*I'm so very sorry this took so long. For the past fee months, my life has literally been consumed by a production I was in. It was fantastic, but it took up all of my time.
Janie Watson lived by herself in the house she and her late husband had shared since they first got married. Her husband had died a few years ago from a stroke, her kids had gone off to live their lives, and she was left alone. She didn't mind too much. She had never been one who enjoyed big parties with lots of people, but she wouldn't some company now and then. She wished her kids would visit. But no, it was too late for that.
When Harriet had come out all those years ago, John had sided with his sister, but she had been forced to agree with her husband. She knew if she sided with the kids, he would leave her, and she couldn't bear that. Hamish Watson wasn't a particularly nice or loving man, but he was decent and he didn't abuse her or the kids. Jamie couldn't bear the thought of him going, so she sided with him. She never guessed how adverse the effect would be. Harriet had been kicked out, and John, disgusted by the weakness of his mother and the cruelty of his father's decision had fled to the army. The only contact she 'd had with either of her children since was a note from John years later letting her know that he was being deployed to Afghanistan.
Janie had just gone in the kitchen and put the kettle on when she heard a knock on the door. She hadn't been expecting anyone, not this early in the morning, so she hurried to the door and looked out the peephole. She flung open the door once she saw who was on the doorstep.
"John?" She asked, wondering why this man, who looked so different from the John Hamish Watson she had known, but was undoubtedly the same, was here after so many years without contact.
"Hey mum" He said as he stepped forward to pull her into a hug. They stayed locked in their embrace for a minute, which was long enough to bring tears of joy to Jamie's face. She pulled back, eager to reconnect with her son, and noticed that his face was a little blotchy and there was a glint of anger in his eyes.
"John, honey, what's wrong?" She asked, her concerned mom-ness coming through. John hesitated for a moment, then walked past her into the living room.
"Can we talk? You always used to give the best advice, and I could really use some now, Mom." John spoke, his voice a little scratchy. Just then the kettle whistled, startling both Watsons.
"Sure honey, just let me get you some tea, then we can talk."Janie assured. She bustled into the kitchen to get the tea, wondering what on earth would be bad enough to send John back here for advice, but praising the Lord that he had come here for advice. She walked back into the living room with the tea, set one cup down for herself, then handed the other to John.
"So, How are things." She asked rather awkwardly, as she didn't know much about her son and his life now. She wanted to get to know him though. Wanted to learn about his life, about him.
"Mom... let me start off with this. I am in a committed relationship- that is I think we still are- well it's complicated right now because- Oh hell! We had a huge fight this morning and I don't know what to do!" John fumbled, becoming quite distraught as he voiced his problem. Janie watched his son in concern.
"Oh Honey! It'll be alright. Who is the lucky lady?" She said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Well, mum, his name is Sherlock Holmes." John said, figuring it was best to just spit it out quickly. He was nervous about telling his mother this, as she had sided with his father all those years ago. Janie stared for a moment.
"You mean that detective whose been cleaning up London? Good On Ya John, he's cute!" She said, savoring the look of shock on her sons face.
"You- you mean you don't mind?" John asked, incredulous. Janie just gave a small smile and shook her head. John beamed and hugged her. When the two finally released each other, they sank into chairs on opposite sides of the small coffee table and cradled their cups of tea.
"So John,what happened. You look quite distressed." Janie coaxed.
"Oh hell! I'm not even sure anymore! Sherlock claimed that he doesn't need people, and that hurt my feeling and then he said he wouldn't change, not even a little and I was just so mad, because I love him so damn much and I just want to see him safe! But the obstinate git continues to put himself in danger and refuses to take small measures that would make me feel much better about his safety." John rambled. The dam of emotion had broken, and it was flooding out of his mouth at one time. Janie just took it all in, considering.
"Well, honey, if you really love him, you shouldn't want him to change, or try to make him change. Some people just can't be changed, and you can't let that phase you." Janie said patiently. At that moment, the doorbell rung piercingly. Both mother and son turned to the door, curious a to who could be calling. Janie got up to open the door.
"Mrs. Watson, I am Sherlock Holmes, and I need you to let me see your son. I understand I hurt him and he may not wish to speak to me at the moment, however, I very much need to talk to him."a deep voice resonated from the doorway.
"And what makes you think my son is here?" his mom replied, going on the defensive.
"It's okay, mum, I'll talk to him." John found himself saying. Janie glanced back at him, but stepped out of the doorway. The Sherlock rushed in past her into the living room.
"John." he breathed at the same time as John said "Sherlock."
"I'll just be in the kitchen, John. Let me know if you need anything." John's mother called. The two men stood, looking at each other, then both at the same time said "I'm sorry." The both giggled after a pause of surprise.
"John," Sherlock said, grabbing onto said boyfriends hand, "I- I apologize. While there are many people I do not need, and never want to meet, you are not one of them. I do need you, always. And if I have to make a few minor adjustments to my lifestyle to keep you, so be it."
"No, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I should never ask you to change. You're fine the way you are. I love you the way you are," John retaliated, pausing briefly to kiss Sherlock's hand that was currently clasping his own, "Don't change, please don't stop being the wonderful. fantastic person you are." John followed up with a kiss directly to Sherlock's lips. He couldn't help but notice that Sherlock already had changed in some ways. The old Sherlock would never have taken his feelings and needs into account, and definitely would never have shown such malleability for another.
"Well, if you two are done snogging in my living area, perhaps you two would like to go out for dinner? I know of this lovely Italian place!" Janie interrupted.
This wasn't the last argument the couple had, nor was it the worst. But it was their first serious argument, one that could have ended them. But each man was able to get over his pride and admit that neither was perfect. With the resolution came the realization that they very much needed each other and should show it better. So that's what they did, just as soon as they got back to the flat.
All throughout the dinner, Sherlock had been mercilessly teasing John. He started by gently rubbing his partners thigh, slowly working up and down the leg, making John shiver every time Sherlock's hand approached his groin. Then in the cab on the way home, Sherlock had taken it a step farther by brushing over the slight bulge forming in John's pants, then full on palming the doctor's crotch through his trousers. It was all John could do to not moan obscenely, thus alerting the cabby to their back seat ministrations.
Once inside the flat, John wasted no time turning on Sherlock and locking him in a deep kiss, intent on revenge for the teasing. He ran both hands around the detective and into the back of the other man's waistband, grabbing two handfuls of perfect arse. Sherlock moaned, and ground his hips forward into John's sizeable bump. this distracted John just long enough for Sherlock to turn the tables, pushing John against the wall. The detective began kissing down John's neck, using lips and teeth and tongue. John couldn't help but rut right back against Sherlock. The army doctors whole mind was focused on that little bit of contact, that brilliant sensation. Which is exactly how Sherlock managed to get the handcuffs on him.