Author's Note: I apologize for taking so long, I had a bit of writer's block with this chapter, but I finally was able to get past it and finish this part. After this, I will be going back to doing just oneshots as usual. Enjoy and review! :)

Meeting the Parents (Part 2)

Sherlock allowed John a few more minutes to collect himself, then innocently suggested they return to dinner. Fortunately, John had calmed down considerably and agreed, though a bit hesitantly.

Sherlock pushed open the door and they stepped out, and were about to head for the dining room when John abruptly stopped.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"We...just came out of the closet," John said, grinning ridiculously.

"Yes, John, quite astute. We'll make a detective out of you yet," Sherlock said sarcastically. "Come on." He started walking towards the dining room.

"We just came out of the closet," John repeated slowly, and began to laugh. "We literally came out of the closet."

Sherlock swore and stopped. "What are you on about?"

"I'm just saying, it's ironic. Don't you know the phrase 'come out of the closet'?"

"No, and obviously if I ever did I deleted it," Sherlock said sourly, as John continued to giggle. The detective began walking again and this time John followed, chuckling to himself and repeating the phrase 'come out of the closet'.

Sherlock shook his head. Sometimes he just did not understand people and their odd little brains.

"Wait, stop," Sherlock said, hushing John as they approached the dining room door. "Your parents."

Sherlock could hear John's parents arguing loudly from the dining room. They moved up to the door and each took a side, listening in. Sherlock took a quick peek and saw that Harry was no longer in the room.

"-I don't care, Duncan, you're always putting so much pressure on him! It's no wonder we hardly get to see him or hear from him, because he's afraid of you."

"Afraid of me? Kate, I don't think-"

"Yes, Duncan, afraid! Have you watched him today? He has had to defend himself to you all day long, especially about his friend!"

"Are we sure he's just a friend?" Mr. Watson scoffed.

"If John says he is, then he is," Mrs. Watson said. "And you know what, Duncan, I don't really care whether he is or not, this is the happiest I have seen John in a long, long time. Don't you want John to be happy?"

"Of course I want him to be happy," said Mr. Watson indignantly, "I just don't want him to spend the rest of his life playing sidekick to Sherlock Holmes. I've researched him, it's obvious he only sees John as a kind of a pet-"

Sherlock had had enough. Despite John's protests, he strode inside. "So sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear." He turned back, surprised to see John hadn't followed him. "John?"

"What?" John said, voice muffled, sounding much like a child who had been caught misbehaving.

"Come in here."

Sherlock heard John sigh, and then moments later the doctor stepped into the room.

"Yes?" John said uncertainly, glancing nervously at his parents once before looking back at Sherlock.

"Do you think you're just my sidekick?"

John's eyebrows furrowed, that same old expression that meant is-this-a-trick-question-because-I-think-you'r-try ing-to-trick-me-again coming on his face, studying the detective carefully. "No," he said quite reluctantly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. If John wasn't so ridiculously flustered by his parents, he would see the detective was trying to help.

"Good, neither do I. No, not a sidekick at all, but a valuable asset to myself and my work. Now, is there anything else you would like to know, since we're being honest with one another?" Sherlock said snidely, addressing John's parents. "Perhaps we can talk about the fact that you think I see John as a pet, or maybe even the ridiculous notion that him being in the army was a waste of time." He finished, glowering at Mr. and Mrs. Watson. He didn't care whether they were John's parents or the king and queen of England themselves, no one spoke about John in that way.

John's parents stared back at him openmouthed, shocked. Good, he had finally succeeded in getting them to shut up. He looked over at John briefly, who was watching the scene with great interest.

"How would you know that-" John's father began.

"It's painfully obvious, which makes it even more clear you have even less deduction skills than your son," Sherlock said condescendingly. "I thought his lack was tragic enough, but now that I have met you, his look significantly better by comparison."

"Excuse me?" Mr. Watson asked angrily.

Sherlock ignored this and went on. "Let's put those foolish ideas of yours to rest, shall we?" Sherlock sneered. "First of all I have no use for anything that is in any way like a pet. If John had been like one, I would not have tolerated it, and would have got rid of him long ago."

Mr. Watson opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock went on, talking over him. "And as for the army, John has acquired a skill set from his time there that has saved both our lives and the lives of others on numerous occasions, and has proved very useful in our line of work. Now, Mr. Watson," said Sherlock coolly, staring hard at him, "do you still think John being in the army was a waste of time?"

All eyes moved to Mr. Watson, who had turned a deep shade of crimson. "I...well...he..." Mr. Watson stammered, cringing under Sherlock's cold stare.

"I'm sure there would be many people, myself included, who would disagree." Sherlock added, daring John's father to say otherwise. He glanced over briefly at John, who looked extremely pleased and embarrassed all at once.

Mrs. Watson nudged her husband and cleared her throat loudly. "Duncan," she said pointedly.

"John," Mr. Watson said after a slight hesitation. "May I speak with you outside for a moment?"

John looked dumbfounded, obviously he had been expecting another angry retort and not an offer to talk things out. He nodded, and he and his father walked out of the room and into the hallway.

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had meant to make sure John's father knew he was wrong, not give him a chance to decide to be sentimental. Not only that, but they had left him alone with John's mother, who was eyeing him like a piece of meat again, which Sherlock did not appreciate.

"Curse you, John Watson," Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Mrs. Watson asked cheerily.

"Oh, nothing."

###

The entire talk lasted about two minutes, consisting of a hasty, almost reluctant apology that wasn't quite an apology, but John was happy to take it, because it was a start. His problems with his father were definitely far from over, but that was fine with him; at least they were getting somewhere.

He and his father returned to the dining room to see Sherlock practically running away from his mother, who was bombarding him with questions. If there was anything in the world that made Sherlock uncomfortable, it was people who pried too much into his personal business, and Mrs. Watson was the nosiest, stubborn, determined person John knew; Sherlock had definitely met his match. He usually drove off these kind of people by insults and deductions, but Mrs. Watson was unfazed, which didn't surprise John at all.

Well, Sherlock had stepped up for him...the least he could do was return the favor.

He walked over to them, and took his mother's arm. "Don't you think it's time for dessert, Mum?"

"Oh, yes, you're right," Mrs. Watson said, and John glanced over at Sherlock, who was actually looking immensely relieved.

John's mother turned to go, then stopped, looking around. "Oh, where's Harry?"

"On the phone with her new girlfriend," Sherlock said casually, straightening his cuffs.

John had to resist the urge to slap a hand to his forehead. Wanting to not risk her 'perfect child' status, Harry had not told their parents about leaving and divorcing Clara, and had only confided in John about it. It had been a secret...until now.

Mrs. Watson blinked up at Sherlock, stunned, but then pulled herself together. "Oh, you mean with Clara," she said brightly.

John shot Sherlock a warning look, but his friend ignored him. "No...I mean with her new girlfriend. It's the anniversary of her divorce from Clara and they plan to celebrate it, probably at a pub downtown."

"Divorce?" Mrs. Watson said incredulously. "No, no, that's not right at all, Harry and Clara aren't divorced, you must be mistaken-"

"No, I'm not," said Sherlock curtly, smirking. "Harry and Clara have been divorced for how long, John, a year, would you say?"

John shook his head rapidly, eyes widening, trying to warn Sherlock and stop him from not only revealing all of Harry's secrets but also from revealing that John had known everything all along and had kept it to himself. And of course that idiot knew exactly how long they had been divorced, he just liked to rile John up.

"You knew, John?" Mrs. Watson said, turning to John.

I am going to kill you, Sherlock...

"No!" John said desperately, but he knew he was caught. "Ah, look at the time, looks like we're going to have to take that dessert to go, Mum," he said, laughing nervously.

"But, John-" Mrs. Watson protested.

"This has been a lovely evening, thank you, Mum and Dad-"

"Truly lovely," Sherlock said sarcastically, but only John noticed the sarcasm.

"-but we really do need to get home," John said. "Come on, Sherlock." Surprisingly, the detective obeyed, and they headed for the front door, John's parents trailing behind.

"Wait just a moment, I'll get you some dessert," Mrs. Watson said, and she hurried off.

They had just made it to the front door when Harry walked in. "Are you leaving already, John?"

"Yes, terribly sorry, have to rush," John said quickly.

Mrs. Watson returned with a styrofoam container with two pieces of cheesecake inside, and she handed it to Sherlock, with a smile and what looked like a wink; but it was gone before John could tell for sure. Sherlock grudgingly took the container, his usual uncomfortable fake smile on his face.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Watson said innocently, turning to her daughter, "John was just telling us about Clara." She gave Harry a pointed look, raising an eyebrow and tapping her foot impatiently. Harry's mouth dropped open, and her eyes flicked over to meet John's, then narrowed suspiciously.

"Let's go, Sherlock," John said anxiously.

"I couldn't agree more," Sherlock replied, and they hastily bid the Watsons goodbye, leaving them to their arguing.

###

On the ride home, Sherlock retreated into his Mind Palace, he had been subjected to far too much pleasantries and social interaction for one evening, so the trip was quiet. John eventually fell asleep against the car window, and the next thing he knew, they were pulling up to 221B Baker Street.

John paid the cabbie and they went into the flat, both feeling bleary from the taxi ride home, but not ready for sleeping quite yet, so John suggested having the cheesecake his mother had given them. Sherlock actually agreed, and they set down in the living room (because the kitchen at that time was not a good place for eating-Sherlock still had not cleaned up the mess from his last experiment) to eat it.

"So," John asked after taking a bite of the cheesecake, "are you going to tell me what top secret business you had today?"

Sherlock waved his fork lazily. "No matter, it fell through," he said, disappointment tinging his voice. He took the first bite of his cheesecake, and his eyes widened.

"What?" John asked.

"This is delicious," Sherlock said wonderingly. "Perhaps it was worth it to go to your family dinner after all."

"Never thought I would hear you say that," John replied.

"About your family?"

"No, the cheesecake."

"I do eat," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "I am just... more selective than most."

"Right. But seriously, what was the business? What are you not telling me?"

Sherlock tsked, taking another bite of cheesecake. "Careful now, you're beginning to sound like your mother."

"Ha, ha," John said, flicking a piece of cheesecake at the detective.

Sherlock dodged it, and the bit of dessert flew over his shoulder. In response, he simply said "childish" and returned to his own dessert.

"Come on, just spit it out already," said John irritably.

"Alright, fine," said Sherlock. "I had to see a man about some bees."

"Bees?"

"Yes, a black and yellow striped insect, you know the kind, don't you?" Sherlock replied mockingly.

"I mean, what were you planning on doing with the bees?"

"Like I said, it doesn't matter, it fell through," Sherlock said lightly.

"You were willing to sit through that entire dinner just because of some bees?" John asked incredulously.

"It was an...interesting night, certainly. And I was truly a bit curious about the family who was responsible for raising John Watson."

"And now?"

"I don't like them."

"I thought so. Speaking of my family, that was quite a speech you gave my dad." John said, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh, that," Sherlock said carelessly, brushing John off. "Your father was just horribly and completely wrong, I was simply correcting him."

"Well, it certainly shut him up. I've been trying to do that for years."

Sherlock snorted, as if saying that of course it was no surprise he was able to do something in one night that John had never been able to do.

"Well," said John, finishing off the last of his cheesecake, "I have to go to work in the morning, so I should probably get to bed. Good night."

"Good night," Sherlock said, and John turned to leave.

"You should know," Sherlock said airily, "that your parents are proud of you."

"What?" John said, turning back to look at Sherlock, who was now perched by his microscope.

"You heard me," Sherlock said, not looking at him. "I'm not saying it again."

"I don't know, Sherlock," said John. "They didn't sound all that proud to me."

"Well, then you weren't looking hard enough," Sherlock replied. "Good night, John."

"Good night," John said, shaking his head in amazement, walking up to his room. His flatmate never ceased to surprise him.

"Make sure to keep your window open," Sherlock called after him. "This experiment might have an unpleasant odor."

It was good to know some things never changed.