Authors note: Sorry for the wait! I have had so much uni work recently that I hadn't time until now to update! For all those who wanted Mary to meet Sherlock? This is that chapter. So I hope you like it!
One last thing, it really is so helpful and wonderful when people who read your stories leave a review so please if you can spare a minute let me know what you thought? Thanks :)
John brushes a stray hair from his forehead and scrutinises his reflection. He is wearing black jeans and a nice crisp dark blue shirt which he thinks suits him quite well. Tonight, after a very long time, he is going on a date with Mary. It has been almost three weeks since Sherlock's return and although Mary has been very understanding; John doesn't want her to feel neglected. She is….he winces at the disrupting sound…she is…he feels his body shudder involuntarily at the shrill screeching that is blaring from the living room. He sighs and hangs his head. When he had told Sherlock he was going on a date with Mary Sherlock had looked at him coolly and said "I see…" and then began murdering John slowly through his violin. He honestly has the mentality of a four year old at times…John marvels in his head. With a last fleeting look in the mirror he exits his bedroom and goes to confront Sherlock who seems to be trying to reach a noise that only dogs could hear via his instrument.
"Sherlock…."he says attempting to get his attention. Sherlock has his eyes fixed on some spot on the wall but John knew he could hear him due to the increased pace with which he had begun moving his bow. Apparently Mycroft wasn't the only one who could be subjected to this noise, which was a shame because when Sherlock did play properly; he played wonderfully. John rests his hands on his hips and sighs deeply…This is not going to be fun he thinks.
"Sherlock! I have already re-arranged this date twice! I really care about Mary and I am going to see her tonight. So stop SULKING!" he says loudly trying to project his voice over the racket, noting with satisfaction that Sherlock freezes at the use of the word 'sulking'. He stops; dropping his hands to his sides but not relinquishing his grip on his bow or violin. He narrows his eyes letting John know he is under Sherlock's full scrutiny. John however, unimpressed, just looks back at him.
"I do not sulk" Sherlock all but snarls as if the word is unpleasant for his brain to process. Sherlock ignores how his brain keeps telling him that John's shirt matches his eyes. Or how it outlines his upper body in very different way from the jumpers he usually wears because that is irrelevant data. John huffs in disbelief.
"Oh really? Well…how about pouting? Or throwing a tantrum? Do you not do those either?" he asks repeating Sherlock's words and holding his fingers up in quotation marks. John partly wants to antagonise him as payback for the noise he has had to endure for the past 5 hours. But he is also genuinely curious as to whether or not Sherlock realises that sometimes he acts like a child that has just spat his dummy out of the pram.
He rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head slightly; he didn't want to argue.
"Look Sherlock I get it. You're bored and you need a case. And since I've starting writing my blog again and the newspapers have cleared your name it's only a matter of time before you get one. I'm sure Lestrade will call you once there is a case he needs your help with" he says trying to be diplomatic.
He evidently fails miserably as Sherlock only huffs and screeches a loud, obnoxious reply on his violin. John watches Sherlock fiddle with violin expecting him to stick his tongue out at him any minute. I am probably going to regret this he thinks to himself.
"I look…you could come if you want? Mary has been wanting to meet you since I told her how you came back from the dead…" he tries awkwardly. Sherlock shifts in the spot looking at John disbelievingly.
"You're just saying that…" he replies although he doesn't sound to certain. John steps closer and looks into Sherlock's doubtful face trying to show him how sincere he was.
"No I'm not. I'll admit I'm slightly terrified at the thought of you two meeting. But if you promise to be on your best behaviour…"
"I am not a child!" Sherlock interrupts indignantly but John just gives him a reproachful look that Sherlock scowls at and he continues.
"By that, I mean any kind of unwanted deduction, Sherlock." He states emphasising every word as if somehow that will impress it on Sherlock's brain. A pointless effort as Sherlock can memorise large amounts of data in a matter of seconds…relevant data that is.
"But I'm not dressed…" he begins looking down at his dressing gown which he has been sporting for the past few days.
"Well get dressed then and I'll let Mary know that you are coming" John says patiently and pulls out his phone.
"And…I wouldn't be interrupting?" Sherlock asks just to clarify however John just stares at him with a look that clearly says 'you know perfectly well you will be but if I have to put up with your sulking anymore I will have to hurt your face'. Sherlock got dressed swiftly and they took a cab to the restaurant.
They are ushered in by overly familiar staff and Sherlock looks around the dimly lit restaurant filled with couples. It was a Turkish restaurant by a quick look at the menu, Mary's choice not John's; John preferred Italian cuisine. He sees Mary at the table sporting a silky green dress that she had most likely chosen to bring out her eyes and that displays a little cleavage no doubt to please John. She wore, what was most definitely her best jewellery, considering how expensive and clean it appeared. She had clearly been anticipating this date with John and wanted to impress him. Sherlock watches John's face light up when he sees her. An automatic smile spreads across his face as he waves his hand at her slightly. Sherlock finds it disquieting. He usually enjoys seeing John's smile but in this instance, he finds it isn't quite the same, but he cannot understand why…However John interrupts his thoughts.
"Remember what we discussed Sherlock. No deducing." He reminds him placing a hand on his forearm so he could gain his full attention.
"Of course" Sherlock replies dryly and removes his arm from John's strangely warm grip.
They reach the table and Mary stands up holding out a hand to Sherlock with a smile on her face. Sherlock looks at her hand momentarily and flickers his eyes to John who watches him expectantly. He shakes her hand and smiles tightly back at her.
"So you must be Miss Mary Morstan. John's told me so much about you" he says feeling his face strain at the smile he is pulling.
"Nice to meet you, Mr Holmes. John has told me quite a bit about you too" she tells him smiling sweetly and lets go of his hand to place a kiss on John's cheek. Sherlock feels his stomach flip unpleasantly wondering what things John had told her about him and why, for just a fraction of a second, he had the confusing urge to stop her from kissing his cheek. He watches as John smiles looking embarrassed and somewhat pleased and holds out her chair for her.
Once they are all seated and have ordered their drinks; the dreary small talk that makes Sherlock want to shoot people with a revolver begins.
"So, John tells me you are a consulting detective? Must be fascinating work" she comments taking a sip of white wine, wisely steering clear of the year he was 'dead', and appearing to be truly fascinated by what Sherlock has to say. Sherlock resists the urge to roll his eyes at her predictably dull comment.
"Yes, it keeps my mind occupied" he replies somewhat bluntly hoping that her conversation would be directed towards John so that he could simply observe. However she appeared to be undeterred.
"I can imagine. From what I've read from John's blog you and he had so many exciting cases. It must have been so thrilling" she says directing the last statement at John who smiles at her but keeps looking at Sherlock; as if to make sure he was alright. Even he had not missed how her statement had been in past tense. As if Sherlock wouldn't be able to lead such a life again or that John wouldn't be joining him even if he did get cases again. He felt an odd lurch in his stomach. It was an outcome he that he did not want to consider.
"Yes. It was. Hopefully Sherlock will get a case soon and we'll be back to Sherlock forgetting his pants and me blogging about it while solving crime" he says looking amused and grinning at Sherlock in nostalgia. Sherlock smirks back immediately feeling his body calm and settle.
"At least I got the ashtray" he replies as John laughs and shakes his head. Mary glances between them smiling.
"What's this?" she asks. John smiles and looks at Sherlock fondly.
"One of Sherlock's clients was royalty and we found ourselves in Buckingham palace. And…Sherlock…" he stutters between laughing and wiping his eyes as Sherlock watches bemused.
"Sherlock was sat there in his bed sheet because he had refused to get dressed. And he had no pants on underneath it…oh god...but it was worth it to see Mycroft's face." John continues to chuckle as Sherlock watches him momentarily forgetting about Mary; it is nice to see him laugh again. John has a nice laugh.
Mary frowns a little at Mycroft's name but smiles again at John's chortle.
"Who's Mycroft?" she asks John but he shakes his head unable to reply; evidently captured in a state of Sherlock remembers John had once referred to as the 'the giggles'.
"He's my arch-enemy" Sherlock answers for him looking at her but still watching John shaking with silent laughter from the corner of his eye. She tilts her head slightly at his choice of words and opens her mouth to question him but John gets there first.
"Sherlock, he's your brother… not your "arch-enemy" "he admonishes; a small frown line appearing between his brows although Sherlock could tell from the quirk of his lips that he wasn't being serious.
Mary quirks her lips in amusement as she watches them but says nothing. The waiter comes over to take their order holding out the notepad in front of them and smiles broadly at Mary.
"I'll have the Mousakka, please" she tells him and waits for Sherlock and John to make their order. Sherlock's watches for a few moments as John scans the menu that he hasn't really read trying to find something that would appeal to him. Sherlock decides, for his own sake of not wanting to further compound his boredom, to order for the both of them.
"And two Cupra's please." He tells the waiter who nods approvingly at his choice and walks off. John cocks his head to the side in puzzlement and fixes dark blue eyes unwaveringly on Sherlock reminding him for an odd second of a puppy. It is a bizarre comparison that his brain supplied. However it is one that he could not help but find endearingly accurate.
"Cupra?" John questioned unaware of Mary's focused gaze on the both of them.
"Sea bream with lemon, olive oil, herbs and salad" Sherlock replies rattling off the list his mind supplies him. But to his annoyance John still looks confused and keeps looking at Sherlock.
"What?" he asks and John squints slightly at him as if he was trying to deduce Sherlock.
"How did you know what I would like?" John asks him with a disbelieving huff and smile.
"I know everything about you, John." He states simply hoping that this would clear the matter up; not seeing the way Mary's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise as he is too focused on John.
John hums unsure whether he should be disturbed by this fact or warmed by it. Sherlock hadn't deleted any information about John. He could feel a warm smile grace his face as he looked at Sherlock, who clearly was puzzled by John's thought process, but returns a small one of his own regardless.
He clears his throat remembering that the whole point of this date was supposed to be because he didn't want to neglect Mary and promptly asks her how her day had been. The rest of the evening continued on with no incidents Sherlock was polite if a little blunt and Mary seemed to like him and enjoy herself.
Sherlock got a cab back by himself when John told him he was walking Mary back to her flat ignoring the vague feeling of disappointment and loneliness. His mind assaulted him with vivid images of John and Mary and what they would undoubtedly be doing later this evening. In this rare instance he found his brain's attention to detail to be a curse rather than a blessing…
His phone vibrates and he knows who it is before he has pulled it from his coat pocket. My arch-enemy he thinks...
MH: Enjoy your dinner?
SH: Mycroft. How nice. Is there a reason you are stalking me?
MH: Just wanted to see how my baby brother is doing.
Sherlock scoffs and waits for Mycroft to get on with whatever mundane point he is going to make.
MH: So Mary is lovely isn't she?
SH: She is attractive enough I suppose, but not good enough for John.
Somewhere in London, Mycroft smirks broadly at his phone; his brother could be so transparent sometimes.
MH: Oh really? She is a successful teacher, popular, smart and beautiful. My background check shows she has no hidden or less than clean past. What exactly makes her not good enough for John?
SH: Nothing, except for the fact that she is painfully dull and ordinary. John…needs danger and excitement in his life.
MH: He gets that from you, no? So why does he also need it from Mary? Surely she will be a welcome reprieve from whatever dangerous situations you will undoubtedly land him in.
Sherlock clenches his jaw at the insinuation and resists the urge to roll his eyes; his brother could be so transparent at times.
SH: I'm not jealous Mycroft.
MH: Of course not. Why would you be? It is not as if John is rapidly falling in love with a smart and beautiful woman. A woman whom he will eventually move in with and marry, most likely have many children and lead a dull but happy life together. Thus leaving you all alone while he slowly but surely becomes little more than an old acquaintance.
Apparently Mycroft had decided to abandoned subtlety and take a more dramatic route in his efforts to emotionally affect Sherlock.
SH: You embarrass yourself with your blatant attempts to upset me, Mycroft. Why are you so intent on this matter?
MH: Because I would rather have you realise now then when it would be too late to act. Believe it or not I am actually trying to help you. Good night, Sherlock.
Sherlock clutches his phone tightly, practically throws his money at the cabbie and climbs out of the taxi. He marches up the stairs to his flat, Mycroft's words racing unwanted around his mind and goes to his bedroom. Growling he flings his phone on his bed; angry that he had allowed Mycroft to affect him this way. He does not want John to leave. John is…John. He has only just got him back…Having him in his life…is…good; his mind supplies helpfully.
Mycroft is wrong…John is not going to marry Mary. Things were going to continue as they always have done. Why is this affecting him so much? He starts to analyse his own behaviour. He always wants John around and gets a nauseating feeling whenever he imagines John and Mary together. It feels so fundamentally wrong to him like every fibre of his being was fighting against it. Mary was nice enough but John deserves so much more. He is his best friend. Sherlock cares for him more than anyone else in his life. The idea of him leaving is naturally…distressing.
He thinks about when John had hugged him. How warm and solid he had been in his arms and the way he had held Sherlock strongly despite his smaller stature. How comfortable Sherlock had felt, despite the fact that he almost always hated physical contact. He thinks about the time he had held John's hand in the cab. He rarely ever initiated physical contact. He stares at his own hand as if it didn't belong to him and flops back on his bed. Lost deep in his thoughts. His fingertips tingle as he remembers how soft John's skin had been and the gentle way John had squeezed his fingers back. When John had told him about how nightmares had been affecting him, he had instinctively grabbed John's fingers, wanting to reassure and comfort him. The need to touch had been so overwhelming; even now sometimes he wanted to grab John and hug him for no apparent reason, especially whenever he seemed upset.
He stops. There it is…staring him in the face. So clear. All these things he was experiencing. They all pointed to one thing. Evidently he has feelings…romantic feelings for John Watson.
He felt a rush of breath leave him as the implications of this realisation hit him. He wasn't supposed to ever be able to feel like this. Feelings confused and distracted people. He wanted nothing more to bury them and continue as the high-functioning sociopath that he was…is. But if he ignores their existence then that would mean John would undeniably continue his relationship with Mary...He shakes his head; clearly boredom has already begun to eat away at his mind.
First he would have to establish the depth of his feelings towards John and whether he was attracted to him. If an attraction was confirmed. Then the next most difficult task would be to see if John, the man who always claimed so resolutely 'not to be gay', was attracted to Sherlock on any level. He doubts John feels anything other than friendship towards Sherlock. Right now he is most likely with Mary engaging in a number of messy and intimate activities. His thoughts are halted however, by the soft click of the front door and John's soft footsteps. They stop outside his door for about a minute, as if John is trying to decide whether or not to knock on Sherlock's door, and then they move away to John's bedroom. Sherlock tries in vain to ignore the happiness he feels at John coming home instead of spending the night with Mary. He begins, with renewed enthusiasm, to formulate plans to test the parameters of his and John's friendship.
John enters the flat with a soft click of the door noting the darkness of the flat and the light softly emanating from Sherlock's room. Mary's words play in his head over and over again.
He loves you very much… This had stopped John in his tracks. What? He remembers himself asking rather dumbly and looking at Mary noting something like resignation behind her kind smile.
Sherlock…I can tell her cares for you a great deal. She says again and John is unsure of what to say. He knows that Sherlock cares for him but the word love…for some reason made his heart thunder in his chest and his body warm. He supposes it was because he has never heard it in reference to him before.
I care about him a lot too…he had replied carefully feeling as if this is somehow a test that he is failing. She had smiled at him and hummed in agreement. They had walked the rest of the way in silence and when they reach her flat John found that he was tired. He had kissed her gently on the lips but nothing more and said goodbye.
And now he is stood outside Sherlock's door, arm raised and fist poised to knock. Why is he even here? I'm not just going to walk in there and ask if Sherlock loves me…he thinks confused by his odd behaviour. He shakes his head and walks away to his own bedroom feeling somewhat displaced by Mary's words and yet with no good reason as to why. I just need sleep he thinks to himself and climbs into bed perfectly aware that he won't sleep well at all.
Please review! I would love to know what you thought and it barely takes a minute! Also for all those who were expecting smut be not afraid! It shall come in it's own good time! I will be more regular with my updating now; last week was pretty hectic for me!
Thanks for reading! x