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"So you caught him then?" John clarified.
"Oh yeah," was Lestrade's cheerful response as he looked all around at John, Gwen, and Sherlock, so as to include all of them in the story. "We looked up each of those names you gave us, and found the only guy that was crippled. From there it was a piece of cake. As soon as this guy—Mark Loy—saw us at the door, he lost it. Completely gave in, confessed to everything. Apparently someone... offered him money for an operation to fix his leg, but only if he killed the old woman. The more interesting he made it, the more money he got. That's why he stabbed her so many times."
"That's... that's awful," said John. "Who would pay someone to kill an innocent woman like that?"
"Who would sponsor a serial killer?" murmured Sherlock, his gaze directed at Gwen. She met his eyes calmly. John's head tilted and his brow furrowed a bit in confusion, but Sherlock merely gave him a look telling him to forget about it.
Lestrade looked quickly between Sherlock and Gwen, and then cleared his throat.
"Anyways, we'll obviously have to keep looking for whoever paid him, but I'm satisfied with what we've got. I just stopped by to say... thank you Sherlock." Sherlock nodded once then turned away from the rest of the group, beginning to pace slowly. Lestrade gave a slight sigh, but he grinned.
"Thanks to you too, John, Gwen. I'll be seeing you."
"You're welcome," returned John.
"Bye!" Gwen added as he left the flat. Clapping his hands together, John turned to the other two with a smile.
"How about going out for dinner to celebrate?" he offered.
"You two go," responded Sherlock immediately. "I'm staying home." John's eyebrows lifted.
"Are you... are you serious Sherlock? You always intrude on my dates. Now you're willingly setting one up, after I've specifically asked you to come along? No, no way. You'll show up later, right?" he accused.
Sherlock made a face at his friend.
"Nice to see that you trust me so much John." The look on John's face was a clear, 'Seriously? You must be kidding'. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"No, I won't intrude. Go on." After hesitating for another moment, giving Sherlock a look of disbelief, John finally shrugged and shook his head with a small smile. He looked imploringly in Gwen's direction.
"I'd love to," she said graciously. John grinned as she walked over to him. Gently touching the small of her back, John ushered her out the door.
"So where did you have in mind, John?" Sherlock could hear Gwen's voice fading away as they disappeared down the stairwell.
.-.
"No, really, I swear it's true," assured John even as he chuckled along with Gwen's bright laugh.
"The mother even had the nerve to get upset with me for telling her son that it was physically impossible for him to be pregnant. She said, 'It's no right of yours to teach my son about those things!'" Gwen erupted in another burst of laughter at the high-pitched, whiny tone that John had taken on in his impersonation.
"'If I want to teach him about...'" John—still making fun of the woman—glanced around him dramatically as if to make sure no one else could hear, "'...sex...'" he whispered, pretending disdain for the very word, "'... then I will do so! What kind of a doctor are you!' Well... I assured her that I was the kind who would be honest with 13-year-old boys who were having irrational fears. She didn't seem much happier with that and she stormed out, dragging him with her."
"Oh, poor kid," said Gwen, still chuckling. "What a horrid mother."
"What about you?" asked John. Gwen looked at him in surprise.
"What about me?"
"Your parents," he replied quietly. Clearly the conversation had taken a turn for the more serious. For a moment, Gwen wondered bitterly if the entire story had been told for the sole purpose of changing the subject towards her own parents. Shoving this emotion aside, she stared down at her plate, twirling her fork in her pasta with unnecessary force.
"I don't know," she said simply. Glancing up she saw John's raised eyebrows, narrowed eyes, and stubborn expression. She scowled internally and looked back down. Composing herself, she let out a small sigh to release her tensions.
"My mother was always very... absent. Figuratively and literally. When she was at home, she barely paid me any mind. To be fair, she didn't pay much mind to my brother or father either. But my mother was a very sick woman. She was often in and out of the hospital, due to her 'episodes'. Father never said why, or what was wrong with her, but while I was growing up I thought that it was because of my brother and me. I thought that... we made her sick. That she regretted having us, and that's why she got ill.
"When I grew older I realized that the truth was that she was schizophrenic. The doctors recommended putting her in a permanent hospital, but my father wouldn't let them. I'm not sure why but... I think it was because he didn't want to be alone with my brother and me. Because... well, we frightened him. I don't think he could ever pinpoint why, but the feeling was always there, the nervous tension.
"Anyways, they live alone together, now that I've moved out. I wouldn't be surprised if he puts her in a home soon."
"Do you keep in touch with them at all?" asked John quietly. Gwen scoffed.
"No. They're happier that way, and so am I." Gwen shot a fierce glance at John, daring him to object. He didn't.
"And what about you John? What about your family?" she asked. Gwen attempted to, and succeeded in, keeping her tone calm and pleasant, but the tension could still be seen in her neck. John was observant enough to notice, but he didn't comment.
"My dad passed away a few years ago," he said, "While I was in Afghanistan. My mum is doing well enough. They'd already been divorced for years, so the blow didn't hit her too hard."
"And what about you? Are you ok?" John shrugged, cutting up some of his steak as if to make a point about how little it affected him.
"I never did like my dad much. Alcoholic. I figure that's where Harry picked up the habit. He never... he never hurt us, but he certainly wasn't very loving or paternal. He yelled at us sometimes when he was drunk off his ass, but that was it. My mum is very nice, and she always was, but she used to be so timid, because of him, ya know? She's doing better now but... she's moved away and we don't keep in touch very well. I think she and Harry keep in touch, but I don't know much else."
"Tell me about Harry."
"Well... she's finally trying to get off the drink, so... I'm doing my best, trying to support her. It's hard though. We used to be really close when we were kids, but it just... it faded. And then with the drinking... I couldn't... I couldn't..."
John sighed and shook his head a bit, trying to clear up his emotions. He didn't want to seem like an emotional sissy around Gwen. He wanted to say sorry for his lack of control, but first he had to get some control.
"It's fine, don't worry about it," said Gwen, responding to his unspoken apology. John's head snapped up and he met her eyes with surprise. Suddenly he let out a loud, abrupt laugh. Gwen's brow crinkled.
"What?"
"You're doing that thing," he marveled, still grinning amusedly.
"Doing what thing?" she asked, unsure whether she should be annoyed or happy that she'd made him laugh.
"That thing that Sherlock does. Answering my thoughts instead of what I've actually said."
"Oh." Gwen gave a light, mildly embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry."
"No it's alright," he assured kindly, taking a bite of his steak. "I like it. Just as long as you can't actually read my thoughts." Gwen laughed again, louder this time.
"No, I can't do that," she confirmed, a twinkle in her eye.
.-.
"Have a good date?"
Gwen had excused herself to take a shower. The sound of running water served as the background soundtrack for Sherlock and John's conversation.
"It was lovely," admitted John freely, "I really enjoyed myself tonight Sherlock."
"Good, I'm glad to hear it."
"Though it was a bit strange not to have the 'your place, my place' discussion since we already live together," joked John lightly. Sherlock chuckled along with his friend.
"Well, if you're planning on continuing any sort of after-date activities here, please refrain until I've fallen asleep." John gaped at Sherlock, surprised that his friend had made a joke about his sex life, and with such a straight face too. Calmly, Sherlock turned his head and stared John directly in the eye.
After only a few seconds, they both broke out in huge smiles, and John couldn't suppress a small giggle.
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," replied John. Standing up from his armchair, John groaned and stretched a bit. "Well, I'm off to bed."
"Alone," he added quickly as he saw Sherlock opening his mouth, likely with some snarky comment already on his tongue. Sherlock snickered but closed his mouth and nodded, still smirking. John rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.