Fic: Past, Present & Future (6/?)
Past, Present & Future: Chapter Six
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: John Watson/Marcus Morstan; Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (one-sided)
Beta: lady_t_220
Summary: Sherlock returns after three years to find that things have changed in ways he could never predict. There's a stranger living in 221b and no-one's life is quite the same for it.
*
December 2011
The cold of winter is starting to set in and John shuffles closer to Marcus, seeking out the warm press of his body in his half-asleep state. Marcus shifts against him, making himself more comfortable, but then his breathing levels out again as he falls back into a deep sleep.
John is not quite asleep again when he hears the sudden crack of the front door opening. He tenses, instantly wide awake and listening out for any other sounds. He hears footsteps in the hallway and sits up swiftly. Marcus makes a questioning noise and turns slightly towards him, so John presses his fingers to Marcus's lips, urging him to stay quiet. In an instant, Marcus is fully awake and they both look towards the door as they hear a clatter coming from the living room.
John swings his feet over the side of the bed and pauses as Marcus presses a hand to his arm and gives him a look in warning. John nods and Marcus slides out of bed, following as John creeps towards the door. They pause at the door as John peeks out into the darkened hallway; he can't see anything but there are still faint noises coming from the living room. He glances at Marcus again and they sneak out into the hall.
Once they near the lounge, John catches his first glimpse of the intruder, bent over the sideboard, rifling through a drawer. He shares one last glance with Marcus and then, hoping to make the most of the advantage of surprise, he rushes the would-be burglar and tackles him to the floor.
The intruder is little more than a gangly teenager and there is only a brief struggle before John has him on his front, hands pinned behind his back.
"Oi!" the teenager complains.
"Looks like you chose the wrong flat to burgle," Marcus remarks, stepping forward and grinning at John as he pulls out his phone. "I'll call it in."
The burglar gives a little wriggle of protest but John's knee in the small of his back soon stops him.
"This is DC Morstan," Marcus says to the operator. "I've had a break-in and I need you to send someone over to fetch the offender."
Marcus gives his address and then hangs up, throwing his phone on the sofa.
"Just for the record, mate," Marcus says to the burglar, before pointing to John. "Ex-soldier." He then points to himself. "Policeman."
"Really not your day," John adds, finally lifting some of his weight off the intruder as Marcus gets his handcuffs and slips them around the teenager's wrists. John hauls him to his feet and pushes him onto the sofa.
"Sit."
"What about my rights?" the teenager sneers at Marcus.
"Right now, you have the right to shut up. When my colleagues get here, they'll do the rest."
The teenager just scoffs but falls silent and John and Marcus share a bemused look. John moves to Marcus's side and Marcus gives him a heated look.
"I probably shouldn't be so turned on by you tackling criminals like that," Marcus says under his breath and John gives him a sly smile.
"Ergh, are you gay?" the teenager sneers.
"Shut it," Marcus replies sternly. "Or I'll have you done for insulting a police officer."
The intruder falls into a sullen silence and they settle in to wait.
Twenty minutes later there is a knock at the door and Marcus goes to answer it. It's clear from Marcus's tone that he knows the two uniformed officers who appear in the living room, and John is pretty sure he recognises one of them - especially when he gives John the kind of disdainful look he is growing quite used to. He flicks a look from John to Marcus, and then joins his partner as they guide the teenager up from the sofa whilst reading him his rights.
"We'll need statements tomorrow," the other officer reminds Marcus and he nods, before following them out to the door. John lingers at the end of the hallway, watching as Marcus shuts the door behind them, frowning at the lock.
"Well, that's my lock fucked. I suppose I'm going to have to get a locksmith out now."
"Could be worse. At least he was a crap burglar," John says lightly and Marcus gives him a smile.
They go back into the living room as Marcus calls the locksmith and, once he's done, he flops down on the sofa next to John.
"Good job neither of us has got work in the morning."
John hums his agreement distractedly.
"What's up?" Marcus prompts.
"Hmm? Oh, just thinking."
"About?"
"Well, I think we might be about to be outed to Scotland Yard."
"Are you worried?"
"I'm not the one who has to work there."
Marcus seems to spend a moment contemplating that, and then he turns towards John and regards him seriously.
"I'm not ashamed of this - of us. I like being with you and I don't care who knows it."
John smiles, but his expression must reflect some of his anxiety because Marcus shifts a bit closer.
"Have you come out before?"
"Yes. Not to this many people, but... I'm not - It's not that," John gets out awkwardly. He is feeling relatively mellow about the fact that a lot of people are going to find out he's not as straight as he's made himself out to be in the past. "Look, I'm not a popular person at the Yard, and I just... I don't want you getting a lot of crap because you're with me."
"Too late for that."
"What?"
Marcus lets out a sigh. "I've had a couple of people have a go at me for hanging around with you."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I honestly don't care," Marcus replies. "People can say what they want. It's not like it's going to change my mind about you."
John is stunned for a moment, and then a smile starts to creep its way on to his face and he reaches out for Marcus's hand, lacing their fingers together. "You're incredible."
Marcus just laughs and tugs him into a tender kiss.
*
John goes out for drinks with Lestrade three days later and he can see from the outset that Lestrade is about fit to burst. John plays along innocently, hiding his smiles in his drink, but when Lestrade sits down with their second pints, John finally gives in.
"Come on, out with it," John says.
Lestrade freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth. "Sorry, what?"
"You're dying to ask me about Marcus."
Lestrade raises his eyebrows as he lowers his drink back to the table, but then he shakes his head and laughs. "Am I that obvious?"
John grins in reply and Lestrade leans forward in his seat. "So?"
"So what?" John teases.
"So you and Marcus are... seeing each other."
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"About a month ago."
Lestrade runs a hand nervously over his mouth. "I, err, I thought you were straight?"
"Obviously not."
"You always used to make a point of saying you were straight."
"That's because everyone thought I was shagging Sherlock."
Lestrade hesitates, his gaze flicking between John and the tabletop. "And you... weren't?"
John thinks he should probably be slightly offended by the question, but he supposes it's only fair for people to start to wonder, given that he's just baffled them with one revelation.
"No," John says. "He was my friend, nothing more."
Lestrade nods, looking lost in thought for a moment, and then just like that he changes the subject to a recent case and John lets out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding. He takes a sip of his drink and smiles contentedly as Lestrade continues his story.
*
"This is a really bad idea," John murmurs as the cab pulls up to the hotel.
"Shut up," Marcus says fondly, bending forward to pay the driver. "Out."
John climbs out and Marcus follows, stopping beside him and resting a hand on his back.
"I can't believe you made me come to your work's New Year's do."
"I want you here," Marcus replies firmly.
"You're outnumbered there," John comments.
Marcus takes John by the arm and gently guides him to face him. "Look, if you really don't want to do this, we'll leave right now."
He pauses and John lets out a little sigh, shaking his head.
"Good. Because I am going to spend the evening with my boyfriend. I am going to eat far too many mini sausages, I'm going to get drunk on cheap vodka, and then I'm going to take you home and shag you into the bed, and if anyone has a problem with that, they can piss off."
John laughs softly. "Do you know how sexy you are when you're all riled up?"
"I'll make sure to save some for later, then."
John grins and then takes a deep breath and turns towards the building again. "Let's get this over with then."
Contrary to John's wildest imaginings, the function room does not fall silent as they walk in. In fact, apart from a couple by the door who shuffle out of their way, there is really no response to their entrance.
"Drink?" Marcus suggests, leaning in close to be heard over the low buzz of voices.
"God, yes."
They make their way to the bar, where they find Lestrade and a very pretty brunette deep in conversation. Lestrade spots them instantly and steps forward to greet them. He is already tipsy and gives them both a slightly wonky smile as he introduces his date, Lisa. She shakes both their hands and then excuses herself to the bathroom.
"Greg, you old dog, she's almost half your age," John teases.
"I'm celebrating my first New Year's as a free man in... too many bloody years. The decree absolute came through yesterday." Lestrade smiles slightly bitterly and John gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Anyway, I'm glad you both came," Lestrade says, suddenly turning serious. John had told him of his doubts just a few days ago and Lestrade had been quite outspoken in his displeasure that they would even think about not coming. "It's time to put this whole bloody year in the past and forget about it."
"Hear, hear," John agrees, lifting his glass and taking a drink.
Lestrade's date returns and the two of them go off to chat to a friend of Lestrade's, leaving John and Marcus at the bar. All in all, things seem to be going okay. A couple of people say 'hello', a couple more send a frown in John's direction, but there is no real drama until about halfway through the night.
Marcus is getting increasingly tipsy and leaning more and more on John as he does. His hand gestures are becoming a little more exaggerated and John can't help but grin.
"So, then I said- Why are you smiling at me?"
"No reason," John says with a laugh, his hand brushing affectionately over Marcus's hip. Marcus narrows his eyes but, before he can say anything, a figure looms beside them.
"You've got a lot of nerve being here, Watson."
It's one of the officers who came to arrest their burglar not so long ago - the one who wasn't happy to see John. He looks a little drunk, but mostly just angry.
"Look, I'm just here for a quiet night, so leave off."
"You're not welcome here. You're just as guilty as that freak Holmes."
John's fists clench, but Marcus presses a warning hand to his arm and steps forward.
"Piss off, Hutchins," Marcus says, sobriety mostly returned.
"You don't even know what you've got yourself into there," Hutchins hisses, gesturing at John. "He's a liar and a fake and-"
"You say one more word and you'll regret it," Marcus bites out. They have drawn something of a crowd by this point.
Hutchins scoffs. "What are you going to do about it, you little poof?"
John jumps forward just in time to grab Marcus before he decks the other officer. At the same time, Lestrade appears from God knows where and levels his most threatening look at Hutchins.
"I think it's time you went home, Hutchins, don't you?"
Hutchins does not look best pleased. "Yes, sir."
"I want to see you in my office first thing on Monday morning."
"Sir," Hutchins acknowledges reluctantly. He glares at John and Marcus once more, before finally turning away.
Lestrade turns then to the crowd. "Alright, people, move it along."
The crowd disperses and John finally lets go of Marcus's arms, giving them a quick rub as he does so. "You alright?"
Marcus straightens his shirt. "Not the first time I've had to put up with homophobic little shits."
Lestrade frowns. "Hutchins is a little shit. You okay?"
"I need another drink," Marcus says.
"This round's on me," Lestrade offers. "What are you drinking?"
They tell him and Lestrade goes off to get the drinks. Marcus runs a hand through his hair and lets out a huff of breath, obviously trying to wind down again.
"Bit of fresh air?" John suggests and Marcus nods grimly.
John glances over to see that Lestrade has stopped to chat on his way to the bar, so he leads Marcus out to one of the fire exits. A couple of smokers are just coming back in, shivering slightly from the cold, and John pulls his jacket around himself tightly as they head out.
John leans against the wall as Marcus paces in frustration for a little while, before joining him.
"I would kill for a fag right now."
"Since when do you smoke?"
"I haven't for a year, but pricks like Hutchins make it really hard to remember why I gave up."
John reaches out and threads their fingers together. "How about because you don't want cancer?"
Marcus scoffs and John smiles, bringing their joined hands to his mouth.
"And you don't want to smell like an ashtray," he suggests. "Or taste like one." He catches Marcus's fingertip with his lips and Marcus's breath stutters.
"I think I mentioned earlier how sexy you are when you're angry," John says in a low voice.
Marcus swallows visibly and John sucks his finger into his mouth. "I seem to have forgotten that," Marcus murmurs. "You'll have to remind me."
John smiles archly and flicks his tongue against Marcus's fingertip. The last traces of anger evaporate as Marcus fixes him with a lust-filled gaze. "I think we'd better go home."
John grins and releases Marcus's hand to press in close, his own erection throbbing at the fly of his trousers. "Why wait?"
He leans in and sucks at the tendon of Marcus's neck and Marcus makes a helpless noise.
"There are hundreds of police officers inside and you want to risk a charge of public indecency," Marcus breathes.
"We'd best be quick then."
John drops to his knees and Marcus bites off a moan as John presses his mouth over the very obvious bulge in Marcus's trousers.
*
"How is it possible that in this ridiculously tiny flat I still can't find my gloves?" Marcus complains, searching through the wardrobe.
"Maybe because you left them at mine?" John says, pulling on his shoes. Marcus curses and rises to his feet, shutting the wardrobe door with a huff.
"Remind me to bring them back, will you?"
John looks up at Marcus. "Or... you could not."
"That'd be a bit awkward every time I wanted them."
"I mean," John says, slowly, "You could not bring them back. You could keep them at mine. With the rest of your stuff."
Marcus looks at him askance and John laughs. "Which is a completely arse-about-face way of asking you to move in with me."
Marcus stills, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
"I know it's only been a few months," John continues, Marcus's silence spurring him on. "But you're always saying this place is too small and we're at mine half the time anyway and-"
"John," Marcus finally interrupts, stepping in between John's legs. "You can stop trying to persuade me. I don't need persuading, I just needed a second to get over the surprise." He smiles and John's whole body goes slack with relief.
"So... is that a 'yes'?"
"Well, you know, I'll have to call all my other boyfriends and let them down gently..."
"Hilarious," John murmurs.
Marcus grins and reaches down to rest his hands on John's shoulders. "I'll let Mr. Patel know first thing tomorrow."