Authors Note:

I am so sorry for the delay. Annoyingly this chapter was basically finished a mere week after the first chapter had been published but I was distracted with education, work and social life to actually complete it. I will be quickly working on the next chapter as you readers deserved it asap. But anyway despite the delay, I hope you enjoy the next instalment.

Tee.

[] = mind palace

Text = text

Chapter 2:

Upon entering his room, I quickly opened the cupboard door and reached for the box. On the back of it, the words 'For the new baby' were written in a black marker as well as a small heart. The Watson's were clearly also looking forward to the arrival of John's child. They must have been devastated after hearing the news of her death but they don't seem to be grieving currently, then again if John has had enough time to move on then they definitely must have or else would still be grieving now if she meant to much to them. I heard the creak of the floor board before there was a knock at the door. I turned just in time to see Mrs Watson hesitantly peaking inside the room. She noticed the box and smiled sadly,

"I was so ready to be a grandmother." I nodded, unsure how to respond. I walked over to her, still holding the cardboard box, before handing it to her slowly. She took it with apprehensive, gentle hands [Like it's her grandchild.] and looked at the box for a few seconds then looked at me once more.

"I don't think John is ready to deal with this just yet. Would you be able to hide it somewhere?" [Be polite.] I heard John's voice say to me.

"Please?" She smiled fondly at me, sniffing and her eyes welling with tears as she nodded quickly and turned around. I thought she was going to leave the room but she stopped outside the door and croaked,

"I'm so glad John has you, Sherlock." And then she was gone. I shut the door and leant against it, breathing deeply. Glad John had me? Me? If anything I am the one fortunate to have John, because despite his grieving and that I was the one who caused him said grieving, John still took care of me. John still cooked food even when he didn't want to eat, made me sleep even when his nights only contained nightmares and most importantly worked with me on the cases when it only reminded him of death. John was loyal and for this I am entirely grateful to him. John has all of me no doubt about it but I'm sure his mother did not mean that, or did she? [Look at the facts Sherlock.] Mycroft said internally. Fine. I toed my shoes off and sat on the bed. John's bed. The bed was clearly newly made from the lack of dust and creases, there was also a scent of fabric detergent around. I looked down at the pillow and slowly, slowly... I am now laying on John's bed. I placed my hands in the familiar thinking position and closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing as the smoke of my mind cleared to reveal my mind palace. I needed to process.

[I found myself in the room from the previous case. The killer's mugshot stood proudly in the middle on the room with data about her to the right of the photo. 'The sister; how typical. Anyway that doesn't matter any more, close.' The door behind me opened and I left the room of the case John called My Sister Killer after some book he had read previously. The image of his eyes watering and him forcefully shutting the book flashed before me and I quickly brushed the image aside. 'I have already dealt with that.' I continued to walk, planning on leaving the Cases Corridor with doors lined with names and numbers. I stopped briefly at the Study in Pink case, shook my head and then continued towards the door at the end of the corridor. After exiting I turned towards the General Memories Corridor where I knew my most recent memories would be flying about, unsorted and annoying. There I found the following couple of days, including John receiving the phone call from his mother, demanding that he visits and planning the trip for the weekend. Watching the way John smiled brightly when I agreed to go on the trip with him. From here I began to analyse, deduce and process all the information I had received from John whether it be body language or simple words. The entire procedure took the entire night but afterwards I felt I had a final conclusion about John and his emotions.]

The fog grew as I opened my eyes, the bright light of morning causing me to blink quickly and suddenly. Having slept the previous night I wasn't tired despite the lack of sleep, a brief look at the clock told me I had been analysing for 7 or so hours however the time was well spent for not I understood a little more about John Watson. I continued to lay there, hands by my side as I waited for either a knock at the door or a floorboard creaking or John's voice from downstairs perhaps. However instead the man himself sneaks into the room and places a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table by the bed, looking down at me and shaking his head in a fond manner.

"Sherlock, did you sleep at all last night?" He sat down at the end of the bed with his own cup of tea, his hip barely touching my thigh yet the touch was extremely obvious and distracting. He raised his eyebrow in mock annoyance, he was clearly in a good mood this morning.

"No. I didn't need any more sleep so I spent the night in my mind palace." I was tempted to add how comfy his old bed was but decided against it as it was a bit 'not good'. He smiled down at me, sipping his tea thoughtfully then looking around the room. I sat up, leaning against my arms and following his line of sight to the window where a past a couple of houses there was a large oak tree. John looked down into his tea, coughing awkwardly.

"So my dad is making the family a fry-up, his Saturday tradition, and afterwards I was thinking me and you could go have a walk down to the park I used to visit as a kid for, well, um, a walk I guess..." He ended awkwardly, eyes locked on his tea and a red tinge to his cheeks. Being eager to know more about young John I nodded quickly straight away before adding,

"I'd... I'd love to." I'm sure that's the correct response. Dull human interaction being important to John - otherwise I'd happily be the sociopath I believed myself to be. He seemed to relax from my response I observed as I reached for my own tea, finishing it in one drink, I was unaware how thirsty I was until the first sip. I placed the now empty mug back on the side table and John sighed in response, reaching across me to pick up the mug. This brought him alarmingly close to my face. At least... it was alarming for a few seconds before the shock wore off and John's eyes turned to me, he made no move to distance himself and seemed to be looking at all the details of my face then quickly focusing on my eyes. [He searching for something. A sign of some sorts to tell him that I-]

He looked away, standing up with a nod and the sneaking out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

I collapsed on the bed; the breath rushing from my lungs as I scrunched my eyes shut, hands covering my face. What the bloody hell was that?! Groaning as I sat up I looked at the door John had just left, double checking that he had indeed gone and wasn't watching me struggle with understanding what the hell just happened. I'm not so inept that I don't know that the sequence of events that just happened was not the norm for friends - even best friends. Nor am I unaware that since returning from the 'dead' our relationship has been interesting to say the least. Feelings are discussed more, brief touches have been added into our everyday life and now with Mary being gone, John is finally single. I groaned again, all conclusions that I had reached last night have just been proven false and now I'm back to square one. Dammit. Stretching as I stood, I made my way to the bathroom for what would hopefully be a hot shower.

The Watson's bathroom wasn't that different from the bathroom at Baker Street except the addition of a bath and a brighter colour scheme. Locking the door, I began to unbutton my shirt as I walked over to the shower. The shower was quick to turn on and I noted the citrus scented shower gel as well as the store branded shampoo and conditioner. I sighed, my hair's going to feel rough for the whole weekend. Anyway, I continued to remove my clothes only pausing to note the healing of my scars, the one from John's wife was going to be a permanent mark but it had completely healed now, no longer red or sore. Shaking my head I entered the boiling hot shower, the steam beginning to rise. I sighed blissfully, all my tense muscles relaxing and my thoughts slowing down if only slightly, drifting off in random direction - cases, chemistry, bees and John... John. John. John. Those eyes as they explored my face, searching in ways I could not search. The way he focused on my cheekbones, on my freckles, the creases by my mouth and my lips. The way he licked his lips in concentration as he stared deep into my eyes, the clip rolled in front of my eyes as I washed my hair, scrubbed my body. Oh. Oh. Oh. [John.] Admittedly I spent longer in the shower then was needed and I left the bathroom with a blush on my cheeks, very thankful that nobody interrupted me as I got ready for the day before descending the stairs to the smell of bacon.

I sat down at the table silently whilst John and his father spoke general small talk, John clutching a cup with some picture of a golden retriever on it. John barely gave me a nod before continuing the conversation with his father who begins to speak to me.

"Mornin' Sherlock. Fancy a fry-up?" He inquired, turning to me from the stove holding a spatula.

"Yes sir." I replied, aware that this was still John's father and whilst he seems more calm around his father, John is definitely not comfortable around the man and an argument or more awkwardness for the whole three days will be a form of torture for the both of us. However Mr Watson is currently chuckling at me so I believe I'm safe for now.

"Alrighty then. John! Pour the man some tea or something, we raised you better than that son." He ordered in a very similar tone John uses for his Captain Watson mode yet as far as I deduce, Mr Watson is not a military man. The said ex-army doctor stands from his chair and moves to the cupboard above a kettle to fetch a cup. The tea is poured and very quickly handed to me, confirming that John was feeling as tense about the moment and that it was a 'moment'. A few minutes later a plate with eggs, bacon, sausages, toast and beans is placed in front of me by John's father and the man left to 'fetch my wife' leaving John and I in the kitchen on our own.

The tap drips. The clock on the wall ticks loudly. My fork suddenly scraps noisily on the plate as I scope some beans. The reflection on the oven door shows that my doctor is looking down and not likely to look up or start a conversation. I cleared my throat in an attempt to gain his attention but his sausage was apparently more interesting than me at the moment, so I tried again.

"Are we still visiting the park today?" My voice sounded clearer than I was expecting but still sounded more vulnerable than I wanted. Finally he looked up at me, cautiously. He coughed awkwardly before speaking,

"Of course." He swallows, avoiding my eyes whilst he cuts some bacon. "Why, do you not want to now?" He bites his fork, briefly glances at my eyes before looking at the door as his parents descend the stairs. The conversation gets forgotten as the parents tuck in to their breakfast and converse about boring and dull subjects like the weather and sport. John contributes now and then but mostly remains as silent as I then excusing himself to get ready for the day. Once he's gone and out of ear shot, Mrs Watson places her hand upon mine then lowering her voice as she says,

"The box is hidden, he won't find it." She smiles softly and Mr Watson raises his eyebrows then seems to clock on and nods slowly as he continues to eat his breakfast, seeming deep in thought. It seems he hasn't finished grieving either. I smiled back at her and finished my tea before excusing myself as well, eager to get away from the social interaction, as I left I heard Mr Watson's comment,

"I like him, he gets our John." I turned the corner to the stairs, aiming to hide in the room, when I saw John with damp hair at the top of the stairs in just a robe. He smiled at me, a genuine smile.

"Hey Sherlock, can you ask my dad to bang on the boiler? Hot water isn't working. After I shower, we'll go for that walk." He was trying too hard to be normal and it was bizarre to hear him like this. I nodded and returned to the kitchen,

"Mr Watson, John has asked me to ask you to bang on the boiler." Mr Watson, in response, burst into laughter, then got up and opened a cupboard before bashing it with his fist. The boiler groaned in protest before chugging into life. John shouted a thank you from the stairs and I walked out of the kitchen whilst Mr Watson continued to laugh loudly. I ascended the stairs, returning to John's old room and just sitting on the bed as I waited for John. Not ten minutes later, the blogger knocked on the door with now dry hair and his oatmeal jumper that I was rather fond of but at the same time hated. He smiled at me, not as forced this time but not genuine.

"Shall we?" He said, opening the door fully and leaning against the door frame casually. I stood up and joined him by the door before we both walked to the front door.

John said a brief goodbye to his parents and then we began the walk to the near-by park. The air was cold, causing condensation from our breath as we walked in silence, side by side. The walk to the park was short yet there was a certain relief when we reached the park which had dog walkers and mothers with prams. John, to his part, did not seem phased by the prams and instead focused on pointing out locations and the stories behind them. We approached a large oak tree with a park bench underneath it which we agreed to sit down on, the doctor looked up at the oak and smiled fondly.

"This is where I spent most of my childhood. This tree in particular, broke my arm falling off it when I first tried to climb it but that didn't stop me from trying again. I'd just made some of my first friends at secondary school and we rushed to the park to play, so of course I show them the massive tree and I'm trying to impress them because they were the cool kids at the school so I climbed the tree not watching what I was doing and snap. Branch brakes and I go falling down and land awkwardly on my arm. It could have been worse, I almost hit this bench and that would have caused some head issues. But as soon as the cast was off I tried again and finally, I reached the top. The view is incredible up there, mate. But the sense of accomplishment and pride was..." He stopped and closed his eyes, with a small smile on his face. I want to touch him. I never want to touch people but I wanted John to know I cared and felt the a hand on his shoulder or something would show this, but before I could do so John had opened his now damper eyes. He sighed, looking deep into my eyes.

"I think love is like that, you get hurt by it but you keep trying and when you finally reach the top, the view is incredible and suddenly you know that the hurt is worth it." He smiled at me, a sad smile but a smile none the less and I returned the gestured, squeezing his hand that I had apparently grabbed sometime in his explanation. We stayed like that for a few minutes before John showed me the rest of the park, including where his first kiss was and then we returned to the house, the silence no longer awkward and the air seemed not as cold.

Back at the house, a note was pinned to the fridge from his parents explaining how it was a friend's birthday and they had gone for a meal. John sighed and reached for the phone, bragging about his favourite Chinese takeaway and after being pointed to the video cabinet, I was told to pick a movie for us to watch. There was all the bond movies, some cheesy titled movies before a came across the movie 'Dracula'. Admittedly I had read the book as a child, Mycroft had tried to scare me with it, with annoyingly had worked for some time. However the movie, I had never seen.

Food was much better than the local Chinese near Baker Street and the restaurant knowing the Watson's meant we got more than usual and quicker service. In the middle of the movie and after the food had been finished, John turned his head a looked at me with a look I just couldn't place. The same look his mother gives him but more fonder with more strength even. I kept my eyes locked to the screen as I pretended to be interested in the fake blood dripping from Dracula's mouth. I hoped he couldn't hear my heart beat, it was beating annoyingly loud as if I was high. What is this?!

Sometime after the movie had finished, John's parents walked in more tipsy than when they had left. John managed to get them into bed whilst I prepped the sofa for bed. John smiled brightly when he saw what I'd done and I couldn't help but return the smile,

"I'll sleep here tonight, you get the bed. No arguments." His smile was wiped off his face and was replaced with a scowl but it was friendly showing that he wouldn't be putting up much of an argument.

"Sherlock..." He shook his head and then started to walk over. Closer and closer. He looked down, breathed in deeply before looking deep into my eyes.

"No arguments." I tried again, much quieter and softer than I intended it to be. He smiled softly, a sharp breath coming from his nose.

"Okay, good night." I'm certain that there was a brief look at my lips, but the lighting was poor and perhaps I'm tired but before I could react to it, John had turned out of the room. I collapsed onto the sofa, groaned into the pillow and slowly drifted into dull, dark sleep.