'I'll have the chicken soup please' said the feminine though meek voice.
Bland, boring, safe choice. Clearly unadventurous. Cheapest thing on the menu so clearly thrifty too, yet she doesn't look forlorn at her choice, probably a lifelong habit, indicating less than affluent parents.
'I'll have the same' came an accompanying male voice.
Clearly thrifty too, probably saving money, or at least showing solidarity with the woman. The actions of a married couple saving up to buy their first house. The couple being Mary and John Watson, who were currently sitting in a generic restaurant just five minutes from Baker Street, mid day on a Thursday with a clearly bored Sherlock Holmes.
John had been back three weeks, and in that time had noticed a subtle change in Sherlock. He was quieter, more pensive, which John didn't think would have been possible. He was still the cocky git he always was, but it was as if he had been dented, his ego bruised. He suspected that Sherlock was experiencing a delayed reaction to his marriage; after all they were best friends, newly reunited. Before Sherlock had … gone, they'd spent all their time together. They'd barely had time to reconnect when he had returned before John himself left on his honeymoon. Plus it wasn't like before. John had responsibilities now; and he wanted Sherlock to be within them, as well as embrace them. Thus he had planned this meal to help Mary and Sherlock get to know each other. Mary had booked the day off especially. Though Sherlock probably knew all he needed to know at a single glance. Still he thought Sherlock would be civil. He should known to have no expectations when it came to Sherlock. They'd barely been there fifteen minutes and Sherlock had hardly said a word, he just deducted and rolled his eyes every now and then.
'So, Sherlock' began Mary, smile in place 'Hows it being back?'
'How is it. And it's fine.' said Sherlock stiffly, not even looking at her, just scanning the room. Mary looked at John and raised an eyebrow. He gave her a slightly embarrassed smile back. She tried again.
'I've heard you've already started taking on cases again, John won't stop talking about them' she said affectionately. Sherlock sighed and began to drum his fingers on the table.
'Of course he has, what else would he have to talk about?' he said wryly. John resisted the urge to thump him.
'Sherlock' warned John. Sherlock lolled his head back, tutting in agitation. Mary looked at them both, before getting up slowly.
'I'm just going to powder my nose', she said, swapping a conspiratorial look with John, while affectionately squeezing his shoulder.
As soon as she was out of sight John let rip.
'Can you just try, for one day, to not be a such a rude git Sherlock?' John hissed, incensed. Again Sherlock rolled his eyes.
'John, if you want me and Mary to know each other truly, then you must allow me to act like myself.'
'Okay, what is the matter with you?' John's fist unconsciously flexed.
'Excuse me?'
'Are you jealous?'
'Oh please'. But it was too late, John looked like he'd had an epiphany, head tilted, vague surprise on his face. He slowly leaned back in his chair.
He knew Sherlock wasn't asexual, the Irene Adler business had put that idea to rest. But what if Sherlock's sexuality wasn't as one sided as he'd assumed. It was the time to be tentative.
'Sherlock. I know we haven't really discussed this but, erm, oh I'm just gonna come out and say it, are you upset because I'm in a relationship. With a woman.'
The second the words left John's mouth, he wanted to take them back. Sherlock muttered 'Oh for goodness sakes ' under his breath, bringing up his fingers to massage the bridge of his nose.
'John, I have absolutely no sexual interest in you. Whatsoever.'
'Then explain why you're acting out like this?'.
Sherlock gave a snort. He was being lectured like a child at parents evening. He ignored the question.
'Mary's taking her time' side stepped Sherlock. John smiled.
'Yeah I know, she wanted me to speak to you alone, make you more comfortable.'
'She said all that with "I'm going to powder my nose"?' said Sherlock caustically.
'It's a married thing' replied John with a wry smile. However Sherlock just looked sad. Almost wistful.
Oh.
'Sherlock, are you jealous of mine and Mary's relationship' inquired John slowly. Sherlock barely moved.
'John. Do you miss being alone?' asked Sherlock. John's brow furrowed in thought.
'Honestly? No. Sometimes I want privacy, but never for long. Is this why you're upset? You feel alone? Because you know you still have me'
'Not in the same way you have Mary. Being alone is...testing' countered Sherlock, his eyes intense, trying to convey something John was sure he was missing. And he was sure it had something to do with Sherlock's missing three years.
'I thought you weren't a relationship person?'
'How do you really know until you've tried?' Sherlock countered with a shrug.
'You would know Sherlock'
'I don't know everything John'
'I think your lack of knowledge of the solar system proved that' said John, trying to illicit a smile from Sherlock. His face remained stoic. He tried to be serious.
'Are you thinking of someone in particular?'.
Sherlock said nothing. John tried a different tactic.
'Sherlock, people like you and Mycroft are just built differently'.
For a moment Sherlock was a statue. And then with a new energy he got up, eyes bright, almost rampant.
'Give my apologies to Mary when she's finished hiding in the corner. I have to go.'
'Sherlock!' called John after him but he was already out of the door.
Mary stepped out from behind a pew, looking concerned.
'Is he okay?' she asked sitting down, reaching out to hold John's hand. He held hers in both of his.
'I have absolutely no idea'.
Despite the fact Sherlock had never been to this house in Kensington Gardens, he knew everything about it. He knew it would be decorated in modernised Victorian wall paper, be clean in an almost sterile way and it would have only one person in it. Mycroft Holmes.
Mycroft had once invited Sherlock to his home, but Sherlock had refused and so it he was never invited again. However Sherlock knew the way to get there like the back of his hand. He didn't bother to knock, he just quickly picked the lock, all the while idly thinking that someone of Mycroft's intellect should surely know how bad a lock it was. It just gave to force to Sherlock's theory that Mycroft was, indeed, succumbing slowly to the effects of age.
He walked slowly into the living room, only to find Mycroft sitting, waiting for him. He hadn't succumbed to far it seemed; Mycroft's laziness would be the death of him. Mycroft was facing the unlit fire, though his body was subtly alert, clearly aware of Sherlock's presence but not bothered by it. Sherlock didn't move any closer.
Sherlock cut to the case.
'Do you wish you were like the blissfully ignorant ordinary people?' he asked, unusually subdued.
Mycroft gave a little sigh, and pursed his lips slightly.
'This is about Dr Hooper I presume. Of course it is. You know it wouldn't be fair to be with someone just because you don't want to be lonely Sherlock' said Mycroft, standing up and finally turning to Sherlock, hands in his pockets, his face grave. Sherlock resisted the urge to sneer at him.
'That isn't why I want her' he replied confidently, though Mycroft noted that his face looked slightly uneasy at this confession.
'No. I don't suppose it is. Not anymore'. Neither moved. 'we're not like them Sherlock.'
'Yet you've still managed to have relationships with them' Sherlock countered.
'When I was young, yes. For brief times. But that doesn't the change the fact we don't think like them.'
'No one thinks truly alike. Generally yes, but we each have that 0.1% that makes us unique' spat Sherlock, scorn in his voice. Mycroft gave a little humourless laugh.
'I see you've already made your decision.'
Sherlock ignored his gaze, instead focusing on the picture of their mother on the mantelpiece. If he could care for her, he at least had potential.
He turned to leave.
'Yes I do Sherlock. Sometimes' finally answered Mycroft, his voice tired.
It wasn't just him then.
