Nothing But Flowers (Johnlock)

Chapter 7

John felt a little uncomfortable as he rang the doorbell, Sherlock standing behind him quietly. A few moments later, an attractive woman in her late fifties opened the door.

"Mrs. Baresi? I don't know if you remember me. Dr. John Watson? We met once, after Paolo's Achilles' tendon surgery?" John made his expression into his friendly doctor one.

Her dark eyes warmed with recognition. "Oh yes, Dr. Watson! Please come in." She opened her door wider, and gestured for him to enter.

The terraced house had been extensively remodeled, making the interior very modern and beautifully decorated. John took a seat on a plush sofa, with Sherlock sitting beside him.

"Mrs. Baresi, this is my friend Frank." He kept the introduction simple, and felt relieved when the woman nodded at Sherlock, with no apparent signs of seeing through his disguise, as she sat down near them.

"Please, call me Greta. Shall I make us some tea?" Her English had a light Italian accent.

John shook his head. "No, thank you. I just wanted to stop by to say how sorry I am for your loss."

Her gaze dropped, her posture wilting slightly, before she looked back at John. "That is kind of you. I am still having a hard time believing he is gone."

"I didn't know him that well, but I could tell he was well loved by you, the rest of his family and his fans. He had a great career." John said softly, not wanting to press too far. This woman was obviously still mourning her son.

She shook her head, pulling out a handkerchief from her pocket to dab at her eyes. "His career." She sighed, looking back at John. "He should have retired a couple years ago, but he kept pushing for more and more. That's what killed him."

"Why didn't he retire? I could see he wasn't doing as well when I operated on his knee last year. I encouraged him to consider it then." John shifted forward, really wanting to hear her side of this. It had been troubling John for a long time.

Greta shifted, leaning back in her chair, and crossing her legs. She looked around the room, and waved a dismissive hand at it. "All this. We were poor, and Paolo loved his success. Loved the money and fame. The lifestyle. He insisted on moving me into this fancy place, and bought a designer flat with his model fiancée. Always the finest for him."

"But Felicity wasn't pushing him, was she? Was she discouraging him from retiring?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I think she really loved him, but would she stick around if he couldn't keep up their lifestyle? I'm not so sure. And neither was he."

John was grateful she was being so open with him. Perhaps it was because he had known Paolo at his peak, before he was with Felicity. Plus, John had a friendly manner as a doctor that had patients and their families trusting him.

"So, do you think he put his health at risk, trying to stay a professional athlete so long? Was he doing dangerous things?" John asked, and noticed Sherlock stiffen up beside him. He had been remarkably quiet this whole time, letting John take the lead.

She lifted the handkerchief to her face again, her body trembling slightly.

John instantly felt horrible. "Oh, Mrs. Baresi...Greta...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked you all these questions. It isn't my place. We should go." He shifted to stand up.

"No, stay." Greta said, her voice breaking slightly, as she waved John to stay seated. She took a moment to collect herself, taking some calming breaths as she mopped up her tears. "It is good for me to be able to talk about this with you. You understand the medicine, you knew him."