Months go by very busily for Sherlock. Mycroft encourages him to make friends, look around for work, to learn how to drive, and to travel as much as he can. Sherlock takes trips to New York City on the train and absolutely falls in love with it. The tall buildings, the bright lights, the excitement. Being in that city is a high enough that he needs.
He doesn't touch drugs again. He smokes, sure, but it's 1930 and everyone smokes. He doesn't drink much either, but he actually smiles when he comes across a wine made from the Watson vineyard back in Salinas. The smile surprises him, but he chooses not to drink it.
John and Mary work in the vineyard alone to maintain the plants. They can't hire anyone because money is tight, but Mary gets a little bit of money each month from her parents back in New York. It's not much, but it's enough for the necessary things they need.
John doesn't think about being happy anymore. It doesn't matter whether or not he's happy, just as long as he's still moving on earth.
They don't get married. They don't see a point. They're very careful to not get pregnant, because they don't have the money to support a family. It's enough having to support John's mother.
Thomas lets Sherlock return to Salinas in July, the middle of the summer. Thomas is getting ready to sell the house to move to the east coast with the boys, so Mycroft and Sherlock go for one last goodbye to their childhood home.
In the car on the way from the airport, Sherlock's staring out the window watching the world go by. He thinks of John, which he doesn't do often anymore. He remembers the first time his dad took him to the Watson house to tutor John. He felt nervous because of how much he liked John already, and suddenly he feels that same pang of nerves again.
"I want to see him," Sherlock says. "I'm ready to see him. I'll see him while I'm in California."
"No," is all Mycroft says.
Sherlock doesn't say anything more, but it's not the end of the discussion.
Sherlock spends the entire evening and next day helping his dad pack. Thomas is happy he's there, and Sherlock silently forgives him for not visiting while Sherlock was stuck in San Francisco last year. All is forgotten, because Sherlock is happier now.
"You look great, son," Thomas says over and over. He comments that Sherlock's hair's grown back, that he looks fitting in jeans, that the extra six inches he gained makes him look more grown up, and that the little bit of extra weight on his face looks good.
Sherlock happily smiles while his dad tells him these things. "I feel great Dad," he says back.
He asks to see John again two days after he's arrived. Mycroft says no again.
"At least tell me how he is," Sherlock argues.
"No," Mycroft repeats.
"Is he still at USC?"
Mycroft just looks at Sherlock and doesn't say anything.
They're in the kitchen, which is connected to the dining room, which is where his dad is sorting papers. Sherlock doesn't think Thomas can hear them, but while he and Mycroft are having a stare down, Thomas makes it known that he can hear them.
"He's not, Sherlock," Thomas calls through rooms.
Sherlock looks over at the doorway, then he glances at Mycroft once and takes off towards the dining room. Mycroft rushes after him, and in a childish race of who-can-get-to-dad-first, Mycroft elbows Sherlock in the chest and Sherlock grabs his arm and bites it.
"Ow!" Mycroft yells.
"You two settle down," Thomas shouts. "I'm not above givin' my grown sons a beatin'!"
Sherlock and Mycroft take opposite ends of the table and glare at each other as they sit.
"Dad," Mycroft finally says, "I don't think it's a good idea to tell Sherlock about John."
"Mycroft, my eldest son, you are wise beyond your years, I know. But sometimes I get to be dad, see? I want Sherlock to hear this. And he can do what he pleases with the information."
"But—"
"Shut up, Mycroft. Let me talk to Sherlock."
Mycroft sits back against his chair and crosses his arms.
Thomas turns to Sherlock.
"Listen, son. A lot has happened in the past year, alright?"
Sherlock sits up straight to pay better attention. "Alright…"
"John…John's fine. He wasn't doin' too well at USC, right? Boy's never been good at school, you know that. James took him to New York for a weekend to take John's mind off things. It was the day the stock crashed last year. And James…"
Sherlock frowns. "What happened?"
"Jumped out of a window, they say. That's the story. John returned alone and barely finished out the semester."
"Oh god," Sherlock sighs, looking down at the table to gather his thoughts.
"Word is he met a girl that weekend in New York. Some people see her around here, buyin' groceries and things. Always cheap with the money, since John's runnin' the vineyard alone now."
Sherlock's gaze snaps up to his dad. "John's in Salinas?"
Thomas nods. "He's here. He ain't ever leavin'."
Sherlock nods in understanding.
Thomas reaches in his pocket and takes out the car's key. He tosses it across the table at Sherlock. Sherlock curiously looks at his dad.
"Go," Thomas says. "At least see for yourself."
Sherlock scrambles from the table, as if John will be gone any second and he's limited on time.
He's not; he's not limited on time. John is there. John will be there.
Sherlock pauses before he's out the door. He goes back for one more question.
"He doesn't have a bunch of kids, does he?"
Thomas laughs. "Son, you've only been gone a little over a year!"
Sherlock laughs back. "Alright!" he calls as he's exiting the house.