The Sign of Three: A Reader's Journey

Catch of the day

"Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course, there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits..."

. . .

You yelled out a quick "Enjoy!" to the boys as you rushed out to work the morning of their stag do, almost knocking over the two graduated cylinders on the table which you had initially just brushed off as part of Sherlock's many experiments.

Apparently, they were to drink at a pub on every street where they had found a dead body.

Of course. Trust Sherlock Holmes to plan a murder themed pub-crawl.

Work that day had been tedious. You were well beyond your usual hours of work and so immersed in the case assigned to you that you jerked up in your place as a ringing phone broke the silence.

Glancing down at your phone, you frowned as you read Sherlock flash up on your screen. He always texted when he could and rarely called. Remembering that they were still supposed to be out for the night, you began to worry, hoping they weren't in some sort of trouble.

"Hey Sherlock, what's up?"

"Hi."

"Hi," you replied tentatively, wary at the unexpected greeting. He hardly ever greeted if he called, always opting to get straight to the point. When he didn't say anything further, you probed, "Is everything alright?"

"Hmm... there was s'thing... a thing I needed... to tell you?" he slurred, sounding uncertain.

Wait, was Sherlock Holmes...?

"Something... but-I-can't-rem'ber-what", he muttered, his words coming out in an incomprehensible jumble.

"Sherlock you're drunk," you said with a giggle.

Was this his version of a drunk dial? You held in a chuckle at the thought of Sherlock Holmes ever 'drunk dialling' anyone.

"Me? Drunk? No-no-no-no, not with the precautions I've taken, never," and almost as if on cue, he hiccuped. "Oh, s'cuse me... you should see John though," he said with a wheeze and continued in a whisper as if to make sure only you could hear him. "I may have miscalculated - he's absolutely hammered!"

"Right," you drawled out sarcastically.

"Why aren't you home? You're never home these days," he said, letting out a child-like huff.

You chuckled softly. You always found it amusing how needy Sherlock Holmes really was once he was comfortable around someone, contrary to his public image of being a poised, independent individual. Intoxication seemed to have amplified his neediness.

"I spent the entire evening yesterday watching you try on dress shirts in different shades of white! I do have to work to pay the rent you know."

"Rent, work... who cares?"

"Well, some of us do!"

There was a short pause after which he spoke in a quiet voice, "Y/N?"

"Yes?" you replied, your heart fluttering at the way he called out your name.

"Thank you... that's... what I wanted to say."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For... you made it so much easier... to lose John."

His voice was soft and gentle as he spoke. You froze and blinked a few times in an attempt to comprehend the full extent of his words. Him being such an ardent and enthusiastic member of the planning prior to the wedding was just a rouse, you eventually came to realise; a way to occupy his mind whilst the truth of how terrified he was with the prospect of a life without John Watson remained suppressed. Which is why you found yourself spending more and more time with him, be it bringing in more cases for him to look at or by helping him out with the wedding. Was it a means of reassuring him? Perhaps, but you also found yourself savouring the time spent in his company, missing it on the days you were occupied with something else. You never thought he would ever notice however, nevertheless admit it...