Escape Your Deduction - Johnlock [English Version]

Chapter 3 : Walk

John finally decided to get up. He got dressed. So much for the hour. His thoughts and memories were becoming more and more unmanageable; he had to go for a walk, a stroll through the deserted streets of London could only do him good.

As he passed through the front door of the flat he had shared with his curly-haired friend for several years and climbed the stairs leading up to it, John found himself thinking about the day after his wedding, when he had walked through that very door and witnessed a scene just as strange as the one that had followed the ceremony.

Sherlock had sent him a message on the morning of that day, asking him to come by 221B Baker Street alone, before leaving on his honeymoon with Mary newly Watson. And John had been quick to oblige. He thought that Sherlock would give him some information about what they had said to each other the day before.

That was... more or less what happened. But not in the way the doctor would have liked. And he hadn't really had any further information. Sherlock had talked about it though. But he hadn't said anything at all about what John had imagined. No, that day, he never thought Sherlock would tell him what he did.

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John walked up the stairs to the London flat just like he had done almost every day since he met the genius of deduction.
When he reached the entrance he found that the door was wide open. Through the doorway he could clearly make out Sherlock's lanky figure facing the window.
John was used to this sort of somewhat dramatic Sherlock act; the taste for theatricality apparently run in the family.
In one hand the younger Holmes held a bow, in the other he was supporting his violin.

John approached, slowly. Just as he had stepped into the living room, the sociopath brought his instrument to his throat and began to play.
The short man recognised the music, he could not forget it. It was the one Sherlock had composed especially for his wedding: "Waltz for John & Mary", and which he had played a few minutes before slipping out of the party.

The former soldier, caught off guard, did not dare to make the slightest move or noise. He just stood there, halfway between the living room and the staircase. 

As he continued to play, Sherlock turned around. Slowly, very slowly. So slowly that John wasn't really sure he was moving. Then he began to take tiny steps to complete his half turn. Small steps in rhythm with his music. It was as if Sherlock was dancing his own waltz.

When he was almost completely facing his friend and at the end of a musical phrase, Sherlock quietly placed his violin on his chair, then straightened up while running his palms over the sides of his jacket as if to flatten it or camouflage his embarrassment.
His transparent blue gaze looked into doctor Watson's dark eyes. He opened his mouth and breathed in as if he was about to say something, but frowned as he sighed loudly and looked away.
After a few tiny seconds that seemed like an eternity to John, who had no patience when it came to Sherlock, he looked again into the eyes of his roommate -who hadn't really been a roommate since he had met Mary and since the detective had pretended to be dead- and he began.

"I was... more or less alone before I met the man you are. The man who saw past the arrogant fool that I am. The man who described me as his best friend. And honestly, I'm honoured. Honoured to be your best friend, but also your best man. I know, I already gave the speech I was supposed to yesterday; but I would like to finish it, if you would allow me. As I said, you are a great man, a good one even, probably the best man I have ever had the good fortune of meeting. And of course; you are my best friend too. Mary really deserves you. You are a... great.... couple. Solid. She's very lucky; you love her with the same intensity that she loves you. I'm sure you're going to be good parents. And... I made a promise: I will always be there for you, I will protect you. But... John..."

"Yes ?"

"I want to ask you something."

"Go ahead.You have my full attention after a speech like that." Said John, somewhat flabbergasted by what Sherlock the selfproclaimed sociopath had just done.

"Please. I want us to never talk again about what happened after your wedding. Ever."

"Err... Alright... As you wish."

"Good."

On these last words, Sherlock being Sherlock, superbly ignored his friend and left the flat with his confident walk, straight as an "I", leaving a startled John who blinked several times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Sherlock could sometimes be very strange, but never had he acted like this.

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To this day, John was still puzzled. What was the point? What had he not understood? What had really happened on the wedding night? What had Sherlock implied? What had they really said to each other?

While thinking about these strange episodes, he had walked for many minutes and potentially several times around the block. Looking at the time, he decided to go back home to his daughter who would soon wake up.

This walk had done him a lot of good. As he went up Mrs Hudson's stairs, he smiled to himself. No more wandering thoughts, no more Sherlock and his eccentricity in his mind

Trying to make the less noise possible, he arrived at the entrance and pushed the already slightly opened door.

"Good morning John."

In his chair sat Sherlock, dressed only in his blue silk dressing gown.

"Mycroft thinks that the investigation is not progressing fast enough." Continued the detective.

"Is that why you're up so early?"

Sherlock did not answer, that was a pointless question. John was used to his silences but they still irritated him every time. The doctor liked having answers to his questions no matter how stupid they were; but it was exactly because they were stupid that Sherlock felt they didn't deserve an response from him.

"Sherlock, can I ask you something ?" Dared the former military man knowing perfectly well that he was going to regret afferwards.

The detective finally looked up to show John that he had his full attention.

"Why don't you want to talk about what happened after my wedding? I know, it's been a long time, but I'm still wondering about it, and it's intriguing me more and more, and..."

"No." Sherlock sighed as he stood up and clapped his hands.

"What do you mean "no"? You can't answer "no"!"

" You promised we wouldn't talk about it again."

"And you had promised you would protect Mary. Which just goes to show that no one keeps their promises here."

John stopped short at the end of his sentence. He had gotten carried away. He wanted to apologise, to take back what he had said, but it was too late and no sound came out of his mouth when he opened it.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. The tension was palpable.

There it was, he did it again.