#and john in his anger at mary even threatened to beat sherlock up while sherlock was literally already dying

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part thirty-four

For some context, this is roughly four days after the last chapter (so the reader has been home from hospital for four days now). And I don’t write smut, y’all, so you’re going to get a lot of the leading up to and morning after scenes because what happens in between is their business, in my opinion. Anywho, happy reading!

Warnings: deadly amount of fluff. And some arguing. I know I never do warnings, so I have no idea why I thought to do it this time, but just roll with it

John and Mary have decided on a spring wedding. Sometime in May.

The date has been set, and you’re supposed to work on invitations today. You say “supposed to” because it’s almost noon, and you and Sherlock are still in bed – although, to be fair, John and Mary haven’t arrived yet.

You’re curled up on his bare chest, his fingers lazily running through your hair. His heart beat is soft and soothing, effectively keeping your eyes closed shut.

But the bright sun shining through the window and the nagging voice in your brain — it sounds a lot like John’s voice — keeps your mind awake. 

“Sherlock,” you mumble.

“Hm…?”

“What time are John and Mary coming over?”

He sighs deeply. “Don’t know.”

“What time is it now?”

“Don’t know.”

“Sherlock,” you chuckle, sitting up, taking the sheet with you to cover your chest. You glance at the clock, gasping. “Sherlock! We need to get dressed!” 

You start to stand, dragging the sheet with you, but you’re quickly pulled back by Sherlock. 

“No we don’t,” he growls, laying back down with his mouth on your neck. “We can stay right here.”

You move to swat him away, but you both freeze when you hear movement in the flat. Followed by Mary calling out, “Hello? Anyone home?”

Sherlock lets you go so you can sit up, and you do, glaring at him as you hold onto the sheet. “Yes, we do,” you hiss.

He rolls his eyes like the child he is as you stand up, quietly locking the door. You spin around and catch Sherlock looking at you, causing you to blush furiously and give him a look. 

“We’ll be right out!” You yell, wrapping the sheet around your body as you search for your clothes. 

Sherlock sits up off the bed, grabbing his underwear from the floor and slipping them on — much to your disappointment, but you’re trying to focus, so you shake your eyes away from him.

“Here,” he grabs a shirt from his closet, his purple one. 

You stare at it, but then snicker, taking it off the hanger.

He gives you a strange look. “What? What are you laughing for?”

“The infamous purple shirt,” you tease, holding it up. “You know, some of your fans joke about this thing. It’s way too tight on you.”

You walk back to the bed, picking your bra up from the floor as you do. You finally drop the sheet, trying to ignore how self-conscious you feel as you slide your bra on. Feeling self-conscious is so stupid. This is the third night you’ve spent with Sherlock, and the two of you haven’t exactly kept your clothes on. It’s not like you should be embarrassed that he’ll see something at this point, even though you are. You’re not even sure what you’re embarrassed about him seeing. An imperfection, maybe? Regardless of the fact that he’s already told you that you have none.

You move to reach your arms around to fasten it, ignoring the protest your shoulder is putting up, but your hands are quickly stopped by Sherlock doing it for you. He smooths his arms over your shoulder blades, leaving a kiss on your cheek when he finishes the task.

And just like that, he goes back to getting himself dressed, letting you do the same.

You fasten the buttons on the purple shirt, amazed at how it actually fits you sort of well – which is telling of just how small it is on Sherlock – and you leave the top three buttons undone, a little bit of a tease both for yourself and for Sherlock. You wear your pants from yesterday, which are fake slacks. They have the appearance of being a bit formal, but they aren’t at all.

Sherlock is in his usual white dress shirt, black slacks, and black blazer. Nothing out of the ordinary, though you wish he would’ve worn the blue shirt, but anyway.

“I’m going to start some coffee,” you sigh, smoothing out your hair. You know you’re going to get hell from Mary and John no matter when you walk out, so best to get it over with now.

Sherlock nods. “Into battle.”

“Into battle for sure,” you mutter under your breath as you pull open his door.

You don’t immediately see John and Mary, and that’s because they’re sitting on the couch, but they see when you and Sherlock venture into the kitchen. John is nervously watching while Mary is grinning so wide, she thinks she might split her lips. She’s waited so long for this to happen and seeing the two of you as happy as you are has made her heart soar.

Watching the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen is a sight unto itself. Sherlock reaching above you to grab the mugs from the cabinet as you’re standing in front of/underneath him, putting the coffee on. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

John can’t take it anymore. He genuinely can’t take it.

He stands before Mary has a chance to scold him, and he’s in the kitchen before she has the chance to drag him away.

John clears his throat rather loudly. “Good morning.”

Both of your heads turn to find your older brother standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a rather disapproving look on his face. Sherlock peels himself away from you, busying his hands with tidying up an old forgotten science experiment as you pay extra close attention to the coffee.

You knew John wouldn’t be happy about this, but that doesn’t mean you want to deal with his attitude – whether you expect it or not. You decide to acknowledge him, though, by asking, “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d like to have a word with the two of you.”

Mary nearly rolls her eyes. Here he goes.

“Uh, okay,” you chuckle awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“Come in here.”

You sigh, tugging on Sherlock’s sleeve to get him to follow you into the living room. Mary sits in John’s chair while John stands, motioning for you and Sherlock to take a seat on the couch. Hesitantly, you do, but you can tell Sherlock is still wary about doing anything at all, because he sits on the opposite end of the couch. But you’re not complaining. Anything to keep John’s comments at bay.

John turns and picks up a newspaper off the table, smacking it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

There, you’re both confronted with a headline.

Sherlock Holmes and CONFIRMED girlfriend Y/N L/N leaving the Royal London Hospital hand-in-hand

You try to hide the smile that threatens to crawl on your face when you see the picture. Not because you’re covering your face, but because Sherlock’s hand is protectively wrapped around yours as he drags you along, his stare lethal to anyone who dare hurts you.

He’s possibly more protective of you than John, not that you’re complaining.

“So?” You ask. “I’m surprised it took them two days to put that on the front page. I expected twenty-four hours, tops.”

John levels his gaze.

You sigh, getting serious. “Fine. What’s wrong, John?”

“The two of you,” he gestures between you and Sherlock, “need to start being more careful.”

“More careful?” You ask incredulously. “What do you mean more careful? We haven’t left this flat for two days, how can we be more careful?”

Okay, so that isn’t the truth, but why does John need to know you and Sherlock went for chips last night at one in the morning?

He already knows, that’s the answer. How does he know, you might ask?

“Mycroft called me last night,” John crosses his arms over his chest. “He’s barely kept the papers from publishing pictures of the two of you on a park bench.”

Ah, the park bench. The reason the two of you got home a little quicker than you were planning.

Nothing illegal, unless you count public indecency in that category, but that didn’t actually happen – hence why the two of you came back to the flat.

But you didn’t know press had gotten pictures. For God’s sake.

“Okay, so maybe we went out last night,” you shrug, taking a quick glance at Sherlock to find him smirking, no doubt remembering the events of last night. If you weren’t in the middle of this with John, you’d smack Sherlock’s leg and tell him to behave. “But we didn’t know pictures would be taken. It was late, for Christ’s sake, what were they doing out?”

“Yes, exactly, what were you doing out?” John fires back, having no sympathy for your situation.

You sit back, nudging Sherlock’s leg this time. “Sherlock. Help me out here.”

“Oh, we went out for chips,” Sherlock offers. “Got hungry.”

“At one in the bloody morning? You couldn’t have just made something here? Who knows what could’ve happened when you were out that late? Anything could’ve happened!”

“What are you so riled up about?” You cry out. “It wasn’t like I went out on my own! He was with me!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m so ‘riled’ up about!” John yells. “You are both this close to famous and with everything that’s happened—”

“What?” You ask after John stopped himself so abruptly. “After all that’s happened, I’m not allowed to go out with my b—With Sherlock and get chips at one in the morning? I’m not allowed to do that? Would you rather I go back to the crack den?”

“No,” John replies firmly. “Absolutely not. Don’t joke about that.”

“Then what?” You stand from the couch, coming eye level with your brother. “What is wrong with you?”

“Just—Try to keep a low profile. Keep yourselves inside for the week, okay? Just until all this blows over.”

“I’m not going on lockdown in this flat because you’re worried about what some papers say,” you scoff. “You can’t make me stay inside. You’ve learned that already.”

You see John clench his jaw, the anger inside of him barely staying behind closed doors. Sherlock and Mary both stand, both sharing a look of worry because the scene has escalated much farther than they thought it would. Neither of them have seen the two of you argue like this.

“What’s really wrong?” You ask, softer this time, just trying to get to the bottom of it. “What are you not telling me?”

“It’s dangerous,” is all John can say.

“What is?”

“You and Sherlock.”

You chuckle darkly. “John, me being alive is a hazard enough on its own. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve pissed off in my life?”

“Exactly,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “You’re not safe. There are people out there who want to—who might want to hurt you. And if you’ve got your face all over these papers, if one of them gets to you, then it’s just more attention for them.”

You nod, hanging your head a little as you think. And you think. You’ve got protection from just being around Sherlock. You swear, he hardly lets go of your hand if you go out, and he keeps little to no distance between your bodies. You have protection from Mycroft. There’s always a guard standing in the flat at the bottom of the stairs that you have to check in with before you leave – except last night; you two snuck out, but that’s irrelevant. Your point is: there is so much protection surrounding you.

So, why would John be worried, unless there was someone out there who has been known to be able to manipulate their way around these obstacles?

You lift your head, giving John a steady look. You look to Sherlock, too, wondering if he also knows something. But he isn’t giving much away besides a confused expression.

“John…” You pause. “Be honest with me here. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You can see it in his face before he even answers you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “There is. You’ve been letting me live in blissful ignorance, haven’t you? Letting me think everything was fine? What’s wrong?” You turn to Sherlock. “What happened?”

“Sherlock,” John clears his throat. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”

The taller man stays quiet, his eyes refusing to look at yours as he shrugs his shoulders, indifferent to it all.

Standing behind John, Mary gives you an incredulous look. “One of you better explain what’s going on.”

You feel slightly better hearing her say that. At least you weren’t the only one in the dark, but you’re still in the dark, regardless of whether or not Mary is with you.

“Gidon is dead,” John explains, which you knew. “But he left a note behind.”

“Of course he did,” you scoff. “What was it?”

John pulls out his wallet, producing a folded-up paper a second later. He hands it to you, motioning for you to read it.

“I O U,” you read aloud, then look up with furrowed eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Moriarty,” Sherlock finally speaks. “James Moriarty.”

“Moriarty?” Your eyes widen. “Moriarty as in shot himself in the head before you jumped off the hospital roof Moriarty?”

Sherlock, a little annoyed by your description, nods. “Yes.”

“But he’s dead,” you say. “Do you think Gidon was an accomplice?”

“We don’t know,” John replies, looking defeated. “We don’t know.”

“I don’t like not knowing,” Sherlock mutters under his breath, moving around everyone to venture into the kitchen, most likely to check on the coffee.

“So that’s why you’re worried?” You hand the note back to John. “You think Moriarty is going to come after us now?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, tucking the note away. “I don’t know what could happen, and that’s what I’m worried about. Not knowing.”

“Okay,” you chuckle in relief. “Lead with that next time, okay? We didn’t need to scream at each other for the past five minutes if you’re just worried about not knowing.” You pause to shrug. “Because that worries me, too.”

Mary walks off into the kitchen to help Sherlock with fixing coffee – she also needs some herself – but she wants to give you and John a moment of privacy.

“But John, being around Sherlock…I’m not as worried.” You hate how it sounds. All romantic and sappy. “It sounds stupid and lovesick and gross, but I don’t care. I feel safe when I’m with him, like I’m protected. I’m still worried about not knowing what could happen, but I’ve at least got him right beside me.”

Sherlock freezes upon hearing this, his head turning to look into the living room at you and John, but you’re hugging now. Your eyes are closed as you give John a long hug, one you can tell he’s needed. Just one to let him know you’re good.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him,” John whispers.

“Yeah, I know you will,” you chuckle, pushing back from the hug. “And I appreciate it. But I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

John gives you a look, because obviously it’s going to take a while before he really trusts Sherlock with you, but if you think you’re okay with him, then John can try to accept it.

Sherlock reenters the room with your coffee in hand, his cup in the other. He hands it to you with a kiss on the forehead, causing you to smile up at him.

John watches the interaction with a faint smile as he accepts a cup from Mary, her telling him to get his laptop set up so they can look at wedding invitations.

Sherlock waits until they’re both focused on the computer before he turns your body to look at him, his eyes studying yours. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“I know you will,” you smile.

Your little shared moment is broken by John. “Alright, these are it.”

The four of you gather around the computer to look at the invitation they have laid out, as Mary is making a change.

“What, really?” John immediately begins to protest. “Does it have to be on the invitation?”

“Hamish,” you have to keep yourself from snickering. “John Hamish Watson, eh?”

“Shut up,” John glares, turning back to his soon-to-be wife. “Does it have to be on the invitation?”

“It’s your name!” Mary cries. “It’s traditional!”

Except, as she says that, Sherlock says, “It’s funny,” and that’s the moment you lose it, nearly choking on your coffee.

“I’m so sorry, but come on, Hamish?”

“Listen, I didn’t pick it!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you stutter, waving your hands in front of your face as you try to control your laughter. “I’m sorry, it’s just – Hamish.”

“Yes, we get it,” he sighs. “If it has to be on there—”

“It’s fine, John,” Mary soothes. “I like Hamish.”

“You’re being nice,” he murmurs. “But thank you.”

The rest of the afternoon is occupied by trying to compromise on the wedding invitation – the design, the wording, everything. Things are being set in motion rather quickly for the wedding, and you’re finding yourself in a strange place of excitement.

You’ve tried not to think a whole lot about the dreams you had about Sherlock and you being married, but of course, that is considerably hard when you’re talking about marriage frequently with John and Mary. Mary, especially, since she knows of the dreams. You see her give you a knowing look every once in a while, when something is mentioned that sends you reeling, even though you try not to.

It’s just something you’re going to have to push down, no matter how hard it is.

[hushwatson]

John had a lot of issues to still work through.  The death of his wife, the lies that she had told him, Sherlock’s willingness to accept her when he himself couldn’t, becoming a single father, trust issues, anger issues - the list just went on and on.  The one thing he couldn’t reconcile or get over was his behaviour towards Sherlock since Mary’s death.  He told Sherlock he had blamed him, that it was his fault, but John knew that wasn’t true.  Even though he wasn’t there, he had heard what had happened from nearly everyone present, well, everyone that is except Sherlock.  Sherlock took it for what it was, he didn’t try to speak to John about what had happened, he knew John was furious with him.  He couldn’t keep his mouth shut and Mary had paid the ultimate price. She jumped in front of the bullet meant for him because she knew John could learn to live without her, but would never be able to live without Sherlock.  It was self serving in the end, but it was over and in the past.

John avoided Sherlock, had Molly send him away with a note that said their friendship was over and nothing could ever repair it and Sherlock understood, he didn’t blame him, but he couldn’t go on without John.  He needed John for the work, he was deteriorating without John and he realised that without some kind of intervention, he would soon be dead himself, so he made a plan.  He enlisted Mrs Hudson’s help without her knowing it and soon John and Sherlock were back together again, albeit on rocky ground.

John found himself craving the attention from the case Sherlock was working on and from Sherlock himself and he couldn’t understand how Sherlock could just act like there was no rift between them, until it came to a head at the morgue with Culverton Smith standing there taunting Sherlock and Sherlock threatening him with a scalpel.  Then John burst into action and disarmed him and just didn't stop there.  He proceeded to beat his best friend, kick him while he was down until he literally had to be pulled away from the man cowering on the floor mumbling just to let him, that it was ok.  Mary was dead because of him.  He understood.

In the end John had saved him from that terrible hospital and Culverton Smith was locked away for good but John could still not sleep at nights, ashamed of how he had treated his best friend.  They’d - him, Molly and Mrs Hudson - had been taking turns looking after his recovery after being released from the hospital and Sherlock seemed to take it in stride.  He got to see John which while awkward was more than he could have hoped for.

John on the other hand was having difficulties coming to terms with Sherlock’s acceptance.  He spent most of his sessions with Ella discussing this and she told him until they talked it out, they’d be stuck in this limbo.  John informed Ella Sherlock really didn't do the talking thing and Ella pointed out that neither did John.  She had him there.

So finally after two weeks of sitting in near silence with Sherlock he finally broke. “Look, Sherlock I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, the way I’ve treated you, for when I beat you up in the morgue in the hospital that day.”

A moment of silence passed and Sherlock took a sip of his tea, considering what to say. “John, it’s water under the bridge.  I can’t imagine the grief and the anguish you felt and most of it was because of me.  You weren’t yourself and you need to quit blaming yourself and work through it.  I will always be here for you and I am willing to talk through and work through what we need to to get us back on track.  I miss the way things used to be.  I miss Rosie.  I’m even willing to go to see Ella with you to work on us.”

John was taken aback.  Here he was so wrapped up in his feelings, he never considered how Sherlock felt and he knew if they were going to work through this properly, he’d have to take Sherlock’s advice, they’d have to see Ella together.

“So what days work for you and how soon did you want to start?” John said breaking the ice.

“As soon as you’re ready.” Sherlock answered.

@lunadax @yorkiepug @shag-me-senseless-watson @kayjaykayme @inevitably-johnlocked@beejohnlocked @seriouslymarythough @daringlydomestic @calliopecookiejar@andithoughtiwasspecial @green-violin-bow @missdeliadili @missmuffin221 @msdisdain@lmirandas @chinike @disregardedletters @northofsyche @alittam @justinmymindpalace@vitruvianwatson @mylastvow @nomi-26 @joyfulblazestarlightlove @the-work-aholic @dorvanie@your-holy-nerd @sherlock-and-his-watson @violindeductions @rosie-holmes-watson@superwholock221bbakerstreet @watsonsanatomy @currently-in-my-mind-palace @escaroles@viklock @sairyn-noc @katthepotato @i-am-just-happy

as always thanks for reading and if you ant tagged or untagged let me know.

[goingagainstthetide]

Is John truly such a good friend for Sherlock?

As I see it, John Watson has been behaving quite badly toward Sherlock in the past two seasons.

Let’s start with The Empty Hearse: he phisically attacks Sherlock three times. Now, I get it was funny, I get Sherlock was an ass, I get John’s was angry, but three times, getting more violent with each attack?

Then His Last Vow...so many things here:

-In the scene after Sherlock escapes from the hospital, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and him wonder who Sherlock would protect in a way (as I saw it) that 1) proved they don’t know what Sherlock did for them; 2) they don’t think Sherlock would go to such lenghts to protect someone.

-During the John-Mary confrontation in Baker Street, John threatens to make Sherlock shut up without a single thought about his health. Yes, he was angry and shocked, but he is a doctor, he made a vow to save lives. Sherlock “looks terrible” (Mrs Hudson notices it), he asks for morphine (proof if needed that he is in great pain), he looks about to faint, and the only thing John can do is to threaten him!

-The final good bye...John’s lack of gratitude. Yes, he doesn’t know Sherlock is being sent to suicide mission. And yes, let’s presume John doesn’t really believe he won’t see Sherlock again, but he doesn’t even bother to say a small, miserable thank you for what he did to ensure he and Mary will have a happy life with their child.

- The Six Thatchers: here is there I forgive John’s more because he is in shock.

- The Lying Detective. Once again John’s is angry and 1) doesn’t care about Sherlock’s health; 2) phisically attacks Sherlock (I found the beating scene very hard to watch as John  was completely out of control); 3) he is ready to abandon Sherlock conveniently forgetting everything Sherlock did for him along the years. It is only when he hears Mary’s video and realizes what Sherlock did for him that he changes attitude.

Is this the way to treat your best friend? The man you not long ago you begged “not to be dead”? The man that “saved you”? That man who took a bullet and almost died because your wife shot him? The man who risked internal bleeding and a cardial arrest to make sure you were safe from your assassin wife and then did everything he could to make you patch up with said wife? The man who shot the blackmailer who would ruin your whole life?

No, it’s not. John Watson has a serious problem of anger management. When he is angry about something, he completely loses his mind and cannot see anything else but his own pain and anger. He is also ungrateful and egoistical.

While Sherlock, who passes for the most self-centered being out there, is instead the most generous of men with the persons he cares about when they are in danger or in need. Look at everything he did for John and Mary! And also for for Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, because nobody will make me believe the version of the Fall he gave to Anderson is the true one. His tears and fear on that rooftop where real, so he was, at least, unsure that whatever plan he had would actually work.

And also look at this latest episode, Sherlock is ready to forget what happened...He took the beating John gave him as if he though he deserved it. He predicted John would decide not to see him anymore (and leave the cane as memento) and accepted it. He is ready to comfort John in the end and does everything he can to make John feels better.

I get the impression that since Sherlock never had a real friend before he is considering John’s “friendly (but in truth not friendly at all)” behaviour as normal for a friend, but someone else would have already told John to get a grip and change attitude.