Ok, really not sure about this chapter... Pretty sure it's kind of shit. Do let me know if it's absolute rubbish, yeah?
And to the person who reviewed under the name Annie, well, it's sort of a line from the other story that I wrote which is a prequel to this one. I'm sure I've heard something like it before but buggered if I know where or what it was. Firefly's the closest thing I can think of; "If you can't walk you crawl, and if you can't do that... you find someone to carry you." But basically my answer is: No Idea :)
Wow, now it looks like a proper authors note. My word.
Almost three years since the death of his best friend and John Watson is out in his back garden, watering the dog.
The dog's a recent acquisition, a rescue that he was bullied mercilessly into keeping by his wife and son. He's not sure it's a good idea, having this Border-Collie-Kelpie-Thing around while the six month old sticky boy-child is living in the crib upstairs, but Thomas loves it, Mary loves it and John... Well, John loves Thomas and Mary. He does like the dog, don't get him wrong, but it does eats an awful lot, it takes up a lot of space, a lot of time and it doesn't pay rent. On top of everything, Thomas decides to call the dog Spencer, which John Does Not Understand At All.
The dog's a girl.
Spencer's good to have around though, he admits. She distracts Thomas from wanting to play football with the baby (Thomas doesn't understand why Ewan can't play), she distracts Mary when Mary's hormonesmake her want to kill something and, much as John is loathe to admit it, the dog is a little bit wonderful and he supposes he does love her... y'know, just a little bit.
She stinks though. She stinks an awful lot. John tells Mary that the dog is stinking. She just drags him outside, gives the hose, points at Spencer and tells him to have fun. Spencer has fun, turns out she loves hoses. John has less fun, he really liked this jumper and now it's covered in dog hair and wetness. Spencer doesn't have fun when it comes time for the towelling off, John feels like he should be able to take vindictive pleasure in that, he feels like he probably would too, were he able to keep the dog still long enough to do any towelling. He tries very hard for a very long time before giving up and yelling for Mary. Spencer slips in through the open door, triumphant. John is left covered in mud, dog hair and failure. Mary laughs and John goes off to sulk in the bathroom.
When he sees himself in the mirror he laughs. He looks like a right tit, if he's being honest. He opens his mouth to call out for Thomas to come and see what an idiot his dad looks.
Sherlock's name almost comes out instead.
John stares at himself in the mirror, shocked. John's shocked by the name, the fact that it was there, where it has no bussiness being anymore for fuckssake... John's shocked by the fact that it hurt so much when he almost said it. John wonders if actually saying it would have hurt more or hurt less than the almost saying it. He doesn't know. John's never been sure whether the actually hurts more than the almost. He stares at himself a while longer, thinking he looks like a ghost. In a way he supposes he is, but it's Sherlock's ghost he's seeing in the mirror today, not his own.
Eventually he shakes his head, has a shower and goes to eat a sandwich. The rest of the day becomes hazy, pain-filled and heavy. Mary notices but she says nothing, sitting by him and making him tea. She knows what this is. She knows what not to touch.
John knows he'll never get over it completely. He knows that Sherlock attacks him sometimes, attacks him when he's not looking. Love does that, he supposes. He wonders if the Sherlock-love would attack him so hard if he'd actually been able to share it with Sherlock, if John had told him when he was alive that he loved him. He wonders if the concrete would have been so heavy if he hadn't missed out like he did, if he'd had those opportunities. He sighs and resigns himself to the not knowing.
Tomorrow, he'll play with his boys, he'll cook breakfast, kiss his wife and makes plans for Thomas' birthday. Tomorrow he'll work, help the sick and feel the effects of having a baby ruin his sleeping patterns. Tomorrow he'll water the dog.
And he'll wonder. At the things he'll never know, at the missed opportunities. And he'll resign himself to the not knowing.
After all, John's never been sure whether the actually hurts more than the almost.
Any reviews perchance? :)
