A/N: Warning for minor character death. And John still not keepin' it in his pants. Damn him.
John and James get settled in their hotel as soon as they arrive. It's the hotel where James stays every time he's in New York, so it's more like an apartment for them. John has his own bedroom, so he locks himself away to get some space from his father.
He can hear James on the phone, though. The walls are thin and James is loud.
"What?!" James yells, "What do you m-What crisis?!-Calm down boy, this ain't a crisis!-It's fine!-It'll bounce back within the night.-Hogwash. I'm takin' my son to dinner. Goodbye!"
James storms through John's bedroom door. "Come along, son. We have reservations."
Their reservation is in the hotel restaurant. It's fancy, everyone's wearing suits, so John feels out of place wearing just a sweater and trousers. James doesn't let him change, so John uncomfortably sits to eat.
At least the waitress is beautiful, that's what John cares about. She flirts with him when she serves their drinks and takes their order, and John swoons when he hears her speaking French to another waiter.
James gets a call in the middle of their meal. He sweats nervously as he talks frantically, then he quickly stands to leave.
"I'm sorry, son. I've got to go."
"Everything alright?"
"Sure. I'll be back soon."
John nods in understanding.
James steps around the table as he buttons his suit jacket. "I love you son," he says, then kisses John's head and takes off.
The waitress comes to his table as soon as James is out of the restaurant. "Okay?" she asks.
John nods. "Yeah. Business stuff, I guess."
"Do you want anything else?" she asks.
John shakes his head. "As a matter of fact, can I get this sent up to our apartment?"
"In this hotel?"
John nods.
"Sure," she says.
She takes down his room number, then John leaves.
There's a knock on his door half an hour later. He eagerly hops off his bed to answer it, and he's pleased to open the door to the waitress's beautiful face.
She smiles as she enters. "Special delivery," she says, her voice low and seductive and gorgeous.
He takes the plate out of her hand and sets it on the entry table. Then he places a hand on her hip and kisses her while pushing her against the wall. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses back.
She works her lips away and he kisses her neck.
"I'm Mary by the way," she whispers.
"John," he says back. He pulls away to take her hand, then he leads her to his bedroom.
The phone rings just after midnight. John gets out of bed and shuffles into the living room to answer it. It rings and rings and John has no idea who it is or what it's about but he answers anyway.
"John Watson?" a burly voice greets him.
"Yes."
The man gives his name and says he's a New York police officer.
"What can I do for you, officer?"
"I have some bad news, son. Your father's body has been found downtown."
John swallows hard. "My father's body?"
"I'm sorry, son. You need to come down and identify the body."
John takes down the address and hangs up the phone.
Mary's sitting up in his bed when he returns.
"Alright?" she asks.
John shrugs. "My father's dead. Gotta go identify the body."
Mary gasps. "My god, I'm so sorry."
"It's..." he stops. Saying it's okay sounds insensitive and he doesn't know her well enough to open up about the shock he's in. "Thanks," he says instead. He gets dressed as fast as he can.
"You can stay here," John tells her. "Just go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?"
John nods. "I'll be back in no time."
He kisses her bare shoulder once, then he leaves.
John arrives and they show him the body quickly. John just nods and they cover the body again.
"That's him," John says. He clears his throat, choking down a little bit of emotion. "Uhm...how?"
"Jumped out of a window," the officer says. "Not the first one today. The suicide rate is off the charts thanks to today alone."
"Why?" John asks, confused.
"Stock market crashed, boy. Your daddy was in stocks?"
John frowns and nods. "What time did this happen?"
The officer flips through his notes. "Looks like it was around eleven PM on October 29, 1929."
John nods again.
"You got somewhere to go, boy? How old are you?"
"I'm fine," John says.
"Got anyone we need to call?"
John shakes his head. "I'll tell my mother, thanks."
The officer grasps his shoulder in a comforting way, then he leads John out of the room.
John goes back to finish the semester at USC. He gets through the football season while hardly playing, but the Trojans still come in first place in their conference.
He calls Mary every day. He feels himself fall in love with her. It's not the same as when he fell in love with Sherlock, but it's love nonetheless. He welcomes it greatly.
Since they lost most of their money in the stock market crash, Elizabeth had to let go all the labor workers in the vineyard. No working means no wine, and no wine means no income. No income means Elizabeth needing to sell the house.
John gets all the money he had saved and what little money his dad didn't lose in the stock market and pays the bills until summer. He returns home to take care of his mama and the fields, and he invites Mary to move there with him.
Sherlock spends his last therapy session excited to go home. It's been six months since he's seen his dad and he's eager to pick up where he left off. This time he's a new, better man.
He goes back to Salinas only for Thanksgiving, but he goes to Harvard with Mycroft afterwards. Mycroft lets Sherlock live with him so that Sherlock can get his bearings across the country to be able to apply next Fall.
"How do you feel?" Mycroft asks on the plane back to Harvard.
Sherlock shrugs. "Fine."
"How was your...stay?"
"It was alright."
"You made progress?"
"They let me out, didn't they?"
Mycroft doesn't say anything to that.
"Have you...heard anything?" Sherlock hesitantly asks.
"I hear lots of things, you're going to have to be more specific."
Sherlock sighs, annoyed. "About John."
Mycroft shakes his head. "I'm not telling."
"Why not?"
"Because you don't need to concern yourself with him anymore."
"Fine," Sherlock mutters.
There's no way for him to know anything about John without Mycroft telling him. He has no contact with anyone back in Salinas, and his father knows it's better Sherlock not hear about John.
It hurts him, of course, because he still misses John. But he knows he can't concern himself with worrying anymore. He got out of that bad place and he's staying that way.