John
He's got his suitcase packed. The taxi is waiting out front.
Mary pecks his cheek, joining him at the window.
"Will you miss it?" she asks.
Miss what? The sun? "No."
"We don't have to go back immediately."
"What do you suggest, then?"
"Extend our holiday. If it will help you."
"I lost my best friend. Nothing's going to help much."
"I know." She looks bleakly at him. Mary. Beautiful, caring, concerned. She does love him, and he loves her, cares about her, respects her, appreciates everything she has done. Nobody can truly comfort him right now, but if he had to choose one person to make an attempt, he would choose his wife.
Ringing endorsement, that.
"I haven't a problem with it," she adds soothingly. "Life at home can wait."
Life at home. Sherlock playing violin. Sherlock interrogating suspects. Sherlock sipping cold tea.
"It will get better."
"Okay," he says, because he is not convinced.
"John?"
He sighs. "I love you."
"You too."
"Thank you. Really." He kisses her, and she cups his chin in her smooth hands, nose brushing his cheek.
"You're welcome."
"Can we do it?"
"Do what?"
"Extend the holiday."
She nods immediately. "Yes."
––––
Mycroft
From: John Watson
To: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
Date: Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Subject: SH
How is he?
—
From: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
To: John Watson
Date: Monday, November 25, 2013
Subject: RE: SH
Managing. Enjoy your holiday.
-Mycroft
—
From: John Watson
To: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
Date: Monday, November 25, 2013
Subject: Re: RE: SH
Are you mental? I'm not going to enjoy my fucking holiday when I know what happened to Sherlock. Don't keep me in the dark, you asshole.
—
From: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
To: John Watson
Date: Sunday, December 1, 2013
Subject: Calm down
Temper temper. I'm working on a project with him. It involves not cutting. You may want to look into washing your mouth out with soap.
-Mycroft
—
From: John Watson
To: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
Date: Monday, December 2, 2013
Subject: Re: Calm down
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
—
From: John Watson
To: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
Date: Monday, December 2, 2013
Subject: Re: Calm down
Sorry. Is he safe?
—
From: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
To: John Watson
Date: Thursday, December 19, 2013
Subject: RE: Re: Calm down
I hear you extended your stay. Excellent decision. I think he will pull through, but keeping your distance is a prudent step.
He smiled at a photo of a decapitated head on 11 December. Baby steps.
-Mycroft
—
From: John Watson
To: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
Date: Friday, December 20, 2013
Subject: (no subject)
We're going to come back on January 2nd. In case that matters.
—
From: Mycroft Holmes mholmes .uk
To: John Watson
Date: Thursday, January 2, 2014
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Welcome home. Please avoid Baker Street. I hope you have a nice tan.
-Mycroft
–––––
Friday, January 3, 2014
"There's a fellow asking for you," says Anthea. "John, actually."
"Surprise, surprise," Mycroft replies drily. "Let him in."
John looks rather worse for wear. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than usual and he's got a haggard expression that wasn't there before. "How is he?" he asks at once. Predictable.
"Let's not jump the gun. Too early to drink?"
"I'm good, thanks."
Mycroft pours himself some whiskey, swirling the glass cup thoughtfully. "He is actually doing quite well. Confiscated his razors today."
Relief pools on John's face. "Thank god." Then, "Is he happy?"
"I don't know how capable he is of happiness, particularly when you are absent from his life."
"I thought you said it would help."
"It has. He will, in time, discover who he is without you."
John grimaces. "I don't want that."
Mycroft raises an eyebrow. Poor lovelorn fool. "He will always love you."
"Doesn't it bother you, faze you, at all? That I'm, you know. Married."
"And homosexual? Not in the slightest."
"Married, Mycroft. To a woman."
Mycroft sighs. "Ah, there it is. The only problem."
John gapes at him, blinks and shakes his head in disbelief. "Excuse me, the only problem?"
"Ultimately, yes. You and Sherlock love each other. This much is evident, and the rest is just details. Terminating your relationship..." John flinches. Mycroft groans inwardly. Lord beer me strength. It does get tiresome, settling all his baby brother's relationship drama. "You do want to, correct?"
"The thing is, I've never been attracted to a man before."
"Between you and Sherlock, I feel like I'm a middle school counselor teaching two scruffy lads the ways of the world. Listen. John. At some point in your life – and I had rather hoped it would have occurred before this business – you will come to the realization that sexuality is fluid. Not black and white." He chooses his words carefully now. "You love who you love," he begins slowly. "It doesn't matter if it's man or a woman. Gender is inconsequential. You can fall for anyone, regardless of past preferences and experiences."
"Well, I've certainly fallen." Mycroft gets the sense that this is the first time John's allowed himself to make such a confession.
He rolls his eyes. "Shocker. The main point is, do you want to end things with Mary Morstan?"
"I don't know."
Jesus Christ. "If you're having doubts..."
"I want to be with Sherlock, believe me. If he would even take me at this point."
"Then how would you plan to be simultaneously with him and Mary?"
"God, I don't know."
Time to switch tactics. "You are a man who does not enjoy fusses."
"True."
"Yet are aware that dealing with Sherlock entails a large quantity of fusses. He's difficult, sometimes belligerent, and mule-headed."
"You're telling me," John mutters.
"Just a friendly reminder. No need to act like a wounded tiger." John rearranges his features into a painfully fake quasi-smile; more of a grimace, really. "You need to decide whether or not he is worth this particular fuss." Mycroft sits back and folds his arms.
"He's worth everything," John says quietly after a moment.
"Good. I suspected, perhaps even hoped, that this would be the case."
"Do I wait until..."
"Until he is stable enough to interact with you again? Do you want to wait?"
"Uh. I don't know."
"You have far more control of these situations than is evident to yourself. I repeat: do you want to wait?"
"I – d'you have any sense of when he might be, you know... ready?"
"No telling."
"Then I guess..."
"The manner in which your sentences continue to peter out is cumbersome. I have a meeting in five minutes; please try to pull yourself together."
"I love Mary," John says quickly. "Platonically, at this point. Breaking up with her would mean losing a friend, as well as hurting someone who has done nothing but loved and taken care of me at my worst."
"How many times must I rephrase the question?"
"I'm sorry, I just don't know! You have to understand, there's no guarantee that anything will happen with Sherlock, and I'm scared out of my mind!"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm fucking terrified, Mycroft! What if I'm not good enough for him? What if he doesn't want me by the time he comes around? I'm a beat-up old man, maybe I'm not what he's looking for, I don't know!" He looks upset. Very upset. Mycroft gauges how harsh he can be without breaking the man.
Answer: not very.
He steeples his fingers and waits patiently.
He wasn't lying, though. He really does only have a few minutes. John better hurry up.
"Fine. I'll end things with Mary."
Excellent. Took him long enough. "When?"
"Soon."
Good enough. "My hunch is, John," he says, taking a sip of his drink, "at some point, most likely soon, something will happen, and you will be swayed one way or the other. Either towards Mary, or towards my brother. Something is bound to drive you over the edge." He doesn't intend to sound menacing. Whoops.
"You're so certain about this?"
"Sherlock is taking cases again. Without you. You don't have to have half a brain to assume that he'll do something stupid. Mark my words, something will happen."
"How do you know?"
"Oh, John." He shoos the man out of his office. "It almost always does."