Clique of 221B

Chapter 27: John and Sherlock

John continues,
"Yes, she's a lunatic, she's a criminal, she's insanely dangerous – trust you to fall for a sociopath... but she's... you know..." He seems to run out of words.
"What?" Sherlock asks.
"Just text her back."
"Why?"
"Because High Wycombe is better than you are currently equipped to understand."
"I once caught a triple poisoner in High Wycombe." Sherlock adds, obviously trying to change the subject.
"That's only the beginning, mate." Sherlock sighs,
"As I think I have explained to you many times before, romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people-"
"-would complete you as a human being."
"That doesn't even mean anything."
"Just text her. Phone her. Do something while there's still a chance, because that chance doesn't last forever. Trust me, Sherlock it's gone before you know it. Before you know it." You crack your knuckles uncomfortably. Mycroft places his hand over yours and squeezes it. You flash him a quick smile and look back at the screen. "She was wrong about me." John says.
"Mary? How so?"
"She thought that if you put yourself in harm's way... I'd rescue you or something. But I didn't – not until she told me to. And that's how this works. That's what you're missing. She taught me to be the man she already thought I was. Get yourself a piece of that."
"Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice. I have known many people in this world but made few friends, and I can safely say-"
"I cheated on her." Sherlock stops. "No clever comeback? I cheated on you, Mary." Mary? Oh. He's talking to Mary. Oh John. Now the tears fill your eyes. Because you'd been there before. At a time when you constantly felt him there, heard him, saw him. "There was a woman on the bus, and I had a plastic daisy in my hair. I'd been playing with Rosie. And this girl just smiled at me. That's all it was, it was a smile. We texted constantly. You wanna know when? Every time you left the room, that's when. When you were feeding our daughter, when you were stopping her from crying – that's when. That's all it was, just texting. But I wanted more. And d'you know something? I still do. I'm not the man you thought I was, I'm not that guy. I never could be. But that's the point." He sniffs then his eyes fill with tears. He bites his lip and continues tearfully. "That's the whole point. Who you thought I was is the man who I want to be." He swallows, fighting away tears. John stares ahead of himself for a long time, then gradually lowers his head into his hand and starts to cry. Sherlock puts his mug onto the table next to him, then stands up. John's tears pour down his face and fall to the floor. Slowly, Sherlock walks across to him.
"It's okay." Sherlock says quietly. He raises his arms hesitating, probably out of fear of being rejected again, poor Sherlock. Then he slowly puts one hand on John's arm and the other on his back before sliding it up to gently cradle his neck. He steps closer, sliding his arm up to hold John's shoulder.
"It's not okay." John says tearfully.
"No." He lowers his cheek onto the top of John's head. "But it is what it is." Blinking away his own tears, he continues to hold his best friend. You turn to Mycroft, a huge grin covering your face. You grab a cushion and squeal into it then hug it, bouncing up and down. You then proceed to dance around the room. Sighing, you flop back down onto the settee. It's all over. They've stopped fighting, it's going to be alright.
"You finished?" Mycroft asks. You nod.
"I think so. Thank God they made up." Even Mycroft can't keep the smile from his face. When you finally come back to the TV Sherlock and John are preparing to leave.
"So Molly's going to meet us at this cake place." Sherlock says putting on his coat.
"Well, it's your birthday. Cake is obligatory." John tells him.
"Oh, well. I suppose a sugar high's some sort of substitute."
"Behave." They walk across the room towards the door.
"Right then. You know... it's not my place to say but it was just texting. People text." John sighs as Sherlock continues. "Even I text. Her, I mean, The Woman. Bad idea, try not to, but, you know, sometimes. It's not a pleasant thought, John, but I have this terrible feeling, from time to time, that we might all just be human."
"Even you?"
"No." John looks at him.
"Even you." John looks at him silently for a long moment then turns towards the door.
"Cake?" Sherlock nods,
"Cake." John starts to walk out the door but stops when Sherlock speaks again.
"Oh, um..." He walks across the room to the cabinet at the side of the dining table.
"What? What is it?" Sherlock pulls open a drawer and rummages through it.
"What's wrong?" Sherlock straightens up and turns, putting on his deerstalker. You and John laugh.
"Seriously?!"
"I'm Sherlock Holmes. I wear the damn hat." He kicks the drawer shut and walks across the room and out of the door.
"Isn't that right, Mary?" Startled, John stops and turns back to face the room and looks around before blinking and then turning to follow Sherlock. You feel your phone buzz and look to see a text from John,

You scamper off the settee and rush to your room. Mycroft follows slowly and stops at the doorway, watching you struggle with some periodic table wrapping paper as you attempt to wrap a puzzle ball.
"Where on earth did you get all that?" He asks. You look up at him,
"I saw this last weekend and thought it was perfect for Sherlock. Don't just stand there, help me!" He chuckles at your poor excuse of wrapping as the ball rolls away from you. "I hate wrapping." He sits down next to you and begins expertly wrapping the ball.
"It's simple mathematics."
"That is not going to help me at all."
"You don't like maths?"
"Who on earth enjoys maths?"
"We can no longer be friends."
"Nerd."

You meet up with John, Sherlock, and Molly at a bakery close to 221B. You give Sherlock the present which you labelled from yourself and Mycroft. Sherlock immediately complains that birthday presents were complete unnecessary but you can see he was fascinated by the puzzle. You all have a great time, eat cake, and completely forget the horrors of the past few weeks. Things are back to normal then.

"Get out!" Sherlock snaps at a client. You're sat in the living room of 221B on the arm of Sherlock's chair. Sherlock grabs the door handle and angrily pulls it open.
"She's possessed by the Devil!" A client protests. "I swear my wife is channeling Satan!"
"Yes, boring. Go away!" Sherlock gestures towards the landing. The man storms out of the room. You laugh as his wife follows, turning to Sherlock as she passes him.
"I'm not channelling Satan!" She tells you.
"Why not, given your immediate alternative?" He slams the door shut, then turns and walks towards the kitchen.
"I'd best go now. I need to see Mycroft." You tell Sherlock. He nods his eyes fixed on something on the floor.