Sherlock allowed the water to run down the drain and toweled himself off. "I'm afraid this is becoming a terribly important conversation, and I'm not certain I possess the emotional stamina required." Sherlock slowed his speech somewhat, affording John the opportunity to ponder the meaning behind the words. "Perhaps it would be best if you go home. Check on Mary and Bess."
John certainly caught the implication. Sherlock might not be able to handle this--the conversation, the relationship, or most likely both. He should do... the right thing? Go back to his wife and child. Forget about this. He turned back to Sherlock, but didn't respond, his face reflecting not just confusion, but more than a touch of anger that Sherlock had already anticipated abandonment.
Sherlock seemed to be gathering energy. He straightened his frame, took a deep breath and began to speak. "John, you are intensely loyal. I don't know that you could carry on splitting your time between us, and I know I can't do anything like this --the three of us-- again." He smiled weakly. "I barely have the capacity to handle a committed physical and emotional relationship with one person. No moral judgment implied-- I speak only for myself-- but I need the two to go hand-in-hand. Physical and emotional. I never expected to find someone who I could..." Sherlock stopped to grab the robe he had discarded on the floor and put it on. "I shut it all off for many years; I can do it again. Mary is fully capable of providing you with all you need, and I-- well, as I have said in the past, I am a ridiculous man, John. I couldn't be whatever passes for normal if I tried. You. You have that potential, for both of you. Anything I say will unduly influence your decision... and I can't seem to help that... so I will remain silent on the matter and wait to hear from you." Sherlock walked past John into his bedroom and sat in bed. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes, still lying on top of the covers, hands resting over his upper abdomen.
Every part of John wanted to stay here with Sherlock, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder... would he feel the same way about Mary, upon seeing her again? He thought about her, about his daughter, and felt a wave of pity for his wife who had felt trapped and reacted without forethought... but that was derailed by the jarring reminder that all the excuses he had made for her, that Sherlock had made for her, were lies.
He had been willing to accept them as truth, blinded by his urge to do better than his parents had. To keep his family together. To help Mary escape her past and build her own future. Here he was, doing it anyway. Recreating patterns, and he had managed to recreate the worst of both of them... quick to anger and in love with someone who was missing some intangible, fundamental piece. Surely, both Mary and Sherlock were damaged. Was there a difference? If he went to Mary, saw her in the flesh, maybe would he feel this same pull. John looked again at Sherlock, who refused to even acknowledge his presence in the room, so he simply left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
FILL 14/? "Three" (Threesome fail)
John certainly caught the implication. Sherlock might not be able to handle this--the conversation, the relationship, or most likely both. He should do... the right thing? Go back to his wife and child. Forget about this. He turned back to Sherlock, but didn't respond, his face reflecting not just confusion, but more than a touch of anger that Sherlock had already anticipated abandonment.
Sherlock seemed to be gathering energy. He straightened his frame, took a deep breath and began to speak. "John, you are intensely loyal. I don't know that you could carry on splitting your time between us, and I know I can't do anything like this --the three of us-- again." He smiled weakly. "I barely have the capacity to handle a committed physical and emotional relationship with one person. No moral judgment implied-- I speak only for myself-- but I need the two to go hand-in-hand. Physical and emotional. I never expected to find someone who I could..." Sherlock stopped to grab the robe he had discarded on the floor and put it on. "I shut it all off for many years; I can do it again. Mary is fully capable of providing you with all you need, and I-- well, as I have said in the past, I am a ridiculous man, John. I couldn't be whatever passes for normal if I tried. You. You have that potential, for both of you. Anything I say will unduly influence your decision... and I can't seem to help that... so I will remain silent on the matter and wait to hear from you." Sherlock walked past John into his bedroom and sat in bed. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes, still lying on top of the covers, hands resting over his upper abdomen.
Every part of John wanted to stay here with Sherlock, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder... would he feel the same way about Mary, upon seeing her again? He thought about her, about his daughter, and felt a wave of pity for his wife who had felt trapped and reacted without forethought... but that was derailed by the jarring reminder that all the excuses he had made for her, that Sherlock had made for her, were lies.
He had been willing to accept them as truth, blinded by his urge to do better than his parents had. To keep his family together. To help Mary escape her past and build her own future. Here he was, doing it anyway. Recreating patterns, and he had managed to recreate the worst of both of them... quick to anger and in love with someone who was missing some intangible, fundamental piece. Surely, both Mary and Sherlock were damaged. Was there a difference? If he went to Mary, saw her in the flesh, maybe would he feel this same pull. John looked again at Sherlock, who refused to even acknowledge his presence in the room, so he simply left, shutting the door quietly behind him.