"How can you still be writing lists?" Sherlock asked John exasperatedly two days later. John was sat at the table that Sherlock often commandeered for his science experiments, surrounded by about twelve pieces of paper, each one containing a separate list.
"What do you mean Sherlock? I've got so much to plan for!" John ran his pen free hand through his hair and stared down at the list he was currently working on.
"How?" Sherlock said simply, "Clara is dealing with all of the funeral arrangements; Mycroft is dealing with the adoption papers, what else needs to be dealt with?"
"I know, I know… But I still have a lot of things to do. Hopefully if the adoption papers are accepted then I'll be able to bring Innes home soon – but I don't have anything for him, so I'll need to get clothes, and a cot, and all those sort of things!" John replied. "And I want to be sure that Clara has everything she needs to sort out the funeral arrangements, and…" John continued, increasingly over the past couple of days John had stopped trusting other people with important things to do – it was like he didn't trust them to do it right, so he wanted to do it himself or at least oversee to make sure it was done properly. "I need to find us somewhere else to stay, because I don't want to inconvenience you with a baby and all…"
"John, will you stop babbling?" Sherlock commanded suddenly, John stopped talking but his eyes looked hurt from the abruptness of Sherlock's words. "You don't need to worry about finding somewhere else to live, I don't mind you bringing Innes here – it's not going to inconvenience me at all."
"But…" John started.
"Not unless you want to leave that is." Sherlock cut over him and John closed his mouth once more. "As for everything else, all the equipment you'll need and stuff, leave that with me for a little while and I'll see if I can sort anything out."
"Okay." John agreed, more out of not wanting to be told off by Sherlock any more than agreeing with him.
"Let me make a few calls, alright?" Sherlock requested, John nodded in agreement."
John checked his watch as Sherlock left the room, he couldn't help but feel uncertain when Sherlock began offering to help… shuffling the paper around in front of him, he wondered whether he had been wise to allow Clara to do all of the funeral arrangements… She had spent probably the most time with Harry since childhood, but John still wasn't sure whether it should have been him sorting out his sister's final affairs. Clara would surely contact him if there was anything that she wasn't sure about. Clara had probably thought that she was doing John a favour for him, by trying to take some of the pressure off of him – but in an odd way it just made John feel worse… At least being occupied with something – whether it was worry about Innes' adoption, or arranging the funeral – kept his mind focused on something that needed to be done, it wasn't left open and empty to thoughts and the realities around Harry's death. That was the reason for the lists too, the lists were an occupying weight in his mind ; enough to keep him from spending all his time considering Harry.
Sherlock made several phone calls out in the hallway, where John couldn't quite hear what he was saying, but the length of time that he spent out there was much longer than John had expected, In the end John decided to not wait for Sherlock to come back in, and set about making lunch and a cup of tea for himself. There appeared to be a kind of stony silence between John and Sherlock which John was unwilling to break. Once Sherlock reappeared into the room after making several phone calls he made no allusion to their previous conversation; John was worried slightly by this sudden relapse into what was an uncaring attitude. But the thoughts of Sherlock's change didn't occupy his mind for long, by the time he had finished his lunch his brain had turned back to Harry and the arrangements being made…
"All going well, Innes will be able to come home on Friday." Dr. Harper had caught up with John and Sherlock near the end of evening visiting time later that day. Sherlock had remained silently aloof since lunch time, which had infuriated John immensely, but he had too much on his mind to even consider getting angry.
"Friday?" John's head jerked up suddenly to look at Dr. Harper. "But I… I haven't got the adoption replies back, legally I can't take him home!" John sounded a little panicked.
"Really?" Dr. Harper frowned and retrieved the files hung on the end of Innes' cot. "No, our files say that legal adoption status was granted to you yesterday… Have you not heard this?" John's heart had leapt into his mouth at these words, his head whirling with a new set of confusion influx of thoughts. Why had Mycroft not contacted them when legal status was granted? Could Sherlock's oddly distant mood be down to him knowing that status had been decided?
"A – are you serious?" John stammered.
"Absolutely positive." He replied, "If it's been marked on our files, then it's the case." He nodded rather matter of factly, closing the file and replacing it at the end of Innes' cot.
"I… I… Well…" John was speechless.
"Congratulations!" Dr. Harper said to the clearly shocked John, "I thought you would have known, but I'm glad you're pleased about it! And you'll be able to take him home on Friday, assuming that nothing untowards happens between now and then."
John spent the journey home panicking, he talked relentlessly about what preparations he would need to make for Innes to arrive home to; Sherlock did not take part in this conversation, but stared rather blankly out of the window of the taxi.
Upon arriving home they found the front door of the flat unlocked, and when they climbed the stairs came upon a great pile of boxes.
"Sherlock!" A woman's voice rang out from the living room; a thin woman, with neatly cut dark hair and a kind face approached him. Sherlock was rather stiff, but allowed the woman to hug him briefly. "And, this is John!" John had no idea who this woman was, but suddenly found himself receiving a hug from her.
"Mother." Sherlock nodded a little curtly and John stared at him. "John, this is my mother. I rang her and explained the predicament you are in about not having the suitable equipment to bring Innes home."
"I brought as much as I could find!" She broke in cheerily. "Most of it is rather old, it all might need a clean – it was stored up in the loft, just in case Mycroft or yourself needed it." She gave Sherlock a quick searching look before continuing. "But neither of them have had any use for it, so it's best if it'll be used by you!" She beamed at John.
"I – thank you!" John exclaimed in surprise.
"Now, there's a cot here…" She began rummaging around among all the boxes, "And a moses basket too, oh – and there's clothes packed into most of the boxes, although they might be too big for your nephew, seeing as he was so premature… however Sherlock was a little premmie himself so some of his old baby clothes might fit Innes." She rambled on, still shuffling boxes.
"We can sort through all the boxes mother," Sherlock told her, as she untangled an old mobile with wooden star shapes and planets attached to it. John was smirking rather amusedly, remembering how he had once remonstrated Sherlock about his lack of knowledge of the solar system.
"I know… I mustn't really stay long… things to do!" She straightened up and gazed and Sherlock, as though considering him. "I wish you'd come to visit more Sherly, it'd be nice to see you back at the house… maybe you could come round now that you'll have Innes to look after!" She suggested cheerily; she patted her bag as though checking it was still there. "Right, well, I better be off."
"T – thank you Mrs. Holmes, I don't even know what to say!" John stammered in gratitude.
"Not at all, not at all!" She waved his thanks off, "You always know that you have a willing baby sitter if you ever need one!" She winked at him, and hugged her son once more before leaving.
Only after the sound of the front door closing did Sherlock move, crossing the room and collapsing into his armchair; he had a particularly sullen look on his face that plainly displayed that he did not want to talk about it. John, however, didn't care – he wanted to find out about the incident that had just happened.
"It's really nice that your mum brought all this stuff round." John said casually, opening the lid of the nearest box to find it full of neatly packed baby clothes.
"Hmmm…" Sherlock grunted, still staring in front of him.
"Did you ask her to bring all this stuff?" He continued, pulling out the baby grow on top – it was old fashioned, yet in perfect condition, a little musty but surely a wash would sort that out.
"Yes." Sherlock replied, "I knew she still had it, she has always been hopeful…"
"Hopeful of what?" John asked.
"What do you think? A grandchild!" Sherlock answered rather sarcastically. "It's never looked likely for her, not until now…"
"What do you mean 'not until now'?" John frowned over at Sherlock, who crossed his arms rather defensively over his chest and stayed silent for a moment.
"Mycroft has always been very conscious of what mother has expected from the two of us." Sherlock started lowly, "And conscious that neither of us looked set to fulfil those expectations. I think he felt guilty that she believed that she had produced two sons who didn't seem interested in family. It's nothing to do with her actually, it's my father who-" Sherlock cut off abruptly, and John noticed a dark shadow in his eyes which had just become more obvious. "Anyway, Mycroft has been telling tales." He finished very abruptly.
"What do you mean 'telling tales'?" John pushed, he hated it when Sherlock spoke entirely in riddles.
"About us…" Sherlock mumbled so quietly that John almost couldn't hear him, he was gazing very determinedly at the floor now – averting his eyes from John.
"Us?" John questioned, Sherlock sighed heavily.
"About the type of our relationship…" Sherlock explained and when John continued to look rather confused, he added: "Like 'more than just friends'."
"More than just friends?" John repeated blankly, Sherlock gave a curt nod and John noticed that a dull flush had crept up Sherlock's face which made John stare at him in disbelief. "Like 'boyfriends'?" Sherlock didn't reply at all, he just looked feebly at John, for the first time John seemed to have stumbled into a situation that left Sherlock speechless. "And your mum thinks that… haven't you corrected her?"
"I've tried." Sherlock mumbled, "But she seems to listen to Mycroft more than me, she always did." Sherlock sounded a little grumpy, then very abruptly Sherlock changed tack: "Shall I help you unpack the boxes?" His voice had sprung back to the way it usually sounded; he pushed himself up from his chair and lifted the lid from one of the boxes. "We could sort everything into categories, you know: clothes, cot, toys…"
"Yeah… yeah, that's a good idea." John agreed, unnerved by Sherlock's sudden rush to change the subject. Sherlock's family's perception of him had been something which had never crossed John's mind before – first of all, he hadn't ever heard Sherlock mention his parents, and he had assumed that they weren't in contact – so how could they possibly know about John? But it now seemed like this lack of contact was due to Sherlock. As they sorted piles of baby grows and pyjamas and socks, and sorted out old soft toys John let his mind wonder endlessly about the fact that Sherlock's mother considered him and Sherlock to be "more than just friends" and what that really meant.
A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!