It's Not That Easy

Breakfast the next morning was silent. John helped himself to the left over potatoes and cooked up the pack of sausage from the fridge to go with them. He never glanced at Sherlock, who was in his position on the couch, as he ate. He remained silent as he drank his coffee. He didn't bother telling Sherlock there was sausage ready on the stove. He just left it for him, and paid it no mind even after his third cup of coffee. He was feeling drowsy this morning, despite the full night's sleep.

He didn't even want to think about what had happened last night. He never wanted to; It would be a waste of time trying to figure out what had been on Sherlock's mind. Sherlock had even told him so. So he wouldn't bother. He'd already gotten over it. He'd done all of his crying the night before, and it had tired him out enough to actually sleep, though now he felt more tired than ever.

And Sherlock had absolutely nothing to say about it.

John glanced over at his flat mate on the couch. No movement. He looked like a statue. Or a corpse. John almost fancied the corpse idea.

John shook his head and washed his dishes. The sausages were cold now, so he stuffed them in the fridge. He sent Sherlock one last glance before heading off to work.

Sarah had been having him come in later so that he could sleep in a little bit. It was a kind gesture, and he thanked her, but he knew it wouldn't help. At this point, he'd do anything to be out of the flat.

Sarah gives him a gentle smile when he walks in, but he can see worry in her eyes. He smiles back quickly as he approaches the front desk, where she was chatting with a secretary.

"Any patients yet?"

"There's one waiting in your office." She nodded toward his door.

He nodded back and then headed to his room. A woman sat inside, around thirty, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes. He stopped when he saw her, and her smile was the most genuine one he'd seen in a while. He glanced down at his chart, trying not to look as dumb as he felt.

"Mary?"

"Yes, that's me." Her voice was soft and kind, and her eyes were bright.

She was pretty happy for someone in the doctor's office. He smirked a little before looking back at her, tried to match her expression as he reached out to shake her hand. She extended her own, and her lean, elegant fingers met his.

He smiled for the first time in a while.

"Dr. John Watson."

Sherlock had done some of his best thinking after John had finally gone to sleep, and it continued until John left for work. Then, in John's absence, he felt his mind go blank. This was confusing, to say the least. Sherlock decided to stop by the morgue to pick up a new experiment.

When he arrived, Molly almost beamed at the sight of him. He tried not to roll his eyes. He'd made an effort to treat her more kindly since her help with the fall. Especially since he'd told her that she did indeed "count". In a way.

But her incessant crush on him was annoying, to say the least.

"Need something from the lab, Sherlock?"

"No, just some toes today."

"Oh."

To her credit, the toes came to him rather quickly. She handed the bag to him, trying to hide her disgust. You'd think she'd be used to it by now, honestly. But, to be fair, her mind was stronger than most people's, although she didn't act like it.

"How've you been Sherlock?" She pried as he examined the bag with interest. How the smell didn't bother him, she'd never know.

"Fine, thank you." He said shortly, faking a smile.

"Oh, good. And how's John?"

"He's fine too…" His words died as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He fished it out and checked the message quickly.

Molly saw his expression go from distant and cold to… Well, distant and cold but a little brighter. There was a gleam in his eyes. She figured it must have been Greg.

"Right." He chirped. "Better be off, Molly."

He gave her a quick smile before taking off almost immediately.

"Oh. Bye, Sherlock!" She called, obviously confused.

Now he just smiled.

At least she didn't try to invite him to lunch.

"Says here you were married?"

"Yes. The divorce isn't finalized just yet."

"Ah." John scribbled on his clip board. "And you think that could have something to do with your insomnia?"

"Well, yes. It's the strangest thing; I didn't have trouble sleeping till Troy moved in. It's gotten worse since we decided to get a divorce."

John sighed. "Well, there's not really much reason to think your insomnia and your divorce are related, though it would make sense. You can't think of any other reason?"

"My sister was murdered just a few months after Troy and I moved in together."

"Murdered?"

"Yes, in her apartment… Most brutal thing I've ever seen… Her name was Cathy."

"Cathy?"

"Yes; She lived alone in her flat, you see. She wasn't married."

"I know. My flat mate's the detective who solved that case. Her death was a real shame…" John slowed his words to an awkward stop.

"I thought I recognized you!" She exclaimed, surprising him.

He looked up at her.

"You're the one who writes the blog about Sherlock Holmes!" She was beaming. "I thought I remembered your face from the investigation! Oh, you wrote about my sisters' case so wonderfully. I remember being so thankful when I read it. Cathy would have really appreciated it…" She quieted down as her last sentence ended, but he smile hardly waned.

He smiled at her. "Well it was a truly remarkable case, and incredibly horrifying." He laughed uncomfortably. "It deserved recognition."

"I'm glad you and Mr. Holmes put the psycho behind bars." Her tone was serious so suddenly that John took a moment to adjust before saying, "So am I."

She smiled again fully, her eyes sparkling.

She's an odd one… He smirked. But she's stable…

"I'll just give you this prescription for some sedatives, mild ones. And here's my personal number and email, so you can contact me if there are any changes, good or bad."

Her smile turned to a smirk. "Well, maybe I should give you my information, too."

He laughed. "I don't think that's necessary. I have your work email and phone right here… Oh."

She giggled. His face must have looked pretty funny. He tried to straighten himself out, clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry, um… I just don't think that would be very appropriate… I mean, uh… You're a patient, and… And you're going through a divorce, and… Well, you know…"

She nodded, still looking pleasant. Her eyes shone with understanding. "I know. It was a long shot, any way."

He nodded slowly, but his smile didn't falter.

She motioned toward the clip board. "But you have my work information, and I have yours, so… We'll be in touch? Strictly on a professional level, of course."

She was teasing him, obviously. She was trying to hide how uncomfortable she felt. It took everything in John's power not to laugh outright. He gave her a grin.

"Well, I'm available to talk about anything you want, Mary. As a friend."

Her smile was truly heartwarming.

Sherlock was just pulling the toes out of the fridge when John came home.

The silence felt tangible.

John was digging around for leftovers as Sherlock worked at the toes with different kinds of acid. The two worked in silence.

About 20 minutes later, John was washing his dishes. Sherlock paid him no mind.

It wasn't until John started heading upstairs that Sherlock spoke.

"I'm sorry for last night."

John paused before turning back and walking into the kitchen. He watched Sherlock for a moment, and Sherlock did nothing to indicate that he'd even spoken. John shook his head. An apology from Sherlock was a rare thing, and not something to be taken for granted. But this time, John didn't really appreciate it.

"Well, Sherlock…" He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face. When he looked back at Sherlock, he was watching John intently. "Sometimes an apology doesn't cut it."

John started to walk away. He reached the middle of the main room before he heard Sherlock again.

"Why not?" Sherlock called to him, sounding genuinely curious.

John thought it over. He shook his head and sighed. "Sometimes it just isn't that easy, Sherlock."

Then John went up to bed, leaving Sherlock to his own musings.