Author's Note:
Some Johnlock interaction. I'm sorry if some hearts have been destroyed while reading this. Thanks to everyone who's reviewing! It means the absolute world to me!
John answered with a slight wiggle in his chair, smiling tightly and showing the obvious worry he had for his fiancé. A large Styrofoam cup sat in front of him, steaming as he tilted it to take a sip of the coffee. He clearly hadn't showered, his face covered in dirt and his eyes bright in contrast to his skin. After a bit of shifting a bare shoulder flashed on the screen, his dog tags clicking together. "You alright?" He set the cup down and folded his arms on the table in front of him, studying Sherlock with a worried gaze. This wasn't good. Things like this never were.
Sherlock closed the door and sunk down into big black chair at the mahogany desk. "I have some news that is going to upset. Just please listen to everything I have to say and then you can have your turn, all right?" Suddenly he wished this was on the phone, because now he would have to look at John when he did this.
John stopped relaxing almost instantly, his arms sliding from the table and his lips pursed tightly. It felt like his chest was too tight, like somebody was stepping on it, and suddenly he wanted to end the call. This shouldn't be happening. He nodded numbly. Was he shaking? He didn't even know what Sherlock was going to tell him, for all he knew it could have been him just yelling at Sarah. Except he wouldn't so nervous. So scared. Sherlock was never like this which instantly meant, in John's mind, that something went horrendously wrong. "Okay," he stated with less confidence then he wanted.
Right. Okay. He could do this, right? Just start from the beginning, Sherlock told himself. "After the call with you ended, I got in a row with Mycroft. I left Mum's place upset. I had gotten a text message and dropped the phone. A car ran over it and I went to pick up the pieces like a git and almost got run over. I stumbled back in time but I hit my head and lost consciousness." He took a breath, not looking forward to this next part. "When I woke up, I had amnesia. I didn't know anything about myself. A doctor named Jackson took care of me. We talked about the ring around my neck and pictures found in my coat of you, that you had given me while at the hotel." Another breath, this one shakier. "It still didn't help with my memory at all. I didn't know who you were, or how I feel about you. Nothing. Just…emptiness…" Sherlock frowned at that but pressed on, "At some point Mycroft showed up. He had tracked me down, no surprise really. He told me who you were, what I did, that he was my brother. He wanted me to leave with him and come back to Mum's. I…" He cleared his throat. "I refused. I still didn't have any inkling who he was, myself, you…" The words were getting more difficult to come by now, "I had taken uh...erm a fancy to my doctor. I knew I was engaged but for whatever reason I didn't care. God John…I didn't care…" His voice had turned frantic at that point, because he found that part the most terrifying and horrifying part. "I guess he didn't either. We…kissed and got each other off…" He could no longer look at his fiancé, his gaze staring down at the desk now. "Shortly after my memory just suddenly came back, like some kind of switch had been flipped. I swear John, when I realized what I was doing…I stopped everything immediately…I'm sorry…" He trailed off and finally lifted his gaze once more and braced himself for whatever John had to say.
Sherlock's words hit John so hard that he had to lower his forehead to the table. No. No. He should be understanding because Sherlock didn't know anything when it had happened. John had cheated on Sherlock. And he wanted to lift his head and smile and tell Sherlock that it would all be alright. But it wasn't. They were engaged and some other man has touched his fiancé and got him off. Both of his hands moved to rest on the back of his head before he looked up and powerfully ran his am across the table, the cup of coffee flying off the table as he yelled. "Fuck, Sherlock!" His gaze locked on to the computer screen as he panted, mouth ajar, and tried to comprehend everything. What else did he say? The words were stuck in his throat and he was struggling to hide how wet his eyes suddenly were. The urge to pull the silver band away from his finger was so strong and he lifted his hands to twist it questioningly.
John's words made Sherlock cringe. "I'm sorry," he repeated miserably. With trepidation he watched his fiancé fidget with the ring on his finger. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. What else could he say at this point? He couldn't think of anything to make things all better. He supposed there wasn't anything.
John's instant reaction was to tell Sherlock that he wasn't sorry, that he wasn't really sorry because he wouldn't have done it. That was false. John was sorry everyday for what Sherlock had witnessed between he and Sarah. "Did you enjoy it, then?" He asked childishly. "He better than me?" His head tilted slightly to the right and his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Bigger than me? More submissive? Perfect?" He was shouting now, shaking as he clinched his hands into fists and slammed one against the table.
Sherlock shifted even more as the questions were thrown at him. His voice was quiet but he answered each one asked. "Yes, I liked it. Not better, different. I honestly don't know his size. He got off before I did anything…" He trailed off, hesitant to answer the next question. "If anything, I was the submissive... Not perfect, just different like I said." He looked away again, his shifting turning into squirming.
"You're not supposed to answer, damn it!" John shouted as he stood up, his bare chest and stomach now the main focus of the webcam. He started pacing in the small area, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. He turned back to the computer abruptly and fell back into his chair. "So what do we do now?" He asked harshly. "Do I forgive you and pretend it never happened? Do I pull my ring off and end this call and act like you didn't mean anything to me?" It shouldn't be such an issue because John had done the same thing and didn't even have the reason that Sherlock did.
What was the point in asking if he wasn't supposed to answer? Sherlock frowned in thought, not understanding. He glanced back up to the screen when the new questions came about. Was it okay to answer these? He was quiet a moment, but finally spoke. "I don't know. I guess it is up to you at this point." He wasn't sure if this was going better or worse than he thought it would. In some ways better but in others worse, he supposed. It was weird to be so timid and squirmy, this wasn't him.
John's shoulders relaxed slightly and he closed his eyes for a long moment. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes," he whispered. "I love you so much and I can't picture my life without you." His eyes opened slowly. It wasn't the fact that Sherlock cheated on him that caused the twist in his gut. The idea that somebody else touched his fiancé in such an intimate way caused him to feel overly protective. And helpless. From his current position he couldn't find that man and defend Sherlock's honor. He couldn't comfort Sherlock despite his rampaging emotions of hurt and anger. "And I did the same things to you, didn't I? Guess I deserve this." He kept his eyes locked intently on the table.
"I love you too John." Sherlock managed to finally still his body. He had to bite his tongue to prevent him from arguing that this was nothing like what had happened with Sarah. That what John had done was intentional and his was just an accident. If there hadn't been a loss of memory, none of it would have ever happened. Instead he was quiet for a long moment, as he watched his fiancé intently. He wished he could give the army doctor a tight hug. He was certain they were both in need of one. Finally he found his voice again, "Do you still want to get married?"
The question shocked him and his head jerked up. "Yes. Of course." His eyes narrowed and he bit his bottom lip. It was a reasonable question, he figured, given the way he just acted. His stomach was still twisted in knots at the idea of Sherlock writhing underneath some other man, panting and begging- No. Stop. Don't think. "Of course."
The faintest of smiles managed to find its way to his lips and Sherlock gave a nod his head. However, he couldn't help but feel anxious. Shouldn't he feel relieved right now? He frowned as he studied his fiancé and was about to ask what was wrong when he realized what a stupid question that would be. Maybe changing the subject would help? "I cleaned up the flat after the meeting with Sarah. I'm staying at Mum's tonight but I'll send you a picture of it tomorrow. You won't recognize it."
John took the conversation change with a smile, even managing to chuckle slightly. "Really? I-" The flat was clean? The thought was... Weird. Different. It would take a while to adjust. He had just gotten used to the mess Sherlock constantly left around. "For Amy?" He asked softly. The little girl coming into their lives, the daughter that John was never supposed to have, was showing him a whole new side to Sherlock. "Except your room?" An eyebrow raised curiously. "You can leave that. I like it that way. It reminds me so much of you."
Okay, there was the relief he had been looking for. Sherlock smiled back at John. "Yes for your daughter." The smile twitched slightly bigger. "I didn't touch my room yet. I will need to before she is born though, if you want the crib in our room. Sarah wants to stay over when the baby is born and help me. I'm not keen on the idea but Mycroft says it'll be good for both of us. As usual, my brother is telling me what to do…"
"Our daughter," John corrected almost instantly. "And you can keep it a tad messy, I'm sure. She will only be in the crib while she is in there." The talk of caring for Amy, of everything Sherlock had done for her, was causing his cheeks to flush in excitement. "Looks like we will have to shag on the couch." The joke helped John relaxed further and he lowered his head with a small laugh. "Oh, let her. She needs the help as much as you do. It will be good. That way I get more pictures of Amy as she grows. God, I will even be able to Skype and see her."
Things were going to be okay it seemed. He and John would be fine. Sherlock managed a real smile. The thought of sharing the flat with Sarah was annoying to him but he would do it for John. He had done a lot of adjusting for his fiancé he realized but he wanted to make things work so the effort was worth it. "I miss you." More so than usual, because for several hours he had been missing John completely and he felt like he needed to make up for lost time. Maybe they could squeeze in one meet, despite the last fiasco that happened when he had been there.
John smiled, genuine and warm, and just stared at Sherlock. "I miss you too," he replied softly. Civil. He needed to be civil and respectful and understanding. That was what married people did. If Sherlock could forgive him for shagging Sarah and then knocking her up while completely in his right mind then he should step up and forgive Sherlock. "So much. I want to be there right now taking care of you. How is your head?" He leaned closer to the computer screen to see if he could get a closer look. "Stitches or anything? Or just a smaller wound?" He absently placed his hand on the screen, sheepishly pulling back when he realized that doing so wouldn't make Sherlock's head move like he wanted.
"Uh…I'm not sure actually…" Sherlock touched his head tentatively. "No stitches. Stings a bit but I will be fine." He hadn't even thought about checking and probably wouldn't have if John hadn't inquired about it. He didn't want the conversation to be over so continued on with a new topic. "I'm going to be looking into getting office set up, for work. Rent out a whole building. Mycroft says he knows of place close to the flat and I'm going to look into it, tomorrow sometime probably." He relaxed comfortably into the chair finally, leaning back with his hands on top of his head, where it hadn't been cut, and his feet stretched out completely under the desk.
John fell back into his own chair like a gust of wind hit him. "The great Sherlock Holmes is moving his experiments out of 221B? It is not going to be home anymore!" He stated with a small giggle, high pitched as he had his mouth behind a hand. "I'm glad," his tone was serious as he nodded in agreement. "I think it's good. Maybe it will help you relax more. Definitely won't have to worry about heads in the fridge anymore." A small grin on his lips as his eyes scanned Sherlock's comfortable position with his bottom lip between his teeth. "Are you nervous?" His eyes locked on Sherlock and the smile slowly faded. "About Amy, I mean. Are you nervous?"
"Who says I will be doing the experiments there?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. "Nervous? No. Why would I be nervous?" He frowned a bit in thought, but he couldn't think of reason why he should be nervous like John asked. How hard could it be take care of a kid? "Are you nervous about it?" He asked the same thoughtful frown on his face.
"I don't know. You said that one time that you think I would be a great parent but I'm not inclined to think so." John glanced away from the computer screen for a moment and shrugged. A corner of his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth and his tongue quickly peeked out of his mouth. "I'm not so sure I'm going to be the best Dad, really. I mean, I didn't really have one in my life. What happens if she meets a bloke I don't really like? Or she has her first awful break-up and I can't handle it?" It was ridiculous, he knew, but the thought of caring for a child was slowly eating away at him. "On top of that she's half of me. Half of that blood is mine and I know I was a monster when I was child. And... you," his voice dropped off at the last statement and he swallowed hard. "It isn't fair to you."
Sherlock listened quietly and really wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know anything about kids really and he hadn't had what most people would consider a 'normal childhood.' It couldn't be that hard to figure out though? Yet, he didn't have an answer to any of the hypothetical questions. He wanted to repudiate what John had said last, but it was true. It wasn't fair. Sherlock was practically changing everything in his life to accommodate his fiancé's little girl. He wasn't upset about it but he wasn't thrilled either. "I'm sure you will do fine and life isn't fair John. Everything will work out, stay positive." No need to say Mycroft had just told him the same thing more or less.
"I wanted to make everything perfect for you," John blurted out. "I wanted to marry you and give you everything you never had and make you happy." And his accidental child wasn't exactly part of that plan. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "You deserve so much better than what I'm giving you so far." He dropped his head and gave it a small shake. "I don't want my mistake to ruin this. I want you to be happy."
Admittedly Sherlock was getting better at dealing with emotional situations but they still made him feel flustered and lost while he sought for the right words to say. He sat back up in his chair, leaning toward the screen a bit. "John, look at me. I am happy. You make me happy. That is all I really need."
John chanced a small glance at his fiancé. "You are completely changing your life for Amy," he whispered, his voice broken. Sherlock may have been happy in front of him but John knew, it was his job to know, that Sherlock wasn't exactly the happiest with the current arrangement. "I just wanted everything to be perfect. I may make you happy but will you feel like that when Amy is waking us up every few hours? Or when your experiments won't be in the kitchen or the living room?" He paused to take a deep breath and ducked out of view from the webcam, attempting to gather himself and calm his emotions. Sherlock still wasn't used to these emotionally charged situations.
Sherlock sighed. What was he supposed to say to that? Everything John had said was pretty much true. Words failed him, as they often did in these instances. He didn't know what to say to make everything okay again. He wasn't there with his fiancé to distract him either, so his default setting wasn't even an option right now. Eventually, he found words but he wasn't sure if they'd be helpful. "It will be an adjustment but it will be one for both of us. Together we can make it."
For being absolutely horrid in emotionally charged situations, Sherlock knew exactly what to say. John popped back into view with a weak smile. "Yeah." His head dropped for a moment. "Yeah, together." A small laugh escaped his lips and he reached a hand out to touch the computer screen. "You are perfect, d'you know that? Bloody perfect. I am the luckiest man alive."
Sherlock gave a small smile back, glad that his words seem to work. A smirk came next. "Yes, well I am the only consulting detective in the world. No room for errors on my end, obviously, so I have to be perfect." Usually, his cocky arrogance would get John to laugh and/or smile and that was exactly his intent this time around.
John laughed loudly as he shook his head. "Shove it," he joked smoothly. "You cocky bastard." There was a long pause and John took it to study his fiancé with silent contentment. Perfect was really the only way to describe him. "Do you think you can come out here again? Maybe a month before Amy is born? That would be another three months and I miss you," he flushed slightly. "I really miss you."
There it was. The smirk on Sherlock's face got bigger. He relaxed back into the chair, thoughtful for a moment as John's question. "Maybe, I hope so. There is a lot to do still and I don't know if Mycroft will give the clearance I need to go for a second trip. Especially if my dad has any say in it, then I will never get there." He sighed. It had been his own fault really; if he hadn't gone after John during the tunnel collapse then a second trip would be more viable. The only good thing that came of that incident was he had learned Moriarty's network was after John and that was being taken care of. Strange, that Sherlock would keep that from his fiancé and not the affair.
"What if we promise to stay in the hotel this time?" John asked hesitantly. They needed to see each other again before Amy was born, before everything changed. The idea of getting to see Sherlock again was going to keep him going. At this point he needed anything to boost his spirits. "I'm sure we will make it happen. I can convince Mycroft, I think. I know some things after being out here." He smirked proudly. "So... does your Mum like me then?"
"We'll see how things work out John. Hopefully we can." Sherlock replied. He was still distracted by the thought of all these people after John and he wasn't sure what his fiance knew that they would perceive as a threat. He would have to sit down and talk with Mycroft about that at soon. Depending on how the cleanup of Moriarty's network went, going to see John may not be the wisest of choices. With a smile he answered the last question. "Of course she does. She thinks you are 'adorable' as he she put it."
"I am not adorable," John replied with a growl, his eyes narrowing as Sherlock smiled. "I'm a normal bloke. There is nothing adorable about me." He lifted his arms for emphasis before glancing off screen and reaching out to grab another cup of coffee. He turned back to the computer as he took a sip. "If anybody is adorable in this relationship it's you. You are younger, clearly adorable applies to you." The cup was set down as John winced, wishing he could have a cup of coffee from the flat. For a moment he was tempted to ask Sherlock what the real reason was for him not being to come back to Afghanistan. Mycroft seemed more than happy to let them see each other and suddenly Sherlock was nervous. It was obvious something was wrong but they had managed to change the tone of their conversation to a lighthearted one and he didn't want to ruin it.
Sherlock grinned and shrugged. "Mum will more than likely continue to refer to you as adorable, so you might as well get used to it my dear doctor. And as far as me being adorable, oh I know. No need to tell me that." He smirked widely, his hands coming to rest behind his head once more.
"I need to stop telling you things like that. Your ego is big enough." John smiled and leaned back in his chair as well, the smile transforming into a smirk when he realized his bare chest could be seen on the screen. "Keeping yourself occupied? Any interesting cases as of late? Maybe I can blog about them from the base." He laced his hands behind his head to mirror Sherlock with a smug laugh.
Any cases? When the hell did he have the time to fit a case into all this mess? Sherlock hadn't been home for more than a couple days and in that time he had talked with Sarah, cleaned the flat, gone to his Mum's and had amnesia. Maybe John was just trying to keep the conversation going. He shrugged. "I'm not actively working on anything right now. Mycroft's shown me a couple photos and any information I deduce I'm guessing he passes along to Lestrade or whomever. I haven't been called in officially on them, so it's safe to assume I was correct the first time around with my deductions." He smirked and then added, "Not that it's surprising. I'm almost always right."
"No you're not. Baskerville, remember?" John chuckled and lifted his feet, letting his combat boots fall heavily against the table. "Turns out there wasn't anything in the sugar." The one and only time Sherlock had been wrong and John was going to make sure he used it to his advantage. "Keep smirking like that and I'm going to shag it off when I get back."
"Thus the keyword 'almost' John." Sherlock replied, the smirk still on his lips. He shifted slightly in his chair and then the smirk suddenly got wider. "I doubt that. Mum wants us to stay over at her place the day after the wedding." He couldn't help but laugh at the thought, because he knew it would make John nervous and stammer.
John's boots slid off the table and he choked on the air in his lungs. "She what?" He shook his head frantically, his cheeks a bright pink. "No. Why? W-We're going to be... and she would know... and h-hear!" The blush spread to the tips of his ears and he hid his face in his hands. Sherlock was doing it on purpose, wanted to watch him squirm, and he couldn't help his natural reaction. "Still gonna do it, just hold off until we are on our honeymoon."
This was nice. They didn't sit and talk like this often. Sherlock figured the two of them spent more time screwing around than anything else. Maybe it was because they had both known John would be away for awhile. "Well, we don't have to stay at my Mum's the day after the wedding. I'm sure if I explained it to her, she would understand." The smirk returned, clearly amused and even proud of himself.
"No, Sherlock!" John was grinning slightly despite the clear mortification on his face. "No. You can just politely tell her that we had already planned on staying at the flat... or something." He ducked his gaze away from the webcam with a small laugh. "Don't tell her it's because I'm afraid she might hear me while you shag me. That's the last thing I need her to know, honestly." That smirk caused his stomach to twist and he lowered his gaze like a nervous school boy. "Don't tell her," he muttered.
"John, if I politely decline she will figure out why. My mum is a smart woman. I wouldn't have to tell her the real reason. She would of course, just tease you over it later next time we would visit. I'm sure you would prefer that, right?" Sherlock was smirking so much, it was beginning to hurt a little but he didn't care. It was so easy to fluster his dear doctor and he delighted in it.
"I would rather neither of those," John mumbled like a small child. "Except I would like her to tease me over what she thinks over what she might actually hear." The smirk on Sherlock's face was enough to make him sheepishly smile. "Unless you like the idea of possibly being heard, which wouldn't surprise me." He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck in instant regret of that statement.
Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "To be honest John, it wouldn't bother me. However, my mum might come in, interrupt and say we were being impolite to the rest of the house and to show proper decorum. Mum is big on being polite and all that." He gave an off handed shrug, but he was still smirking rather proudly.
"No she wouldn't. She would not walk in right in the middle of our wedding night. You have got to be joking." John shook his head in disbelief. Would a mother honestly put herself in that position? The problem was that, suddenly and for some unexplainable reason, John viewed it as a challenge. "Let's do it." He locked his gaze strongly on Sherlock.
Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, eyebrows rising in clear surprise. "Really? Okay then, sure. But if Mum walks in cause you're so loud the servant's quarter hears you, I'm going to say 'I told you so.'" The smirk returned amusement clear in his eyes.
"Servants quarters?" Leave it to the Holmes to have bloody servants at their house. "I want to see if she'll actually come and stop us. It is our wedding night, I'm allowed to enjoy it as much as I want!" John grinned happily and laughed. It was something about Sherlock that just drove John to complete and utter silliness. He couldn't control himself even just Skyping him. "This is what love feels like," he blurted out in between small giggles. "I'm head over heels for you."
"Yeah, grew up in a mansion. Butler, maid, gardener, kitchen staff, etc..." Sherlock shrugged. "Well, she did it to Mycroft when he brought some girl over when he was a teenager. He never did after that... Dad and I had a good laugh over it. Probably my only pleasant memory I have of him."
"You're an adult. You will have a husband. I'm sure we will be fine," John stated as seriously as he could. "We'll spend our first night there, then. And I'm sure once I get back we will have more time to plan where we want to have our honeymoon and everything." The smile on his face was warm and suddenly his attention turned away from the screen, his face dropping into a serious gaze. "Sherlock, I've got to go. My patient isn't doing so well. I love you. I'll text you." He flashed a tight smile as he ended the call.