still love looking at what we've done. The damp's gone; the awful room where we found those trainers is utterly transformed. A long steel bench takes up the centre of the room and there are boxes of scientific equipment ready to be put away, I guessed he'd want to do that part himself.
The sink in the corner is plumbed in and everything's white and clean. He's got a fridge for his body parts and a microwave for his experiments and a coffee machine. Even if I say it myself we've done a good job.
"You can open them now." I tell him but he already has his eyes open. Cheat. He is grinning broadly. "Like it? Happy birthday!" His mouth is open and for once he isn't speaking. I watch those blue eyes dart about the room, taking it all in.
"A lab!" he says quietly. "I always wanted a lab!" He turns to me and he looks overwhelmed. It's all a bit surprising, I've never seen him surprised before, I imagine it doesn't happen often.
"It's not just from me," I hasten to tell him, not wanting to take all the credit. "Mrs. Hudson donated the room and the paint."
"I was never going to rent it out though was I? And John's idea sounded lovely, and saved anymore accidents upstairs." She adds but she smiles as she says this.
"And Laura paid for the damp proofing, the equipment and the furniture. And Lestrade did the electrics." Sherlock looks at me, brows cocked in a quizzical manner. "I know, I didn't know he could do that either. And Clara and I painted and tidied up." He's still just looking.
Then he rushes over to the bench and starts pulling boxes of lab stuff out of the big crates. His face is a picture of delight. I get the feeling we've done a good thing. We stand and watch him for a few minutes, I feel like Mrs. Hudson and I are proud parents on Christmas morning. He's completely forgotten we're there; he's biting his lip and grinning, spinning dials and tapping screens and shaking bottles.
"Sherlock? Aren't we supposed to be going to lunch?" He looks up like he's surprised we're still there.
"Lunch? Lunch! Yes, yes we are. What's the time?" I look at my watch.
"Half eleven." He puts the bottle he was shaking down carefully in the counter and rushes over to us both. As he turns off the light in his lab I watch him look around the room again, he couldn't look any more excited if he tried. This huge feeling of happiness fills me up. I give him the key and he locks the door. Mrs Hudson has a spare, so do I; he's bound to lose that one.
Outside he kisses Mrs. Hudson. She ruffles his hair and he doesn't complain. I get the feeling we have bought ourselves a free pass to Sherlock forgiveness for a long time.
As we go back up to the flat he grabs my hand. I turn to him, his face level with mine because I'm on a higher step. He kisses me gently, cradling my face in those long hands.
"Thank you John. That's amazing. Really, thank you. I've never had a present like that. I love you." I smile.
"I love you too. And it's not entirely altruistic Sherlock, it does mean I can put food in the fridge and not worry about eyeballs in the microwave." He laughs and kisses me again.
We get to the top step and there's a large parcel on the doorstep. It's addressed to Sherlock and it's from an expensive shop on Bond St.
"Mycroft," he says as he rips open the packaging, vivid purple tissue paper and black ribbon. He shakes out a dressing gown, it's black and plush I can just imagine how good it will feel against skin. 'SH' is embroidered on the breast in silver thread. But, as he shakes it out, another item falls out of the parcel. It's an identical dressing gown, slightly smaller and I see my own initials on the soft fabric. I start to laugh.
"Mycroft's bought us 'His n' His' dressing gowns for your birthday! Oh my god, your brother is a lunatic!" Sherlock is shaking his head but his thin lips soon turn into a smile.
"I'll kill him. What's wrong with my other dressing gown?" He puts his present on over his shirt and trousers. He looks like he might be about to survive a Russian winter. It does look comfy though. I pull him close, yep, the material feels amazing, I kiss him. "Aren't you putting yours on?" he grins. I shake my head and point at my watch.
"Quarter to twelve." I say, he pulls off the gown and throws it over the chair.
We get to the Ritz and I am feeling a bit ill. It isn't that Sherlock told the cabbie to hurry up so that the disgruntled driver hurled us around corners at break neck speed; it isn't even that I didn't get to have breakfast this morning. No, the reason I feel physically sick is that Sherlock has just told me who it is we're having lunch with. It's Mummy.
Palm Court, where Afternoon Tea is served at the Ritz, is an astonishing place. The whole of the space is filled with gold, glittering crystal chandeliers sparkle their light down onto the gilt chairs and the ornate gilt walls. The cutlery and the china are polished to within an inch of their life and everything is shouting 'expense!' and ''you don't belong here John!' I take a moment to remind myself that I have eaten rations out of a tin under a bivouac in the desert and I have as much right to be here as anyone else. Then I pretend to believe that it's true.
The waiter shows us to a table in the window; it's obviously an exclusive setting, in the light but out of the view of the other diners. There is already someone sitting at the table and my stomach goes cold. Any hope I had that Sherlock has been pulling my leg or that Mycroft would be here as a sort of buffer vanishes as the lone figure turns to greet us. There is a part of me that is reeling from the idea that I would consider Mycroft's presence an asset anywhere. God, things must be serious.
The woman who is smiling at us is about sixty I'd say, she must be considering the age of her sons, but she certainly doesn't look it. Her hair is admittedly white, more silver really I notice as the sun through the window hits her head and shoulders as she half stands to accept Sherlock's kiss on the cheek. Her cheeks are lined but soft and the striking features I so admire on her youngest son are etched even more finely on her face and she is beautiful. I expected no less I must admit.
I have no idea if I should kiss her cheek or if this is a gesture reserved for family. She sees my confusion and holds out her hand to shake mine, fixing me with another startling pair of blue eyes and smiling widely. Her grip is firm and she presses her thumb against my hand when she clasps me.
She sits back down, smoothing her pale grey suite skirt down with one hand adorned with one solitary diamond ring. Her whole style is understated and expensive. I'm seeing the influence of her dress sense projected forwards through Sherlock and Mycroft, both conservative but classy dressers.
"Happy birthday darling!" she smiles at Sherlock who is grinning back at her. He seems very happy in her company and I am relieved that there's one of his family who it doesn't cause him discomfort to be with.
"Thanks Mummy, this is John." She already knows this but she doesn't say anything. Her sculpted mouth, darkened with a deep burgundy lipstick, smiles at Sherlock's eagerness to introduce me.
"John," she says, her voice deep for a woman and having the same upper class accent as Sherlock's. "How delightful to meet you. I've heard so much about you from both of the boys." It makes me smile to hear her talk about Mycroft as Sherlock as 'the boys', it's how I term them in my head. Mind you, it's usually because they're squabbling like children.
"Have you? Crikey. Don't believe a word of it. All lies." I shake my head seriously and smile. She chuckles.
"Well it's all been quite complimentary so..."
"Oh, in that case it's all true, every word of it gospel." She smiles again and Sherlock laughs.
"So, what did you get for your birthday?" She puts her hand on his, her nails are long and manicured, her fingers tapering.
"I got a lab!" Sherlock is still excited and I think, if it hadn't been his mother we were meeting for lunch, then he might have just stayed in 221c all day.
"A lab!" she raises her eyebrows. Just for the briefest second I can see them both twenty years ago, Sherlock all enthusiastic and excited and her responding to his delight with motherly pride. "Whoever got you one of those?" She looks at me, quirking her mouth. I smile.
"Well, John really, he organised it all but some other friends too." Sherlock dismisses everyone else's time and money with a wave of his hand. I shake my head.
The waiter comes and we order, well Sherlock orders for everyone, birthday privilege he tells me.
"I used to find the vilest thing on the menu for Mycroft, do you remember Mummy?"
"Yes I do Sherlock. It wasn't very noble spirited of you. However the gesture, I recall, was mutual." Sherlock grimaces and his mother puts her hands under her chin in a prayer position with which I am all too familiar.
"While we're on the subject of your brother Sherlock I have to say I am quite worried about him." She knots her brows and drinks some of the tea which has just been brought to the table.
"Oh? Why?" Sherlock really is hopeless. I sigh and they both look at me. I feel like a mouse with two very, very haughty Siamese cats.
"I'm presuming that Mycroft's not been himself since the Freiman incident." I have no wish to out him to his mother even though I'm pretty sure she already knows about Mycroft's tendencies.
"Freiman? By that do I take it we mean since Mr Eccles' death?" She's matter of fact as she drinks her tea again. I nod. She nods, Sherlock nods.
"Well, he's bound to be upset isn't he? Have you spoken to him about it Sherlock?" I ask him. He looks at me with alarm, have I really just suggested he have a conversation with his only brother? The audacity.
"No I haven't." He says sniffily. "I wouldn't have the faintest idea what to say. You speak to him John." He grins at me, pleased with his solution.
"I think that would be a very good idea." Says Sherlock's mother, I still haven't been told her name. "He does seem very fond of you." She looks at Sherlock who narrows his eyes. Is she doing this deliberately? I think she is. I shift in my seat.
"Well, I'm not sure I'm the right person for this but, well, if the opportunity arises..."
"I'm sure it will." Says Mummy cryptically, I'm beginning to see where her boys get their enigma from too.
The rest of the conversation is about me. I am in the firing line, often I don't even get to answer because Sherlock butts in, like someone translating for an exchange student. And that's how I feel, as though I am only visiting their world. It makes me wonder how our relationship is going to progress if these are the circles in which Sherlock is comfortable.
How old am I? Where did I learn medicine? What do, sorry, did my parents do? Am I related to the Watson family in Edinburgh? An endless round of questions which I soon realise stops them talking about themselves.
As dessert arrives so does a young man who crosses the floor confidently and pulls up a chair next to us. He's about twenty and is very handsome, model handsome. Dark hair flops over one eye and his finely featured face is astonishingly perfect. People look over and couple of them giggle. I'm just wondering why he's so familiar when a young woman from another table comes over and asks for his autograph. He hasn't even spoken to us yet.
"I loved you in 'Casanova'." The girl simpers and he smiles dazzlingly and flourishes his name on her napkin.
"Thank you. That's very kind." His voice is like melted chocolate. I look at Sherlock in alarm. Sherlock is watching this all with amusement written all over his face. The girl goes away and the man turns back to us with a smile. "Sorry, how rude of me," he kisses Sherlock's mother, not a chaste cheek kiss like her son but a full, on the mouth, possibly with tongues, kiss which seems to take an indecent amount of time. I squirm in my seat and Sherlock raises an eyebrow at me.
My brain, desperate for something with which to occupy itself, realises where I've seen him before. This is Christopher Clark, the actor. I've seen him in some chick flick Harry made me go and see with her once and I think even Clara has a bit of a crush on him. He's usually in those films where he plays the handsome bloke who just happens to move in next door. Then he just stands around being gorgeous and eventually shags the girl.
They finish snogging, really there's no other word for it, and seem to remember we're both here. From his jacket pocket, which he's slung casually on the back of the chair, Christopher gets out a box and passes it to Sherlock.
"Happy birthday." He says as though he is at least ten years our senior.
"Thanks dad," Sherlock says sardonically and his mother glares. Christopher laughs but I can see that Sherlock has annoyed him.
In the box is a bracelet. It's expensive looking man- jewellery and I can see that on Christopher it might look ok but on Sherlock? Sherlock takes one look at it and puts it down on the table.
"Thanks," he says blankly. "I'll treasure it forever." Christopher and Sherlock's mother sigh at each other and she shrugs.
"Glad you like it," says Christopher in a barbed fashion. There is a very uncomfortable silence until Sherlock breaks it, quite literally.
"Daddy telephoned this morning. Wanted to wish me a happy birthday and mentioned he'll be in London next month. Will you be at the house Mummy? He's rather hoping he and Toby can stay there." His mother's lips go thin and I see her nostrils flare. Her hand, curled over Christopher's, possessively tightens and I see Christopher wince.
"I'll be in Scotland all of next month, wont we darling?" she smiles sweetly at Christopher. He nods and moves his hand from the table, I watch him rub his knuckles discreetly.
"I'll tell him then. Thanks." Sherlock pushes his seat back from the table. "John and I had better be going."
"Are you busy tonight?" his mother has pushed out her chair and is kissing Sherlock.
"Yes," he says.
"No," I say. She raises one perfect eyebrow. We look at each other and frown.
"Well, have fun whatever your plans are boys." She giggles and pats my arm. "Lovely to meet you John, do look after my son, he does like to get into scrapes." It's as though she's suggesting he climbs trees and steal apples, she has no idea.
When we get in the cab I turn to him, his expression is blank.
"That was interesting." I remark. He sniffs and looks out of the window.
"You know, once, I had to go to Art's house because my mother was in bed with Christopher having her second, very loud, orgasm of the morning and I just couldn't listen to it anymore." He still isn't looking at me and I see his face in the window and his eyes are closed in pained expression. Bloody hell, the whole lot of them are mad, I think. "She only did it in the hope that I'd tell Daddy."
"That must have been... awful." I say, no idea what I'm supposed to think at this point. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
"I'm all for expressing your sexuality, as you know John, but... well, it wasn't on." I shake my head and try not to laugh at his mild assessment of something which would have most people I know seeking the therapist's couch.
"No, not on." I agree. "What are you going to do with the bracelet?" He looks at the box in his hand.
"So much more Art's style, don't you think?" I do and I say so. He'll love it and it'll look perfect on him.
When we get back to 221b Sherlock wants to go down to the lab straight away. This is proving convenient because I have to start getting things ready for tonight. Lestrade's offered to occupy Sherlock while we get everything set up but I need to move some things about this afternoon. Unfortunately our plans are hampered by the fact that Mycroft is on the sofa, Jamie's nowhere to be seen.
He looks up at us from the book he is reading and uncrosses his legs. He stands and shakes Sherlock's hand.
"Happy birthday! Did you like the presents?" He is looking at where the robes are thrown over the chair. Before Sherlock can say a word I interrupt.
"Love them, they look very...snuggly." Snuggly? John please. He nods and raises an eyebrow at my word choice.
"Good, I thought that awful blue dishcloth he keeps wearing..." I laugh and he chuckles with me, his face tight and his tone acidic. Sherlock sighs and sits down on the sofa. I see him pick up the book Mycroft was reading, oh god. SM 101. Wasn't that in the bedroom?
"I know it's traditional, even conventional, for one's partner to side with one's sibling in mocking but can we not do it today 'boys'?" he grimaces. "Did you just come to see us model the robes?" Can't these two play nicely together?
"I'm sure yours will fit but if John wants to slip his on...?" Mycroft looks at me and I swallow. Sherlock gets up and stands between us. Honestly, sometimes he acts as if his brother's going to eat me. I look back at Mycroft who is doing a good impression of a cobra.
"You asked me about some allegations of torture made in Afghanistan? Well, I've got some information for you." Mycroft waves a manila folder. Sherlock goes to take it and he whips it away. "I just brought this to refresh my memory, can't let you have it. Sorry." He flicks it open, sits on my armchair and summarises.
"Two soldiers as you know, responsible for one prisoner of war captured after a failed suicide bombing. The man later committed suicide with a nail he found in his cell." He looks up at us both. His expression is blank but I know now that this means a Holmes is thinking. "Claims were made by other soldiers, not on duty at the time, that your two friends," he smiles at me coldly, "made the man wear a lead like a dog, urinated on him and assaulted him sexually."
I feel cold in my belly, like someone turned off all the heating in the world. I didn't expect this. I knew that they had done some bad things, my mind begins to euphemise even now, but to hear it read aloud in Mycroft's cut crystal voice is too much for me. I feel my gorge rise and I run to the bathroom where I am violently sick. I stare at the toilet bowl as I flush, watch the water sluicing away and hope that it cleans away my thoughts too. It occurs to me that, through all I have seen in my life, this hits me hard because it was perpetrated by my friends.
When I go back into the lounge neither of them have moved. They both look at me and Sherlock's face shows concern, Mycroft's interest.
"How do they know this?" but I know the answer even before he speaks.
"They bragged about it of course. Not Freddy but the other one." he points upstairs to my room where Jamie is obviously hiding.
"Oh god."
"John, you know as well as I do that things done in wartime have a different resonance, a different weight." His face is smooth, he doesn't look bothered. I don't even answer. I leave the room and go upstairs.
I hear Sherlock and Mycroft running after me and I quicken my step, racing them and my conscience up to my room. I want to hit him before I get chance to be rational.
Jamie's on the bed, lying with his arms folded looking up at the ceiling. I grab him as he turns to see who has banged thought he door so loudly and I smack him right in the nose with my fist. Just once. It's all I wanted to do. I drop him and stand by the fireplace, chest heaving. Sherlock comes in next and comes straight to me; grabbing my shoulders and making me look at him.
"John, for god's sake!" He is shouting but it sounds like I'm underwater. Blood is rushing around my head and I can barely think. It's a suffocating unpleasant feeling. Mycroft is with Jamie and is passing him a tissue, Jamie's nose is bleeding profusely. Part of me is glad to see the red splashing onto his t shirt.
"How could you do that?" I hiss through clenched teeth. I shake my head, trying to clear the murderous rage which clouds my senses. Jamie starts to cry again. I roll my eyes and shake my head. "It's too fucking late for tears Jamie. No wonder Freddy killed himself. No wonder he's coming back to fucking haunt you, you deserve it!" He flinches at my words then he seems to gather himself.
"What the fuck would you know John? Tending to patients in the field hospital? Oh yeah, you saw some action, I'll give you that, but Freddy and I watched two of our best mates blown up by those fuckers! Two men, who we'd come over with, shared food with, saved each others fucking lives!" He springs up from the bed and I think he's coming to hit me and I tense but he stalks past me to the window.
"So when we caught the bastard and his stupid little, fucking bomb, the bomb he made to kill us, me and Freddy, well it didn't go off then we were angry. And scared." He adds almost as an afterthought. "And it got out of hand. Suddenly we had complete power over someone we fucking hated. Someone who meant to kill us and there were no consequences John! No one was going to give a flying fuck if that bastard lived or died!" He sinks to his knees. "And that was all ok until afterwards. When Freddy couldn't sleep for the guilt and I started drinking because then I forgot about it, or could talk about it. You don't know what you're capable of until something like that happens John. I wish to god I had never fucking found out." He starts to cry again. Mycroft and Sherlock are looking at me. I don't know what to say, what to do.
There's a tentative knock on the door and we look up to see Lestrade standing on the threshold with a bottle of champagne. He waves it merrily.
"Happy birthday Brainiac!" he grins.
So, Jamie... it's been killing me all this time because I knew what he'd done but I wanted you to like him at first. How did I do? What did you think of Mummy?
Not sure when I'll post again this week as life is mad with aforementioned school trip and party this weekend. I'll do my best but I think I need some sleep.
The Baker St Irregulars! What would I do without you?: PrincessNala and Peachsilk (likes BC even in a dress!), Darmed (do hope you're ok babes) Clubba Bear, Tasty- Kate ,2cajuman2, Tanya Zsa Zsa, Munchiees!, Aelfric's cat , Nellyington, mrs winny, Despairandcupcakechild!), Mouserjb4 ,Tillif and Harpyquin and Jazzysatindoll,thegeekyprincess and Flabagash! And all the new people who just found us! Your reviews make my morning SO much more interesting!
Love you OHOB and Reggie Cx
