As It Should Be

Chapter 3: The Unexpected Guest

John let himself into the flat like he always did. Although usually he is happily announcing that he and Mary had landed on a name, only to quickly retract it the next time, or excitedly sharing the details of a new case, this time he entered the flat already angry, and what he saw made him all the more enraged. He could tell that Sherlock was using again. Not that he'd seen him in months, nor heard from him. But that was the tell, you see. Sherlock only ever stops annoying him when he was high. John wanted to give him space. He was spending more time with this ex boyfriend of his, and he wasn't intent on ruining a potential relationship for Sherlock. Not when he had seen him struggle for so long to even admit he had emotions. And from what he had heard, Sherlock had been fairly in love with this guy. So he left them to it, thought it was for the best. Besides, he had a pregnant wife, he didn't exactly want to spend all his time babysitting a genius. But of course, after a while, it became eerily quiet. And pre-natal classes and baby proofing the house only took so long. He noticed the absences of Sherlock in his life, and he didn't like how much it affected him. Which is why, he supposes, he was so angry at Sherlock. He had always told him, if he was ever close to using again he was only a phone call away. But it felt as if Sherlock had all but forgotten him, and John began to question how strong their friendship had even been in the first place. And one day, Lestrade called him, wondering if he'd heard from Sherlock, because he'd been trying to contact him about a series of murders in whitechapel. It was, from what John could decipher, an actual interesting case. Something Sherlock would normally relish in. And yet, he was still avoiding calls.
And so one day, when he'd had a day off, and all Mary wanted to do was sleep, he thought, fuck it. Although, he couldn't blame it completely on boredom, he was also actually incredibly worried. This was his best friend, for christ sake. Or at least, he was supposed to be.
Only, John had never seen Sherlock when he was relapsing, not properly, not six months in. He becomes a different person, one John had not seen before. And even worse still, he had never seen 'relationship' Sherlock either. It was to be a shock.

John entered Sherlock's room without knocking, a habit he had picked up as a direct result of resenting Sherlock for doing the very same to him. It began as a way to prove to Sherlock how annoying it is to be walked in on without so much as a knock, but not only did it not phase him at all, it ended up becoming a habit, until both flatmates became far too comfortable encroaching on the others' privacy.
He found Sherlock in bed, smoking a cigarette, undressed at the very least, from the waist up, his bed sheet keeping a small portion of his dignity intact.
"Oh, hello John" He said, his words slurring slightly. Even without the various needles, spoons and other paraphernalia John could see lying about the flat, it was obvious he was high. John sighed.
"Have I disappointed you?" Sherlock chuckled. "Don't linger in the corridor Mrs Hudson, do come in and see the show!" He announced arrogantly.And to John's surprise Mrs Hudson did appear from behind him. He couldn't understand how Sherlock, whilst high off his tits, could have known Mrs Hudson had followed John up into the flat, when John himself hadn't.
"Ohhh Sherlock." Mrs Hudson cooed. " I do wish you didn't do this in the house, the trouble you're going to get me in, I have a record you know."
"Of course I know." He started arrogantly, then softened. "But you know I'd never let anything happen to - "
As he spoke a man, about the same age as Sherlock, only slightly shorter, sollower in complexion, with jet black wet hair that landed in a mess over his face, fell out of the ensuite bathroom, murmuring "Babe, we've run out of conditioner... oh, guests, cool." He spoke nonchalantly, completely unphased by the intrusion. "I love guests" He said as crawled back into bed next to Sherlock.
"John, Mrs Hudson, this is James."
John only sighed. "Hi." He nodded at James, he didn't like the way he only smirked back at him. Sherlock had told John about James once, after a long flight and an emotional case left both men exhausted. It suddenly became easier for Sherlock to talk about emotions, somehow. He'd told John everything about James, how it started, how it'd been so good, until it turned bad. How it always turned bad. Every time he came back, every time he left, and every time Sherlock felt himself slip further from himself. But, also, how he'd loved him, and how he knew James loved him back. And that, to Sherlock, seemed to be the only thing that mattered. Reciprocation.
"There's a case, Sherlock, Lestrade is on his way." John stood there as Sherlock stared back in silence.
"Well...?" John pushed.
"Well..." Sherlock mocked. "Will you at least let me put some pants on, or did you want to stay and watch?" James snorted at the comment, the sound alone enraged John. But he didn't give James the satisfaction, instead he just sighed and left the room quietly, whilst Mrs Hudson commented "I really don't like that new boyfriend, Sherlock was much happier when he was with you." She said as she patted him on the shoulder.
"Mrs Hudson you do remember I am married right? To a woman? I was never with Sherlock."
"Oh, I don't care what you call it, you know what I mean." She added before swiftly leaving, leaving John perplexed her confusion.

John could hear laughter emanating from the room he had just left, and felt a grating suspicion that he was the butt of the joke. He made his way to the sofa and sat down, resting his head against the back cushions, exhausted already by the mental capacity it took to talk to Sherlock when he was high. Sherlock had gotten rid of Johns old chair. The flat felt empty without it, despite the growing collection of tat Sherlock had acquired since John had left. There was an entire chemistry set, steaming up the kitchen, and a large pile of cushions and beanbags strewn across the living room, as if he'd stumbled into a teenagers bedroom.

Lestrade arrived before Sherlock had even left his room. If he had any sense, John thought, he'd be hiding all the incriminating items he currently let dominate his flat. But Sherlock didn't really have any sense at the moment.
"Wow, it's a real tip in 'ere" Lestrade announced as he entered the flat. "He ought to get himself a girlfriend now you're gone, I always thought this place needed a woman's touch."
"Uh..." John began. At that moment Sherlock entered the room, he had tidied himself up and could have passed as even being back to normal, had he not had a talk to frank poster boy of a boyfriend trailing behind him.
"You took your time." John remarked shortly.
"Oh well, you know... traffic." Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes.

It was uncanny, to John, to see Sherlock interact with such a man, in such a way. He seemed tactile, docile, even... affectionate. But it wasn't a facade or performance that John had seen before, with Janine or even Molly. It was real. It was strange. John imagined, had Sherlock been sober, he'd perhaps be more discreet. But, given the toxic mix of intoxicants travelling around his system, he leaned in, smiling, and kissed James goodbye, brushing the still damp hair from his face as he did it. He shut the door slowly behind him, seemingly uneager to commence whatever lecture John and Lestrade were about to initiate. Tempted, rather, to follow James out of the flat, follow him wherever he went, and end the day again in each others arms, forgetting the rest of the world exists. But, alas, the game was... afoot?

Sherlock buttoned his jacket as he crossed the room to his chair. Putting on a costume, a disguise.
"So what's this case then? This murder?"
"Murders. Three high profile individuals, all killed in their homes, nothing on any of their security, no eye witnesses, nothing to go on." John explained.
"And?"
"And... all three of them are connected. Through a list that was published on a private blog 5 years ago, it has hundreds of public figures on, none of them seemingly connected until now."
" Oh int-"
" - I'm sorry...was that... are you.... Was he your boyfriend?" Lestrade asked.
"Astute observation Lestrade, as always." Sherlock commented.
"Sorry I just.. Well I've never seen you date anyone."
"Well you ought to get used to it. Pretty sure he'd sticking around this time." Sherlock added.
"This time?" John just gave Lestrade a look that said "I'll fill you in later" Whilst Sherlock shot him a "What are you implying?" look. Not sure which one shut him up, but one of them did, and for that Sherlock was grateful. He wasn't particularly keen on his private life being part of this kind of conversation. He didn't even want to be here and yet here he was, being analysed and inspected by his friends.
"Oh, there's something else." Lestrade piped up. Sherlock already started to roll his eyes before Lestrade could finish, but for once, he actually said something important. "You're on this list."