The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 31

"Are you ready, John?"

His new husband's voice woke John from his reverie.  He'd never expected his life to end up like this.  A year ago he'd been living rough in the army, sometimes staying awake for days performing endless surgeries and watching good young men die anyway.  He'd rarely had time to stop and think, and when he had, he slept.  But now the war was over and the army had no use for a captain with a bum leg.  His brother had grudgingly accepted him into his home to recover from his injury but had found a new place for him as soon as possible.

And this new place, well, wasn't this world a marvel?  John hated that he might be tempted to thank Harry one day.  He was given money enough to be comfortable, fine clothes, a home to share with an interesting husband (a stunning, impetuous, brilliant husband) and all he had to do to earn it was bear the whorls of the ton for a night.  Maybe one day he'd be asked for more (God, he begged to be asked for more by his aloof husband, but hadn't it been clear enough that he wouldn't be?) but for now, all this had required was a signature and a promise.  They'd muddle along and find their lives together along the way.

"Yes, Sherlock, I'm ready.  I'd rather be announced from the foot of the stairs, though."  John brandished his cane. 

"Of course."

And so it was that Captain and Mr. Watson-Holmes were announced upon entrance to the dining room rather than having the guests gather at the foot of the stairs only to watch as John would carefully pick his way down the staircase.

The following meal was not so intolerable.  John did find Sherlock's relatives rather fascinating.  He found himself seated next to Petrina Holmes, a well-educated woman who had recently returned from the West Indies and she had quite absorbing tales of life there.

"I do quite miss the heat and the sun," she declared, still with an unfashionable golden glow to her skin.  "I desired nothing more than to be marooned on one of those islands, living out my days simply and wild."

"And yet you returned to civilization, Miss Holmes," John inquired with wonder.

"Civilization is encroaching upon the wilderness, Captain Watson," she replied sadly.  "I believe that I shall explore Africa from the Mediterranean to the Cape of Good Hope next year."

"Goodness.  That land is so vast, I might never have the pleasure of meeting you again."

"And a hundred years from now," she added, "there will be tales of a mysterious woman who explored the jungles and made peace treaties with the tigers!"

"To peace treaties with the tigers, Miss Holmes."

They touched wine glasses and laughed together when John caught Sherlock's eyes on him from across the table.  Sherlock's eyes darted away when he was caught, but John still felt a twinge of hope in his belly.  He'd been looking, perhaps he'd been admiring. 

Don't be foolish, John.  The man had made no overt gesture signaling any intention of consummating their marriage.  And that was fine.  The circumstance of their marriage made for an awkward situation.  But still, John couldn't help but acknowledge that he himself felt something, felt yearning.  It could be controlled.  It would be controlled until he understood otherwise.