This story might actually end up having a higher word count than Asphyxia. Nice. But I never realized how difficult it was to figure out when and when not to capitalize the word major.

Halfway point on Sunday yea

Enjoy

"John Watson!" Theresa declared, appearing in the doorway. Sholto glanced up faster than I, watching as she flung herself down the stairs, careful of her steps but still eager to throw her arms around me. Her huge smile made the gray skies seem just a bit lighter. "It's been too long, John. What the hell held you two up?"

"There was a bit of a crowd at the station," I answered. "Getting a cab was a nightmare."

"Oh, I believe it." She rubbed my shoulder, then offered for my duffel. "Let me take that for you."

"No, it's alright, I've got this one. The major might need an extra hand, though." I glanced up to Sholto.

"I-"

"Of course, it's no problem," She laughed, sweeping up his case and hustling it up the stairs before he even had a chance to reply. He shot me an unhappy glance, but I grinned back at him and headed up after her.

Her husband, Ed (or as we knew him, Eddie), stood out on the landing to meet us, his big eyes gleaming out from behind tiny spectacles. As I finished my pilgrimage crutching to the stop of the staircase, I still didn't feel like I made it much higher than his elbows. "Have you gotten taller, or have I gotten shorter?" I asked, looking over him.

"I haven't gotten taller," He answered.

"Well, thanks," I scoffed.

He smiled, taking the bag from my shoulder and putting it on his own. "Come on in."

Their townhome was as gorgeous on the inside as it was on the outside. Bright corals filled every crevice, lining walls and bookshelves all along the main landing. Everything looked neat, clean, and freshly dusted; the whole house was filled with the smell of rain and honey, the windows left wide while the breeze floated lazily through. A long staircase led to the upper level, and around the corner the hall for the basement. I slipped off my shoes and wandered inside, letting my feet sink into the fur carpet.

"You two will be staying upstairs." Eddie said, motioning with his head. "Would you like to see the bedrooms?"

I wouldn't have minded, but I glanced at Sholto to see if he seemed up for another climb, and he seemed a bit stoney. "I don't think my leg will take another climb."

"No problem. I'll just put your bag upstairs. Make yourself at home."

"Thank-you." I turned into the sitting room and all-of-a-sudden felt filthy. Their furniture was predominantly white and gold, with rich red and blue coral flowers across the wall and the tea table. I straightened my shoulders and trod around, deciding to investigate the bookshelf and photo collection rather than sit. Sholto decided the opposite and relaxed back into the plush sofa, stretching out his arm.

"Sorry that we had to split you boys up," Theresa said, coming in to join us.

"Hm?" I turned to her.

"Guest rooms have twin beds, not queens," She said. "Sorry we have to split you up. I keep telling Ed that we need to get new furniture, but he keeps putting it off."

I was a bit unsure what part of her statement I was supposed to respond to. "Twin beds are fine."

"And we just painted the walls in your room, John, so I apologize if they seem a little naked." She gave her stomach a firm pat. "Making plans for the new nursery. We love the windows in that room and thought it would be just the perfect nursery room. Did it a lovely yellow."

"Congratulations," Sholto said.

"Oh, thanks, Major." She beamed. "We're pretty excited."

"When's the due date?" I asked.

"Mid-October." She smoothed over the front of her shirt. "I'm only now starting to show. Most mothers hate that part, but damn, I think it's just wonderful. I'm betting on a girl, definitely. Beautiful little baby girl. But we're doing the room unisex, just in case."

"That's probably best," I nodded.

"That's what I thought. So, how are you two boys doing, hm?" She took a seat in one of their armchairs, leaning out of it a bit to keep a good view of both of us. "Do you need anything? Water, tea, a few biscuits, maybe?"

"We had a meal on the train," Sholto answered. I crossed over to sit down beside him.

"Oh, yes, you two took Virgin, didn't you?" She cooed. "Those are my favorite rides. We always take Virgin when we visit down south. How did you like it?"

"The views were breathtaking," I answered.

"Always."

Eddie reappeared, and with him he brought a little tray of tea-on-ice and butties, setting it down on the sitting table and taking a chair himself. Sholto seemed as off-guard about the iced tea as I was. "What is this?"

"Sweet tea," Theresa answered. "I found it on our honeymoon when we flew to Florida. Addicted to the stuff ever since."

"I told her you wouldn't like it, but she insisted." Eddie clarified. "I can put on a pot if you don't."

"It's alright," I said, taking a sip. The crisp taste almost made me gag. "Oh, wow."

"I'll put on a pot," He hummed, standing.

"Don't you think it's still a bit cold to drink iced tea?" I asked, setting the glass down.

"Never too cold." She answered. "And it's nice right now. You two just missed the rain, bloody awful stuff. We're supposed to get some more tonight, but we've got the windows open for now. Enjoying the breeze while we can, yeah?"

I nodded, sitting back.

"Anyway, why am I still talking?" She tsked. "Tell me about you, John. What has Dr. Watson been making of his life lately?"

"Not anything too noteworthy," I said. "Just running around London."

"Are you still working at that surgery you told me about?"

"No. Not right now, at least. I'm taking a much-needed vacation."

"Ah, lovely. And how's that shoulder doing?"

"Much better." I rubbed it. "Hasn't been giving me too much trouble lately. I've reached eighty-five percent motion."

"Oh, that's fantastic."

"It really is."

"What's with that cane there?"

I glanced down to it and shrugged. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

Theresa grinned. "None of us really are, hm?"

She turned to Sholto. He hadn't even glanced at the tea or the butties, half-heartedly listening to our chatter while examining the room around us. He might've been tired, maybe even bored of sitting after that train ride, but he looked solemn, and it made the both of us feel a bit unsettled because we weren't quite sure why.

"What about you, Major?" She asked.

He glanced at her. "I'm sorry?"

"How have you been? It's been ages since I've heard of you."

"Yes." He smoothed over his leg. "I've got a bad habit of falling out of contact."

"How are you?"

"I'm quite fine, thank-you."

"Have you about settled down since you got home?"

He pursed his lips into a half-smile, his eyes flickering down to the table before landing on her again. "That's one way to put it."

"Are you still living alone after... you-know-what?" She asked.

"Yes, I am."

"And how is that working out for you?"

"Preferrably," He answered.

"That's nice, very nice." She smiled, leaning forward to pick up his left-over glass of sweet tea. "I'll just have this, if you don't mind. It's too tempting."

"Go right ahead."

Eddie returned from the kitchen with two steaming cups of tea, a little different from the way I would make it (it tasted a little bit more Scottish than typical, understandably) but still comforting to my stomach. He took a seat in a lounge chair to Theresa's right, adjusting his spectacles and crossing his legs in front of the table. Sholto again turned down the tea, but thanked Eddie anyway.

"So, John, are you still together with that detective?" Theresa asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, I am."

"Well, that's good for you, but I can't help but say I was a teensy bit disappointed," She tittered. "If only the two of you had lasted a bit longer, the universe would all be in order, yeah?"

I let my eyes slide shut, and Sholto cleared his throat. "I think I will take that tea, after all."

"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that." She laughed. "I like embarassing the two of you."

"And maybe some vodka for me, thanks," I threw in.

Theresa croaked with laughter, and Eddie shot me a wink as he served Sholto his tea.

"You can drink all you want, but I'm still going to tease." She took another sip of her tea. "Remember that once I caught the two of you snogging in the back hall after our promotion banquet? Christ, it really is a surprise that one of you didn't get deported the way you were going at it."

"Really not appreciated, Theresa," I coughed.

"Half the corpsmen knew about it, dammit." She kept chuckling. "Ah, I wish you weren't so uptight, there were some good times wrapped up between those snogging sessions."

I rolled my eyes, drinking my tea to keep myself from further commenting, and glanced toward Sholto for reinforcements. He had his tea in his hand, stirring it gently and studying Theresa with an intent sort of light. He was part of the conversation now, at least, but he looked like he was on the verge of becoming pissed off with her prodding and poking.

"Oh, and poor Emerson, he was so worried. He had no idea what was going on, he must've come running to me at least a dozen times. You're lucky I was there, covering for your asses all the time, especially that one August."

Sholto's eyes seemed completely blank. "Who?"

"Emerson Gale? He was that one cadet that kept flirting with all the nurses."

"Was he part of our regiment?"

"I don't think so. He was in Bastion, not Ristol."

Sholto nodded.

"I thought his name was Louis," Eddie mentioned.

"No, no, that was Louis Sheckey, he was a corpsmen." Theresa corrected. "He was a flirt, too, but he was the red-haired one with the horrible Irish accent. Remember, he was the one who was with Emilie for the longest time, then got sent back to London on a harassment suit."

"I remember him." I curled my brow. "He was annoying as hell."

"He was the one who was hitting on Macie all the time." She continued, then burst into laughter. "Oh, yeah, Sholto, you nearly bashed his head in."

Sholto narrowed his eyes in thought, his eyes flicking back and forth. "I don't recall."

"I think that was one of the first times I'd met you," Theresa said. "I walked in on you with your fist down his throat."

I grinned. That was the perfect explanation of what had happened. Macie had been getting some of the organizing done in the back room and was being pushed around against her will. He and I had gone in to help out and uncovered them. At first it seemed as if he was going to handle the situation in a collected fashion, but it only took him a few seconds to realize what a douchebag Lou was and give him a nosebleed to last the rest of the night. But as we chuckled over the story, Sholto kept his cold expression, glancing toward me with a thread of confusion.

"Louis Sheckey died of a hemorrhage," He said.

We all went quiet. He was right; Lou had been working in the surgery when a raid blasted through the north wall. He was caught in the explosion. At first we had thought he had made it out with just a few breaks and a concussion, but he wouldn't wake up. He died a day later, and the biopsy revealed a bleed in his brain. We never could've saved him, but there were some people who were shaken by it - both by his death and by the raid. Sholto had been one of them.

Theresa tried to maintain a smile, but remembering that detail made thrown her off her tempo. "Mmh, a shame." She sighed. "Poor kid."

Eventually she picked back up the pace, but conversation didn't seem quite so vibrant. Sholto continued to stir his tea, watching her with a nostalgic pull, and I breathed up the steam from my cup and bound myself to the scent of honey in the air.

While Theresa rambled on about their honeymoon to Florida, Eddie disappeared into the kitchen. My tea was finished, so I followed him up, taking the rest of the platter with me. Neither of us had touched the butties, but Theresa had eaten a pretty significant number of them. I put it in the back of my mind and rounded the corner. Eddie was pouring himself some tea, watching me as I came, his glasses reflecting the light from the back window.

"Seems a bit closed off," He mentioned, his voice low. "But other than a few dark spots, his memory sounds in-tact."

I nodded, setting the platter on the counter. "It's the dark spots I'm worried about."

"Do you really think he could be missing things?"

"I don't know. I think I'm just preparing for it." I let my eyes fall, leaning up against the wall. "I've had memory problems before, too, related to my PTSD. I have dark spots and blurry ones, but mine don't matter. His might."

He nodded, raising his tea to his lips.

"I've already seen that he's forgotten memories." I grasped the sleeves of my jumper. "Significant ones. And I'm not sure what that means."

"He opens up more to you than either of us," He said.

"Does he?"

"Maybe because of your former relationship, or maybe because of your interest in Macie's case. But it's there."

"Yeah." I let my eyes close. I was mentally exhausted, feeling more and more anxious about Sholto's health and the case, feeling us slip farther into uncertainty. I felt like I didn't know where he was or what he was thinking, and I was starting to lose sight of what I thought was true. About him, about Macie, about the case, even about us.

But Eddie kept watching me. I heard his teaspoon clink onto its dish, accompanied the soft smell of sugar and milk.

"Talk to him."

I glanced over, accepting the responsibility with a soft shoulder.

We decided to get some early sleep, heading upstairs not long after the sun had set. The stairs looked overwhelming, but somehow we had made it. My room was the first door on the left from the stairs, and Sholto's was down on the right, separated by a few spare feet of hall. The whole upper level was filled with loose air, windows shedding the shadow of the streetlights throughout my room, bringing the rain in with it.

I quickly skipped over to pull shut the glass, locking it out of habit and securing it just for safety's sake. I was right on the lip of the roof, and for a split second I considered how easy it would be for a burglar to slip through, or a teenager to slip out. But I didn't remain there for too long. Eddie had left your duffel in the middle of the bed, so I unfolded my sleeping clothes and quickly change, giving a short thanks to myself for packing warm trousers. The windows had left the room completely chilled.

After waming myself, I made quick use of the bathroom and returned to my case for my mobile phone. You had promised to let me know when you were headed in and out of the flat, but you hadn't sent me any text yet, so I decided to be the bigger person and text you first, putting my duffel at the foot of the bed to fold my legs underneath myself.

Trying to sleep early, bit of a long day. Be sure to reapply that antiseptic when you get home. - JW

There was a short creak outside my door, and there appeared Sholto, not yet dressed for bed but his leather jacket been removed. "John."

"Yes?" I looked up at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." He stepped inside. "I seem to have left my toothpaste back at your flat."

"Oh, no problem, you can borrow mine." I leaned foward into the duffel, and Sholto quickly passed in front of the door, closing it quietly and locking it behind him.

That one distinct click immediately caused the hair on the back of my neck rise. I froze, glancing back up at him. He held my eyes for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and I realized just how angry he looked. He kept his hands behind him, taking due stock of me, positioned with my neck exposed by my loose jumper.

"I know what you're doing." He said, his tone flat.

"I'm guessing you don't actually want toothpaste?" I muttered.

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't appreciate people keeping me in the dark. Specifically when it has to do with my own health."

I paused. "We were just trying to help you, Sholto."

"If you wanted to know something, you should've just asked me."

"We were afraid to upset you, or worse."

"Ironic."

He gently milled his jaw, still watching me with a glint of steel in his eyes. I repositioned myself to sit facing him, letting my hands sink into the sleeves of my jumper, bundling within the thick fabric. I was afraid to say anything more, so I waited, watching that steel slowly fade out of sight. What replaced it seemed to me like smooth wax, flexible and flaky, and he stepped away from the door.

"I don't like this, either." He said, his voice gone soft. "I dislike being unable to trust myself. I've spent too long worrying about my health to have something like this destroy everything I've worked for."

I stood. Sholto still seemed distant, and I didn't try approaching him, but I felt as if it were more respectful to stand. He watched me, his confidence slowly dissipating into the space around him, and gently unlocked the door.

"Goodnight, John."

He opened the door, making it out into the hall before I called after him, coming into the open doorway and placing my hands on either side of the frame.

"Wait, James."

I looked up at him as he turned, his glass eyes shining in the shadow of the rain. I immediately felt as if a levee had broken. A storm woke in my chest, I felt the rain run in long streams under my skin, its color reflected in the color of Sholto's breath. He was just a step away, looking down at me just the way he used to, and my voice caught in my throat

"James." I repeated, barely able to manage a whisper. "We'll figure this out."

It sounded disappointing and sour in my mouth, but James didn't seem to mind. He turned his shoulders toward me for a moment, holding fast to my gaze.

"Thank-you, John." He answered.

I slid my hands lower on the frame, hesitating. "Good-night, then."

"Good-night."

He moved down the hall, and I closed the door after him, pressing my back against it and staring out at the rain-streaked windows. I was going to be sick.

My head was throbbing, whirlwhinds ripping thoughts down like trees. I slid onto the floor, pressing my knees up against my chest as my mind reeled, dizzied with my thoughts, overwhelmed with everything that was happening and what hadn't happened and what could. I couldn't help but let my hands shake; my body didn't know what else to do about this assault, and I wondered how he could destroy me so easily with nothing a glance.

Everything in me seemed to be screaming simeultaneously, and the pain in my leg flared, I had to steady myself with my palms braced against the floor. I exposed my neck to the chill, breathing in deep, letting myself still, refusing to be driven into a panic by nothing at all. Something about just his being here had made me vulnerable to anything he did, anything he said. I had told myself that I would be prepared for him, but maybe I wasn't - maybe I never was.

We hadn't spoken in months. Maybe that was for the best. We hadn't seen each other for years. Maybe that was why I got better. I knew he had changed, but every so often I saw little glipses of him, the Sholto still trapped in his own desert, radiating heat so strong it made my mouth go dry. I knew that it would be difficult, but now I was isolated, trapped once again, with no one to run to and no one to hear me.

What was wrong with me?

High all the time to keep you off my mind. (Ooh-ooh, review-review.)

I think it's super cool to hear you guys' theories, especially for those who've read Asphyxia before this. (I said the plot was self-contained and it is, but there are still some themes that are specifically written to complement those in Asphyxia, let's see if you can spot them.)

Next update Sunday.