These Days

Send in the Wife

Sherlock's Sunday was wasted away, like all of his days really. Mrs. Hudson came again to make sure he was okay, but he didn't let her in and all she could do was knock on the door and ask him if he wanted to talk. Monday finally came, and Sherlock actually slept a couple of hours that night, wanting to at least have enough energy to try to wave at the red van that came rolling down the parking lot. He rolled out of his bed, buttoning up his shirt and coat, lacing up his shoes and brushing out his drooping curls. The mirror told him he was fine, he looked strong, confident, even intimidating. But the mirror didn't show emotions, it didn't show what was really inside, the weakness, the pain, the terror that was brewing like an emotional storm. Sherlock grabbed his bag and walked down the stairs.
"Sherlock I made you a lunch!" Mrs. Hudson called, running down the hall in her slippers with a brown bag dangling in her hand.
"I'm not five Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock sighed.
"But I know how you don't like to sit in the cafeteria with the other teachers, so I packed you a sandwich." Mrs. Hudson debated. Sherlock had to smile, taking the bag from her because she was so right.
"You know me a little bit too well." He decided.
"I'm your landlady dear, not your mother." she pointed out.
"Have a nice day Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock sighed.
"You too Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson agreed, watching as Sherlock tied his scarf, pulled on his coat, and jumped out the door into the chilled air. Now the sidewalk was so covered with leaves you couldn't see the concrete, the trees were bare, the twigs hitting each other as the wind blew and giving the street a very dead feeling. Sherlock stopped at the shop to buy some coffee, hoping with blind faith that John might be there. Of course he wasn't, he was probably eating homemade pancakes with his family, happy as could be without a thought of the suffering that Sherlock was going through. He sat in his empty classroom, nothing to set up really, spinning the globe with his index finger and watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Finally it was time for parent drop off and Sherlock stood inside the building, debating whether or not to walk outside and wave or simply stay and stare as the van passed. He decided that maybe it would be better to stay in, considering it was a bit chilly out and it was Monday. Mrs. Watson would probably be at the wheel anyway.
"Good morning Mr. Holmes." It was some older teacher Sherlock didn't recognize. He thought she taught fourth grade, but he couldn't be sure.
"Good morning." he sighed.
"Are you on drop off duty?" she asked.
"I don't know." Sherlock said obviously.
"Did you check the schedule?" she asked.
"I didn't know there was one." Sherlock admitted.
"It should be in your folder you received on the first day." she pointed out, looking a bit like Mrs. Hudson when she was trying to hide her disappointment.
"Oh, I haven't even looked in there yet." Sherlock admitted, putting his hands in his pockets and watching the cars roll up, waiting for the doors to open.
"Then why are you out here?" she asked.
"Do I need a reason?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, no, but if you have a lesson plan to make up I'm supposed to take over." she pointed out. Sherlock was silent; if he didn't need a reason then he didn't know why he should talk.
"Mr. Holmes?" she asked again, as if worried he was dozing off.
"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed.
"I said I could take over, it is my turn." She pointed out.
"Yes, well I just like to be here in the morning, it reminds me that some people have worse lives than I do, it helps lighten my mood I suppose." Sherlock decided. The teacher sighed, looking around to see if anyone else had heard that comment.
"Oh, okay then." She muttered, obviously not knowing how to respond. She walked away to go talk to another teacher, another nameless one of course, and Sherlock was left standing there on his own. Eventually they opened the doors and the line started moving and the red van pulled up. Sherlock's heart stopped momentarily when he saw John in the front seat, looking around as the door opened for Hamish to get out. He couldn't see Sherlock through the glass, and he looked a bit disappointed, but he drove off, his beautiful blonde hair reflecting sunlight even from there. Sherlock went back up to his classroom before Hamish could reach the doors; he didn't want any word to his father about how Mr. Holmes was waiting for him at the doors. The school day dragged, as usual, and the little children were working on his last nerve as they screamed and one little girl started to cry. Honestly Sherlock had no idea what had happened, something about someone calling her ugly or something, so he just sent her to the nurse to get her out of his hands. Finally the day was over, and it couldn't have come any sooner. He marched the children down to the main doors in the line, sitting on the railing watching them leave on the busses. Hamish was playing around the stirs with Archie, chasing each other up and down the ramps and shrieking with excitement. Sherlock ignored them even though all of the teachers were giving him bad looks, obviously not agreeing with his way of controlling the kids. Sherlock watched out the doors for the red van, which finally rolled up into the parking lot and stopped at the curb.
"Hamish, your parents are here!" Sherlock called, catching the running child by the back of his shirt as he sprinted by.
"Okay." Hamish muttered, grabbing his backpack. "Bye Mr. Holmes, bye Archie!" he called to the other child, who was now just regaining his breath. Sherlock watched as the door opened, but it wasn't John at the wheel, it was Mary. Of course it was Mary, his wife. The only person he needed to love in this world. Of course it was Mary. Sherlock went back to his class, the school now deserted of anyone under twenty and reorganized his files, sighing as he pinned up some of the drawings outside the classroom. They were required to hang the nicer ones on the bulletin boards outside the room to brighten up the building. Considering that there were no nice drawings by second graders Sherlock's board was nearly empty, but the principal caught up with him and demanded to see more art on the board. So he tacked up ones of cruddy looking flowers, ugly two legged animals and humans with porcupine hands. Why anyone would want to walk by and see such atrocious artwork was beyond him, but he didn't want to lose his job. At least not yet. He needed to get some sort of paycheck so that he could move up in the world, just a little bit. Sherlock sighed, packing up his bag in the empty classroom and pulling on his coat, shutting off the light and walking out to his car. On the way home he had the radio on, but every single love song reminded him of John, so he turned it off. This was getting more and more out of hand, everything in this world seemed to be reminding him someway of John Watson, whether it be the radio or even a cup of coffee. It was pathetic, he felt so weak right now that a gust of wind would blow him off of his feet. Maybe he should just tell John, even though it might amount to a court sentence and lost friend he still wouldn't be keeping his feelings in. Mrs. Hudson was right; the best way to deal with this unknown emotion was to talk about it, to admit it. And who knows, maybe John would go with it, maybe he would appreciate the honesty and still want to keep Sherlock around. It wasn't like they were friends anyway; he'd just be another person who Sherlock wouldn't see anymore. But was Sherlock willing to sacrifice this secret, was he willing to possibly give up their relationship for good? It was eating him up, but maybe, just maybe, it would work out for him.