Chapter 3- Someplace New

"Hungry?" Sherlock asks John after more than two hours of complete silence during which they both pretended to be reading, but were mainly deep in their own trains of thoughts.

"Hmm?" John doesn't bother to raise his head from the newspaper, even though he has been staring at the same word for at least a minute.

"Are you hungry, John?" Sherlock asks again, rises to his feet and looks at John nervously. He starts pacing impatiently in the living room, as he always does when he can't totally control all his trains of thoughts.

"Why? Are you about to try cooking again? Because if that's the case, I think that Emily and I will order some Chinese." John still hasn't lifted his head from the newspaper, refusing to let Sherlock look at him properly. He knows that if he let him, Sherlock would know exactly what he's thinking about, just as always. Sherlock stops pacing after he understands that being annoying won't get John to pay attention, so he tries a different approach, more direct one.

"No, John, I think we should go out. You obviously have some questions, and I have some of my own, for that matter. You want to talk this through, right?" John finally glances at Sherlock, but he looks doubtful and worried about what Sherlock just offered. He knows that they need to talk in order to make things right again, but he is terrified of what he might hear from Sherlock, and what he would say in return. He tells himself to be a man and nods hesitantly.

He folds the newspaper and takes out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock folds his arms on his chest, figuring John is going to be as slow as always, and he can't even rush him, because he is supposed to be nice. He comes to the conclusion that he hates to make people love him, and that trying so hard isn't really his forte, but he changes his mind again when he sees John smiling at him. He loves and hates John's smile at the same time, and that's even more irritating.

"Calling Diana, she's Emily's babysitter," John explains as he dials her number and waits for her to pick up. Sherlock snatches the phone from his hand and hangs up before Diana can answer; John looks at him confused, so Sherlock explains.

"No need for her, John, I already asked Molly if she'd mind keeping an eye over her. She is on her way over as we speak. Besides, it's only for dinner, and Molly is a wonderful cook; I'm sure she is adequate enough to make Emily something she'd like."

John can't help himself and smiles broadly. Sherlock is being considerate for the first time since he has known him. That's something he can easily get used to, but knows he probably shouldn't keep his hopes up. The knock on the door cuts his thoughts sharply and he smiles even wider when Sherlock goes to open the door, and he sees Molly standing in the doorway, with a light pink shirt and a pair of jeans. She looks beautiful and fragile as always, and her face turns into a deep shade of pink when she looks at Sherlock. Pinker than her shirt, actually.

"Oh, Molly, so nice of you to be here. Please, come in," Sherlock says and opens the door widely, as an invitation. She nods, but barely able to look at him again; John notices and stares at her curiously.

He forces himself to get up from the warm armchair and walks toward the blushing woman.

"Molly," he says and spreads his arms for a hug, "so lovely to see you again, it's been over 2 years, right?" She hugs him and he can feel she is actually shivering. Now he is sure he's missing something.

"Yes, I believe so. You look good, John, haven't aged a bit," she pats his shoulder and smiles genuinely. At least she is able to look at him, John thinks to himself and smiles back. He doubts her statement but feels flattered anyway and can't help but appreciate the way she looks even more beautiful since the last time he saw her. He may not have changed a lot, but she has, and for the best.

There's a strange silence and the air becomes tense as Molly still won't look at Sherlock, at least not directly, and John can't quite figure out what's going on that he is missing. Then, he notices the way Sherlock looks at Molly, and the way she blushes even further at his staring, and it hits him shockingly.

"You slept together." It isn't a question, and no one even tries to deny. Molly just shuts her eyes with embarrassment, and Sherlock smirks dismissively. They keep standing in the living room; John staring at Sherlock staring at Molly, who tries to overcome the embarrassment.

"Where's the little one?" Molly finally asks, breaking the awkward silence, which makes John remember why she's here in the first place.

He escorts her to Sherlock's room but he can't seem to stop thinking about the fact that she slept with Sherlock, when he was sure that Sherlock kept everyone away from him. He didn't think it was just him that Sherlock ditched, but it certainly seems to be the case. He should be happy for her, really, after all those years she's been in love with him, it's about time that something happened. Still, he would have preferred that he wasn't the only one Sherlock kicked out of his life. Nevertheless, Molly is acting too strange to deduce that things ended well between her and Sherlock, and John just takes it as a bit of consolation.

When he introduces Molly to Emily, Emily looks at him doubtfully, and he can't help but smiles as his daughter holds out her hand to shake Molly's.

"John, are you coming?" Sherlock yells from the living room and John waits until he sees both reassuring smiles of Emily and Molly to leave the room and join Sherlock at the hall outside the flat. He locks the door behind them and smiles to himself when he hears Emily's laughter from inside the flat.

They walk silently, side by side. John follows Sherlock quietly, and doesn't even bother to ask where they are going, because he truly doesn't give a shit. He isn't that hungry anyway, and Sherlock already knows what kind of food he likes, so no need to worry. He can trust Sherlock about that with his eyes closed.
They walk together for about 20 minutes until they get into Upper Berkeley Street, and then to number 51, where there's a nice restaurant called "The Portman."
John has been here several times, but always for some sort of special occasion.

. He didn't expect something new, he expected Sherlock to take him to Angelo's or something like that, but not anything new.
Apparently, Sherlock even booked a table for them and good for that because this restaurant is crowded enough to make him feel a bit claustrophobic. They sit in front of each other in awkward silence and John starts to move uncomfortably in his seat because of Sherlock's piercing stare.

"I'll begin then, shall I?" Sherlock asks and John just smiles at him as encouraging him to start. He is sure though that the conversation just needs a little kick, and from there he could finally say everything that's been on his mind ever since that time 3 years ago. Finally, he will get to use his speech, and that makes him very, very, happy.

Sherlock takes in a hissed breath and starts talking.
"Okay, John, I'm sorry," he mumbles and continues quickly when he sees John frowns. "I've thought about this moment many times, how I am going to explain everything that has happened and all the reasons I did what I did, but I came to the conclusion that it doesn't really matter. I am sorry for everything, but I don't regret it even for one second. I am sorry for hurting you and your wife, ex wife, but I did what I had to do. Do you understand?" Sherlock asks hesitantly, because he has a feeling that not only does John not understand; he is furious with every word that Sherlock has just said, and damn—he is completely right.
"I understand, of course I understand. I understand that you're a huge dick and a lousy friend!" John begins to lose his temper, and fuck it; it's barely been two seconds. "You're sorry but you're not sorry? Really? If you had your reasons, then I want to hear them! You kicked me out, Sherlock, you ignored me, and you ditched me when I needed you the most. You were my best friend, and you just decided one day that you didn't want me around anymore, and you think that 'I'm sorry' will do? Think again, genius!" John is yelling and the whole restaurant is staring at him, but he doesn't care. It wasn't even his speech. Oh, for god sakes, he should try to relax. Sherlock puts his hand over John's in order to try and calm him down, but John takes his hand from Sherlock's grip and stares at him with wide, mad eyes.
"Don't you touch me, Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock is trying to hide how much he has been offended by the hatred in John's tone, but John notices nevertheless and he looks at Sherlock softly again. He forces himself to calm down as he watches Sherlock order wine for the both of them.

"Okay, Sherlock, I'm sorry I burst out like that, but can you listen to all I have to say?" Sherlock stares at him for a few seconds before he nods and he looks more tense than ever. John takes a few deep breaths before forcing himself to smile and starts to spit out his long-prepared speech.
"When I came to your apartment 3 years ago, and you just told me to leave, I was sure you were simply having one of those moody days of yours, so I didn't give it too much thought. But when I came again a month later with Emily, and you just ignored us, I started to realize that something was probably terribly wrong, and that I ought to help in some way. I ran after you, called you, and did everything I could, I never tried so hard for anyone in my life, but I've tried for you, because I didn't want to lose you again. You were, Sherlock, and still are, truthfully, my best friend, and the thought of living without you again just ripped me from the inside. I know, sentiment isn't really your thing, but please, do try to understand.
I promised myself I wouldn't let you go after the fall, yet it came to the point that something had to be done. And you can't say I didn't try- for the first year all I did was run after you, but I had to give up, even though it broke my heart to do so. All those years, all I could think about was what could possibly be the reason for you to kick me out like this, what could I have possibly done to make you want to not talk to me ever again. And it broke me, Sherlock, it really did." The waiter brings up their glasses and pours some French red wine into them. John stops talking and is just staring at Sherlock who seems terribly miserable and makes John feels a little bit uncomfortable. He takes a sip from the red wine and lets himself enjoy the taste as Sherlock opens his mouth to finally put the cards on the table.

"I admit that this might not be the brightest thing I've ever done, but it was necessary at the time. I received a letter from Moriarty that passed a pretty clear message about what he intended to do to you and Emily. The letter was very explicit and utterly distressing, but it made me think about the whole situation in a different way. You see, up until that moment, I was sure that even after you had Emily, you and I would keep solving cases together and live life as we had lived it so far. The letter, well, the first letter, made me see how wrong I was. I had to find a way to protect both of you without putting you all in even greater danger. The quickest thing was to make James think you were no longer a part of my life. He had his doubts at first, but it worked, and for that I'm not sorry. I am sorry for not sharing this information with you sooner, as James has not been seen over the last year, but I'd take not talking to you any day if that meant you and Emily would stay safe." Sherlock raises his glass and drinks half of it in one swallow. He is clearly uncomfortable with what he just said, but John just keeps thinking it was amazing. Truly overwhelming, actually.

He knows he can't stay mad with Sherlock forever, especially not after he said that he did all that to protect him and Emily. If it were any other day, John probably would stay convinced that Sherlock was just lying to him, trying to manipulate him for Sherlock's own sake. Today, on the other hand, John has a strong feeling that not only is Sherlock telling the truth, he also suffered from his actions, and that makes John feel a little bit better, despite himself.
John looks at the expressionless man in front of him, and remembers how many times in the last 3 years he had prayed for a moment like this; a moment of just him and Sherlock. Of talking about anything without the constant worries that he might say something wrong. He doesn't have to restrain himself with Sherlock, and he knows that Sherlock feels the same. It always has been honesty and loyalty that kept them together, and the amazing part is that even after almost 3 years, that is what still keeps them in each other's hearts.

"Then, you are sorry, right?" John asks and raises his glass, too, yet does not drinks from it. He smells the wine and lets the aroma wash his cells with the scent of something so refreshing.
"Yes, I am sorry, John." Sherlock looks at him amused and lets a crocked smile to show on his face.
"To us then, to forgiveness and friendship," he says and drinks the good wine. He starts laughing when he sees Sherlock looking at him, stunned and surprised. Sherlock quickly recovers though, and he smiles broadly at John, as if he can't believe his good fortune.
"Oh, come on, Sherlock, we can keep talking about this but it won't get us anywhere. I appreciate the reason you did what you did, and that doesn't mean I completely forgive you, but let's at least enjoy tonight, all right? I'm sure we'll get on each other's nerves soon, and we will talk about it repeatedly, but this is my first night out in a long time, let me have that. Sounds good?" Sherlock has to push the urge to take John's hand again, and it seems like he just cannot stop smiling. John acts exactly the same and calls the waiter who brought them the wine.
"I think Chivas will be good for now, thank you. Bring the whole bottle." Both Sherlock and the waiter look at John surprised, and John just smiles wickedly and licks his lips.

"What are we celebrating tonight, gentlemen?" Before Sherlock starts telling the waiter that it's none of his damn business, John stops him and says instead: "We are celebrating the fact that I'm getting a divorce from the devil, have a beautiful daughter, and the fact that I'm here with my best friend. He is celebrating the fact that he finally got laid, that his arch enemy is alive, and the fact that there are still serial killers out there. I don't know about you, but I think those are all damn good reasons to celebrate."
Shocked, the waiter looks at John and leaves, but Sherlock just laughs hysterically and he can't seem to stop.

John joins Sherlock's laugh until all the heads at the restaurant are turned to look at them, but even then, they don't really give a damn. The laughter releases all the tension between them in a way that makes John feel as if they are high.
They only stop laughing when the bottle of scotch arrives at their table, and they start to talk about whatever happened with them over the last three years; they skip the heavy and sad parts, and only talk about the great moments they had, and things they had done that they never thought they would. John talks constantly about Emily, and how much light she brought into his life. Sherlock, as usual, talks about bizarre cases he had.
Neither of them mentions the dark times, like when John stayed up all night because Emily had mono, or when he felt the creeping cold of loneliness in his guts when he missed Sherlock. And Sherlock doesn't talk about the way he returned to drugs when he missed John, or the time when he wouldn't go out of the apartment and wouldn't shower or eat or sleep for days.
There will be other nights to talk about that stuff, too, but right now all they can do is smile, and they refuse to let it go so quickly.

Two hours later, and the bottle is still full, aside from 400 ml. that stayed untouchable in their glasses. They didn't really need the alcohol to start talking, it was just the trigger, as a the matter of fact.
They are still laughing; John feels that it seems like there are too many stories to tell, and not even one percent of them were told. When John tells Sherlock about Emily's second birthday, Sherlock gets a phone call from a certain D.I. that John didn't even notice how much he has missed.
Sherlock tells Lestrade that he will be at the Yard in about 20 minutes and orders the bill.

"Double homicide in Hammersmith, looks like a murder and a suicide, probably isn't," Sherlock leaves the money and gets up from his chair. John is just staring at him, not sure what he is supposed to do. He knows what he wants to do, but he isn't sure of Sherlock's opinion on the subject.
"Are you coming, or do you want to spend your time with the idiot waiter?" Sherlock asks when he notices John doesn't move at all.
"Yes," John agrees immediately, because there is no way he is going to allow Sherlock to leave without him.
Sherlock smiles at him before dashing off, glad that he is going to be able to spend time with both his obsessions at once.
This is going to be fun.