Author's Note:

I'm posting this on opening day of the movie "Everest"!

Here's an odd little one-shot that I wrote just for fun, to explain how John is already going to know some of the language when he gets to Nepal (in my next chaptered story). "It's Right There In The Subtext" has been written on the assumption that everyone who reads it is already familiar with the basics of "John On Solid Ground"—namely, that Sherlock is a world-famous mountaineer who has hired John as medical support for Baker Street Climbing Consultants' next expedition to Mount Everest. John has five months to learn the basics of mountain climbing between his appointment as staff doctor and the start of the expedition.

While "It's Right There In The Subtext" is appropriate for Teen and Up Audiences, the series it belongs to is definitely M, so I'm rating "Subtext" M for safety's sake. If someone should read it and then be interested enough to go back and read the first Mountainverse story, well, that story is rated M for a reason.

This quirky little story may not interest everyone…but I'm a bit of a language freak (as is the lovely young woman who tutored me in Nepali) and I can't imagine going to a foreign country without knowing some helpful, polite phrases. I gave John that trait, and the story came into being.

Many, many thanks to Maharani Radha for her invaluable help with Nepali. She is the reason I am able to give you the Nepali phrases transliterated into the English language. Otherwise, I would have gotten them from a translation program and they would be written in Devangari, the Nepali alphabet, which looks like this: म त्यसलाई स्वीकार गर्न सक्छु — and very few of us would be able to make heads or tails of that! So, Maharani Radha, dhari dhanyabaad! You are now officially my Nepali-picker!

Likewise my gratitude to my beta, Teek, and my Britpicker, johnsarmylady.

This story comes immediately before "Mountainverse: The Price of Fame."

It's Right There In The Subtext

Early February, 2011

"DO keep up, John!" Sherlock called over his shoulder almost teasingly, as he further lengthened his already ridiculously long stride.

John, who had been keeping up just fine, thank you very much, pushed even harder to adjust to Sherlock's new pace.

It had been an amazing three months for Dr. John Watson. He'd lost an enormous amount of muscle tone during his time in hospital and the subsequent rehab that was a nasty yet necessary add-on to the shite that followed being wounded in Afghanistan. He returned to civilian life feeling hopeless and helpless; to add insult to injury (quite literally), he found himself saddled with an awkward, psychosomatic limp. Yet John's limp faded away within hours of meeting Sherlock Holmes, and the next day he was hired as staff doctor for Baker Street Climbing Consultants' upcoming 2011 expedition to Mount Everest. As soon as John accepted the job, the world-famous mountaineer had begun pushing John to the limit; the first month at an indoor rock wall facility, then transitioning to actual hills and ridges in Scotland the second month, while at the same time never letting up on extended hikes around London on pavement and in parks. John had never felt better in his entire life.

At first Sherlock strode along at a pace that had John working hard to keep up, and every time John managed to match his stride, Sherlock invariably sped up a little more. Every weekday they were in London, rain or snow ("You call this snow?" Sherlock scoffed) they went out and hiked anywhere from 10 to 20 miles. The weekends were spent in Scotland, on increasingly demanding winter climbs.

Eventually all this hard work paid off, and John was easily able to stay at Sherlock's side. Unless Sherlock wanted to break into a trot (which he did not), John was ready.

So today, three months into training, John lengthened his own stride and caught up effortlessly with Sherlock's long, long steps. He reddened with pleasure under Sherlock's look of approval.

Neither man had any problem going for hours without speaking, and in fact it was only recently that John was able to keep up with Sherlock and still have the air to talk. But on this day, John had a sudden thought. "Sherlock," he asked, "can you teach me some basic phrases in Nepali? It seems rude to me to visit a foreign country without knowing a bit of the language."

John was so adorably earnest. Sherlock smiled affectionately.

"Certainly," he replied. "As you know, I speak Nepali like a native. Where do you want to start?"

"Well, 'hello,' 'goodbye,' 'please' and 'thank you' at first. And 'where is the nearest bathroom?' is always a handy one."

Sherlock grinned. Practical John! (Except when he was being incredibly romantic John.)

The mountaineer enjoyed the sound of his own voice and cleared his throat in preparation for the language lesson. "Exactly like aloha in Hawaiian and shalom in Hebrew, 'hello' and 'goodbye' can both be covered using namaste, although there is also a more formal word that you can use for 'hello'."

John nodded. "I already know namaste. So teach me the other."

"Namsakar is a more formal way of saying 'hello', but trust me when I say namaste is always acceptable."

"And what about 'goodbye'? Is there another word for that as well?"

"Another word for 'goodbye' is bida."

For the rest of that day's hike, John mentally chanted namsakar when his right foot hit the ground and bida on his left.

The next day, John requested 'please' and 'thank you' and so learned kripaya and dhanyabaad. Marching along to kripaya with his right foot and dhanyabaad with his left, after a few miles he felt confident enough to ask how to say 'you're welcome.' He was a bit taken aback when Sherlock explained that there were two ways to say it, formal and informal. John would use the formal, Hajur laai swagat chha, with someone he did not know; while the informal, Timi laai swagat chha, would be fine for a friend or to address someone younger.

Maybe that's not so bad, John thought. There's only one word that's different—the rest of the phrase is exactly the same.

The determined doctor spent the rest of the hike trying to get all that firmly in his head. Left foot, right foot: kripaya; dhanyabaad; hajur laai swagat chha; timi laai swagat chha.

That very night, Sherlock turned to John at dinner. "Pass the salt, kripaya." And when John (making very sure to brush their fingers together) handed him the salt, Sherlock replied, "Dhanyabaad," and then raised an eyebrow at John expectantly.

John cleared his throat. "Timi laai swagat chha," he responded tentatively.

Sherlock nodded judiciously. "Although your accent leaves much to be desired, you will easily be understood in context."

"Gee, dhanyabaad," John said ironically.

•••

A few days later, John asked Sherlock to teach him 'How are you?' and 'I'm fine.' Sherlock explained that there were also formal and informal versions of 'How are you?': Hajur laai kasto chha? and Timi laai kasto chha?

All right, John thought. I've already learned the difference between hajur and timi, and once again, the rest of the phrase is exactly the same for both.

Happily, 'I'm fine' turned out to be simple enough: Theekai chha.

The next morning John woke up to find Sherlock already sitting up in the bed, texting furiously on his mobile.

"Timi laai kasto chha?" he asked Sherlock.

"Theekai chha, dhanyabaad," replied the mountaineer, throwing his mobile to the floor and rolling on top of John, kissing him silly. "I find it incredibly hot when you speak Nepali while we're lying naked in bed," he said, to John's delight.

•••

On their next hike, it occurred to John that he didn't yet know how to say 'yes' or 'no.'

"I will teach you those words on the condition that you only say 'yes' to me, and never 'no'," Sherlock replied with a wink.

"Sorry, love, no promises — but I will try to keep 'no' to a minimum!"

"Very well, then: ho means 'yes' and haina means 'no'."

John thought about that for a minute. He could easily remember that ho was 'yes' simply because it sounded quite like the exact opposite of what it meant. And as for haina, it sounded to John a bit like 'heinous,' which conveniently contained the word 'no' right in it! Knowing that he would be able to remember those words easily now, he immediately asked Sherlock for 'good morning,' 'good afternoon,' and 'good evening.'

"Subha bihaan,
Subha din,
Subha raatri,"
replied Sherlock promptly.

It was easy for John to memorise just that way.

•••

"Subha bihaan, Sherlock. Timi laai kasto chha?"
"Subha bihaan, John. Theekai chha, dhanyabaad…timi ra?"

John was confused for a few seconds, until he recognised the informal 'you' and realised from context that Sherlock had added, "…and you?"

"Theekai chha, dhanyabaad," he replied confidently.

•••

John thought that 'Where is the nearest bathroom?' should be next.

"Sauchalaya kata chha?" Sherlock told him. "Of course," the mountaineer added thoughtfully, "you will have to hope that the nearest bathroom is always within pointing distance."

John nodded a bit ruefully. "And then, what if 'Excuse me, where is the nearest bathroom?' is how I want to phrase it?"

"Then that is Sabai le sunnus ta, sauchalaya kata chha?"

John listened carefully. "So, 'excuse me' is Sabai le sunnus ta?"

"Well, that is how you say 'excuse me' when asking for attention. If you want to apologise, however, you would say Maaf garnus, and that also functions as 'sorry'."

It took John a few days longer than usual until Sherlock was satisfied with John's pronunciation, but the doctor was fine with that, because he felt that he had already learned pretty much everything he had set out to.

•••

They were in Scotland, standing on the summit of Beinn an Fhir Bhreige, before it occurred to John that there was one more, very important phrase he needed to learn.

"How do I say 'I love you'?" he asked.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I certainly hope you aren't planning on pulling one of the locals," he said, pretending to frown. (Well, almost pretending.)

"Ha ha," John replied, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock removed a glove and reached over to caress John's cheek with the bare hand. "Ma timi laai maya garchu," he said. When John was finally able to repeat the phrase to Sherlock's satisfaction, the mountaineer replied, "Ma pani timi laai maya garchu—I love you too."

•••

The next morning John woke up and saw Sherlock watching him with equal measures of lust and love burning in his eyes.

"Ma timi laai maya garchu," Sherlock growled, trailing small kisses and bites down John's dark-blond treasure trail from belly button to curly pubic hair.

"If I didn't know better," John said somewhat breathlessly, "I would have to assume from context that you just said 'I can't wait to get my mouth around your cock'!"

Sherlock lifted his head from John's stomach and smiled. "If you listen carefully, you'll realise it's right there in the subtext."

END NOTE
Nepali has a different grammatical structure from English. In Nepali, the verbs always come at the end. Example: in the simple phrases that John is learning, chha = is/are, and it will always be found at the end of the sentence.