Greg and Sherlock walked down the corridor of the maternity ward, the younger man trailing slightly behind. The detective wished desperately to not be there, to be anywhere else. He also wanted Moriarty to fade away, but that wouldn't happen for days yet.
Knocking on the door to Mary's room, the DI announced them, "Hiya, it's Greg and Sherlock. Is it safe for us to come in?"
John called out, "Sure."
Pushing the door open, Greg paused and looked a question back at his friend. Sherlock nodded and they entered the room.
The moment his eyes fell on Ailis, the DI's smile turned from artificial to genuine. He couldn't help himself. "So is this the youngest Watson, then?" He stepped closer to get a better look. "She's beautiful."
"We think so," Mary agreed. "Would you like to hold her?"
Greg held out his arms and took the baby girl. "It's been a while since I held a baby," he told the infant. "What's your name?"
"Nadyia Ailis," John supplied.
Moriarty scoffed. "Hope and honesty, that's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"
"Shut up," Sherlock hissed quietly, but the doctor noticed.
John stood and walked around the bed, placing a hand on the detective's arm. He smiled at Sherlock, leaned close and whispered, "The bastard can just bugger off. He's not welcome here."
The smile the detective returned was strained, at best. He tried to distract himself from his thoughts by looking at Ailis, really looking. She was beautiful. She had Mary's nose, but John's mouth and she definitely had his eyes. They were still a baby sort of blue, but Sherlock was certain that when their colour settled, they would be the doctor's brilliant blue. Much to his surprise, Sherlock decided he could come to love this baby girl. He swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears of confusion and frustration.
"Greg," Mary spoke up, "John hasn't eaten anything since early this morning, but I can't get him to leave me alone for even a few minutes. Would you mind staying with me while Sherlock drags him to the cafeteria for some food?"
The DI looked from Ailis to John, "I wouldn't mind at all. It means more time to visit with two lovely ladies, doesn't it Ailis?"
"Thanks, Greg," the doctor said as he tugged Sherlock towards the door. 'It's been… yeah, I don't remember the last time I saw food." As the door to Mary's room closed behind them, John took a deep breath, trying to relax. He led the way down the corridor.
"You don't want food," Sherlock observed, holding tight to John's hand. "Is this just some excuse to talk?"
"Yep," John agreed readily. "We need to, don't you think?"
The detective snorted. "I don't see why. It's not going to help the situation."
They fell silent as they waited for the lift. The conversation didn't resume until they found a table in a quiet corner of the cafeteria.
"I've been thinking," John began, "a lot. I think I've finally figure out what I want, but it occurred to me that I don't know what you want for us."
Sherlock looked down at where the doctor's hand was holding his own. "What I want, John, is everything. I want all of you every moment of every day for as long as we both live." He looked up, seeing the distress on John's face. "But I couldn't have that, even if you weren't married to Mary and didn't have Ailis. People weren't meant to live that way. You have to have your own life as you did even when you lived at Baker Street."
"I… don't know what to say." The doctor felt as if he couldn't breathe. He couldn't do this, keep Sherlock for himself. "You deserve someone who can give you more than I can." John's voice cracked. "Someone who can be what you need in every way."
"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock said scathingly. "I don't want anyone else. I don't… You're thinking of sex, aren't you? I assure you, John, if I were to consider indulging in sex, it would be with you and no one else, but this," he gestured at himself, "is just transport. I don't require it. I require you."
John couldn't be arsed to blush, he wasn't embarrassed, he was annoyed. "It's not just about sex, Sherlock. You deserve someone who can be there for you."
"You are," the detective declared.
"I want to be." John held onto Sherlock's hand tightly. "I wish… I hate working at the clinic. It's not the type of medicine I trained for." He snuck a peek at Sherlock's face. "Yes, I know, I always said I liked it, but," The doctor shrugged. "It was just a way to hold on to my own identity and not make everything about you."
"Then quit. Spend your days with me," Sherlock leaned forward and gazed at him with intensity. "We could be partners. We'll take more paying cases and split the income." He waited a moment, then added, "Please."
John bit his lip. "I… You hate those cases. They're boring." He shook his head. "But there's something… Mary has a numbered account. She was going to donate the money to something, didn't think I'd want to touch it, but maybe…" John looked into Sherlock's eyes. "What do you think? Would it be horrible if she and I used it? If it helps me help you with The Work, wouldn't that make it okay?"
It was Sherlock's turn to shake his head. "You would never be able to live with yourself. Try it my way first, John. Please."
"I… okay. And we'll see where things go." The doctor bit his lip. "So, what now?"
"Now, I spend the next couple of weeks with Greg," Sherlock supplied. "I can't be around Ailis until the hallucinations stop. Not to mention, I'll be extremely unpleasant."
"That wasn't what I meant. Fuck that fucker Walsh for starting the whole thing over. Can I… Will it be okay if I visit you?"
"It would be… good, but won't Mary mind?"
The doctor hesitated, not certain how Sherlock would take his answer. "As long as she knows I love her, we'll be good. If you can live with that... God, I'm such an arse." He covered his eyes with his free hand.
"No, you're not." The detective ran his thumb along the back of John's hand. "You're not."
"Just... I love you, too, in my own messed up way."
Sherlock nodded. "I know."
They were quiet for a long while as John fiddled with Sherlock's fingers. "You know, we haven't solved anything, not really." He sounded incredibly sad.
"I know," Sherlock agreed. "But this isn't the time to demand solutions. This is a time for survival."
The doctor nodded. "You're right of course." He gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze and hoped they all did just that: survived.