To Be Like That Of A God

Your Best Is All I Ask For

           

When Sherlock heard the door close behind the two he finally turned on his heel with an exasperated sigh, left alone with the memories of the mess he had made of his life. Oh he could never forgive himself for this, he had been unfaithful, he had fallen right into Victor's trap! Sherlock had known when John arrived that there was something amiss; he should've known...he should've guessed. And so Sherlock stooped over and recollected his dressing gown, pulling the cold fabric over his shoulders and searching the ground for his wedding ring, finding it lying under the desk where he had left it. Sherlock took the golden thing in his hand and stared at it, turning it over in his hands disappointedly. He had failed it, that little band of gold; he had betrayed his marriage, his wife, and himself. All because of the temptations that man presented him with, all because of the love he harbored for John Watson, it was a secret he couldn't bear to keep and yet It was a secret he must hide nonetheless, Molly would never understand, she would never permit such actions! Now that the memories had returned, now that the idea of unfaithfulness had resurfaced, well there was no pushing it back now! It had been easy enough to forget John when he was on the other side of a massive change in Sherlock's life, and now, now there was that idea growing in Sherlock's mind, the idea that he could get away with it, that he could live and he could appreciate the love another man could offered him without any sort of consequences... well it was impossible to ignore! It was impossible to drown something twice, it was impossible to forget something that was trying so hard to make itself known.

Victor POV: It was a very awkward walk back down the stairs, for the image of Sherlock with his lips on that man was still ever present in Victor's mind as he tried to make this descent as sneaky as he could manage. John was walking rather slowly, almost as though he was trying to make it so he could stay longer, almost like he was hoping Sherlock would call and recollect him if he waited five minutes on the landing of the staircase.

           

"Come on then." Victor growled, looking about the entrance hall to see that it was abandoned before ushering John rather hastily down the stairs and to the door.
"Do you have a carriage?" Victor wondered when he got John to the door, pulling it open and letting in the freezing air.
"No, no I walked here." John mumbled, looking rather regretful as he stepped out onto the front stoop. Victor sighed heavily, his hand still on the door and a smile on his face.
"Well then, I suggest you bundle up. Thank you Mr. Watson, I'm sure he appreciates it." Victor assured with a smile, and with that he swung the door closed, keeping John Watson and whatever he was going to say trapped outside in the cold. Victor could only smile in satisfaction, guessing that John had disappeared before he finally turned around and headed towards the stairs.
"Mr. Watson then? Hm. I knew you were smuggling someone in, but I hardly would've guessed that you would be as bold as to invite that man into my house." said a deep voice from the hallway, to which Victor's heart completely stopped. He turned to see Mycroft standing concealed in the shadows near the dining room door, leaning on his walking stick and staring rather carelessly at Victor with his soulless black eyes.
"Mycroft...Mycroft I'm sorry I can...this is all my fault, completely all my fault I set it up, I thought..." Victor assured in a breath, holding his hands up defensively, to which Mycroft just laughed.
"Victor I do not blame you for my brother's indecencies. Love is an ever so tempting thing; I have also noticed how...down, he had become." Mycroft admitted with a sigh.
"I'm sure you understand, my Lord, the fragility of this situation?" Victor wondered nervously.
"My lips are sealed, Victor, as long as I think it necessary to keep his secrets to myself. My brother thinks he can get away with so much in his house, he assumes that everything goes right over my head as long as I have cakes and wine to amuse me." Mycroft muttered, tapping his fingers against his walking stick thoughtfully.
"He's not as discreet as he intends to be, my Lord." Victor agreed with something of a nervous smile. Mycroft nodded, humming in agreement and lost in thought.
"Neither are you, Victor. I assume your actions are for his own good, however, and therefore I will turn a blind eye as long as my own blindness benefits me and my family. I do advise the both of you, however, to be a little bit more cautious in the future. The servants who wander these halls at night are very willing to share the secrets that do not affect them." Mycroft warned thoughtfully. Victor nodded nervously, feeling like this conversation was slowly coming to an end and yet he didn't know when he was allowed to leave. Mycroft was a very confusing man, and surely he acted as such for a reason, he liked to make other people confused, he liked to keep them in the dark.
"Thank you for your understanding my Lord." Victor muttered, bowing his head in respect and finally rushing up the staircase without any formal pardon. Surely Mycroft would understand that he had to wait on Sherlock as he always did, for the platters set for breakfast were probably already getting cold. When Victor arrived at Sherlock's bedroom once more he found that Sherlock was seated on his bed in his dressing gown, turning his wedding ring over in his fingers for a moment before sliding it on and looking at Victor harshly.
"How dare you put me in a position like that!" Sherlock roared, getting to his feet as soon as Victor closed the door and storming over to his servant, towering over him despite the single inch that Victor had over him.
"My Lord, it was only for your best interest." Victor defended, helpless to do anything but cower in the man's shadow.
"My best interest...Victor I disgraced my wife, I broke my promises, I have ruined my marriage! I told you flat out that I did not intend on straying from the path that had been laid before me and yet you hand deliver the one man who would be sure to tempt me away from morality!" Sherlock roared.
"Sherlock you were on edge, I noticed that you were upset, I know that you appreciate Ms. Hooper's presence and yet she's not enough to keep you happy, I have never seen you smile more than when you were falling in love with him. I only want you to be happy!" Victor defended in a weak voice, trying to play the innocent card here. Sherlock may hate him for what he did, however he could never hate someone who was looking out for him.
"Mrs. Holmes." Sherlock growled. "She's not Ms. Hooper anymore, despite your constant efforts to forget, I am a married man, I am bound by my promises and I did not intend to break them!"
"My Lord do you regret last night? Do you wish he had never arrived?" Victor growled, stepping up to Sherlock and finally staring him down, challenging him to deny the beauty that last night had held for him. Victor had jumped through hoops to get that man here, a man he didn't even like, all so that Sherlock could once more have the satisfaction of love. And this is what he got in return, no thanks, no praise, no appreciation! Victor was treated as though this were all some great tragedy, as if Sherlock couldn't have just said no!
"That is beside the point!" Sherlock growled, pushing Victor away and turning his back to the window.
"You love him, my Lord, and I know how love can eat away at your soul if it is not satisfied." Victor insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head and keeping his gaze on the carpet, keeping his back to Victor, as if he couldn't stand to see his face.
"Yes Victor, I understand. I love him, I know. And it hurts, I know. And yet now that he has been returned to me I cannot turn away again, I cannot forget! You have put me on a downward spiral, you gave me a taste of my drug after I had beaten the addiction and now, now I'm going to need more. You had good intentions Victor, I understand that, and yet now we are both trapped in a spiral of sins. I can't let him leave me, not again, this is going to happen again, this is going to have to happen a hundred more times, this is going to have to happen until the day I die, Victor I cannot get him out of my head now that he has taken up permanent residency in my heart!" Sherlock exclaimed, worming the ring off of his finger once more, evidently having given up all fallacies of commitment.
"I am sorry my Lord, truly sorry." Victor muttered, however he wasn't upset, he really wasn't. He didn't know why Sherlock was so dedicated to a woman they both knew he felt nothing for, just because she wore a ring as well didn't make her into some sort of moral necessity, she was a friend, nothing more, a friend playing a wife in public. Sherlock was allowed to love; he was allowed to enjoy himself. Surely she would understand?
"I'm going to have to break her heart; someday it will have to shatter. She'll find out eventually, she'll have to guess, I'm horrible at keeping secrets." Sherlock whispered.
"This will be a joint secret then; we will keep it hidden between ourselves. But now it has been made very clear, you need him, my Lord, just as much as he needs you." Victor insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head in disappointment and yet he knew it to be true. Instead of responding he just looked down at his ring in disappointment, knowing that it was staring up at him as well, somehow.
"Do you think she knows?" Sherlock wondered finally. Victor stood obediently next to the door, keeping his posture and his stance, watching the back of Sherlock's head curiously.
"How could she?" Victor wondered quietly.
"I don't know, wife telekinesis, I feel like all women have a built in monitor for these sorts of things...waking up in a cold sweat and what not. Oh what a husband I have become!" Sherlock moaned, forcing the ring back into his finger and sitting down heavily on the bed.
"My Lord there is no need to worry, secrets can live themselves out, someday...someday maybe this will turn into one big joke." Victor suggested with a little shrug.
"I already told you Victor, it's not going to end it here. I know enough about myself to know that I cannot contain these feelings, not once they've sparked again in my heart. They're burning me, from the inside, and I'm afraid that Molly is going to someday notice the smoke." Sherlock admitted. Victor nodded, clearing his throat nervously, not quite sure how to respond. It was true, of course, he could see it now. There was to be an eternity of sneaking around, catering to Sherlock's secrets, building on them, growing them. He would fall more and more in love with John with ever secret meeting, a simple kiss, a simple night, words and touches and kisses exchanged before they had to part ways. The rich man, with so much at stake, and the shoe shiner who loved him for who he was, it was a love story that basically wrote itself, and its own tragic ending. This was all going to be Sherlock's downfall, Victor could sense it now. John Watson was going to single handedly ruin his life.