The last time John met the Morstan family was in 1993 when he pretended to be Mary's boyfriend. Now, eighteen years later, he is Mary's boyfriend, and it's time to get reacquainted.
Check chapters for specific trigger warnings.
Set in late 2011, this is a missing story between Chapters 2 and 3 of 'Watersheds'. You may want to read that first.
Trigger warning: mentions of cancer, mentions of suicide
"Have you got the present?"
"Yes."
"And the address of the church? Is it in the satnav?"
"Yes, of course. Once I worked out how to do it. Calm down. It's only your family. It's not like I haven't met most of them before. Anyway, shouldn't it be me who's nervous, not you?"
"Probably, but I don't want them to hate you. It's been nearly twenty years. Mum went ballistic when I told her we'd 'broken up'. Blamed me for it of course. Now she doesn't believe you actually exist."
"So she doesn't know it's me? That your new boyfriend is your old 'boyfriend'."
"No. Pete does though."
"And he's OK?"
"He always was. He's looking forward to seeing you again actually. He liked you."
"Hopefully he still will."
They started driving their hire car towards Morden in south London, and St Teresa's Catholic Church. The latest addition to the Morstan family, Jenny's daughter, Siobhan O'Keeffe, was being christened. It seemed the ideal opportunity for John to re-introduce himself to Mary's family; an event he was facing with some trepidation.
John had never really had much family. There'd been cousins and family parties when he was younger, all relatives on his father's side, his mother having no-one but an aging great-aunt-in-law remaining. However, over time, the family had become fragmented. Once his father lost his job, his self-respect, and himself in the bottom of a bottle, there was no further contact. A few distant family members turned up for the funeral, making promises of support for his Mum which never materialised. Meeting Mary's family when he pretended to be her boyfriend was a pleasant shock. They'd all been welcoming, even her over-bearing, match-making mother.
Now he was going to meet them again. Her little sister, Jenny, just 15 when they last met, was now married with four children of her own. Mary's father had passed away nearly eighteen months previously after a long battle with cancer. John had liked Pierre. He was a kind man who treasured his children and supported them in all they did. In some ways John felt a great affinity for the man. Not only had he helped make Mary into the woman John loved, but his illness had drawn her away from her life in Australia and back to London. Because of that quirk of fate, Mary had been able to reach out to John in one of his darkest moments. She had saved him; something he would be forever grateful for.
They reached the church with twenty minutes to spare. A low brick building, of an age with the surrounding houses, all built at the start of the twentieth century when London really began to sprawl, consuming surrounding villages as it went, absorbing them into her being with waves of brick and tarmac.
It was no surprise that the church was relatively modern, as most Catholic churches across the UK are. The old Norman and medieval parish churches having been subsumed by the newly formed Church of England during Henry VIII's reformation of British religion as part of his ongoing battle with the Vatican over who he could call his Queen. Only when Catholic worship was once again legalised in 1791 did anyone start building Catholic churches, the Victorian era in particular seeing an increase in construction. St Teresa's looked to have been constructed in the 1920s. It was fairly small, but had a large community hall tacked on the back as a more modern afterthought. Garish drawings on craft paper stuck to the windows indicated its use as a pre-school nursery. Luckily Jenny's husband, Danny, whilst being a good Catholic, was also proud to honour his Irish heritage, so eschewed the church's temperance hall in favour of holding the post christening party at a nearby tennis club, with bar.
John held open the church door, Mary holding his hand tightly, as she had done since he had guided her from the car. She led him into the interior, dark after the bright autumn sunlight outside. Mary could see her immediate family spread throughout the church, talking in small groups to more distant family members; cousins, aunts and uncles. Many of the faces were unfamiliar, probably either friends or members of Danny's family.
Catching sight of her older brother, Pete, and his wife Maggie standing near the back of the church, Mary made her way towards them, John following along behind. Pete noticed his sister before she reached them, tapping Maggie on the shoulder to draw her attention. Spotting John, Pete grinned even wider. Both men looked older, but John looked like a man who had lived so much more than most people, the experiences reflected in his face and his greying hair.
Pete knew about John being shot, about Sherlock Holmes, James Moriarty (Mary was adamant, not Richard Brook, never Richard Brook), and John having to witness Sherlock's fall (no, not suicide. It was a fall. The Fall.) Mary had spent a long phone conversation taking him through what she could, what wasn't a secret that could cost lives. Pete had naturally been concerned about his little sister getting involved with the grieving flatmate of a man labelled a psychopath and a fake, but Mary had allayed his fears. He'd met John, only once, but he'd trusted him enough with his sister's safety then. Mary assured him that, despite or perhaps because of his experiences, John was as honourable and trustworthy a man as ever. Seeing the man Mary was pulling towards him, Pete knew that she was right. Older, yes, wiser, perhaps, damaged by time and circumstance, definitely, but still the John Watson he'd met and entrusted the safety of his sister to.
"John, good to see you. Mary, so glad you could make it. Maggie, this is John Watson. John, my wife Maggie."
Hands shook, cheeks kissed and greetings exchanged the little group smiled at each other, before Pete and Mary launched into an update on family gossip, with Maggie assisting when Pete got things wrong or left out a juicy titbit. John smiled, and listened, his eyes lazily scanning the church, forever the soldier. A teenage girl approached, dragging a much younger girl behind her.
"Mum, Dad, Stephanie wants to light a candle for Grandpa. I want to too. Can we please light a candle? We need two pound coins. Perlllleeeeaaaassse."
"Bethany, Stephie, we're talking. I raised you better than to be so rude, barging in like that."
John spoke up. "Maggie, would you like me to help. The candles are only over there. I'll take them, if you like."
"Oh John, would you? Thank you. Now girls, this is Uncle John. He is Aunty Mary's boyfriend. You go with him and he'll help you light the candles. And be good."
"Yes Mum."
One pair of blue eyes looked up at him, whilst the other remained firmly on the floor. Bethany, the older of the two, was only a few inches shorter than him, almost of a height with Mary. She wore her dark strawberry blonde hair in a long plait down her back, picked out with tiny fabric daisies, matching the pattern on her white dress. She greeted Uncle John with all the confidence of youth. Her younger sister, Stephanie, wore grey trousers and a long green jumper patterned with golden flecks. The cuffs were pulled down over her wrists and scrunched tight in her palms. She kept her light brown hair in a long bob, the fringe clipped back with a plain gold clip to keep it from flopping over her eyes. John suspected the clip would disappear shortly, the better for the shy child to hide, at least a little.
John stuck out his hand, shaking Bethany's in greeting. "Hello Bethany. I'm John. It's my very great pleasure to meet you. Do you prefer Bethany of Beth?"
The teen glowed. "Oh, Beth would be great. My friends all call me that. I tried to get Mum and Dad to call me Beyoncé, but they said no. When I was little they called me Bee, but I haven't be called that in ages. Not since I grew up." Both John and Bethany looked a little sad, for different reasons, but with the same cause.
"Well, if you like, it would my honour to call you Bee. Would you like that?"
The girl brightened. "Yes please Uncle John. Call me Bee."
"Then Bee it is. And what about you Stephie? What shall I call you?"
"I'd'know. Don't mind." The tiny voice was barely a whisper, aimed straight at the timid child's shoes.
John crouched down, dropping low enough to almost be in the girl's eye line. "Hey Stephie, no need to be shy of me. Not if you don't want to be. I'm delighted to meet you. You can call me Uncle John. John, or even Oi You if you like." That got a snort of surprise from the youngster.
"Good, Oi You it is then. At least for now. And how about I call you Hey Fluffy. Is that OK?" A small smile and a little nod, head still bent to the floor, but eyes raised a little to glance at John through eyelashes before dropping back to the floor. "Excellent. When we know each other better we'll sort out better names, but this works fine for now. Right, someone wanted to light candles for Grandpa Pierre. Am I right? Good. So come along Bee and Hey Fluffy, let's get those candles lit." John reached out his hands, one girl attaching herself to each.
Bee broke the brief silence. "Our big brother's called Pierre. Daddy said he was named after Grandpa."
"Really. I bet your Grandpa was very proud. I met your Grandpa once, a long time ago. He was a very nice man. I liked him a lot. I bet he used to make you laugh. What do you remember best about him?"
Mary watched the three head across the church, a smile on her face. Pete and Maggie both paused in their conversation too, pleased at the sight.
"He's good with kids."
"Yeah he is, and the answer's still no before you ask. You were right back then Pete, about him, about us. I think there's enough nieces and nephews without adding to the brood."
"Hey, just checking sis. I know kids are not what you want, and if he feels the same then it's all good isn't it."
"Yeah, well he's never seen kids in his future either. I think he's seen too much horror to want to bring a child into this world even if there was the will. Doesn't stop him caring for the ones who are here already though. He'll make a great Uncle, you wait and see."
"Well, looks like he's already made friends with Stephie. That's pretty amazing in itself."
-0-0-0-
The service lasted an hour. There was no time for socialising as everyone headed to the tennis club, either for the loos, the bar or both.
John and Mary met up with Pete and Maggie in the club car park, their car disgorging children onto the gravel.
"Hey, Pierre, come back here and say hello to your Aunt and Uncle."
A tall lad of fifteen, dark like his father and already showing the broad frame that favoured the Morstan men, slid to a halt as he dashed for the club house door. He turned, a little sulkily, dark hair falling in his eyes. Mary tightened her grip on John's hand when he gave a slight gasp at the image of a dark curl falling over sulky eyes. She knew that those little things, that really bore no resemblance to Sherlock at all, were enough to jar loose a memory and cause a stab of pain in her partner. She felt for him, hoping that soon that ragged part of John's soul could be healed. She would do all she could, but she knew it needed Sherlock to make the final repair. He just needed to get his arse home in one piece. What that meant for her, for them, at this stage she didn't know. But however it turned out, she wanted John whole.
"Pierre Morstan, get your lazy backside over here and say a proper hello to your Aunt."
The sulky teen approached, sticking out is hand. Mary grabbed the proffered hand, tugging the boy forward into a hug. "You're not too big for a hug and a sloppy Aunt-kiss young man. It's in the rules for Nephews and their Aunties. Nephews must be all standoffish and shy, Aunts must hug so tight it breaks ribs and leave a big lipstick mark on Nephew's cheek, then Nephew gets to whine 'ohh Aunty' before blushing up to his ears."
John and Pete were trying to stifle their laughs as Pierre finally gave in, dropping his sulky teen demeanour and giving Mary a grin. Wrapping his arms round Mary's waist he returned the hug, turning his head to better present his cheek. "Go on Aunt Mary, do your worst. Although you're not actually wearing lipstick so I think you broke the rules already."
"Smart alec!. I'll borrow some off your Aunt Jackie later just to get you. This is your Uncle John by the way. John Watson, meet Pierre Morstan."
Pierre's eyes lit up as he shook John's hand. "John Watson, like Dr John Watson? The blogger."
All the adults tensed. Pierre continued, oblivious, in all his fan-boy enthusiasm. "Wow, you're amazing. Well both of you. And that Moriarty's a bastard …"
"Pierre!"
"Sorry dad, but he is. Telling all those lies about Sherlock Holmes. I'm so sorry about what happened. You know, when I get a bit older I want to help. I want to help you bring down Moriarty. There's a whole load of us at school. We've been trying to piece it together but it's hard because all the papers print lies. But if you ever need us, you call. We all believe in Sherlock Holmes. We really do."
John's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he finally finished shaking the enthusiastic boy's hand. He smiled, a little weakly, but still with genuine affection. "Thank you Pierre. That's good to know. And I'll keep your offer in mind, although I would ask you not to go investigating yourself. Sherlock was the best, despite what the papers say, but Moriarty is a genius too, but evil with it. He doesn't care who he hurts or what he destroys. He has no conscience. He feels no guilt. Please don't get involved in something even experts can't handle. And I'd appreciate it if you kept my identity a secret, even from your friends and cousins, especially today. This is Siobhan's day. Perhaps when you're older we can have a talk, but until then I trust you to keep my secret."
Pierre drew himself up, a solemn look on his face. "Of course Uncle John. I promise. I won't tell a soul, not until you say I can."
"Good lad."
Pete gave permission for his son to join his cousins in the hall. Maggie called out from the back seat of the car. "Pete, can you help. Stephie refuses to leave the car."
John turned round, winked at Mary then called out. "Hey Fluffy!"
A little voice answer "Yes Oi You?"
Maggie and Pete stared at each other in disbelief.
"Come out here my lady. We've got cake and ice cream to eat and I'm not bringing it out to the back seat of a car when we can eat it in the warm."
"Oh good, cake!" The door on the opposite side from Maggie opened, and a bundle of childish exuberance burst out. John had grabbed Mary and made his way to the front of the car. He looked down at the girl with a smile and stuck out his other hand, feeling small fingers curling round his. Closing his grip he escorted the two ladies into the hall, leaving Pete and Maggie staring after them in bewilderment.
"Oi You?"
"Hey Fluffy?"
"Well, if it works I'm not arguing."
-0-0-0-
John and Mary joined Pete and Maggie in a quiet corner of the hall, taking over a table. They were soon joined by Jackie and her husband, Barney. Barney had hold of twins aged about five, whilst Jackie held a baby a little over a year old.
"Hi John, good to see you again. God, it's been what, eighteen years. This is my husband, Barney Walker, these horrors are Stephen and Sophie, and this little one is Nicola."
Barney and John shook hands once he'd managed to seat the twins and handed them paper and crayons. "Good to meet you John. Our oldest two are around here somewhere. Chloe's nine and Archie's seven. If you hear a crash that'll be one of ours."
A short while later, Jenny appeared pushing the sleeping Siobhan in her pram. Luckily, fear of waking the baby forced Jenny to modify her greeting to a muffled squeal, arms flung wide before dragging John into a hug. "John, it's wonderful to see you again. I'm so glad you could come. And you're back together with Mary. That's wonderful. You two always looked so right together. Danny's over there somewhere corralling Caitlin and her friends. Oh, Jackie, Archie's with Michael and Leon. Mum's around here somewhere. She's got Elaine, who'll be screaming for a change soon. We've managed to get her mostly potty trained, but when she gets over excited she forgets, so she's grumpy that she's back in the nappies today. Ohh, it's good to sit down. Today's been totally mad."
Jenny's talking was silenced when a hand tugged on John's sleeve and a voice said "Oi You?"
Jenny looked from Stephie, to John's smiling face to Pete and Maggie's unconcerned expressions. She expected the child to be reprimanded for being rude. Instead John turned and said softly, "Yes Hey Fluffy?"
"Can I have a drink please?"
"Of course you can."
John looked to Pete and Maggie, asking permission. They both nodded. "Well alright, come along then. Do you know what you want?"
As John and Stephie walked to the bar, Jenny and Jackie looked to their siblings for an explanation.
"What can we say, she likes him. She wanted to light a candle for Dad. John offered to take her, and next thing I know she's talking and calling him Oi You. He even got her out of the car, just by calling for her. You know it normally takes a crow bar to shift her if she's got to meet people. They just seem to have clicked."
"But wasn't he mixed up with …"
Mary cut her off straight away. "Yes, and we don't mention it. It's too raw. And before you say anything about 'no smoke without fire', I'll just remind you that the papers prints lies and nothing sells like a good smear campaign. And that's what this was, a smear campaign by a criminal mastermind against good men who were trying to bring him down. I mean they caught him red-handed in the Jewel House of the Tower of London sitting on a throne with the crown on his head and it all on CCTV. And they still found him unanimously not guilty after almost no deliberation. Talk about rigging a jury. So no, you don't talk about it, either in front of him or behind his back, and you certainly don't talk in front of the children because they will repeat something and I will never forgive you. Are we understood?"
Jenny nodded mutely. Just then Siobhan whimpered for her next feed, distracting Jenny as she rummaged in her baby bag for a bottle. Barney offered to nip to the bar for some hot water to heat the formula, taking a drinks order for everyone at the table with him.
Pete leant across to throw an arm round Mary's shoulder. "It's alright sis. It'll be fine." Mary chewed her lip, concerned at what the rest of the day would bring.
John returned to the table, escorting Stephie who carried a rather full glass of lemonade in two hands, her face a study in concentration. John carried a tray of assorted drinks, whilst Barney followed behind with a similarly ladened tray.
Stephie smiled with satisfaction as she carefully placed her drink on the table, not having spilt a drop.
"Well done Hey Fluffy. God job. Are you going to sit up here between your Aunt Mary and me?"
"Yes please Oi You. Look Aunt Mary, I didn't spill any."
"No you didn't. Well done."
The conversation continued around the table. Plates of food were collected from the buffet and cheerfully consumed. More drinks were purchased. Children of different ages appeared and disappeared as the mood took them. Danny arrived at some point, several children in tow, joining them at the table with a tired huff and shooing the children back into the fray.
Mary tapped John on the shoulder, her eyes flicking into the room. "Incoming."
John looked up. Theresa Morstan was approaching the table dragging a wailing Elaine behind her.
"Oh Jenny, I think Elaine is ready for a change. Shall I or will you do it?"
"Thanks Mum, I'll take her. Here you take my seat and spend some time with your latest granddaughter."
Danny leapt up to get his mother-in-law a drink, whilst she settled herself into her seat, appropriately at the head of the table. She leant over the pram looking at her sleeping grand-daughter. Without looking up she suddenly asked. "Well, are you going to make an honest woman of her this time?"
All conversation at the table stopped. Some looked uncomfortable, others were resigned to their Mother's outrageous behaviour.
"I don't know Theresa. May I still call you Theresa? We haven't discussed it yet. But then that's between us isn't it."
"I just wondered. I'm surprised she took you back after you deserted her last time."
Mary looked mortified. "MUM!"
John wasn't fazed at all. He'd dealt with far worse that Mrs Morstan. "No-one took anyone back, just as no-one deserted anyone. I told you when we last met that Mary had plans for her life that she wanted to follow. Well, so did I. We both knew that and we lived our lives accordingly. We never stopped being friends. Now fate has brought us back together again. At the moment we don't know where we are heading, but we're both looking forward to taking our time finding out."
"Huh, it's all very well you saying you'll take your time, but Mary's is running out."
Everyone looked to Mary in horror wondering what their Mother knew that Mary hadn't shared, all thinking the worst. Theresa Morstan carried blithely on, secretly pleased at the upset she'd caused.
"She's nearly 40. Her chances to have children are nearly gone. And you're talking about taking time."
Everyone around the table relaxed as they realised that Mary wasn't dying of some life threatening illness, but was instead the victim of their mother's obsession with women only being fulfilled once they had children. Pete shook his head is disbelief.
"Oh for god's sake Mum, I don't want kids, I've never wanted kids! Why can't you get it into your head. I'm one of the leading experts in my field in the world and you think the be all and end all is my producing babies. Well listen to me one last time. I AM NOT HAVING CHILDREN!"
Mary's increasing anger and volume had gradually silenced the entire room. Her final shout had stilled the tongues of the few who had remained oblivious. All eyes were on the table in the corner.
Theresa Morstan didn't know when to let things alone. She never had. She knew she was right and nothing would stop her from having her way. "Well you're wrong. I know you. All this medical stuff, just because you couldn't find a man …"
"ENOUGH!" John stood. He hated making a scene and certainly not in front of Mary's family, but he could not sit by and listen to this woman undermining his girlfriend. "Mrs Morstan, with the greatest respect, you have no idea what you're talking about. Mary is brilliant. She is an excellent doctor and teacher. She has saved more lives than I can count, including my own. She is amazing, and she certainly has never needed a man on her arm to make that happen. She did it all by herself. I am proud of her beyond belief. If you can't see how wonderful your daughter is then I feel sorry for you. If you really think that only a husband and children completes a woman, any woman, then I despair that any of your daughters grew up to achieve anything with their lives. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take Mary outside. I'd appreciate it if you didn't follow. I think we both need a few minutes privacy, don't you."
John lead an ashen and shaking Mary away towards the bar and the small garden outside. Theresa looked annoyed. She stood to follow but was pulled up short by her son's hand on her arm. "No Mum. Sit down and stay there. They need some time without you interfering."
"But …"
"No. You know what John said is true. Mary has never wanted children. She never even wanted to get married. She's always walked her own path and you should respect that. She told you a long time ago about herself and what she wanted from life and you chose to ignore it. John and Mary are good for each other. They always have been. Dad saw it and so did I. We just needed to let them be to live their own lives. Now it's your turn. Do what Dad would have wanted. Leave Mary and John alone."
The Morstan Family
Pete and Maggie
1996 Pierre
1998 Bethany
2002 Stephanie
...
Jackie and Barney Walker
2001 Chloe
2004 Archie
2006 twins, Stephen & Sophie
2010 Nicola
...
Jenny and Danny O'Keeffe
2005 Michael
2007 Caitlin
2009 Elaine
2011 Siobhan
To those of you who have left reviews of have followed or favourited this story, I thank you. To those of you who have read these scratchings, I thank you. Your time and contribution is very much appreciated. If you wish to leave reviews or constructive criticism, please do. Your input is always valued and an encouragement to continue.