Author's Note:
The third fanfic has officially been started. This story will end up being 41 chapters long. This chapter has a story within a story. Storyception? =P Thanks again to everyone who's been reviewing!
John spent hours with Sarah, doing pointless little things like rubbing her sore feet and talking to her stomach in a ridiculously high voice. They talked about everything, from her pregnancy to how scared she was. How scared he was. Laughter and even some tears were exchanged before he decided to leave, parting with a small peck on her cheek and promising to stop by again before he left again for Afghanistan.
His taxi ride back was calm, a soft smile on his face, and when he entered the flat and saw his fiancé sleeping on the couch he nearly melted. The man was perfection. Even while he was sleeping. Without a second thought he toed his shoes off and crawled lightly on top of Sherlock, resting his head at the base of the other man's neck and relaxing. He decided he wouldn't fall asleep and would, instead, enjoy the steady beat of the consulting detective's heart and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.
A murmur was issued from Sherlock in his sleep, when John had crawled on him. In a drug induced haze, he wrapped his arms around his fiancé muttering how much he loved him before drifting back into a deeper sleep. His head leaned into the army doctor's to snuggle closer, his subconscious desiring more closeness despite his slumbering state.
John smiled softly and allowed himself to relax even more against Sherlock. "I love you too," he whispered, closing one eye as the other man snuggled against him. After a few moments of stillness John lifted his head slightly to gaze at his fiancé. Sherlock looked so much younger while he was asleep. No worry lines, nothing about a case causing him to frown or think too hard. Just peace. He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's chin before returning his head to Sherlock's chest.
Usually Sherlock wouldn't have slept so long, but the medication and his own weariness had led to the long snooze. A few hours after John had come home and he finally woke up, pleasantly surprised to see his fiancé atop of him. He kissed the top of the army doctor's head, wrapping his arms in tighter around John in a hug. "You should have woke me up when you got home."
"No." John shook his head the best he could, a warm smile on his face. "You look wonderful when you sleep and I didn't want to pass it up." Which was true. Sherlock didn't sleep much as it was and it was even more rare for John to be awake while his fiancé was exhausted. He closed his eyes for a moment as Sherlock hugged him tighter. "You're wonderful. How'd I get so lucky?"
"It's hard to be as amazing as I am, I'll admit." Sherlock smirked. "As for how you got so lucky, it's because you are so adorable. Makes you irresistible." He knew John would probably scoff and disagree but that was what he was going for. He liked making the army doctor squirm and blush because it was just so damned easy.
"Oh, hush you." John playfully smacked Sherlock's chest, looking up at him with a small grin. "Stop," he stated with a bit of a serious tone, dropping his gaze instantly and clearing his throat. Don't blush. Don't let Sherlock see it. He buried his face into Sherlock's chest with a small chuckle. "'M not adorable," he stated against Sherlock. "Or irresistible."
And there it was. Sherlock's smirk got bigger. After a moment of thoughtful silence he spoke once more. "So, what do you want to do? Not much I can do but lay around…as annoying as I find that. And we aren't doing anything sexual until after we are married." Really, if he thought about it their relationship was mostly based on sex. Not that he had a problem with it because it was fun, new and exciting but maybe Mycroft was right, they would need to take it down a notch once little Sandi was in the flat. This would be good practice. A trial run. But the question was, what were they to do? What did normal couples do, if not sex? He honestly didn't know.
Christ, he had nearly forgotten about their decided lack of sex until the wedding night. "Normal couples usually watch telly, make dinner." He smiled at the thought. "Normal things, I guess. Clean, take care of each other." His head lifted and he glanced at his fiancé with a smirk. "So I'm taking care of you. I can make something, if you would like. Are you hungry?"
Ah. Boring things. Maybe boring would be a nice change of pace? "No thanks. I have eaten more in the last couple of days than I usually do in a week. I'll be fine for awhile. We could play Cluedo." Sherlock smirked, already knowing the answer to that suggestion. "Oh, did you buy the bell while you were out? So, I can call you when I desire? Speaking of taking care of me, you could start by getting the foot ointment out of our bedroom and putting it on my feet. This sick patient needs taken care of properly, you know." He just smirked bigger, amusement clear in his light blue eyes.
Leave it to Sherlock to bring Cluedo up. "No. Definitely not." He slowly pulled out of Sherlock's grip, shooting him a glare before standing fully. "But I will take care of your feet." He took a few steps before turning around. "And not because I lost some silly bet but because I'm a doctor and I have to." It took him a while to find the ointment for Sherlock's foot but once he managed to find it he walked slowly back into the living room. With a sly smile he lifted Sherlock's feet and plopped on to the couch, resting Sherlock's feet on his lap and slowly starting to apply the medication. "We could talk. We need to," he muttered with a quick glance to Sherlock. "About the fights."
Sherlock winced, and he wasn't sure if it was from the ointment application or from the words John spoke. Right. Talk about the fights. This wasn't something he particularly wanted to do but he supposed his fiancé was right, it needed to be done. "Okay. We had three, which one do you want to talk about first?"
Three? John's eyebrows knitted together and he shifted in his seat. He only remembered two. Maybe his memory had already started getting rid of the horrid moments. "I think going at them in order would probably be best." He said with a nod. The lump in his throat wasn't going away, either. This was going to be difficult. "We both know why the first one started... I think..." he finished applying the ointment and rested a hand on Sherlock's shin. "We both realized how jealous we were of the other one's affair."
Sherlock nodded. "Yes, I've always been jealous John. Even after I forgave you. Then finding out she was pregnant with a child, your daughter, it was like I was never going to have a chance to forget what happened because she would always be there. Will always be in our lives now. Seeing you two together is like…that night all over again." The second fight. Jesus, he wasn't ready to talk about that one but that one had been the worst. Remembering it made him feel sick inside all over again.
That fight. Oh. John had to tear his gaze away from Sherlock. "I don't know what happened that night, Sherlock. I was upset and I... stress isn't even an excuse." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I know you hate that she is pregnant," his voice cracked. "I'm sorry about that. I know that Amy is a representation of everything and I just..." he tilted his head and looked at his fiancé. "I'm sorry about that, I truly am." John was also excited about his daughter, about the future of Amy, but he wouldn't tell that to Sherlock. "And then... Jackson."
"My issue isn't with you having a daughter, my problem is Sarah. Not little Sandi. None of this is her fault. I don't blame her. I blame Sarah…you…" Sherlock trailed off and shrugged at Jackson's name. "I can try to explain why I did what I did but I don't know if that would make you feel better or worse." He shrugged again, looking away from John now.
It felt like somebody had replaced his blood with ice water. John had always known that Sherlock blamed him for the entire incident with Sarah. Actually hearing it from his mouth was different. "Don't blame Sarah." He shook his head. "I texted her and asked her to come over that night, Sherlock. It was all me. I asked her to sleep with me and she asked about you. She was worried," he paused. Sherlock had never heard any of it. "And I said that you had run off and left me alone. That was when I just... I don't know, we kissed and I begged her to sleep with me." He bit his bottom lip with a shrug. "I was mad at you for leaving, mad at you for everything going on." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Why did you sleep with Jackson?"
Sherlock frowned a bit. Everything that had happened to John almost a year ago had been his fault. All his fault. He supposed it made sense his fiancé had blamed it on him. He couldn't help but wonder if they would be here right now if he had never used the last of John's jam for an experiment. Sherlock was quiet awhile before finally answering the question. "Mycroft had told me I was engaged. That we were together. I didn't remember anything. I didn't feel anything. Jackson was the first person I saw when I woke up. My first memory. It was obvious he was attracted to me and I took advantage of that John. I desperately needed to have something I knew to be my own, something I could remember without it being recited to me. To have some kind of emotional attachment because I had absolutely none." He paused, not sure if he should tell his fiancé that shortly after getting each other off, his memory had returned in that instant.
It was different. So different. Sherlock hadn't really remembered him, had only been told he existed. While he had initially been upset he couldn't really yell at Sherlock. "Was that the reason you were so loud and vocal the last time we made love?" Did he really want to know? He had asked, so somewhere in his mind he obviously did. Actually hearing the answer from his fiancé might make him sick to his stomach.
John's insight startled Sherlock and he lowered his gaze. "Yes. Everything was so different with him…gentle…vocal…I had never had that with you and it felt wrong to me…It was why I wanted to try it. To fix it in my mind. It bothered me…it was what was bothering me the day we got take out and you…you took off your ring because I hadn't told you what I was thinking and the tension was palpable." Not once could he bring himself to look at John, even after speaking.
John struggled to keep himself calm. Different. Everything was different with him. After their first few times having sex John figured Sherlock just liked it rough. While he wasn't exactly a big fan he figured he would go along with it to keep his fiancé happy. Had he been doing something wrong then? But suddenly it was all making sense. Sherlock felt horrible and felt like he needed to fix things. He was afraid to tell John. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "And you were just scared to tell me. You didn't want to upset me."
A nod was all Sherlock could muster in reply. If it had been a viable option, Sherlock would just get up leave and go somewhere else. He didn't want to be here and having this conversation. Without any real options he turned away from John, like he had done that had incited the third fight. Hopefully his fiancé wouldn't run off drinking again. He wasn't even sure what had started the last fight really. All he really remembered was he acted like a child and so had John. He wasn't trying to be childish this time around; he was just extremely uncomfortable with the current conversation.
John kept Sherlock's feet in his lap, frowning slightly. Calm. Stay calm. Don't snap. He ran his hand up and down Sherlock's calf soothingly. The other man clearly didn't want to talk about it anymore. They had left the other fight untouched but John wasn't going to push his fiancé if he didn't want to talk. "I love you," he whispered, resting his head against the back of the couch and studying Sherlock. There wasn't much more he could say. Anything else might upset him. "And I owe you so much for everything you have done."
At John's voice Sherlock finally looked to his fiancé with the faintest of smiles. "Love you too." He shrugged at the last words. It was true. He had changed everything for John. He would never have his old life back. Only now, he didn't care about the changes. As long as the army doctor was there, that was all that really mattered. "I did it for us…things are changing, whether we like it or not…just better to work through it." He shrugged again and then shifted on the couch so his head could rest in John's lap.
They had never done this. Just relaxing on the couch. John decided the moment that Sherlock's head was in his lap that he quite liked it. His hand moved instantly to Sherlock's hair, running through it gently. "When I was little my mum would do this to me all the time to get me to sleep." He tilted his head slightly to meet Sherlock's gaze. "And she would tell me stories but I would always get upset because I would fall asleep before the end. She refused to tell me the end in the morning." His fingers shifted slightly and ran along the outside of Sherlock's ear as a soft smile spread across his lips.
This was nice. Sherlock's eyes closed as his fiancé ran a hand through his hair. "Tell me a story John." He opened one eye to look up at the army doctor, a small smile on his face. It would be a nice distraction. It would be nice to not think about anything for awhile. He closed his one eye, though he wasn't in the least bit tired after his long drug induced nap. He was just content and relaxed.
"Tell you a story?" John laughed, pursing his lips for a moment in thought. "Well, okay." He bit his bottom lip and shifted slightly before taking a deep breath. "Once upon a time there was a little boy in London with quite the imagination." His hand shifted back to Sherlock's hair. "He always used to run around his Mum and Dad's flat with a pirate hat and a wooden sword. Determined, he was, that he would one day run off and become a pirate. So determined, in fact, that one day he did." John's voice rose and fell with the words, adding excitement when necessary. "Little Sherlock joined a gang of other pirates on the high seas, sailing the world. Until one day he met the son of a Naval officer while docked." He slowed his hand. "Would you like me to continue? It only gets cheesier from here."
Sherlock couldn't help but laugh, because he knew exactly where John was taking this story. He shifted once more, turning so his face pressed into his fiancé's chest. One arm slithered behind the army doctor, the other resting below his chin on John's stomach in a sort of hug. "Hey, don't stop now. You started the story, so now you have to finish it." He smirked into the chest of the other man.
John looked down at Sherlock with a knowing smirk. "Sherlock teased the young boy for his boring life of following orders and he told him about his life of adventure." The hair in Sherlock's hand stilled almost completely, just his fingers massaging Sherlock's scalp. "When he asked the little boy his name he replied 'John' and Sherlock asked John if he wanted to come with him," a smile and a small laugh. "So John agreed with a smile and the two young pirates sailed off into the sunset. The end." He shrugged and laughed softly to himself. "So... they were pirates."
"You'll have to come up with better stories for when little Sandi is born." Sherlock said, snuggling into John's chest even more with a smirk. "I like this. Just laying here with you. Comfy. You make a good pillow. What else do you want to today? If you say watch 'crap telly' again, then we get to play Cluedo."
Better stories? Weren't there books for that or something? John raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his fiancé, smiling weakly. "Just sitting here not enough for you? You can't even move." He pursed his lips and laughed. "You could tell me a story? Only fair." He took a deep breath. Spending time with Sherlock on the couch was perfect enough for him.
"I get bored easily, you know that." Sherlock fake pouted for a moment and then thought about a story to tell. He had never done that before. He enjoyed reading but usually only if it was nonfiction. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy fictional stories, they just didn't hold any real value or knowledge worth keeping. "Once upon a time…" He trailed off in thought and then asked, "John why do stories always start like that?"
Oh, of course. Sherlock's story would end in a damn question. "Sherlock, it is just a story. You don't have to start it like that. And I don't know why stories typically start like that. To make the story sound good?" John looked down at him and playfully ruffled his hair. "You are a genius. Be creative."
"Fine." Another fake pout as he thought for a moment. "A long time ago, in a land not of this realm…" He paused because he wasn't sure where he was going with this, "…there was an evil wizard, a brave knight and an orphaned boy." This was sounding stupid already, he was certain. He continued on anyway. "The evil wizard was trying to take over the kingdom the knight and orphan lived in. Many knights had tried and failed to defeat the wizard. One day the orphaned boy was dared by his friends to steal something from the wizard's tower. He brazenly entered the ominous looming building. Inside the courageous knight and wizard were in a fight. He went unnoticed and he saw a shining black crystal floating above a pedestal. Surely that would fetch enough money to eat dinner tonight. The crystal was of course cursed with black magic, and it sent the boy sprawling onto the floor unconscious. The tower had shook and it was then the knight realized that the crystal acted as some sort of catalyst for the wizard. If he could break it, he would be able to be beat the evil wizard for sure. The problem was, getting to the crystal without being obliterated by some spell or other. He was certain his sword could destroy the crystal because it had been blessed by the White Goddess. His only hope was the boy, who was coming around. He threw the sword at the orphan's feet and he told the boy what to do. The boy was confused and scared when he woke up. The wizard was now focused on the boy but the knight kept the evil doer at bay and once more told the boy what to do. The sword was heavy and almost bigger than the orphan, making it difficult to pick up let alone wield. The boy stumbled forward, unable to raise the sword above his head. The pedestal rocked and fell over as the orphan crashed into it. The crystal fell as well, but didn't shatter. The tower rumbled violently, debris falling all around. He tried lifting the sword again, once more stumbling, as the boy barely got it off the floor. The sword fell into the crystal and it shattered immediately, releasing a black light the enveloped the whole tower. The boy, knight, wizard and tower blinked out of existence in the kingdom and peace was once more found." He lifted his head to John when he finished the unexpected long tale, to see what his fiancé thought.
Wow. It was obvious now that John wasn't the one that would be telling little Amy stories at night. "How did you... that just..." He bit his bottom lip and tried to suppress a grin. Perfect. His fiancé was utterly perfect. "Wonderful." He bent his neck at an awkward angle to meet Sherlock's lips in a slow kiss. "You are telling Amy stories at night. I'm horrid compared to you."
A brief and rare moment of modesty came over Sherlock. "Really? I forced the ending because I was becoming bored with the story." He gave a small shrug. Apparently he had a penchant for rhyming and storytelling. Who knew? Certainly not the consulting detective and he would have scoffed at the idea a year ago. He really had changed a lot. After a quiet, pensive moment he spoke again. "We never did finish talking about the fights...we probably should..."
John tensed and met Sherlock's gaze. The fights. "The third one," he muttered, his eyes glancing at the ring around his left finger. "I just... I got upset, Sherlock. You weren't talking to me and then you started throwing stuff around your room..." His bottom lip got pulled into his mouth. This was difficult. "I didn't think. I had planned on everything being so laid back and when we started fighting I just got really upset. I'm sorry. I really am." He moved a hand to grab Sherlock's, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. "I want to marry you. I'm never taking this off again."
Sherlock nodded. "I didn't know what to say then. I didn't want to upset you, which I failed at obviously." He frowned a bit. "Wasn't the third fight when you went to drink down at the pub? Honestly, I don't even know what started that fight...other than the fact I turned my back on you while laying on the couch..."
They had fought so much since he had been back in London that they had both lost track of the number. That made his stomach churn. "I don't even remember," he whispered. It was broken, scared. "Is that when Sarah dropped by? I just... I hadn't been to a pub since I deployed and I wanted a drink so bad. I was upset and I just couldn't stop." He let his head fall back, his hand resuming its movement in Sherlock's hair. "Did I call you when I was drunk?"
"Yes and yes. I went to go after you, which didn't work out well. I ran into Sarah just outside the front door. She was worried something might be wrong with baby so I took her to the hospital. I sent you a text but you ignored it, I guess. You called later, drunk. The conversation didn't last long." Sherlock explained with a shrug.
"I'm... sorry." John looked down at his fiancé and closed his eyes for a long moment. "That was irresponsible, to say the least. I just, I mean, I didn't think she would be dropping by until later, you know?" He shifted slightly on the couch, tilting his head to the side to study Sherlock's face at a good angle. This man was changing his life for him and his life altering mistake. When did he get so damn lucky? "I love you." He bent a bit, lifting Sherlock's head, and gently met the other man's lips.
Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. "I love you too." He was quiet a moment, as he tried to come up with a topic that would improve both of their moods. "Do you want to hear the song I recorded for us to dance to? The CD should be in our bedroom somewhere. It is the first track. I think it is in a box on the other side of the door."
Hearing the music that Sherlock had recorded did sound wonderful but that meant he would have to get up and leave the wonderful moment they had created. "Sure," he whispered, carefully extracting Sherlock's head from his lap and moving toward the bedroom. The shrill ring of his cell phone from the kitchen table quickly caught his attention. He rushed toward it, picking it up and instantly going still. "What?" He stumbled back several steps, his back hitting the wall behind him. "S-Sh- Yes. Of course. Fifteen minutes." He ended the call and his eyes darted toward Sherlock. "Sarah's in the hospital again."