FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 1a/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 10:35:50 UTC
The television is on, the sound turned low - just the exact volume for it to be a comfortable, comforting background noise - and Sherlock is concentrating on the email he’s writing to a potential client, but he still registers the soft sounds of the front door opening and closing. His fingers freeze on the keyboard. Mrs Hudson is at home, he knows. The only other person, apart from himself, who still has keys is John. It’s nearing midnight. John never comes so late, unless there is a case and Sherlock called him. There is only one possible explanation: something’s wrong.
Sherlock springs up and throws the door open. John is in the middle of the darkened staircase and starts at the sudden burst of light. Sherlock cannot see his face, but he’s standing upright and he’s climbed the stairs at his normal pace, so he cannot be badly hurt, but Sherlock runs down to meet him anyway.
“What happened?” he blurts out, and somehow his hands are on John’s shoulders, on his face, touching him, making sure he’s alright. “Are you hurt?” It would make no sense for John so seek out Sherlock if he was hurt, so of course he isn’t, but knowing that doesn’t make Sherlock panic any less.
John just shakes his head and continues climbing the stairs. Following him, Sherlock notices the slight stiffness in his left leg. The psychosomatic limp doesn’t return unless John is in a lot of emotional pain - like when he got a call that Harry was in hospital with liver failure. Something bad has happened. Was it Mary? John would never seek comfort with Sherlock if he could go to Mary instead. It must be Mary.
John stops in the doorway and turns to Sherlock without looking at him. His face is ashen. He looks ten years older than the last time Sherlock saw him - a little over 52,5 hours ago.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” John asks, his voice hollow, and something in Sherlock’s chest clenches: John should never sound like that, look like that, Sherlock wants to find what’s causing him distress and destroy it immediately, but the only thing he can do is to whisper, “Of course,” since the room upstairs is still John’s, will always be John’s, even when John gets married and moves to the country and forgets about 221b Baker Street and crime fighting and Sherlock, it will still be his.
Sherlock opens his mouth to ask what is going on, but before he has a chance to say anything, John whispers, “Mary and I have broken up.”
A voice in Sherlock’s head sings, I knew she wasn’t good enough for him, well done, another brilliant deduction. Another part Sherlock doesn’t care about deductions and just wants to find Mary and kill her, because he’d warned her not to hurt John and she did it anyway. The rest of Sherlock doesn’t care about Mary either and only wants John to stop looking like his world has just fallen apart.
He wants to say something, do something, anything, to help, but he doesn’t know what, he’s never been good at this. He doesn’t know how to comfort people. (John, not people. He doesn’t want to comfort other people.) He hesitates, but John doesn’t seem to expect anything from him, enters the living room and sinks to the sofa, hiding his face in his hands.
Sherlock hesitates some more, and then decides to make tea. John always likes tea, under any circumstances. He puts the kettle on and pulls out John’s favourite brand of Earl Gray, and his mind is spinning fast.
Sherlock has only had to go through breakup once, he had been expecting it and also getting bored with Victor for some time, so it wasn’t really distressing at all. This was very different. It must have been all Mary’s doing and John couldn’t have suspected anything - it was only a week ago that Sherlock saw him looking at engagement rings (he remembers turning his gaze away, pretending not to see, pretending not to care). Mary has broken it off, then, very suddenly, and...
FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 1b/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 10:37:56 UTC
Oh. Sherlock remembers the times in the last few weeks (months?) when Mary deliberately avoided him. Suddenly remembered a prior engagement and ran off. He didn’t really notice it - he and Mary aren’t exactly the best of friends and they only get along because of John, so Sherlock really didn’t mind when instead of dining with John and Mary, he only dined with John. He preferred it that way (he wished it could always be that way). He didn’t care about why Mary wasn’t there if it meant he had John for himself (had the illusion of having John to himself). Mary had a reason for avoiding him, though, that was clear now: she was afraid that what John missed, Sherlock would notice.
She’s been seeing someone else. Sherlock couldn’t say for how long, but long enough.
Sherlock used to have an above-average opinion of Mary’s intelligence, but it was abundantly clear now that she was an idiot, because who in their right mind would cheat on John? Doesn’t she know that John is the best think that ever happened to her? That will ever happen to her?
He prepares the tea exactly as John likes it and carries it to the living room. John hasn’t moved. Sherlock sets the mug down on the coffee table in front of John and sits down next to him. John doesn’t react.
“I made you tea,” Sherlock says, and it’s a remarkably stupid thing to say. He wishes he was someone else, someone who could be the friend John deserves, someone who could help him. John makes a muffled sound in response, and doesn’t move.
Sherlock lays a careful hand on John’s shoulder. John doesn’t flinch or shrug him off and Sherlock decides it’s a good sign. Sherlock remembers John rubbing his back to calm him when he was tense and unable to solve a case, he remembers that it helped (though it was perhaps not due to the rubbing itself but to the fact that it was John doing it). Maybe it could help John too.
He moves his hand between John’s shoulder blades and starts drawing small, misshapen circles. He hopes it’s enough to let John know that Sherlock is here for him, always, even if he doesn’t quite know how to say it.
John’s muscles don’t relax under Sherlock’s touch, and Sherlock is not surprised. He know only too well what it feels like to love someone who doesn’t love you back, but he’s never had a reason to hope his feelings were returned. How much worse must it be, to be allowed to taste the other person’s love and then have it taken away? Sherlock hates it that John has to go through it, John, who should be loved by everyone. He hates Mary for inflicting this kind of pain on John. He hates himself for not being able to stop it.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks softly. Is it the right thing to do? Maybe he should rather be trying to take John’s mind off the matter...
John shakes his head and draws a deep, shaky breath. “Later,” he whispers, and its barely a word.
“Okay,” Sherlock nods and continues to rub John’s back, even though he can see it’s not helping at all.
“John,” Sherlock says after a while, when John’s breathing doesn’t grow any calmer. “Is there anything I can do?” John always knows what to do in those situations when Sherlock’s at loss. Sherlock has nobody else else to ask.
John lets his hands drop. His eyes are red and wet. Sherlock wants to take him in his arms and hold him close and protect him from the world, but he doesn’t think John would like that.
John shakes his head again.
“I think... I’ll just go to bed. I need to be alone for a while.”
“Of course,” Sherlock agrees immediately and takes his hand away from John’s back. He assumed John came to Baker Street because he wanted Sherlock’s presence, but of course it was only because he has nowhere else to go. He wants to be alone. Sherlock has probably only been making it worse.
“I know where clean sheets are,” John says without looking at him and gets up. Sherlock doesn’t know what to say. In the end, he settles for, “Aren’t you going to drink your tea?”
John stops and picks up the mug.
“Thank you,” he breathes, and smiles tightly. It’s the saddest thing Sherlock has ever seen.
Re: FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 1b/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 12:30:54 UTC
Heartbreaking, but beautiful. I am intrigued and will be waiting for the next part right here with my tent. I love Sherlock's awkwardness, but his desire to help.
FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 2a/?
anonymous
April 26 2011, 06:47:21 UTC
Sherlock remains on the sofa, listening to John moving about upstairs, and despises himself for finding the sounds so comforting. It’s really only the little signs of John’s presence that make Baker Street feel like home, despite the fact that John has lived elsewhere for more than a year. (Sherlock only ever turns the TV on because it reminds him of when John still lived here, because he knows that John is watching the same show in his flat. He only cleans the kitchen because John liked it clean.) He cannot help it but like the fact that John is here. Maybe he’ll want to move back in again.
He’s a terrible friend. The woman John wanted to marry left him, and here Sherlock is, thinking about how great it will be to have John back with him. Of course he wishes it was under different circumstances - if John decided that he doesn’t love Mary or any other woman after all and is much better off with Sherlock - but he knows that is never going to happen. John was never fully happy when he lived here, and Sherlock prefers John happy and far away rather than miserable and right here. Of course he does. He’s always been selfish, though, and it still feels nice to have John close.
He hears John have a shower and then move around his old bedroom, making his bed. Sherlock hopes the room is not too dusty. He keeps it reasonably clean at all times, just in case (John slept there a few times when a case kept them up late), but it’s been a while since he’s been there. He doesn’t really like the room when John doesn’t call it his.
Eventually John settles down, and Sherlock wonders if he’s able to fall asleep. Probably not. Sherlock stays up all night himself, composing two mental lists. The first one is very long, and includes all the ways in which he is going to turn Mary Morstan’s life into hell. (He is glad that he has valid reason to hate her now. He wonders briefly if that makes him a bad person, but then he remembers that he never was a good person to begin with, so it doesn’t really matter.) The second one lists the ways in which he is going to make John’s life better, and it’s very short. Currently, the number of items on it is zero.
He thought he could just accept any case that presented itself - John would probably find even the boring ones interesting and the excitement would distract him. But maybe it’s too early, and John will want more time on his own and Sherlock would only irritate him. John is too modest to ask for help, but how is Sherlock to know when offering it will be welcome? John doesn’t have anyone else to turn to for support, Sherlock mustn’t disappoint him, he must find a way to be there for him without being too much.
He feels like an idiot when he googles “how to make a friend feel better after a breakup”. Or like a teenage girl, since the article he finds seems to be written for teenage girls. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s in his mid-thirties and male that makes the article completely unhelpful. How exactly is he supposed to ‘encourage John to think about the positive aspects his breakup’? “John, isn’t it great that you’ll now have more time to chase criminals with me, since you won’t be busy having sex and planning a future?” That sounds terrible even to his own ears, and he has never cared much about what is an acceptable thing to say and what is not. He knows he says a lot of hurtful things without realising. He cannot risk saying something like that to John now. Or ‘make him laugh.’ How should he tell whether it is acceptable to joke, or whether it will make it seem like he’s not taking John’s situation seriously?
He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. He’s a detective and a genius. Surely he’ll be able to tell whether John wants to talk or not. If he does, Sherlock will encourage him, if he doesn’t, Sherlock won’t press him. He’ll try to ask about what John would like, and he’ll know by John’s expression whether his questions are welcome or not. He won’t mess up. He mustn’t.
FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 2b/?
anonymous
April 26 2011, 06:50:10 UTC
He hears John getting up far earlier than he expected, it’s only half past five. John hasn’t slept well, or he hasn’t slept at all. Sherlock moves to the kitchen and makes another cup of tea. Then he realises that after a sleepless night John might prefer coffee, so he makes that too. He’ll drink whatever John doesn’t want. He doesn’t have any bread that isn’t mouldy, but he finds a box of cereal that John likes, and sets it on the table next to the two cups.
“You’re up early,” Sherlock comments when John enters the kitchen. There are dark circles under his eyes - he looks even worse than he did last night.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles. “I have to go to work anyway.”
“Do you want to go?” Sherlock asks and a brilliant idea ignites in his mind.
“I don’t want to do anything right now.”
“Have breakfast, then, and I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it? Sherlock, what --”
Sherlock hurries to his bedroom and makes a very interesting phone call. When he returns to the kitchen he finds John sipping the coffee and the cereal untouched.
“Dr Clark will take care of your patients today,” Sherlock informs him.
“Oh?” That’s all the reaction Sherlock gets. John doesn’t even have the energy to ask him a proper question.
“I called him and informed him that it’s either that or his wife will find out where exactly the money for their new care came from,” Sherlock explains. “What?” John says, and it’s a poor imitation of his usual indignation. “You cannot just blackmail my colleagues into doing my work for me.”
“Yes, I can. I will do it again if necessary. You haven’t slept. You wouldn’t be any help to your patients anyway.”
“You’re probably right,” John sighs and looks at his coffee, defeated. “But don’t tell me anything about Clark’s money, okay? I don’t want to know.”
“Okay.”
Sherlock sits down in front of John and studies him for a moment. Should he ask? Or wait for John to begin? Sherlock has never wanted to hear much about Mary, maybe John thinks he cannot talk to him.
“Have you deduced it all, then?” John asks when he notices Sherlock’s scrutiny.
“Parts of it,” Sherlock admits. “I’d much rather if you told me the rest yourself, though. If you want to. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” That should be all right, hopefully. He’s made it clear that he wants John to talk to him, but that he’s not going to pry. Not very elegantly worded, true, but John has never cared about that.
John continues to stare at his coffee for a while, and then he says, almost inaudibly, “She fell in love with someone else.”
Sherlock doesn’t say anything, because the only thing he could have said is that Mary is a living proof that humans can actually function without using their brain.
“A colleague pf hers. I even met him once, at a party. Thought he was nice.” He laughs bitterly. “Apparently it was at that party that they first got together. Almost two months ago. She didn’t know how to tell me. Didn’t want to hurt me.” His voice breaks at the last sentence, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “So she waited until the night I popped the question.”
When Sherlock made the list of things he would do to Mary as revenge for hurting John, he didn’t think he would need Mycroft’s help. Now, though, he is seriously starting to reconsider.
“I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid,” John continues, and a tear runs down his nose. “I never suspected anything. I thought she loved me.” He covers his face with his hands. “I should’ve known. She’s young and funny and beautiful, I should have known she wouldn’t want to be stuck with me for the rest of her life.”
FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 2c/?
anonymous
April 26 2011, 06:51:34 UTC
‘Give your friend a hug,’ is one of the recommendations for socially inept teenagers Sherlock read online. He and John don’t usually hug. They touch a lot, certainly more then is common for standard British male friendships, but they don’t hug unless one of them has just escaped mortal danger. Close human contact is meant to make people feel safe. John is not in danger now, but maybe it’s time to break with tradition.
He walks to John and slowly removes his hands from his face.
“Stand up,” he tells him softly.
“What?” John asks, confused, but stands up anyway, since he’s used to following where Sherlock leads.
Sherlock draws his arms around John gently, slowly, so that John has enough time to withdraw if the gesture is not welcome. John doesn’t move, and so Sherlock pulls him close but keeps the embrace loose. John is stiff for a moment, and then his his hands move to Sherlock’s back, grabbing fistfuls of Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock’s tightens the embrace and John buries his face in Sherlock’s shoulder as a silent sob shakes his body.
It’s so wrong. John is meant to be strong and steadfast and unwavering, not like this, not shaking and leaning on Sherlock like he cannot stay upright on his own. What has the woman done to him?
“She’ll come to regret it more than you do, John,” Sherlock murmurs in his hair, though he is not sure if John hears him. “You’ll be all right and you’ll find someone else and be happy. I know you don’t believe it now, but I know it’s true.” He hopes it’s true. “But she can never find anyone half as good as you. It’s her loss.”
A choked sound escapes John’s throat, and Sherlock holds him, and holds him, and holds him.
Re: FILL: Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain 2c/?supermusicmadApril 26 2011, 15:24:58 UTC
D: Oh my God poor EVERYONE. Except Mary, of course. She can go die in a hole for hurting my lovely John. My poor, heartbroken John. <3 And poor Sherlock, absolutely desperate to help his friend. On the one hand, he's so smart he can use his deductive powers to tell when John wants to talk, and on the other he's so clueless he has to turn to Google for advise. Bless him. This is lovely and I can't wait for more. :)
Sherlock springs up and throws the door open. John is in the middle of the darkened staircase and starts at the sudden burst of light. Sherlock cannot see his face, but he’s standing upright and he’s climbed the stairs at his normal pace, so he cannot be badly hurt, but Sherlock runs down to meet him anyway.
“What happened?” he blurts out, and somehow his hands are on John’s shoulders, on his face, touching him, making sure he’s alright. “Are you hurt?” It would make no sense for John so seek out Sherlock if he was hurt, so of course he isn’t, but knowing that doesn’t make Sherlock panic any less.
John just shakes his head and continues climbing the stairs. Following him, Sherlock notices the slight stiffness in his left leg. The psychosomatic limp doesn’t return unless John is in a lot of emotional pain - like when he got a call that Harry was in hospital with liver failure. Something bad has happened. Was it Mary? John would never seek comfort with Sherlock if he could go to Mary instead. It must be Mary.
John stops in the doorway and turns to Sherlock without looking at him. His face is ashen. He looks ten years older than the last time Sherlock saw him - a little over 52,5 hours ago.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” John asks, his voice hollow, and something in Sherlock’s chest clenches: John should never sound like that, look like that, Sherlock wants to find what’s causing him distress and destroy it immediately, but the only thing he can do is to whisper, “Of course,” since the room upstairs is still John’s, will always be John’s, even when John gets married and moves to the country and forgets about 221b Baker Street and crime fighting and Sherlock, it will still be his.
Sherlock opens his mouth to ask what is going on, but before he has a chance to say anything, John whispers, “Mary and I have broken up.”
A voice in Sherlock’s head sings, I knew she wasn’t good enough for him, well done, another brilliant deduction. Another part Sherlock doesn’t care about deductions and just wants to find Mary and kill her, because he’d warned her not to hurt John and she did it anyway. The rest of Sherlock doesn’t care about Mary either and only wants John to stop looking like his world has just fallen apart.
He wants to say something, do something, anything, to help, but he doesn’t know what, he’s never been good at this. He doesn’t know how to comfort people. (John, not people. He doesn’t want to comfort other people.) He hesitates, but John doesn’t seem to expect anything from him, enters the living room and sinks to the sofa, hiding his face in his hands.
Sherlock hesitates some more, and then decides to make tea. John always likes tea, under any circumstances. He puts the kettle on and pulls out John’s favourite brand of Earl Gray, and his mind is spinning fast.
Sherlock has only had to go through breakup once, he had been expecting it and also getting bored with Victor for some time, so it wasn’t really distressing at all. This was very different. It must have been all Mary’s doing and John couldn’t have suspected anything - it was only a week ago that Sherlock saw him looking at engagement rings (he remembers turning his gaze away, pretending not to see, pretending not to care). Mary has broken it off, then, very suddenly, and...
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She’s been seeing someone else. Sherlock couldn’t say for how long, but long enough.
Sherlock used to have an above-average opinion of Mary’s intelligence, but it was abundantly clear now that she was an idiot, because who in their right mind would cheat on John? Doesn’t she know that John is the best think that ever happened to her? That will ever happen to her?
He prepares the tea exactly as John likes it and carries it to the living room. John hasn’t moved. Sherlock sets the mug down on the coffee table in front of John and sits down next to him. John doesn’t react.
“I made you tea,” Sherlock says, and it’s a remarkably stupid thing to say. He wishes he was someone else, someone who could be the friend John deserves, someone who could help him. John makes a muffled sound in response, and doesn’t move.
Sherlock lays a careful hand on John’s shoulder. John doesn’t flinch or shrug him off and Sherlock decides it’s a good sign. Sherlock remembers John rubbing his back to calm him when he was tense and unable to solve a case, he remembers that it helped (though it was perhaps not due to the rubbing itself but to the fact that it was John doing it). Maybe it could help John too.
He moves his hand between John’s shoulder blades and starts drawing small, misshapen circles. He hopes it’s enough to let John know that Sherlock is here for him, always, even if he doesn’t quite know how to say it.
John’s muscles don’t relax under Sherlock’s touch, and Sherlock is not surprised. He know only too well what it feels like to love someone who doesn’t love you back, but he’s never had a reason to hope his feelings were returned. How much worse must it be, to be allowed to taste the other person’s love and then have it taken away? Sherlock hates it that John has to go through it, John, who should be loved by everyone. He hates Mary for inflicting this kind of pain on John. He hates himself for not being able to stop it.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks softly. Is it the right thing to do? Maybe he should rather be trying to take John’s mind off the matter...
John shakes his head and draws a deep, shaky breath. “Later,” he whispers, and its barely a word.
“Okay,” Sherlock nods and continues to rub John’s back, even though he can see it’s not helping at all.
“John,” Sherlock says after a while, when John’s breathing doesn’t grow any calmer. “Is there anything I can do?” John always knows what to do in those situations when Sherlock’s at loss. Sherlock has nobody else else to ask.
John lets his hands drop. His eyes are red and wet. Sherlock wants to take him in his arms and hold him close and protect him from the world, but he doesn’t think John would like that.
John shakes his head again.
“I think... I’ll just go to bed. I need to be alone for a while.”
“Of course,” Sherlock agrees immediately and takes his hand away from John’s back. He assumed John came to Baker Street because he wanted Sherlock’s presence, but of course it was only because he has nowhere else to go. He wants to be alone. Sherlock has probably only been making it worse.
“I know where clean sheets are,” John says without looking at him and gets up. Sherlock doesn’t know what to say. In the end, he settles for, “Aren’t you going to drink your tea?”
John stops and picks up the mug.
“Thank you,” he breathes, and smiles tightly. It’s the saddest thing Sherlock has ever seen.
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He’s a terrible friend. The woman John wanted to marry left him, and here Sherlock is, thinking about how great it will be to have John back with him. Of course he wishes it was under different circumstances - if John decided that he doesn’t love Mary or any other woman after all and is much better off with Sherlock - but he knows that is never going to happen. John was never fully happy when he lived here, and Sherlock prefers John happy and far away rather than miserable and right here. Of course he does. He’s always been selfish, though, and it still feels nice to have John close.
He hears John have a shower and then move around his old bedroom, making his bed. Sherlock hopes the room is not too dusty. He keeps it reasonably clean at all times, just in case (John slept there a few times when a case kept them up late), but it’s been a while since he’s been there. He doesn’t really like the room when John doesn’t call it his.
Eventually John settles down, and Sherlock wonders if he’s able to fall asleep. Probably not. Sherlock stays up all night himself, composing two mental lists. The first one is very long, and includes all the ways in which he is going to turn Mary Morstan’s life into hell. (He is glad that he has valid reason to hate her now. He wonders briefly if that makes him a bad person, but then he remembers that he never was a good person to begin with, so it doesn’t really matter.) The second one lists the ways in which he is going to make John’s life better, and it’s very short. Currently, the number of items on it is zero.
He thought he could just accept any case that presented itself - John would probably find even the boring ones interesting and the excitement would distract him. But maybe it’s too early, and John will want more time on his own and Sherlock would only irritate him. John is too modest to ask for help, but how is Sherlock to know when offering it will be welcome? John doesn’t have anyone else to turn to for support, Sherlock mustn’t disappoint him, he must find a way to be there for him without being too much.
He feels like an idiot when he googles “how to make a friend feel better after a breakup”. Or like a teenage girl, since the article he finds seems to be written for teenage girls. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s in his mid-thirties and male that makes the article completely unhelpful. How exactly is he supposed to ‘encourage John to think about the positive aspects his breakup’? “John, isn’t it great that you’ll now have more time to chase criminals with me, since you won’t be busy having sex and planning a future?” That sounds terrible even to his own ears, and he has never cared much about what is an acceptable thing to say and what is not. He knows he says a lot of hurtful things without realising. He cannot risk saying something like that to John now. Or ‘make him laugh.’ How should he tell whether it is acceptable to joke, or whether it will make it seem like he’s not taking John’s situation seriously?
He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. He’s a detective and a genius. Surely he’ll be able to tell whether John wants to talk or not. If he does, Sherlock will encourage him, if he doesn’t, Sherlock won’t press him. He’ll try to ask about what John would like, and he’ll know by John’s expression whether his questions are welcome or not. He won’t mess up. He mustn’t.
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“You’re up early,” Sherlock comments when John enters the kitchen. There are dark circles under his eyes - he looks even worse than he did last night.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles. “I have to go to work anyway.”
“Do you want to go?” Sherlock asks and a brilliant idea ignites in his mind.
“I don’t want to do anything right now.”
“Have breakfast, then, and I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it? Sherlock, what --”
Sherlock hurries to his bedroom and makes a very interesting phone call. When he returns to the kitchen he finds John sipping the coffee and the cereal untouched.
“Dr Clark will take care of your patients today,” Sherlock informs him.
“Oh?” That’s all the reaction Sherlock gets. John doesn’t even have the energy to ask him a proper question.
“I called him and informed him that it’s either that or his wife will find out where exactly the money for their new care came from,” Sherlock explains.
“What?” John says, and it’s a poor imitation of his usual indignation. “You cannot just blackmail my colleagues into doing my work for me.”
“Yes, I can. I will do it again if necessary. You haven’t slept. You wouldn’t be any help to your patients anyway.”
“You’re probably right,” John sighs and looks at his coffee, defeated. “But don’t tell me anything about Clark’s money, okay? I don’t want to know.”
“Okay.”
Sherlock sits down in front of John and studies him for a moment. Should he ask? Or wait for John to begin? Sherlock has never wanted to hear much about Mary, maybe John thinks he cannot talk to him.
“Have you deduced it all, then?” John asks when he notices Sherlock’s scrutiny.
“Parts of it,” Sherlock admits. “I’d much rather if you told me the rest yourself, though. If you want to. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” That should be all right, hopefully. He’s made it clear that he wants John to talk to him, but that he’s not going to pry. Not very elegantly worded, true, but John has never cared about that.
John continues to stare at his coffee for a while, and then he says, almost inaudibly, “She fell in love with someone else.”
Sherlock doesn’t say anything, because the only thing he could have said is that Mary is a living proof that humans can actually function without using their brain.
“A colleague pf hers. I even met him once, at a party. Thought he was nice.” He laughs bitterly. “Apparently it was at that party that they first got together. Almost two months ago. She didn’t know how to tell me. Didn’t want to hurt me.” His voice breaks at the last sentence, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “So she waited until the night I popped the question.”
When Sherlock made the list of things he would do to Mary as revenge for hurting John, he didn’t think he would need Mycroft’s help. Now, though, he is seriously starting to reconsider.
“I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid,” John continues, and a tear runs down his nose. “I never suspected anything. I thought she loved me.” He covers his face with his hands. “I should’ve known. She’s young and funny and beautiful, I should have known she wouldn’t want to be stuck with me for the rest of her life.”
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He walks to John and slowly removes his hands from his face.
“Stand up,” he tells him softly.
“What?” John asks, confused, but stands up anyway, since he’s used to following where Sherlock leads.
Sherlock draws his arms around John gently, slowly, so that John has enough time to withdraw if the gesture is not welcome. John doesn’t move, and so Sherlock pulls him close but keeps the embrace loose. John is stiff for a moment, and then his his hands move to Sherlock’s back, grabbing fistfuls of Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock’s tightens the embrace and John buries his face in Sherlock’s shoulder as a silent sob shakes his body.
It’s so wrong. John is meant to be strong and steadfast and unwavering, not like this, not shaking and leaning on Sherlock like he cannot stay upright on his own. What has the woman done to him?
“She’ll come to regret it more than you do, John,” Sherlock murmurs in his hair, though he is not sure if John hears him. “You’ll be all right and you’ll find someone else and be happy. I know you don’t believe it now, but I know it’s true.” He hopes it’s true. “But she can never find anyone half as good as you. It’s her loss.”
A choked sound escapes John’s throat, and Sherlock holds him, and holds him, and holds him.
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