Fic: Past, Present & Future (9/?)
Past, Present & Future: Chapter Nine
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: John Watson/OMC; Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Beta: lady_t_220
*
September 2014
The door closes behind Marcus and, a moment later, he joins John in the kitchen.
"Evening."
"Just in time for tea," John tells him, pulling another cup from the cupboard.
"God, I need it."
John looks over at Marcus. He looks knackered. "Busy day?"
"You could say that. When exactly did I get appointed Official Sherlock Handler?"
John snorts and turns to face him. "That bad?"
"He made me stand in a skip for an hour, holding all sorts of disgusting things he dug out."
John can't help but laugh at the look on Marcus's face.
"He told everyone else to piss off," Marcus continues. "But apparently he decided I needed to stay. Lestrade looked far too pleased with himself, the bastard."
"He must like you. Sherlock, that is."
"I got the feeling I was more a useful pair of hands," Marcus remarks.
"Yeah, that sounds about right." John grins, more relieved than he will let on. He'd been worried about how Sherlock would take to Marcus, but if Sherlock is treating him like part of the furniture, it's probably good news. It's almost a sign of respect, coming from him. John turns back to finish making the tea.
"I think he misses you," Marcus says after a moment.
"Really?" John isn't convinced - after all, Sherlock survived well enough without him for three years. He hands Marcus his tea and leans back against the worktop with his own.
"I dunno, sometimes he just looks around as if he was expecting someone else to be there."
John huffs out a breath in amusement. "Probably not getting enough praise. Tell him he's brilliant a couple of times and he'll be fine."
Marcus laughs and takes a sip of his tea, the lines of his face softening as he finally relaxes after what has seemingly been a tiring day.
"I suppose he's still a bit off," John says with a slight frown. Hard to say though, isn't it? People change over three years, but he just sometimes seems... not quite himself."
"He was acting a bit strangely at the pub the other night."
John just hums in response. In all honesty, he was surprised Sherlock had joined them for their usual Thursday-night drink at all, especially after that one rather awkward visit when he'd first come back. It probably hadn't helped that Lestrade had pulled out at the last minute, leaving Sherlock with the two of them. No-one enjoyed being the third wheel and, although John had tried his best not to make Sherlock uncomfortable, his friend had been on edge all night.
"So, what's for dinner?" Marcus asks, changing the subject and drawing John from his reverie.
John thinks for a moment. He really can't be arsed to cook, and he suspects neither can Marcus. "Takeaway?"
"Yeah, sounds good. I'll get the menus."
*
Sherlock has no idea why he decided to come to Marcus's birthday party, of all things. Marcus and John had both invited him separately, but it had been obvious that they half expected him not to turn up. It had been tempting, but at the last minute he'd forced himself out of his flat and walked the short distance to Baker Street.
Now he's standing by the window, alone, nursing a glass of whiskey and watching the other partygoers with a sort of bemused detachment. His gaze flicks across the room to where John and Marcus are talking to someone who, judging by the resemblance, must be Marcus's brother. They look happy - don't they always - and he feels a little bitter just watching them, but he thinks he might finally be getting used to the sight because it doesn't hurt as much as it once did. His gaze slides away just as a ginger-haired woman approaches him.
"I don't suppose you smoke, do you?" she asks.
"No." What he doesn't say is that he would kill for a cigarette right now, but it wouldn't be a sensible idea - one just wouldn't be enough.
"Damn." She has the obvious tics of a smoker suffering from nicotine withdrawal. "I'm Sasha, by the way. Marcus's sister."
"Sherlock," he mumbles in return.
"Ah, so you're the famous detective. I've heard all about you."
"Have you?" Sherlock says, more out of politeness than any real interest.
"Yeah, Marcus talks about you all the time."
Sherlock looks at her in surprise. "Does he?"
"Of course." She laughs pleasantly. "He says you're brilliant."
Sherlock doesn't really know what to say to that. He tolerates Marcus because he is competent and fairly intelligent, but he's never been quite sure what the policeman thinks of him. He glances over at Marcus and John again. His gaze lingers a moment too long.
"They're a ridiculously perfect couple, aren't they?"
Sherlock isn't sure what his face does, but when he turns back, Sasha is giving him an uncomfortably piercing look. He clears his throat and looks out over the room again.
"Maybe you should see Inspector Lestrade about a cigarette. He'll say he hasn't got any, but just ask him about the stash in his inner coat pocket."
With that, he slips away, making his way through the room and out towards the stairs. He climbs up to the second floor, where it is a cooler and a little quieter, and sits on the top step. He should've learned by now that these sorts of social gatherings really aren't his thing - never havebeen. The only good thing about this one was the chance to see John, but even then he'd only spoken to his friend briefly, as John was occupied preparing drinks and mingling.
Suddenly, there are footsteps heading up the stairs and Sherlock raises his head just in time to see John rounding the corner. John comes to a stop and grins at him.
"Hiding?" he teases.
"Of course not. Just taking a moment to..."
When Sherlock is unable to finish his sentence, John laughs. "Thought as much. I'm glad you came though. I know you hate this kind of thing."
Sherlock shrugs awkwardly.
"We'll make a social butterfly out of you yet," John says with a wide smile. "Anyway, I'd best get back to it."
Sherlock gives a vague wave.
"Want me to bring you anything?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
John smiles and goes back downstairs again, leaving Sherlock to his thoughts. Mostly these consist of musing upon just how different he and John are. He wonders that he hasn't noticed this before now.
*
The next day, John stops by Sherlock's flat. Sherlock is in the middle of examining a crystal formation under the microscope, so it takes him a little longer to notice that John is twitching almost nervously. He also keeps opening his mouth as if to say something, and then changing his mind and closing it again
"What is it?" Sherlock finally gets out impatiently. John startles guiltily and shuffles his feet.
"Nothing."
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Surely you've learnt by now that you really can't lie very well. Not to me, anyway."
John purses his lips and shuffles his feet again. Sherlock is on the verge of saying something rude when John finally speaks up.
"Do you... like Marcus?"
This is not a conversation Sherlock had ever imagined having. He turns back to his experiment, aiming for a tone somewhere between bored and nonchalant when he replies. "You know I appreciate competence."
"That's not what I meant."
Sherlock sighs. "He's passingly not tedious, I suppose."
"God, you really enjoy making my life difficult, don't you?" John gets out, although he sounds like he might be joking. Sherlock turns towards him, just to check. John rubs a hand across his face and then meets Sherlock's gaze.
"It's just... Sasha mentioned something-"
"Sasha?"
"Marcus's sister. You talked to her yesterday."
"Oh yes, the smoker."
"Yes, the smoker and - can you please just let me talk for a minute? This is awkward enough as it is. I mean, you're my friend and I... I want you to be happy, of course I do, but I..."
John trails off again and Sherlock lets out an impatient noise. "Really, John, would you just spit it out already!"
"Are you in love with Marcus?" John blurts out.
Silence falls over them. Sherlock is dumbfounded as John watches him carefully, looking almost concerned and, for a moment, Sherlock has to fight back hysterical laughter. He clears his throat and holds John's gaze.
"No, John, I can assure you, I am not in love with Marcus."
"You're not?" John says, relief soaking into his voice.
"Of course I'm not," Sherlock scoffs, turning back to his microscope. "I'd thank you not to listen to whimsical ideas concocted by romantic young women who've only met me for a grand total of thirty-five slightly awkward seconds."
John snorts with laughter and Sherlock's lips twitch into a smile.
"I did think it was a bit of a ridiculous idea," John concedes.
"I have no interest in your boyfriend, except in his role as a police officer. Happy now?"
"You know, I'm not sure if that's better or worse."
Sherlock's eyes flick to John, taking in his grin, and then back to his microscope. "I hope you didn't disturb me just for this."
"Oh shut up, you grumpy git."
Sherlock smiles, and turns his attention back to his experiment.
*
"Remind me to tell your sister she's mental," John says as he and Marcus are getting ready for bed later that day.
"Oh?"
John pulls on his pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt and climbs into bed. "I may have embarrassed myself today, all because of her."
"Now I'm intrigued," Marcus says with a smile, sliding in next to him.
John almost doesn't want to say, embarrassed that he had so easily believed Sasha's ridiculous notion about Sherlock.
"Well, I don't know how... but she somehow convinced me that Sherlock was..." John can feel himself flushing and Marcus raises an eyebrow in amusement.
"Sherlock was what?"
"In love with you."
Marcus laughs. "Where did she get that idea from?"
"I dunno. She said she was speaking to him about us and he looked a bit... lovesick."
Marcus laughs again. "I can't imagine Sherlock being lovesick."
All too easily, John remembers the heavy silences and haunted violin melodies of the man who believed Irene Adler to be dead.
"I can't believe you actually believed her," Marcus continues, oblivious, nudging John in the side. "You know Sasha's a wind-up merchant."
"She seemed serious this time," John explains with a shrug. "And then I was thinking about how you said Sherlock was treating you lately and... Anyway, it doesn't matter. He declares he has no interest in you whatsoever except as a policeman."
"You actually asked him?" Marcus exclaims incredulously.
"Well, I thought he might want to get it off his chest." John gives a halfhearted shrug and then smiles widely. "Most excruciating conversation of my life."
"I can imagine. The most antisocial man in the universe and you ask him if he fancies your boyfriend."
"Well, I didn't say that exactly-"
"And you didn't think he could just as easily be in love with someone else? Someone that's not me?"
There's something in Marcus's tone, and John frowns. "I don't think so. I... I honestly don't know, I mean... it's Sherlock."
Marcus nods absently, but he looks like he wants to say more.
"Why? Do you think-"
"No, of course not," Marcus cuts in, his expression softening as he smiles. "You know him better than anyone."
John smiles, although the sudden shift has unsettled him slightly.
"Anyway, I'm pretty sure there's only one person Sherlock is capable of being in love with."
"Who's that?"
"Himself." Marcus's lips stretch into a sly grin and John laughs.
"You're probably right there."