Four Thursdays John Would Never Forget
Chp 8
So I edited the last chapter and…I said 'fun' instead of 'phone' at one point and I just…I don't even know why guys. I apologize and hope that you weren't laughing as hard at me as I was at myself. God, my mistakes are so embarrassing.
Things were not right. No, and they hadn't been for months. Not since John had returned from Ireland and it was driving him mad. Sherlock was certain it had to do with that, it just had to do with the trip. The detective hadn't gone with him and what a mistake that had been because clearly that was the only time he hadn't been able to observe the blonde and now something had changed. It was as though they were living in paradise one moment and on the brink of destruction the next.
He had desperately wanted to figure out the reason for this change the moment he'd noticed it. However the detective had found himself wrapped up in yet another case that had required his full attention. Of course it had, it always does. Sherlock always went all in on his cases, often leaving John far behind (metaphorically speaking though as clearly the young man was always on hand). This time was different though, because something had changed when he'd left for Ireland. Perhaps it was because he really needed the detective there.
Now it was a month after that cursed case and things still weren't right. He tried to lighten the mood around the flat, anything he could think of just to see John smile like he used to, but nothing worked. Despite his own feelings he even recommended a 'Bond night' as they were some of John's favorite films. However the blonde was despondent and would have none of it. Then inspiration struck the night before…or so he thought.
Which is what brought him to where he was, standing outside in the rain praying that he could fix this. He was just praying that he hadn't ruined the one thing in this world that had given him so much joy. The house was large and in all his time of knowing the man he'd only been there once or twice before. He walked up slowly to the door and held out a hesitant hand to knock. The detective was rarely scared but he certainly was now. What if he heard something he didn't like? That was beyond his control? What if he was only here to learn that there was nothing left to do, that he'd already lost? Before he could even think about tucking tail and running the door swung open. Inside was a very confused looking William Murray and his husband.
"Sherlock?"
The actor questioned incredulously and turned back to David as if to ask 'is this really happening'. For a moment Sherlock stayed silent, not sure if this was the best course of action any more.
"Yes, I…"
He lost his voice quite quickly he found as it was becoming increasingly hard to imagine surviving the impending conversation.
"Come inside, before you catch something."
David chided and pulled the detective inside with one firm tug. William made quick work of taking Sherlock's coat and scarf before leading him over to their sitting room.
"I'll get you a cup of tea."
The actor said quickly as he rushed out of the room. David led the man over to the nearest sofa and sat him down.
"John's not here you know."
David informed softly as he sat himself next to the detective.
"Obviously."
Sherlock choked out, he'd meant it to sound more like his usual petulant self, but he supposed that part of him was long gone, for the moment.
"Was there something you needed from us, then?"
David continued on, gently prodding for answers. Sherlock ran a shaky hand through his hair and sucked in a deep breath.
"I was wondering if I could speak to Bill about the trip to Ireland he and John took a few months ago."
He explained quietly and silently hoped that this whole ordeal would be over soon and simultaneously wished he never have to go through with this. David placed a supportive hand on the detective's shoulder to steady him.
"I'm afraid he's out at the moment and shouldn't be back for a few hours…perhaps William and I can help."
The man offered kindly and Sherlock felt sick. Could he really wait another day? No… but how could these two possibly help him?
"Of course we can help! Here, take your tea dear and tell Davey and I what's the matter."
William chirped as he shoved a hot china cup into Sherlock's hands, and sat himself on the near by love seat. The detective took a wary sip of the tea and noted that he much preferred John's, which sent another pang of sorrow through him that was practically crippling.
"Honestly this is a matter I must discuss with Bill. I have to know what happened during their trip to Ireland. Whatever it is has changed John in some manner that is most upsetting."
He went about setting his tea on the coffee table when he noticed the couple exchanged a confused then pained look. Obviously he was missing something here.
"Is there something I should know?"
Sherlock asked carefully as he glanced between the two men who seemed uncertain as to how to answer him.
"Sherlock… why don't you just tell us how exactly he changed?"
David continued simply ignoring the detective's inquiry. Sherlock debated whether or not it was truly necessary to discuss this matter with these men whom he barely knew. He might have been so inclined to leave just then if he hadn't remembered that these had been the very men whom John credited to their eventual couple-hood. So rather than storm out just as lost as before, he decided it might be best to see what advice they had to offer.
"Well, obviously I noticed a change immediately, the very next day in fact, but it wasn't until I found Ms. Adler in my bed that it became painfully clear."
"John, we have a visitor. You might want to put the kettle on."
Sherlock called out from the bedroom as he looked down at the sleeping woman. He wondered why she had chosen to crawl inside to sleep, had she been deprived thus far? Or perhaps she was simply more ordinary in her biological needs. She had appeared to be much like the detective in many ways, one of which he begrudgingly admitted was his intelligence. The woman was clever, and a survivor, but he felt assured he remained superior. However what made her enticing was not that she may be smarter than himself, but that she offered a challenge. She was a mystery from top to bottom and it excited him. Much like Moriarty had before he strapped a bomb to John's chest, now the man was nothing but a threat. Irene wasn't though, she was simply mystery. She had a mysterious phone, a mysterious past, a mysterious career, and even the woman herself was a mystery. One that wasn't so simple to solve, which is exactly how he liked it.
"What do you mean a visitor? I don't see anyone."
John mumbled as he made his way down the hall. The young man looked tired, as he normally did now, ever since that trip. Sherlock wished John would stop looking so tired, he wanted to research ways to help ease the blonde into more restful sleep, but he was busy. He was constantly working on Irene's phone, or the case, or on what exactly his brother was up to. Now as John stood next to him he saw that perhaps that wasn't the best course of action. He looked warn and exhausted, and if Sherlock hadn't known better he'd say John was ten years older than he was. When the young man peered inside the room it only got worse, his skin paled and his eyes went wide before looking up to the detective's.
"What is she doing here… in our bed?"
John asked in a quiet voice that made Sherlock's chest tighten for some inexplicable reason.
"Well, I'd have to wake her and ask now wouldn't I? I'm not a mind reader you know, though I would assume she means to collect her phone."
The detective reasoned but the pained look on John's face did not go away and so Sherlock began to truly worry as to what was wrong. Just as he began to reach out to comfort the blonde he pulled away.
"Just get her up would you? I'll put the kettle on."
The young man grumbled and made his way down the hall. Sherlock wondered for a moment what it was that had changed, and if John would tell him before this case was over and he had to devote all of his efforts into figuring it out. When he woke the woman she was pleased to see him and even more pleased it seemed with a fresh cup of tea when they entered the living room. Her demeanor changed abruptly however when the matter of her phone was brought up. Then it was all eyes on Irene. He could tell she was good, and that made the game so much sweeter. She took the false phone and for a moment he relished in the feeling of accomplishment until he realized that it was he who had been tricked in the end. Admittedly he was shocked, and he was even more shocked to realize he'd complimented her aloud. John seemed less than pleased to hear that. Then she had challenged him and god how he loved a challenge. He rose to the occasion as usual and that was the last straw apparently. John went ballistic.
"Beg for-that's great, just bloody great!"
He had shouted as he shot up from the table leaving his chair to drop helplessly to the ground.
"John what's the meaning of this?"
Sherlock had asked anxiously, he'd only seen John this mad once or twice, and it had never been directed towards him.
"Why don't you figure it out yourself, your new girlfriend can help you since she's so damn clever."
The young man hollered back and Sherlock visibly flinched when the front door slammed shut behind John.
"Someone's got a bit of a temper."
Irene snickered and the detective's head snapped in her direction almost immediately.
"What's so funny?"
He hissed, not certain whether he was angrier that she'd mocked John, or that she appeared to have figured out what was wrong first. She smiled at him and sat herself on the table in front of him.
"You are."
She said coyly as she trailed her index finger along his jaw line. Sherlock jerked away almost violently from the touch.
"You're going to have to explain that to me."
The detective gritted out between clenched teeth which only seemed to amuse the woman.
"You've got this fantastically brilliant mind, yet you're so spectacularly ignorant about the very people who mean the most to you. It's wonder he's stayed with you this long."
She laughed and the brunette did his best to control the horrible clenching sensation at the pit of his stomach.
"He loves me."
Sherlock stated petulantly, not sure if he was trying to convince her or himself at this point.
"Love is a fickle mistress. She can be here one minute…"
She said lightly as she picked up John's mug off the table.
"And gone the next."
She finished and with that dropped the mug onto the floor with a loud crash to demonstrate her point. Sherlock could feel a deepening pit grow at the center of his gut, her meaning had been all too clear. John was falling out of love? Sherlock had done something to upset John and now the blonde was questioning his feelings? The detective wondered about how badly John might have wanted him to attend that trip, or if someone had said something to change his mind. His mind was reeling and there for it took him a moment to realize the woman's hand wandering down his chest. He slapped it away immediately and looked up to see her laughing eyes.
"I think you should leave."
He stated roughly as he stood from his seat.
"Oh, I've upset you now have I? Well, I'd thought myself doing you a favor. You being in denial and all, he wouldn't be looking into military recruitment against your wishes if everything was all sunshine and rainbows."
Irene explained in mock hurt. Sherlock let her words sink in and momentarily questioned whether or not she would lie about something like that. However he knew she was smart enough to realize how quickly he could disprove such a statement and judging by the way she was looking at him she had thought he already knew.
"Didn't you know?"
She asked with growing excitement.
"You didn't, did you? Oh this is rich! I suppose he doesn't know either, does he? Just why you can't let him go… well despite your obvious control issues."
She continued with a gleam in her eye that irritated the detective to no end. He turned away from her angrily and crossed his arms.
"I have no control issues and the only reason I disagree is because of the obvious risks involved."
He declared hotly and decided to omit the other reason being that he couldn't stand for them to be apart for that amount of time. She walked over to his side and gently rubbed the pads of her fingers from shoulder to shoulder until Sherlock moved away from the touch.
"Don't play coy dear, he would be going in as a doctor, they don't go to the front lines. You're not worried about enemies of the army, but those of the Holmes family. How long do you think it would take for information like that to spread? How many well placed phone calls until the wrong people were informed? They might take out a little act of vengeance on the poor lad, no one would question it. Bet he'd get to be buried with the flag anyway though."
Irene purred in a fashion that made the man's skin crawl and he backed away from her swiftly.
"Leave. Now."
He growled out in a manner that put his days as a drug addict to shame. The woman smiled triumphantly but left without another word.
"After that I finished the case with an unfortunate visit involving my brother and the woman."
Sherlock explained in a haggard voice. The story had left him feeling sick, that woman knew something he didn't and now he had to share that information with more people. What's worse is he knew he'd have to tell the rest, and he wasn't sure how he could do that without breaking down.
"Did you talk to him… at all?"
David asked calmly though he and William had a look of apprehensive doubt. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the question. He knew talking was always considered the normal thing to do, but him and John weren't normal. Besides he'd learned a long time ago that John didn't like being badgered about his feelings, he liked having his space until he was ready to talk on his own terms. So of course he hadn't talked to the blonde, but now that was looking more and more like the wrong choice.
"No… I-we're not good at that."
He confessed bashfully and the two men didn't seem surprised. William straightened himself out before leaning towards the detective with a serious expression.
"Why don't you tell us about last night?"
He asked in a soft but stern voice that threw Sherlock completely off guard. How did William know anything about last night? The actor must have picked up on his surprise as he faltered slightly in his strict expression for one of more hesitance.
"I didn't mean to jump into it so quickly but you weren't giving me much to go with there."
He admitted with a small smile.
"Did John talk to you? Did he tell you about last night?"
Sherlock questioned quickly. Had they known all this time and just allowed him to give his information over for no reason at all?
"He didn't tell us anything about last night. It's just we know he organized a meeting with Bill and Mary to get some drinks down at some pub-"
"We're waiting up for him, just in case (he gets a bit carried away sometimes)."
"And we know John isn't the type to open up unless something is really bothering him. That and the fact I know he came here around two in the morning last night, and spent the better part of the day with Mary while Bill was off at work."
David finished smoothly despite William's interruption. Sherlock took a moment to process the information, he certainly didn't like that John had spent the day with a girl after the events that took place the night before, and he liked it even less that John had felt the need to drink. The boy rarely drank given his father and his sister's inclination for the habit, so this pub gathering was a bad sign in itself. The detective gave himself a mental slap and prepared himself for the conversation to come.
"Well you are right, there were… problems last night that are actually what truly confirmed my suspicions that something was wrong…"
"Do tell."
"William."
"Sorry, continue."
Sherlock had been working several minor cases that John had come along for and none had lifted the blonde's spirits. On that note it had been an entire month so it was high time the detective at least devote one day of complete focus on the task. What had changed? It didn't take long for the detective to realize that something very important had been missing from their daily lives. Sex. John had wanted sex that day when he'd come back, yes? Well if that was so than perhaps he was just angry that he'd never gotten any, Sherlock often missed or even ignored requests because he was on a case, perhaps this was what John was suffering from. Maybe he thought Sherlock cared for the cases more than he did about the young man.
The detective leaped from the sofa immediately to go in search of the young man so that he could fix the problem. Obviously it was a real problem too; John probably needed to be reassured of Sherlock's affections and that was all. Whenever the blonde felt insecure he wouldn't initiate a sexual act, which would explain their longest dry spell in history. So it would have to be the detective who started would it? Fine, not a burden really; especially since despite his complaints he really had grown used to it happening close to everyday.
"John!"
He called out almost merrily. There was no answer but he soon found the young man on their bed listening to music as he read some novel or another. Sherlock slid onto the bed and swiped the two distractions. John rose from his slump quickly and let out a small huff of annoyance.
"I was using those you know."
John complained almost as if to himself.
"You don't need them; you've got something far better now."
Sherlock hummed as he crawled up the bed and pressed a small kiss to the young man's collar bone.
"Sherlock."
The voice was a warning and the detective responded. He raised his head so they were looking each other directly in the eyes and John held his stare very well.
"I'm not in the mood."
The blonde declared and Sherlock did his best not to burst out laughing. John was always in the mood.
"Oh really?"
He questioned in a low seductive voice as he reached forward to cup the front of John's jeans.
"I said no. It's not like you want it from me anyway."
The blonde practically shouted as he swatted Sherlock's hand away. After one stunned moment the detective followed him out towards the front door.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Sherlock asked helplessly trying to keep John with him, but every time he reached out to him, John would pull away.
"You know damn well what I'm talking about."
John yelled and then stormed out of the flat. Sherlock stood stunned in the doorway. The detective was the one normally performing the dramatics, not John. Sherlock didn't even know what the problem was either. He was even more lost than before.
William and David exchanged a look before turning to the detective and explaining some very important things. Which then led to the detective falsely informing John of a case. He new the young man would come because by this time he'd be getting uncomfortable with talking about himself. Quickly Sherlock hailed himself a cab to get back to the flat and prayed that David had been right about this.
