Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A.N. A quick thank you so much for reviewing to m, I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and to skylar, I so hope you're still alive! ;D A message to all readers, though. I always update as quickly as I can. On any given day, you can be sure I'm writing bits of two different stories, and often more. Asking for an update won't make it come quicker, but it could make it come later than I intended. Not because I'm a jerk, but because my Muse reacts to pressure by freezing like a deer in headlights. I wish it wasn't so, believe me. But I have to work with the psyche I have.
The therapist discreetly checked the time. He had calculated things well, there would be time to deal with Jack's letter too. He was used to dealing with all kind of couples, but he felt like he wasn't prepared to deal with these two. Most of the time, it was easy to identify behavioural patterns and see where they needed to be steered. But these two…every time either one opened his mouth, he was forced to reconsider what he understood of their relationship. Never mind. He was determined to help them, despite how difficult they made it for him.
"It wouldn't be fair to address only Steven's concerns though, so would you share your letter with us too, Jack" doctor Reese asked.
"I suppose," the man replied, "though it feels silly after what I've just heard. So, well, sorry in advance, but I'm not much good at these kind of things."
"What kind of things? Speaking up? Expressing your needs? Or something else?" the shrink said.
"Typing," Sherlock laughed, "and why don't hotels offer a complimentary notepad in the room anymore, anyway? Do they truly believe that everyone who likes pen and paper is dead already? Because I live with evidence to the contrary."
Reese reminded himself that he shouldn't glare or snap at a client before checking how their other half was taking the thing first, but damn, this one was making it so tempting!
Thankfully, the other man only snorted, and admitted, "Pretty much everything you both said. But you know, it's just typical of him – going on a completely unrelated rant when he suspects there's something he might not want to listen to. Or do."
"Well, he's going to listen now. If he's serious about this therapy at least. Of course, you both can interrupt it at any time, but then your problems would still exist. This is not a joke, Mr. Stephen, and I'll have to ask you not to treat it like one," the therapist said.
"Yes, yes, of course. I can deduce most of what goes through Jack's head anyway, but hearing it will make for a nice change of pace. Go on, love. I'll behave," Sherlock promised, waving away the shrink's concerns.
John sighed, and started to read. "My precious, what am I supposed to say that I don't get to tell you every other day? This might sound silly, but 'listen to me you berk!' Without a referee in the middle, you know. You have no idea how disheartening it is when the person you love barely notices if you're in the house or not. Carrying on conversations in absentia is not on, because no matter how well you know me, I would like to actually be able to contribute to the conversation and, you know, be aware of it. If you cannot bother with that, why should I even be here? I could run away, and you would still have your mind palace me to entertain you. Sometimes I think you would only notice if I left you for good if Mrs. Hudson decided to not help you out with chores anymore…which isn't that probable, I know. I'm waiting for the day you will realise – again – that you're better off without me. And I know I won't have any evidence to persuade you to stay."
"Honestly, of all the nonsense come out with since I met you – and as clever as you are, you do spectacularly blunder sometimes – this is the worst. But it's forgivable, because you cannot observe what happens abroad, or inside my mind, so assumptions were all you had to go on. I apologise. If my behaviour wasn't enough to clue you into what I would consider obvious, or worse, made you deduce the opposite of what I meant, I cannot really blame anyone but myself. Perhaps we do indeed speak different languages, of a sort," his lover retorted. With every word he seemed to deflate, shoulders drooping and voice softening.
"Yeah, well, after what you wrote it is rather evident. Not that it surprises me that I've been blind – more so that you think it's not my fault. You not expecting people to read minds?" John teased, squeezing the other's hand.
"Of course not. That's my brother's job. Even I cannot go that far, unless the mind is so simple it barely deserves the noun. Like Donovan's, for example," the detective replied, with a half-smile.
"And who would Donovan be?" the therapist intervened. He was pleased about the results – they were both confronting the issue rationally, and it was by now obvious that each one had some serious abandonment issues, oddly. One would think that marriage would have been enough to rid them both of such troubles, and assure them that they were in for the long haul. But whatever happened in the past had clearly marked them both.
"Oh, just a colleague. We would have a better working relationship if I didn't need to do her job in addition to my own on a semi-regular basis. You'd think I would be the one frustrated about it, but no. I like the work. She's the one who resents me for solving cases in her stead. People are completely irrational, aren't they?" the pretend policeman answered, the hand not holding onto John waving her away as unimportant.
Doctor Reese nodded, reminding himself firmly that they only had one hour a day, and that he was there to heal his client's marriage, not the whole of his relationships with other people. He wondered idly if the man had been deeply isolated, to be so oblivious to easily foreseeable human reactions. Then stopped himself again. Psychoanalysis required more time that he really wanted to spend with these particular clients, and wasn't even his own specialization. "Back to the matter at hand, then. Let's put aside for a moment the events of your time abroad, since you have already planned to discuss it privately. But your partner mentioned that you don't involve him in conversations – and expect him to know about them? That is quite illogical of you, don't you think?"
Sherlock pouted. "Maybe. But I don't do it to frustrate him. it's just…I know him. it's not that difficult to deduce his opinion about some small matter, especially if we're speaking about his lack of objection – he is perhaps too indulgent with me. And he reads me so well – I cannot count the number of times he has anticipated what I needed – that it's hard not to expect him to do it all the time," he explained, shrugging.
"Are you saying I'm too good at taking care of you?" John replied incredulously. "No, never mind, don't answer that…okay, even if you can deduce that I won't veto something – and I would still like to have a chance to state my opinion myself, by the way – that's not the worst. Forgive me the repetition, I know you hate it, but…it's the 'being so little solid or noticeable to you that there is no difference between my actual self and what you imagine I would say or do' that is, well, I'm not sure if it's humbling or mortifying."
"No no no, you are completely mistaken!" the detective stopped holding hands with his partner, to throw them both in the air. "You aren't unnoticeable at all. Yes, I regularly have conversations with you in my mind, and yes, the you in my mind is a perfect likeness of the actual you – of course it is, I don't know how you think I would settle for anything less – but it's not because you don't matter to me. If anything, it's the exact opposite."
"Taking a breath might help you, Stephen. Now, would you explain to us – calmly – how your partner is wrong? Your behaviour does send mixed messages, of a sort," the therapist intervened, leaning towards them.
"And here I thought you had worked with people in love before," the sleuth muttered, glaring at him. Instead of explaining, though, he ordered sternly, "Stop breathing!"
"Wha-?" doctor Reese blurted out, not even capable of ending one syllable out of sheer shock. He'd seen many patients, but none said anything so outrageous.
"Stop. Breathing," the other man insisted.
At that, John rose from the sofa, holding a hand out to the shrink. "Let's just go out, and leave him to his tantrum." He turned to his partner and said, "Seriously, I've heard a lot of things from you, honey, but this goes beyond the pale."
"No. Stay, both of you. How am I supposed to explain otherwise?" Sherlock replied, immediately mellowing.
"Oh, I don't know – in any way that makes sense, maybe?" the blond replied, sitting back down and raising an eyebrow at him.
"All I asked was for you to stop breathing – and that's boring, you know. In, out, in, out, all the time. Acknowledged as mind-numbing, even. But since neither of you trained for it in sporting competition, you're behaving as if I asked you to lop your head off. Even if you gave into my whim, it wouldn't be more than a handful of seconds before you ignored my command. And I'm not expecting anything else. In fact, people regularly use oxygen tanks in situations where they can't breathe – even if it might technically not contain exactly the same composition as air – and nobody sees anything wrong with that," the detective ranted.
"Well, of course, boring or not – you'd die otherwise," the therapist points out, trying to wrap his mind around someone that apparently considers breathing a mind-numbing chore. He kept having to adjust his diagnosis, and that was frustrating. Was the man…no, he didn't have any other symptoms. Not to his knowledge, at least.
"Sure, anyone would. And therefore – why am I expected to tolerate J- Jack's absence for hours on end? Without even making use of his mind palace likeness? Above all, in which universe does this mean I consider him unimportant? Is air unimportant just because it's transparent?" Sherlock snapped.
John grinned. "You madman. You absolute, ridiculous, romantic madman," he quipped.
Even Reese smiled. "I'm glad we clarified this, at least, I hope you will be able to discuss the other issue…and I would be happy to hear the results tomorrow."