It's Not Real

Chapter Fourteen

John strolled into 221B, looking around the front room. He made no sound to indicate exactly what he was looking for, but eventually his eyes landed on his friend sat in his usual space, one leg crossed over the other in the black leather chair.

Sherlock turned to John Watson, noticing the way he scanned the surrounding area, and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"No Eve?"

Sherlock huffed, clearly unhappy with that fact. "Late shift."

"Ah." John slipped off his jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair, settling into it. "So, you okay?"

"Yesss?" Sherlock dragged the word out, glancing around like he was on some kind of prank show.

"Good. Good, that's go–"

Sherlock's eyes rolled. "Just ask."

John pursed his lips, nodding. "What exactly is going on with you and Evelyn?"

"We're having a sexual relationship." John spluttered. Sherlock rolled his eyes in frustration. Honestly, John had to get over his inability to hear 'sex' and 'Sherlock' in the same sentence. "And a... romantic one."

"You don't sound sure."

"Oh," he chuckled deeply. "I'm quite sure." Sherlock fidgeted in his seat. "But I wouldn't mind some advice."

John's mouth was agape. "You? Want advice from me? That's why you asked me here?"

Sherlock sighed heavily, turning his gaze to something on the mantle. "Yes! Didn't I just say that?" He looked exasperated, knee bouncing. "I don't really know what I'm doing, I'm trying. After everything, after getting a taste of what life with her is like... I came to the conclusion that if it was within my ability to do so, what I needed was to make Evelyn happy."

"Uh huh." The smaller man was a bit dumbfounded.

"I do not want to ruin this. I'm aware somewhere down the line there will be things she desires that, at first... I wasn't sure I'd be able to give, but I've come to the conclusion that not only can I give them but I can give them willingly." John was watching his friend with great curiosity. "I'll likely offer marriage within the next six months–"

John sighed in disbelief. "Sherlock..."

"What?" He sounded defensive. "I deduced long ago how Eve pictured her future, having a husband and children and a white picket fence. Who am I to stand in the way of that? I certainly can't let her go." Sherlock had a stormy look pass over his features. "Never, John. I'll never let her go. So that husband will be me."

"You know something, Sherlock, you're a bloody idiot. You've got this completely wrong. I have no way of knowing for sure what Eve thinks about marriage or children, but I do know Eve doesn't picture a boring picket fence life in her future, she never has. She loves London, she loves her job, she loves your job. Even if that was what she wanted, I doubt she'd want to rush it. You've only been together a month."

"But– But I've been in love with her for over a year–"

John sighed. "That doesn't matter in this circumstance. You can have a conversation about these milestones, but don't ambush her." John was watching Sherlock almost as if he'd never seen him before. "Those big moments in a relationship have to be a joint decision. It's not about convenience or just doing it because you think that's what you should do. What about you? Do you want those things?"

Sherlock suddenly found a loose thread on the arm of his chair, pulling at it. "I– I think so." His head tipped to the side. "Two years ago I would have laughed in your face, but with Evie..."