The moment John stepped through the door, Mary knew something had gone terribly wrong. "Sherlock... Something's happened."
The doctor walked by her, his limp in strong evidence. Throwing himself down in his chair, John looked at his wife. Mary. His wife. The woman he loved. The woman who'd shot Sherlock. The woman he was still learning to trust again. The mother of his child. "He doesn't want to see me again." John kept going, just to hear it, to hurt himself. "Apparently I'm worse than cocaine... so..."
Mary stood, frozen in place and her heart aching for herself, for Sherlock, but most of all for John. If she hadn't pulled that trigger all those months ago, maybe they wouldn't be here, things might have played out differently, but she had. She had. Mary's mouth opened, and words she had been contemplating for some time came out. "I want a divorce."
John's left hand started shaking, now he was losing Mary, too. "Why?" His question came out broken and tears welled in his eyes.
"Oh, John." Mary shook her head sadly. "I'm not angry, I'm sad." She walked over, sat in the chair next to his and took his shaking hand between hers. "And, despite what I'm going to say, I'm anything but noble."
"And what are you going to say?" John asked in a whisper.
"If we get a divorce now, we can come out of this as friends. We can be partners in raising Ailis. That's more than I could ever have hoped. The way you looked at me when you learned the truth... I thought, at best, I had until the baby was born, then Mycroft would arrange a convenient accident, but you surprised me. You gave me a second chance even though I had nearly killed someone you loved. If you stay with me now and loose Sherlock..." Mary shook her head. "It won't take long for you to start looking at me like you did that night. Worse, I'll be the person who took him away from you." She gave a sad, self-deprecating smile. "See, not noble, selfish."
"People are idiots." John returned her smile, but it was pained. "Everyone asks how I can put up with Sherlock and his lack of moral compass. They think he's the corrupt one and I'm some sort of saint." He laughed bitterly. "I'm the one that's fucked up. You tell me you want a divorce and what do I feel? Relief, because I don't have to make the hard decision. You've made it for me. Jesus, but I'm the worst kind of ingrate."
Mary pressed a finger to John's lips. "Hush."
"It's not that easy, is it? I need to quit whinging and we need to talk."
"Not now. I'm not going anywhere. Ailis and I will be fine. Sherlock... I don't know if he will be. So... you still have a decision to make. About Sherlock."
The next morning, John paced the pathway, incredibly nervous. in fact, he felt physically ill. Spotting a nearby bench, he sat to give himself time to calm down. The talk with Mary had been hard, but he had acknowledged that she was right. He would have reached the same conclusion himself, eventually.
Yes, trying to imagine a life without Mary made John sad, but trying to imagine a life without Sherlock hurt too much to bear. He couldn't do it. In fact, the doctor hated himself for having wasted so much time trying to live a normal life. His life hadn't been normal since the moment he'd met Sherlock.
John looked down the street towards Greg's place. It felt like an eternity since he had talked to Lestrade and he had no reason to think that Sherlock had changed his mind about seeing him. Invading Afghanistan had been easier than this. Talking to Mary had been easier than this. John stood and walked the short distance separating him from Greg's.
The doctor knocked on Greg's door and waited. He had no idea what sort of mood Sherlock would be in or how he would be received. John gave a little start when Sherlock opened the door. "Hi." He searched his friend's face for a clue as to what he was feeling.
Sherlock opened the door hesitantly. "You're not welcome here."
"I know. Just give me fifteen minutes, then, if you want me to, I'll leave."
After several tense moments, Sherlock gestured the doctor inside.
It hit John like a punch to the gut: he wanted to touch his friend. He wanted to sit with him and hold him and he wasn't certain what else. Time would tell... if Sherlock gave it to him.
"John…" Sherlock began, but cut off when the doctor met his eyes. He couldn't decipher what John was thinking behind his steady gaze.
"I haven't slept."
"Of course not. You have a newborn in the house. I understand they wake up every two hours to eat."
"That's not what I meant," John countered. "Though, yeah, being up with Ailis at two in the morning has given me time to think." He braced himself and said the words he had come to say, part of them, anyway, "I love you."
"And I you," Sherlock replied, his look and tone unsure. "But nothing has changed. We're friends, we were friends, nothing more. We…" He cut off as John kissed him. It was a tentative kiss, testing, probing, unsure. They broke apart. "What was that?" the detective asked, bemused.
"I. Love. You." John repeated. "I wanted to see… I've never kissed a bloke. I wanted to kiss you. Is that okay?"
"No." Sherlock turned and stormed across the room. "It's not okay. You belong to Mary. I can't have you. It's not okay."
The doctor followed his friend across the room and stopped, standing just behind him. "I do love Mary, but I finally figured out that I don't love her like I used to. I don't love her like I love you. Honestly, I don't think I ever did."
"I don't understand," Sherlock said, his voice trembling. He felt wrung out. His life had become a nightmare. His feelings were all over the place. He wanted cocaine. He wanted John. This, this was too much. If John offered this, then took it away… "What are you telling me, John?"
"I'm telling you that I've been an idiot. I've been holding onto something that was never what I thought it was. I've been hurting Mary and at the same time, I've more than hurt you, the person that matters most. I'm through with it. If you'll have me, after all of this, then I'm yours." John waited, barely daring to breathe. Had he waited too long? God, he probably had. If Sherlock turned on him and punched him, he would take it. He deserved it, after all.
Sherlock felt a bitterness deep inside that he'd been fighting for so very long. "So, what, you expect me to be your bit on the side?"
"No," John said gently. "Mary and I are getting a divorce."
Abruptly, the detective's knees gave way and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He was crying, tears running freely down his cheeks.
John knelt and took him in his arms. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my arse. I'm so, so sorry."