John woke to the sound of a violin playing. It wasn't the tortured squealing he usually heard when Sherlock was in a bad mood, or worse, bored. He lay back and listened to the soothing music and let his mind wander back.
John had been ecstatic when he discovered that Mary was pregnant. He noticed she seemed a little reticent, but just put it down to "first time mother nerves". It had been somehow fitting that his best friend was the one who deduced the pregnancy and told them. He had rattled off symptoms of pregnancy that John realized he'd seen but not really thought about. He and Mary had been too busy planning the wedding and he hadn't given it much thought.
He was still angry and horrified that Mary had shot Sherlock, no matter how much Sherlock insisted that Mary intentionally missed, hadn't intended to kill him. He had finally managed to push that back far enough in his mind to realize that he still cared for Mary and wanted this baby with her.
Then one day when he was talking to Mary about the baby, the other shoe dropped. He realized that the baby Mary was carrying was actually David's. That revelation killed any lingering feelings he may have had for her. He left her then and there. She cried and begged him to stay, that she loved him, that it had been over between her and David ages ago. But John knew deep down that that couldn't possibly be true. Mary's baby was definitely David's. John figured it out quickly enough when she had commented on the number of weeks pregnant she was to a friend. John had heard it and realized that she had gotten pregnant during the week he had spent at Harry's trying to get her sober again after another inevitable rejection by Clara.
He had packed his bags and left. Sherlock offered him his old room back and he had moved in without another thought for Mary, or the baby.
That was nearly three months ago, and as he suspected things were never really over between David and Mary. They had gotten back together, and the other man was thrilled to discover that the baby was actually his and not John's. They had moved away shortly after that. John didn't bother to find out where.
Now he and Sherlock were back to their old life before the fall and before Mary. He and the detective were solving cases and chasing criminals just like they used to. He smiled thinking about how much he'd missed this. He realized then that the music had stopped. He got up and opened his door intending to go down and see what Sherlock was doing. He was on the second step when he heard the light clinking of glass and knew the detective was busy with an experiment. He paused and decided not to go down right away. He moved back into his room and shaved, showered, and dressed, then he went downstairs thinking about what to make for breakfast.
He entered the kitchen and Sherlock looked up briefly, greeting him, "Morning John. Have a good sleep?" It had become a new custom for Sherlock to always acknowledge John whenever he entered a room he was in, to always greet him in the mornings.
"Yes I needed the sleep after that last case", he said as he moved around the kitchen making breakfast for both of them.
"Mmmm", Sherlock hummed absently, as he focused on his experiment.
As John waited for the toast to pop and the water to boil for tea he thought about how the younger man always ate without complaint when John made them food. He wondered if the detective simply appreciated him more now. He probably wouldn't ever know. Sherlock never talked about emotions even now, although John could see that he did have feelings. He just kept them well hidden before, or maybe they were always there and the doctor just hadn't seen them.
The toast popped and he put them on plates for he and Sherlock, put it on the kitchen table along with butter knives and jam. As he made tea, Sherlock moved from his experiment and sat at the table. He smiled his thanks when John set his tea in front of him. They sat in companionable silence and ate their simple breakfast, each lost in his own thoughts.
The detective finished and moved back to his experiment and John gathered plates and cups and set them in the sink for washing later. He moved to the sitting room and opened his laptop, logged into his blog, and soon lost himself in recounting their latest case.
/
John stretched and turned to ask Sherlock if he wanted to go out for a walk and a coffee, but discovered the younger man was on the couch, laying down facing John, hands steepled under his chin, lost in his mind palace. John sighed, a little disappointed. He had wanted to get the detective out for a while, but John understood that he needed to arrange and file away all the points of the case.
So the older man busied himself with cleaning the flat, foregoing vacuuming the floor so he didn't disturb Sherlock. Then he moved on to washing and drying their clothes, and putting them away. That done, he checked on the detective, but he hadn't moved. He decided to wash all their bedding too. When that was done and their beds remade he moved to washing their breakfast dishes, thinking about what he should make for lunch.
Dishes done he looked in the fridge to see what there was for food. Not much he discovered. The shopping had been set aside while they had a case. He made a list and decided to go do the shopping. He thought about leaving a note for Sherlock, but decided he would be quick enough that the detective wouldn't even notice that he'd been gone.
With that thought in mind, he grabbed his wallet and keys, and got to the door when a baritone stopped him, "Going out, John?"
He stopped and turned, "Uh yeah, I was just going to get some groceries", he tilted his head, "I thought you were in your mind palace."
"I was. I'm done now", the younger man said as jumped to his feet, "I think I'll come with you."
"Uh sure."
Sherlock paused, and lifted his brows at John, "Problem?"
The older man shook himself, "No …. no not at all."
"Good", the detective smiled and opened the flat door.
They exited the building and Sherlock was hailing a taxi when John said, "Why don't we walk to Tesco's. We can catch a taxi back."
"Alright", the detective said, amiably.
They set off down Baker Street. It was a warm spring day, and there were lots of people out enjoying it. Sherlock resisted the urge to deduce everyone on the street. He suspected that John wouldn't like that. So instead he observed John of the corner of his eye and deduced him without his knowledge. He would, of course, keep his observations to himself, knowing John would be angry with him for deducing him.
/
John was pleasantly surprised to discover that Sherlock knew exactly where to find all the things on his list. The man amazed him every day. When they went to the tills, Sherlock took them through the automated register and did all the scanning, bagging, and paying himself. The doctor was surprised by this, but offered no remarks, just marvelled at another facet of his best friend he hadn't seen before.
The younger man helped carry the groceries, and when they emerged from the store, he hailed a taxi. They got in, and rode in silence, each with his own thoughts. When they arrived back at their flat, Sherlock paid the cabbie. John was taken by surprise again. It was rare for Sherlock to pay for their taxi. He usually left John to deal with it. He wondered why the detective was being so generous. It wasn't like him.
Tossing that thought aside for now, they grabbed their groceries, and exited the taxi. Sherlock opened the door and they stepped in. John started up the stairs while Sherlock closed the downstairs door. John struggled a bit on the stairs as he knew he would. He had gotten a head start so he could be most of the way up the stairs by the time the younger man caught up. Sure enough Sherlock bounded up the stairs passing John and entering their flat. John sighed thinking that some things never changed. But that thought stopped when the detective came back out and relieved the doctor of his grocery bags taking them into the flat as well. He got up the remainder of the stairs faster without being weighed down by the bags.
He entered the flat, moving to the kitchen to put the shopping away only to discover the younger man was already doing that. He was almost done in fact. So John moved to the couch and sat, resting his aching shoulder. It took so much effort to try to hang on to bags of shopping and get up the stairs too. He was always afraid he'd drop one and then trip on it and fall. He silently cursed his war-damaged shoulder. Just then a steaming cup of tea appeared in front of him, held by a long graceful hand. He took the cup and looked around to see Sherlock standing behind him, his face close from bending forward with the tea.
John was sure he could see all the individual flecks of colour in the younger man's eyes. Heterochromia his mind supplied. Sherlock straightened up and moved to the kitchen once again.
"Thank you", John acknowledged the detective making him a cuppa.
"Mmmm", came from the kitchen.
John knew he would already be lost in another experiment. He sighed, turned on the telly, and sat back to enjoy his tea and some mindless telly. He became engrossed in a documentary about bees, and set his emptied tea cup on the coffee table. Soon after, he dozed off. Sleeping happily and dreaming of dancing with bees.
/