John observed the gathering. Down at the other end of the table, Harry, Olivia, and Victor were engaged in conversation about architectural trends. At his side, Mary was reveling in her role as host. Molly and Greg were glowing, and Sherlock appeared more comfortable at the crowded dinner table than John would have guessed. Sherlock kept casting fond and proud looks at Victor, who occasionally patted Sherlock on the arm or nudged their shoulders together.
John compelled himself to eat tasteless bites of the wonderful dinner his wife had prepared.
Victor. John had not anticipated Victor. Sherlock seldom mentioned his time at university. John had met Sebastian Wilkes during The Blind Banker case. From his use of the nickname "Seb", it was clear Sherlock had made some effort to fit in, but Wilkes had been so callous that John doubted any friendship had occurred with him or any of the rest of the uni crowd. He should be happy that Sherlock had a friend during that time. He should be happy that Sherlock had a friend in his life now.
But John had not anticipated Victor.
The sound of Mary and Molly's laughter brought his mind back to the present. John had to admit the dinner party was going well. Not having much appetite, he focused on the conversations going on around the table.
"Your photos of the Shard for Architect's Journal were fantastic."
Victor's compliment caused a rare blush to bloom on Harry's face. Shrugging in a self-deprecating fashion, she said, "Thanks. It's amazing how much clearer I see with a sober eye."
With a sympathetic nod and quick glance at Sherlock, Victor said, "Isn't that the truth?"
Reaching over to clasp Harry's free hand, Olivia said to her, "You must photograph Willa."
"Oh, yeah, she's beautiful." Harry seemed excited by the prospect. "I'll have to bring a better camera next time."
Victor said, "I hope to peek in on her later, if I may?"
John felt his stomach sink at the prospect of this man in Sherlock's life showing interest in such familiarity, but Mary responded, "Of course. We're quite proud of our little princess."
Olivia asked, "Is Willa a family name?"
Mary nodded. "Yes, on John's side."
"Really?" Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't recall anyone with that name."
Unwilling to lie in front of his lying wife, John said, "There is also the family you choose."
Sherlock abruptly dropped his fork, which drew Harry's attention to the detective. "Everything okay?"
Sherlock nodded, picking up a piece of bread and tearing it into tiny pieces. John realized that Sherlock only now understood the import of Willa's name. Hearing the quiet gasp of the woman next to him, John figured Mary finally understood it, too.
Breaking the awkward silence, Olivia gestured to her plate and said, "This is absolutely delicious."
"Oh, you're too kind." Mary waved a hand at Olivia's praise.
"Your wife is a terrific cook," added Greg. John managed a curt nod and chased some of the stew around with a piece of bread.
"So, how long has this been going on?" Mary poked a fork towards Greg and Molly.
"Greg finally got up the nerve to ask me out two weeks ago."
Mary teased. "Finally."
"Yeah, well, I was intimidated by her beauty." Greg raised Molly's hand to his lips.
Molly giggled, and Sherlock smiled, pleased at this recent development in the lives of his friends. Who could blame him? Greg and Molly deserved happiness. John observed his sister and Olivia. The two women leaned close to each other, like any conservation with them was letting you in on the secret of their love. And Sherlock, well, he seemed content to be part of a couple. As if he finally realized the benefit of being in a relationship. As if he enjoyed having a partner at his side to show the world around him. John once again looked around the table and saw happy couples. And Mary. And him. John was not content to be a part of this couple, saw no benefit in their relationship, experienced no partnership with the stranger next to him.
It's a bitter realization that the one you need at your side is not the person you married.
"John, I have a medical question for you."
John forced himself out of his own head. "Fire away."
Greg asked, "What's a good med for cat allergies?"
Before John could respond, Mary interjected, "Do you have a cat?"
"I get the sniffles every time I'm at Molly's." The new couple gazed shyly at each other.
"Ah. Come by the surgery, and I'll write you a prescription for something better than you can buy at Sainsbury's."
"Thanks, mate."
"Once Willa is a little older, we'll get a cat. I think children should have pets, don't you, love?" Mary caressed the back of John's right hand where it rested on the table. He struggled to not draw back from her touch in front of their guests.
"John prefers dogs."
Everyone turned to Sherlock, who had been quiet until this point.
Sherlock directed a stern look at Mary and repeated, "John prefers dogs. He always wanted one as a child, but never had one."
John was stunned Sherlock remembered that conversation from years ago. The two of them had just completed a case, which included a stakeout almost foiled by a barking dog. Safely at back at Baker Street, sipping tea in front of the fire, John had remarked his parents had never allowed him to have a dog, not wanting the noise to cause problems with the neighbors. Sherlock had surprised him by stating that every child should have a dog, a loyal friend by their side when the rest of the world did not understand them. John had asked Did you have a dog? Sherlock had merely smiled, but in the morning, there was a photo of a young boy with dark curls posing with an Irish Setter next to John's laptop. It was accompanied by a note. He taught me the value of a true friend. Angelo's 8 pm?
Breaking through his reverie, Mary smiled brightly at John and said, "You never told me you wanted a dog."
Anger filled John. "I can't imagine we've told each other everything about our pasts, can you?"
Silent, Mary stabbed at her salad. Sherlock hid a satisfied smirk by taking a long drink, and, although separated by the length of the table, John felt the person he needed at his side once again.