Sebastian hummed as he moved about the kitchen and John sat at the table with a cup of tea in front of him, his eyes following the other man. It was calming to watch. Sebastian cooked with the same unerring adeptness he brought to all other aspects in his life. He was methodical, checking and double checking ingredients. He didn't allow himself to leave room for error.
"Has Sherlock responded?" Sebastian asked without looking up from the saucepan.
"No," John replied, looking at his phone. Sebastian sighed, shoulders taut.
"You don't think they've actually killed each other this time, do you?" he asked in what was probably supposed to be a joking manner but it fell flat to even his own ears. John studied him for a second and stood up, walking towards him to wrap his arms around his waist.
"I'm sure they wouldn't do that again, love," he said, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Sebastian just gave a small nod and continued cooking.
John noticed Sebastian thrived on control. Even the illusion of control calmed him. He assumed that was the reason that Sebastian enjoyed cooking; it gave him something he could control. In his old line of work, whatever wasn't controlled was a threat and if something wasn't perfect, it was a failure. John and Sebastian had argued and fought a few times because of this when they started getting serious but they had always apologized and Sebastian eventually got better about being controlling. But to John it seemed that Jim's arrival had triggered that same obsession with control.
"I'm sorry, John," Sebastian sighed.
"What for?"
"For… this entire situation. I shouldn't have let Jim in the flat. I shouldn't have asked you out. Everything would have been so much easier if we'd never started this."
"None of this is your fault, Sebastian," John said, pressing a kiss just under Sebastian's ear. "If it was anyone's fault, it was Jim and Sherlock's. They're the ones that faked their deaths."
"I guess you're right," Sebastian muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He turned to kissed John gently. "As always."
John chuckled and Sebastian smiled at the sound.
"Honestly, I'm not right that often," he stated. "Besides, there's no reason that would ever make me regret meeting you."
Sebastian smiled and kissed his forehead. Neither had heard the front door. Jim and Sherlock had heard their conversation and were now exchanging glances. Jim swallowed and Sherlock looked as stoic as ever.
"They'd be happier if we just left," Jim whispered, knowing how stupid it sounded as he said it. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"You know it would hurt them both so much more if we did," he replied just as quietly. Jim sighed and they walked into the kitchen as Sebastian kissed John. Sherlock cleared his throat and they pulled apart. A smile bloomed across Sebastian's face and he wrapped an arm John.
"You guys actually made it back," John grinned.
"I told you I would bring Moriarty back in one piece," Sherlock said. He looked down at Jim for a moment and gestured to him vaguely. "And he looks completely whole to me so I would appreciate it if you didn't sound so surprised."
There was a pause and Jim frowned, sniffing the air.
"Seb, were you cooking?" he asked. Sebastian's eyes widened and he turned back to the stove. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"Sebastian cooks?" he asked aloud, sounding less surprised and more frustrated with the fact he didn't know.
"It calms him down," Jim and John said simultaneously. They paused and looked at each other for a moment. Jim finally cleared his throat and looked away. Silence filled the room for an uncomfortable moment before Sebastian cleared his throat.
"Dinner's ready," he said, giving a slightly strained smile.
"As much as I would love to stay, I really should be going," Sherlock said.
"Don't you want to stay, Sherlock?" John asked. He looked Sherlock over critically and frowned. "You know what, you look like you haven't eaten in months. You're going to stay."
"I don't get a say in this?" Sherlock asked, looking to the other two for support.
"Don't look at me, mate," the larger of the two shrugged. "He's right."
Sherlock huffed a sigh and crossed his arms. He and Jim sat at the table and he leaned forward towards the other man.
"If I ran, how long do you think it'd take for them to catch me?" he whispered. Jim gave him a flat look.
"Not very far," he replied. "There's a reason Sebastian is my best."
"Was," Sherlock corrected absently and Jim paused for a moment before nodding.
"Was," he agreed.
Dinner passed slowly, going easily between strained conversation between Sebastian and John and tense silence. Eventually, what little conversation there was turned to the impending wedding and Jim and Sherlock finally joined.
"Obviously John will be in his dress uniform," Sherlock said. "Since Sebastian was dishonorably discharged, I'm sure he'll be in a normal tux."
"Yeah," Sebastian frowned. He narrowed his eyes. "How did you know I had a dishonorable discharge?"
"I may have checked your file," Sherlock said flippantly.
"My file? My confidential file?"
"You do know who my brother is, don't you?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Now, now, girls," John said gently, glancing between them. Sebastian didn't respond and Sherlock fell silent.
"Sebastian, do you even own one?" Jim asked. "As far as I remember, you've never worn one."
"That's because I haven't," Sebastian replied. "And, no, I don't one."
"I'd hoped that John had knocked some sense into you," Jim sighed, shaking his head. "No matter. We'll have you fitted for one."
Sebastian and John exchanged glances and stood up.
"Yes, well, it's getting late so I think we'll go to bed," John said and Sebastian nodded.
"You two get some sleep," he said sternly. "Goodnight."
