For once, Jo woke up before Sherlock did. She had only been back at Baker street for about a week, and they were still trying to fit back into some sort of pattern. She had been working, albeit with a slightly less ridiculous schedule, but Sherlock hadn't been working on anything beyond a few mild experiments in the kitchen. Before, this would have filled her with dread, or a sense of vague foreboding at the very least, but now Sherlock actually seemed content to stay around the house, playing his violin or reading or watching crap telly with Mrs. Hudson. And Jo knew that things would never really be the same as before, and not just because there were almost two years of pain and loneliness separating them. Now, they ate dinner with their feet tangled together underneath the table, and when they watched telly or spent the night reading, Sherlock leaned his head on her shoulder and occupied himself by playing with her fingers instead of fidgeting. Jo wasn't really sure how long this calm was going to last, or even if she really wanted it to last at all, but she was determined to enjoy it while she could.
Sherlock had asked her to keep their relationship a secret. She really didn't mind — especially when she saw how genuinely shy the man was about even the simplest signs of affection — and the people who really mattered were going to know anyway: Mrs. Hudson had walked in on them cuddling on the couch, but she wasn't entirely convinced that it was a new development; Mary didn't know, but she would as soon as she saw the two of them together; Jo had yet to hear from Mycroft, but she was sure that his creepy pseudo-omniscience would extend into Sherlock's personal life; Molly had given them knowing looks all through Sherlock's 'Welcome Home' dinner, making Jo wonder just how much Sherlock had shared with her during the time they spent together directly following his faked suicide; and despite all allegations to the contrary, Lestrade was a good detective — he would figure it out. And Jo really couldn't complain when she woke up every morning to the sight of Sherlock watching her with such a look of fixed adoration that it took her breath away.
This was the first time that she had woken up before Sherlock, and as much as she wanted to take advantage of the situation, she really had to pee. Not bothering to try and find something to wear in the jumble of clothes they had left on the floor the night before, she grabbed the sheet from where it had been separated from the rest of the bedding during the night. She carefully made her way out of Sherlock's room and up the stairs, remembering to skip the ones that creaked. After using the toilet and cleaning her teeth, she decided that she was in the mood for coffee and headed down to the kitchen, debating whether she should cook or try and convince Sherlock to go out for breakfast when he woke up. Her plans for the morning were derailed, however, when she saw Mycroft Holmes sitting in his brother's chair as she passed through the sitting room to get to the kitchen.
"Good morning Doctor Watson," he said imperiously, not looking even slightly disturbed at her less-than-fully-dressed appearance. "You're looking very comfortable this morning." Jo felt a sudden surge of anger at the man sitting in her flat; how dare he ignore her for some unknown reason, keep things from her that rightly belonged to her, and then show up in her flat, unannounced, and judge how she chose to dress when no one else was supposed to be looking? She quickly tamped down the emotion, though, knowing from experience just how futile it was in the face of the elder Holmes.
She rolled her eyes and retreated to the safe-ground of sarcasm. "Do you actually know how a telephone works? Because I'm sincerely beginning to doubt that you even understand the concept."
"Is my brother aware of the full extent of your relationship with Miss Morstan?" Mycroft asked, ignoring her question in favor of his own agenda for their conversation
Jo narrowed her eyes. "My relationship with Ms. Morstan is none of your business. Neither is my relationship with your brother, for that matter."
"Your relationship with my brother is very much my business," he answered, his tone gaining a dangerous edge. "Which is why your relationship with Mary Morstan is so concerning; you've never really cared much for monogamy, have you Doctor Watson?" She glared at him but was saved from having to answer by the sounds of Sherlock moving around in his room.
"Sherlock, your brother is here," she called in warning, wondering if that was more or less of an incentive for him to actually put clothing on before coming out into the rest of the flat — not that she really cared either way.
Sherlock came out wrapped in his signature blue silk dressing gown. "I would have thought that breaking and entering was below you, Mycroft."
"And I would have thought that such base desire was below you, brother," Mycroft answered smugly. "Such obvious sentimentality is not a strength."
"I'm going to go make coffee," Jo announced, seeing no other alternative to punching Mycroft in the nose; she just hoped that whatever damage Mycroft managed to inflict during his visit would not be permanent. She listened to the sound of their voices, and even though she couldn't quite make out what they were saying, she could tell that Sherlock was getting very agitated, very quickly. Mycroft left just as the coffee finished brewing; although Jo wouldn't have made him a cup even if he had stayed.
Jo walked out into the sitting room and found Sherlock sitting in his chair with his knees drawn up to his chest. She set both of their mugs down on the desk and perched on the arm of his chairs, running her fingers lightly through his tangled curls. She didn't say anything, knowing that it wouldn't do any good when he was like this, and simply waited patiently until his breathing had slowed down to a normal pace. When it had, she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and let her hand slide down to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with the curls there.
"What did Mycroft want?" She asked once she was sure her partner had calmed down enough to be able to discuss his brother's visit.
He shrugged, moving his hand to grip tightly at her sheet. "He just wanted to reiterate just how dangerous a weakness sentiment really is, and that it's already been proven that you're a liability. He thinks that I should make a clean break now, before I get "overly invested" in this relationship; he even brought real estate advertisements. He doesn't think that you're committed to this; he thinks you'll leave."
"Hey," she said, using her free hand to tilt his face up so that he was looking at her. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm definitely committed to this. And I can't argue with me being a liability, but sentiment does not have to be a weakness. There's another way, and I'll show you how it works if you'll let me."
He nodded, still holding on to her sheet so tightly his knuckles were white. "Alright. And you're not just a liability; I'm safer with you around. I'm happier. So Mycroft can just go to hell."
"Okay then," she answered, grinning down at him. "Now, I was thinking that we could go out to breakfast, but I've changed my mind since we're meeting Mary for dinner. So what do you want me to make?"
Sherlock thought for a moment, a little thrown by the sudden change in topic, before answering. "French toast."
"As you wish," she answered happily. "Just let me get dressed, and then I'll get started."
He didn't loosen his grip. "You don't have to get changed."
"You want me to cook in a sheet?" She asked incredulously, raising her eyebrows.
He shrugged, suddenly feeling shy and ridiculous (emotions that had become frighteningly common since he and Jo had entered this new phase of their relationship). "It looks good on you."
"It does, doesn't it," she answered with mock seriousness. "But I will have to get dressed eventually; we're going to have dinner with Mary, and I don't think Angelo would appreciate it if this is what I wore."
He looked at her appraisingly. "I don't know; I can't imagine that there are very many people who wouldn't appreciate you in a sheet. It's a very good look for you." Jo just laughed as she got up and grabbed her coffee before going into the kitchen to get breakfast started.