A/N: I really like this chapter and I hope you guys do too!
Sherlock wants to speed to the vineyard, but he takes his time. He thinks up a script in his head, things he wants to say to John.
Hello, John.
How are you?
So sorry to hear about your dad.
Sherlock's heart stutters.
Do you still love me? Even though you're with this girl now?
Sherlock gets to the house and parks where John used to park his car. No doubt John sold the car shortly after his dad died. Sherlock shuts off the loud engine and suddenly feels scared.
What if John isn't pleased to see him? What's the girl like? What if he makes a fool of himself?
He gets out of the car anyway. He does it feeling like he's having an out-of-body experience.
Sherlock gets to the front door and is about to knock when he hears someone clearing their throat behind him. He turns around and adjusts his eyes, his gaze falling on John.
Sherlock can't help but smile. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and walks back down the steps to where John's standing by the car.
John's smiling. The same old smile. That perfect grin. Sherlock forgot how gorgeous it was.
"Fancy seein' you here," John playfully says.
Sherlock shrugs. "I was in the neighborhood."
John doesn't stop smiling. He looks older, that's something Sherlock notices. He doesn't look like a high school kid anymore; he looks like someone who, within a year of graduating, saw the world in the way it really is.
And since John's not wearing a shirt, Sherlock sees that missing out on a year of sports hasn't diminished his body at all. Working in the field day in and day out is doing well for him.
Sherlock's ashamed that that's something he notices.
John reaches up towards Sherlock's face. Sherlock sucks in a nervous breath as John tugs on a ringlet of hair.
"Hair's back," John says.
Sherlock runs a hand through it. "Yep."
"And you finally hit your growth spurt."
"About time," Sherlock says. "I'm nearly eighteen."
John still smiles. Sherlock has to look away.
"Look," Sherlock says, squinting at the sun setting beyond the house. He continues, "I'm sorry to hear about your dad."
John's grin doesn't fall. He cocks his head to the side. "You came all this way to tell me that?"
Sherlock shakes his head. "No. I came all this way because…" Sherlock looks at John and playfully grins. "I haven't had a glass of wine in over a year."
John laughs. He pats Sherlock's arm and nods towards the house. "Come on. I want you to meet someone."
Sherlock's not as sad as he thought he'd be when he walks into the kitchen and sees a beautiful blonde muttering to herself in French. Her back is to them, and when they walk in John whistles to get her attention.
"Mmm?" she sounds, turning around. She confusedly looks at Sherlock. "Oh, hello."
"Honey," John says, going to her and pulling her towards Sherlock. "This is Sherlock Holmes. An old…" John pauses at the wrong time. "Uh, friend."
Mary slowly nods and holds her hand out. "Pleasure, Mister Holmes."
"Sherlock is in town visiting from…"
"Massachusetts," Sherlock adds.
"Massachusetts?" John asks in awe. "Wow. That's amazing."
Sherlock half smiles.
Mary clears her throat. "Uh…won't you stay for dinner, Mister Holmes?"
"Sherlock, please," Sherlock says. "And…sure, I'd like that."
John smiles. He directs Sherlock to a chair and asks him to sit. "Let me get you that wine."
John disappears from the kitchen and Mary sets a glass in front of Sherlock. "So, how do you know John?"
"We went to school together," Sherlock says.
"Oh," Mary sighs.
She doesn't say anything else, so there's an awkward silence before John returns. Sherlock can't think of anything to say to her either.
"So," John sits after he's poured Sherlock a glass. "How are you? What's new?"
"Oh, not much. My dad's sellin' the house. That's why I'm here."
John nods. "Been at Harvard all this time?"
"Yeah," Sherlock says, not wanting to tell John that he was really in San Francisco. "What happened with USC?"
"Oh, you know me!" John cries. "School just got harder and harder to do. I missed it up here. I needed to come home."
Sherlock nods in understanding.
Mary serves dinner a second later. She kisses John's head and Sherlock just watches like it's in slow motion as her lips touch John.
"Hey," John softly says to her. He pats his still-bare chest. "Can you get me a shirt?"
"Sure," she says with a forced smile, then leaves the kitchen.
John doesn't notice what Sherlock sees. He just smiles at Sherlock while she's gone.
"I'm sure glad to see you," John says.
Sherlock leaves right after dinner. John walks him out to the car, but Mary decides to stay in and wash the dishes.
"It's great that you came out here," John says.
"Yeah, it was."
"I haven't much thought of when I'd see you again. Seeing as how you were…god knows where."
"I had to see you at least once before I go back to Massachusetts."
"When do you leave again?"
"Day after tomorrow."
John nods. "Well. I'm here all day. Stop by again."
"Sure," Sherlock says. "Maybe I will."
John looks at Sherlock and slowly leans in to kiss Sherlock's cheek. It's a friendly gesture, people do it all the time, so Sherlock doesn't think anything more of it.
"Don't be a stranger," John says, lightly squeezing Sherlock's hand.
"Right," Sherlock replies, then he gets in the car and leaves.
John helps Mary clean up the rest of the dishes, then they retire to bed. Mary changes from her dress right there in the bedroom while John sits on the bed to pull his boots off.
His back is to her. He can't see thin tears falling over her cheeks.
"That's him, isn't it?" Mary asks once she's in a sleep shirt.
"Who?" John asks back.
"The boy you were in love with before you met me."
John sighs and turns to look at her. "What?"
Mary kneels on the bed across from him. "The boy. I know it's him."
"Why do you think that?"
"I know you were in love before me. You never said a name, so I had the idea that maybe it was a boy. And the way you looked at him."
"How'd I look at him?"
Mary wipes her eyes. "In a way you've never looked at me."
"Hey, hey," John whispers. He holds his hand out for her. "Come here."
Mary climbs over to sit on John's lap. John cradles her close and kisses her head.
"I love you," John whispers.
"I love you, too."
John lays awake later that night. He holds Mary close to his chest and she holds the arm around her. It's the closest they've been in bed for weeks. They've hardly even kissed anymore. It's almost like John subconsciously knew Sherlock would be visiting soon, and he wanted to ready himself for whatever that meant.
"Do you still love him?" she suddenly asks. It's so quiet that John almost doesn't hear her.
But he knew she was awake. He was anticipating that question.
"What's it matter?" he asks back.
"It matters because…because love is a big thing."
"It wouldn't matter to me if I do. I love you."
"And I love you, John," she says. "Which is why I'm going to leave."
"Why?" John asks.
"There's still time for you to be with him."
"There isn't," John argues. "We've moved on. We've grown up. He's gone."
"First love like that doesn't move on, John. You deserve to be with him."
John squeezes her tighter. "What will you do?"
"I'll go home. My mother's been asking me to since I left anyway."
John doesn't say anything. Mary turns around in his arms.
She places a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
"I'm sorry," he tells her.
She lightly kisses his lips.
John lets her go the next morning. He convinces himself that it has nothing to do with Sherlock; he tells himself that it was time they split anyway. She was growing antsy out at the vineyard, John could tell she was itching for city life once again.
He kisses her one last time, then watches her cab kick up dirt along the driveway.