Hi, all - A short sweet chapter before a much larger affair 'coming' on Thursday/Friday.
this one is rated K+ with implied Johnlock.
Molly's Conference
Weekend, experiments in kitchen nearing completion or end of usefulness, need to be binned. Molly and John, John and Molly. Mrs. Hudson out for the weekend to see sister in country home long drive bad hip niece's car has no suspension Lestrade's wife cheating again with new man more investigation to be done when will he loose the habit of going back to her? John and Molly, Molly and John Stanford in the lab just trying to be helpful no need to bite his head off Molly would not at all have approved father or protector figure much affection between them that endless arm touching and he gave her that plush doll for her birthday when I'd forgotten all about it John and Molly, Molly and John.
Sherlock bounded up the stairs to the flat at 221B, and entered. John.
"Hey," said John, reading a paper in his chair, a bottle of lager at his side. After briefly looking up at Sherlock, he returned to his paper, either unconcerned or simply unimpressed by Sherlock's presence.
"Hello." When there was no other move on the doctor's part, Sherlock at a lose for what to say or do, almost unwittingly emitted a small 'Oh.' The sound of the word was distinctly disappointed. John looked up, smiling broadly at his friend.
"Molly's on that conference this weekend, Sherlock."
Humiliated, Sherlock wheeled away from John's chair to the kitchen.
"Oh, yes of course," he said, chucking experiments into the bin.
"I told you all about it."
"Yes, yes, I remember, now, it must have slipped my mind."
"Hmmm," said John, grinning as he watched his friend's back recede into the kitchen. "Clearly," he murmured only to himself, grinning, waiting for the shoe to drop. The crashing and smashing in the kitchen continued for another moment or two, and then Sherlock paused. If Molly is on a conference then what is John doing here? He wandered carefully back into the sitting room, where John was still seated, apparently still very comfortably, very casually reading the paper.
"Yes," said Sherlock, drinking a bottle of water he'd gotten from the fridge. "the whole weekend. Coming back Sunday evening."
"That's right," John returned to his paper, smiling to himself as he noticed Sherlock step from foot to foot like a kid needing the loo. There were some moments of quiet. John turned a page of his paper.
"So, um, John?"
"Hmmm?"
"What are you – um – that is – you're welcome of course at any time, but ah – "
"What the hell am I doing here?" John smiled.
"Well, yes."
John paused, still hidden by his paper.
"Well, I thought . .."
Sherlock was frozen into silence. What? What did you think? What are you thinking, what, what, what? Something delightful? Oh my god.
"I thought, since I'd be sitting over at ours all – lonely – and you might be sitting or working here all – well, perhaps the same way – so – uh - ."
"Yes?" Sherlock managed.
"I thought maybe if you don't mind, you could – keep me company? While Molly's away? You don't have to entertain me or anything. Nothing like that – I can read the paper – I brought my laptop."
"Oh, I see," Sherlock was completely unable to mask his disappointed tone, but John, smiling behind his paper, made no remark about it.
"Yeah." John said.
Sherlock dropped himself into his chair next to John.
"Oh. I see. You. We – that is – we – just, um – just –"
"Yes, Sherlock, - just-" John tried to keep his tone kind.
"No, no," said Sherlock. "I think you misunderstand, I was going to say 'Just like old times.'"
John lowered his paper and smiled.
"Yeah. Yeah, mate, just like old times. Before the wife got her hooks in me." John said, pulling a face.
"That would be – that will be - agreeable." Sherlock remained another moment in his chair, as John returned to his paper.
"Well, I don't mean to be an awkward host, John, but I have some stuff to accomplish this evening."
"Of course, of course, don't worry about me, I have plenty to do."
Sherlock busied himself in the kitchen tossing old experiments, monitoring the results of items in progress and starting new ones. There was a lovely chunk of mold with something absolutely fascinating growing in it that he'd harvested from the bin's behind Bart's, that he was extremely interested in, and he arranged a series of Petri dishes with which to start on it.
John folded his paper at length, and switched to his laptop, busying himself for some time with it. Sherlock pottered about the kitchen as John clicked away on-line. After a couple of hours, John stood, and stretched.
"I'll kip on sofa, if you don't mind, Sherlock?" said John.
Sherlock had come into the sitting room for a moment, and at John's voice, he whirled around at him in surprise. He'd forgotten he was still there. How had he done that? When John presented the notion of Sherlock keeping John company, Sherlock noticed that John had phrased the idea to suggest that he was asking for help for himself, though the detective knew that John had intuited Sherlock's own need. So, the visit included a sleepover? These kindnesses heaped themselves upon themselves how could he ever – ever come to be able to - But how had he gotten so busy as to forget about John? It was because he was a comfort, it was because John was here, he realized, that he was able to carry on with his experiments, not in spite of it. The anxiety of separation raised its head again for Sherlock, but seeing John before him in his old chair, calmed him, eased him.
Sherlock regarded John as he looked at Sherlock, waiting for some answer to some question. Then he remembered.
"No, no! Please, use my bed, I won't sleep tonight, as you well know – please – your old room is full of junk, now, old files and boxes of things. Please go ahead."
"You're sure?"
"Perfectly."
"Well, thanks – right, good night?"
"Good night," Sherlock said from the kitchen, already busying himself with some new item at the microscope.
Entering Sherlock's bedroom, John noticed right away that the air was fresh, as if someone had left the windows open for a couple of hours. He noticed there were fresh candles on his dresser, and he smiled. It was strange to be in here alone, but John felt relaxed and at ease as he undressed to his boxers and got into the bed. Clean sheets and bed made. Clearly all this had been done in anticipation of tonight John saw. Someone's in love! he thought and he smiled a grin that fairly stung. He'd have to think up something really good for the next evening they were all able to come together. Still smiling, John fell asleep.
When John woke to go to the loo, he noticed Sherlock asleep in his chair. God, idiot. He thought. After using the bathroom and returning to the sitting room, John regarded his friend for a moment, wondering what to do with Sherlock. I can't let him sit here like this, he thought, when Sherlock opened his yes.
"Mmmm," he said.
"Come on, Sherlock," said John, taking his arm gently. "Bed."
"I didn't want – I didn't want to wake you –"
"Of course, but come on."
The two made their way together and got into bed with minimal contact, and lay beside one another with a fairly wide berth between them. John turned out he light and they were quite for some moments.
"Strange," said Sherlock.
"Hmmm."
"Molly gone."
"Mmmm."
"Nevertheless."
John hesitated, "What?"
"Just that – I mean, thank you for coming tonight – I'd quite forgotten – it's true I'm – I've gotten - Since the 18 months, John, I've been more and more ah –"
"Shhh. Never mind. Doesn't matter. Get some sleep," John tried to make his tone gruff, but couldn't hide the affection underneath.
"John," said Sherlock. "Yes of course. Good night."
"Night."
I'm soooooo excited about the next chapter that I will post on Thursday night/Friday.
Please accept my thanks, thank you, thank you, thank you all you lovely readers who have visited, faved, reviewed or followed me!
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