Saturday, two weeks later, John's place

It was lunchtime and John was sitting in his garden; wearing only a tee-shirt and a short pants. The sun was shining and he was working on his new book.
The last two weeks hadn't been much productive. The most time he was distracted by his thoughts.
Thoughts about Sherlock and the situation, that he was alive.
Thoughts about Mycroft and his lie.
Thoughts about Amanda and Molly and the Holmes parents and their lies.
All the time, he sat in front of his laptop and wanted to write, but constantly his thoughts didn't wander into the world of Middle Earth, they wandered to Sherlock.
In the last two weeks, he had cried as often as he had three years ago; when Sherlock had jumped, when he had seen him on the ground with all that blood.
His feelings were a mixture of confusion, anger, sadness and happiness.
He couldn't decide whether he should burst with joy or burst with anger.

Today was a good day.
After his breakfast he had gone out in the garden, since then, he was taking advantage of the great weather. For nearly four hours, he had sat outdoors and had wrote on the new chapter.
However, his mobile phone distracted him with a text noise.
He leaned back in his garden chair and pulled up his phone.
It was Mycroft; he opened the message and read it.

"Hey John, do you fancy a barbecue later? The weather is great, at least in London. It's just Amanda, me and Sherlock. I don't know if you want to come when he's here, too, but I wanted to ask you, anyway. Think about it, we would be pleased to see you. If you don't feel comfortable with it, then it's okay if you stay at home. There's enough food, so if you decide it spontaneously, it's enough if you write me, when you're on your way. If you need someone, who pick you up, text me; then I'll send someone." - Mycroft

John bowed his head and read the message twice, his fingers hovered over the keys.
He answered Mycroft after a while.

"Hey Myc, can't decide this at the moment. I'll text you later, mate." - John

"Feel free to make your lovely potato salad with the apple pieces, if you come over. By the way, that's your entrance ticket." - Mycroft

John grinned after he has read the new text from Mycroft.

"I'll think about it, and if there is time to make the salad, then I'll make it. :-D. I'll text you later, Myc. Give me some time." – John

John laid the phone down on the table. He ran his hand through is hair. At the thought, that he maybe would see Sherlock later, his heart begun to beat really fast. He closed his eyes, tried to regulate his heartbeat.
There were two options.
Seeing Sherlock and maybe dying because of a heart attack.
Not seeing Sherlock and not dying because of a heart attack.

Option number one, was the brave solution; the solution to make a step out of his comfort zone and finally meeting Sherlock again. He could do something about his love sickness and he wouldn't need to miss him any longer.
There was just one reason to not do it and that was his courage.

Option number two, was the cowardly solution; the solution without making a step out of his comfort zone. It was the easy way. He would be able to think about their first meeting again and again and again.
He knew, there were so many reasons not to choose that option. It wouldn't get better, if he hides himself any longer; actually, it would get worse. He wouldn't see Sherlock, he would still miss him.

The easiest way would be to text Mycroft, that he stays at home, but he didn't want to go the easy way. He wasn't a coward and he wanted to see Sherlock. He needed to go to that barbecue, a better chance for their second first meeting wouldn't come. Amanda was there and Mycroft was there and when he couldn't handle the situation any longer, then he could go home.

John opened his eyes, his heart beats faster and he grabbed his phone.
He texted Mycroft; he knew himself well enough, he wouldn't cancel a date if he had agreed before.
He looked at his text and pressed with his shaking forefinger the 'send'-button.

"I'm coming. You don't have to send a minion, I'll take a cab. At what time?" - John

John stood up, saved his document a few times, on his laptop, an external hard drive and a USB flash drive.
He took the laptop with him and put it down on the wooden dining table; afterwards he went to the kitchen, to fulfill Mycroft's potato salad wish.

The potatoes cooked and John sliced the other things he needed for the salad; onions, pickles, apples.
As his phone vibrated and buzzed in his pants pocket, he put down the knife and fished his phone out of his pocket.

"John, that's great. I'm glad you come over. Barbecue at 7 pm. Do you like beards?" – Mycroft

John wrinkled his forehead.

"What?! Why the hell do you ask me that? Btw, you don't have to shave for me. I fancy your brother, you aren't my type. I'm sorry." – John

"I'm his brother, we have something in common, John. And I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about the guy you fell in love with; he has a beard, a three-day-beard.*smirk*" – Mycroft

"Don't send me your facial expressions, Myc! And yeah, you two have something in common – tall. Um, well, I like guys with beards. Stop questioning now! See you later." - John

"Are we blushing Dr. Watson?" - Mycroft

"Maybe. Stop it now, you're distracting me. I'm making your salad. I'll see you all later." - John

John's cheeks and ears were red.
Jesus, there wasn't a reason to get blushed. Actually, Mycroft was aware that he searched every now and then a bloke, who looked like Sherlock, his brother, and get fucked by him. Technically, that was more embarrassing as to tell him, that he likes beards.

_
Saturday, early afternoon, Mycroft's place

Amanda was in the kitchen to prepare the barbecue and Mycroft and Sherlock were in the big garden to set up the charcoal grill and prepare him for the barbecue later.
Actually, Mycroft was doing it; Sherlock sat in one of the garden chairs and watched him.
Mycroft put his phone on the table and looked at Sherlock.

"I've asked John earlier, if he wants to come over for the barbecue. He's coming Sherlock." Mycroft smiled afterwards.
Sherlock's eyes widened, his mouth hung open.
"Seriously? He'll come later? Does he know that I'm here?"
Mycroft smiled and sat down.
"Yes, Sherlock. I've told him that you're here. He'll come over later."
"Maybe he'll cancel it later." Sherlock said.
"No. He texted, that he will come over, he wouldn't cancel that now. And at the moment he's making his delicious potato salad, so he has a reason to come over."
"He could eat it on his own." Sherlock remarked.
Mycroft rolled with his eyes and sighed.
"Jesus! Brother, can you just trust me! Don't be so insecure."
"I just wanted to say it!"
"Then shut up Sherlock; if you want to talk so badly, then go to Amanda and tell her that John is coming and that we need more plates, cutlery and glasses."

Sherlock sighed and stood up. Actually, he was glad to go inside, he needed to shower and change his clothes; maybe a shave.
His heart was racing, he was nervous, absolutely nervous, and he tried to figure out, what John would say, when they finally meet again.

He went inside, told Amanda what Mycroft had said and disappeared into the guest room.
He needed to think about his clothes and a good start for a conversation.