Let The Shadows Win

You Sir, Are An Idiot

It was during work that John felt he was finally available to give Sherlock a call. Around Mary he had decided that he should keep such conversations and visitations limited, purely to create the façade that they weren't happening at all. He wanted Mary to like Sherlock; he wanted him to become a part of his life even if he wouldn't allow any sort of romantic entanglements. In an ideal world Sherlock could become something of an uncle to Rosie, he could come to her dance recitals and pick her up from school, he could come over for dinner and spend Christmas with them. Then again, also in that ideal world they two of them would sneak off to the Holmes manner and end up the next morning curled in each other's arms and bare chests, yet that part wouldn't be mentioned over the dinner table. John wanted to love Sherlock, but more importantly he wanted other people to appreciate him as well. Last time they were so outcast from society, alienated from everyone simply because those who knew of their relationship were too skeptical to allow it. They felt as though they had no choice but to go behind everyone's backs to love each other, and that was where the trouble started. That's when they got the illusion that it was just them against the rest of the world, and that their partner in the struggle was so invaluable that a loss would be catastrophic. They had gotten protective, defensive, and obsessive all because they felt as though they were alone in the world, together. Yet this time it might be different, and the only way to build up a healthy relationship was to keep their communication going. And so on his lunch break John went and stood outside, too close to the smokers for comfort, while he dialed the number Sherlock had typed into his phone earlier. It rang for a while, and John leaned up against the wall and tried to politely wave his hand in front of his nose, for the stream of second hand smoke was almost unbearable in this location. Yet outside was quiet and private enough to have a conversation, for the smoking gang never did anything but talk loudly about how unfair it was that they couldn't have their cigarettes inside. Even now they were yelling away, and so while John waited for the phone to get answered he meandered a little bit down the sidewalk, where the air was clean and the deafening noise was subsided. He half expected to get the answering machine, considering Sherlock was bound to be out this time of day. However it rang a couple more times before it was picked up, and for a moment the line was quiet, almost as if Sherlock was still trying to work out how a phone worked. He had one when he was growing up, John was sure of that, maybe he was just trying to acclimate himself with this new technology.
"Hello?" asked Sherlock's nervous voice on the other end. It was obvious that he was holding his breath in anticipation, obviously the anxiety of who was on the other line was killing him. He wanted it to be John, yet it was obvious that Sherlock knew the probabilities of having merely picked up on a telemarketer. And so John decided that maybe he could have a little bit of fun.
"Hello sir, I'm proudly calling you to announce that you are our lucky winner!" John said in a mock tone of excitement. There was a pause on the other end.
"Winner of what?" Sherlock asked quietly, for obviously he had been locked away long enough to have missed the lessons on hanging up on phony calls such as these. Evidently he knew nothing of the recent scams that were going around.
"Well sir, you have won the one thousand dollar cash prize of course. Your name was pulled from a list of unknowing participants, and you will be awarded as soon as possible! All I need now is your credit card number, pin, and expiration date!" John exclaimed in the best voice of enthusiasm he could manage. There was more silence; obviously Sherlock was trying to figure out what exactly was going on.
"I don't have a credit card." He muttered quietly, sounding very confused yet willing all the same. Obviously the temptations of one thousand dollars was enough to make him optimistic.
"A bank account number will do instead." John assured.
"Oh, ya I have one of those. Let me go and look." Sherlock muttered with a tone of excitement, as if he couldn't believe the luck he was just recently having. John just shook his head in exasperation, leaning up against the wall of the side of the building and sighing at Sherlock's obliviousness.
"I'm also very pleased to announce that you sir, are an idiot." John decided in his normal voice. He could hear a little gasp from the other end, yet he wasn't sure if it was in recognition or in hurtfulness.
"An idiot?" Sherlock clarified with the tone of a wounded animal. "Wait a minute, who is this?"
"Someone who cares enough about you to remind you never to give any credit card or bank account number to any sketchy number who calls. That's how they get you." John pointed out.
"This is John, isn't it?" Sherlock muttered in disappointment.
"Of course it's John." he agreed with a laugh. "Happy to see you still have no common sense."
"Give me a break! I've been locked up for thirteen years; of course the promise of one thousand dollars for nothing sounds tempting." Sherlock grumbled, sounding both upset about the sudden loss of money but happy of course because of who his caller turned out to be.
"You sound tired." John commented.
"Well I am tired. I haven't been sleeping well; I've got some new nightmares to face." Sherlock admitted with a groan.
"And those are?" John wondered.
"Well, actual nightmares for starters. But also employment. I went to a job interview yesterday and the manager scared me, so I left early." Sherlock admitted with a sigh.
"Well that's a great tactic for getting employed." John said with a laugh. "I was serious about coming here to work with me, that would be really fun. I could put in a good word."
"No that's alright; I was given a list of employers who took recently released prisoners. It's not really a long list, but there's nothing about windows on it." Sherlock admitted quietly.
"Oh well, then maybe you can go and work on that pizza place or something like that." John suggested.
"I didn't know there was a pizza place around here!" Sherlock said excitedly.
"Wow, you really have been gone a long time." John chuckled. Sherlock hummed on the other line, almost as if he had lost interest in the conversation at hand.
"I drew you this morning." Sherlock admitted finally. John blinked, not entirely sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or not.
"You drew me?" he clarified with a blink.
"Well yes, yes I got a new notebook. You were the first thing I drew in it actually, a very lovely portrait if I do say so myself." Sherlock admitted, sounding as if he was very proud to have drawn such a thing. John had sort of forgotten about Sherlock's talent in the arts, yet he did remember him mentioning a drawing notebook around the time they first met. Obviously that thing had met an end somewhere in between, yet it seems as though he had gotten a new one.
"Is that painting of me still above your bed?" John asked with a little laugh.
"Oh yes, yes it is. I checked when I looked about the house, it's peeling but it's there." Sherlock admitted. John smiled softly, remembering that portrait that Sherlock had painted so long ago. It was sort of creepy when you think about it, considering Sherlock had painted it so as to ensure that John was watching over him while he slept. Yet that had been back when he was struggling with living in the house alone, back when he was afraid of vengeful ghosts. And the painting was beautiful, truly, and it was the last thing John had seen before Sherlock rolled over and tried to kill him.
"That's good. I liked that painting." John admitted.
"That's only because it was of you." Sherlock accused, to which John just laughed a little bit guiltily.
"Yes alright, well you got me there. I do rather love my face." John admitted.
"I love your face too." Sherlock agreed with a little breath of disappointment, as if even as he commented on it he knew that it would never be his to keep. Obviously he was heading down the road of blaming John for getting married once again.
"Well if you want to see my face again, why don't you come over for dinner one night? How about Friday?" John recommended quickly.
"Your wife wouldn't like that very much I'm sure. Besides, how did you even talk your way out of not showing up the other night?" Sherlock asked with a little chuckle.
"I told her the truth, of course. She doesn't trust you very much, but I'm sure she'll be a polite hostess if I had already extended the invitation. She's always one to ensure she puts on a good show for guests, no matter how unwelcome they might be. You'll have the chance to at least better yourself in her eyes." John offered excitedly. Sherlock paused for a moment, and John could tell he was thinking it over. Obviously Sherlock didn't like the idea of just strolling up to the Watson household without everyone very happy that he had arrived, yet it was the first step in what might become a marathon for them all. Of course he had to try!
"I suppose...well I suppose Friday could work." Sherlock agreed quietly. "So long as your wife knows and is okay with it, and your daughter isn't scared of me or anything."
"Her name is Rosie." John clarified quickly, unsure if Sherlock knew that yet or not.
"So long as Rosie isn't scared of me." Sherlock corrected. "And of course so long as it is actually dinner. Last time we had a dinner date, we all almost died."
"Yes of course it's actually dinner. I don't have a walk in freezer you know?" John pointed out with a laugh, shaking his head at the ironic coincidence of this all. Thankfully the invitation for dinner was being offered by John, not received, because the last time he dined with the Holmes family it really hadn't gone very well.
"Well I should hope you don't. Those things really are inopportune. I'm sure Mycroft would've gotten charged if the bodies were left to rot, people would've smelled them years before." Sherlock admitted with a groan.
"What an interesting thing to listen to, especially if it was out of context." John commented with a little grin.
"Sorry." Sherlock muttered.
"No it's fine." John assured quietly, smiling once more at the man on the other end of the line. Oh how he loved him...how he truly loved him.
"So dinner, Friday? What's your address, and what time?" Sherlock asked quickly, the phone making all sorts of weird noises as it was passed from one shoulder to the other, so that he could take notes with ease.
"Let's say six o'clock, and my house is on Chestnut Drive, 1294." John said with a little smile.
"Alright...Chestnut Drive. I'll be there, six o'clock." Sherlock agreed with a huff of satisfaction.
"You better be there." John agreed in a mockingly threatening voice.
"I give you my word. I'll see you then John." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"Bye Sherlock." John muttered, and then, daringly, "I love you." There was silence, and for a moment John had worried that the phone had already been hung up. Yet he heard that telltale gasp after a moment's pause, almost as if Sherlock had been shocked enough to not be able to think of anything to say.
"Goodbye John." he muttered quickly, and with that the beeping announced his departure. John sighed, sort of unsure of how appropriate his farewell was. Obviously it had scared Sherlock enough that he couldn't respond, yet it was a moment that was necessary because it was true. Even if Sherlock didn't approve of John's love that was fine, but to ignore their feelings for each other at this point was almost pointless. Yes it might be inopportune, now that Mary was in the picture as well as Rosie. And obviously Sherlock felt bad about possibly having gotten in the way of what he thought to be a picture perfect marriage. Yet it was true, and how good it felt to finally say it aloud! After their meeting at the house John was almost dying to confess his love once more, merely because it seemed as though Sherlock desperately needed a reminder of his sympathies. Sherlock needed to know that he wasn't alone; he needed to know that despite all that had happened and all that didn't happen, he needed to know that John's heart was still with him, and always will be.