Chapter Text
"What are you saying? You need to go back to London? Now?" John is looking at his sister, surprised. "You seemed so happy to be here for the New Year and now..."
She shrugs into her coat, holding her phone as if she's been contacted a minute before. "It's an emergency! I need to check a contract for a foreign client..." She turns to her wife for support.
"Come back with us, John!" Clara insists with a big smile. "For the fireworks and all... I know you miss London!"
"It wasn't what we..." It is tempting, but it's not in his nature to be spontaneous and yell out a big fat, happy 'yes'.
"I know it isn't what we planned, bro', but it's good, right? A little holiday in the big city!" Harry smiles sweetly, hugging her brother tightly. "The most important thing is to be together."
"Yes... But-" John stops. But what? Closing his eyes a second, his level of anxiety starts rising at the thought of leaving his village, leaving the island. Hating the feeling that his life here is becoming a security blanket, he opens his eyes back and looks at Harry. "Okay, I'm not going back to work until the second anyway."
"Perfect!" The petite woman jumps up to hug her brother-in-law as Harry quickly books ferry and train tickets for December 30th. "We're leaving tomorrow morning!"
They left Yaverland early after a good night of sleep. The trip, aside from the chaos that time of the year usually created, went well and the three arrived at Harry and Clara's flat in the middle of the afternoon. How is it possible to completely change the setting that quick! Harry, as soon as the door closes, rushes to her home office with apologies that 'she must get on with her work!' When in fact, she spends the afternoon playing Candy Crush while sending Clara dirty texts.
Feeling a bit claustrophobic, John, after his bed is set up in the sitting room, tells his sister-in-law of his intention to go for a walk.
"Do you need company?" Clara asks, her eyes still glued to her phone as her cheeks suspiciously turn pink.
"No, no! Stay warm, I'll be back before dinner, don't worry."
Picking up his walking stick, he closes the door leaving the two women on their own. He deeply loves them, but their little apartment was quite... little. It was cozy, but a bit modern for his taste and he never felt at home in it. Which is normal as it's not my home. He smiles, thinking about his vision of the ideal home. Something warm, clean but crowded. Not in a big complex, like Harry's place, but something more home-y. The continual buzzing of the city around him was similar to the breaking waves. A presence, a background noise, the feeling of being surrounded by something bigger. He knew that hiding himself away as he was right now wasn't a viable solution for the long term, but the idea of being in London to end up in a bedsit was worse! But what can I do? I won't be able to get a good job in London, who wants a lame doctor!
He is lost in his thoughts and has been walking for more than an hour when someone calling his name brought it back to reality. Looking around him, he was in the middle of a square, he spots the grinning face of an old classmate. "Stamford?"
"Yes! It's me!" He grins as he pats his stomach. "I'm a bit fatter, I know! But, you! John, John Watson! You haven't change a bit! How strange it is to meet you here!" Catching sight of John's walking stick, he frowns slightly. "What happened? I'd heard that you were getting shot at in Afghanistan or somewhere else."
"I was shot." John smiles with satisfaction as he realizes that the subject wasn't as difficult now. "Got any time for a coffee or a pint?"
"Yes! Of course!" The men start walking in the direction of the nearest pub. "What are you doing in London? I've read your blog and last I read you were living in a little village?"
"You read that, oh, god!" Opening the door, he grins as the comforting warmth of the pub engulfs them. No problem finding an open pub here! Getting a table, he waits as Stamford asks the bartender for two pints. Looking at his old friend, John was honestly pleased with the happy coincidence.
Back with their drinks, Mike argues with a laugh, "it's true that your blog isn't perfect! But it's always hard when you start something like that."
"Yes, I know... the line between what you should and shouldn't talk about... I usually do not talk about feelings and such, so, it feels kind of useless, you know? Especially as nothing is happening in my life that is worthy of a blog post." After a few sips, he asks, "anyway, how did you stumble upon it? It's not like I publicized it or something!"
"Oh, your page was open on a colleague's computer." He tried to remember what Molly told him. "Ah! Yes, in fact, she wanted to ask your opinion about some gun shot wounds or something. She's a pathologist."
"That does sound interesting, too bad, she never contacted me!" That could be more interesting than giving flu shots!
"Maybe you can make a career of it!" Mike smiles "Got another colleague, no, not really a colleague of mine... anyway. I know someone who is really into all these things. His name is Sherlock Holmes, he works with Scotland Yard and on private cases. Have you heard of him?"
"No, but I've stayed away from the news since I've been back..."
"Really interesting fellow, even if he's a bit peculiar! He was looking for a flatmate, maybe I can put in a good word for you!" Mike smile drops a bit as John shakes his head.
"I won't inflict myself on anybody right now..." The doctor replies before changing the subject back to their classmates and how the world is changing far too quickly.
On the morning of the thirty-first, John was alone in the living room. Apparently, Harry's 'emergency' was now a thing of the past and she was free as a bird to go for brunch and relax until the big event at midnight. He was pondering the idea of getting up to make coffee when his phone buzzes. Hoping it wasn't something related to work, he swipes across his screen happy to read that is was Mike.
Hi John! Really nice speaking to you yesterday! This is so funny, I walk thru that park nearly every day to go to work! MS
Yes it was! JWa
Let me know if you decide to move back to London for good, I'll hook you up with that man from Bart's. MS
I don't think I will, but thanks for the offer! JW
Wish you a wonderful New Year, John! MS
Yes you too. JW
Closing his eyes for a few minutes, John considers the idea of coming back to London... He is still doing a mental list of pros and cons when his sister steps outside the bedroom and starts making coffee.
"I need coffee! Then a good shower, then we are going for a nice brunch..." She is strangely happy for someone who just woke up a few minutes earlier.
"Are you hiding something, Harry?" John shouts from the living, suspicious.
Chiding herself about being too obvious about her little scheme, she quickly singsongs out "No, no! Just had a good shag last night and I slept suuuuuuper well so I'm really relaxed!"
"Oh God! Harry! Seriously too much information!" He theatrically falls back on the sofa, burying his face with a cushion. "You're my sister for God sakes!"
Clara, stepping out of the bathroom and a bit sleepy, mutters, "why are you screaming..."
"John doesn't want to know that we made love last night!" Harry replies, waggling her brows.
"Oh! HARRY! This is personal!!!"
Looking at the women who were now chasing each other in the kitchen, a little burst of envy hit him suddenly. It's true that it's nice to have someone, especially on New Year's.
Sherlock was looking at Mycroft, not believing a word of what he was saying. "You said, that you need someone to pick up an envelope for you in that big round thing next to Westminster Bridge."
That big round thing... "The London Eye, yes! Or the Pepsi/Moët Chandon /whatever name they changed it to recently." Unable to say no to DI Lestrade, Mycroft was in charge of getting Sherlock to the London Eye at midnight.
"Tonight. At midnight."
"Yes, right before the beginning of the fireworks."
"Won't it be full of people at that moment, with the celebration and all?"
"Yes, so it's the perfect moment to be anonymous, don't you think?" turning back to his computer, Mycroft hides his annoyance with difficulty. For once it would be nice if he would just do as I ask!
"Why aren't you asking one of your lackeys?" The detective frowns, not knowing what to think of his brother's unusual behaviour.
"I don't trust them, of course, and Anthea is with her family, for the holiday."
Sherlock, not willing to let it go that easily, asks petulantly, "what do I get in return for playing your errand boy, brother mine?"
Finally giving up, the older brother mutters in a defeated tone, "I'm going to take care of Mummy's gift for her next birthday."
As Mycroft seems particularly eager to have him do this favour for him, Sherlock pushes his luck a bit further. "...and the next Mother's Day as well?"
"Of course..."
"Deal."
The detective was about to leave his brother's office when he calls him back. "One last thing, Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck. With everything." Mycroft says, before taking up his phone to call the PM.
"I don't know why you wanted to come here," John complains as the number of party goers rises exponentially as they walk down Westminster Bridge.
They had spent a great day, the three of them together. The restaurant was great, followed by a lazy afternoon in a coffee place with board games and great music. But, after dinner, Harry had insisted that they get dressed nicely and go out to the Millennium Pier. "The view is as beautiful from the other side of the river, or even a bit further away."
"No! My client gave me tickets for the London Eye! It's going to be grand!"
"What? Just like that? They cost a fortune! Or you have to win a lottery to get some!" Walking behind his sister, swearing against his lame leg, he was once more flabbergasted by the type of client his sister has! "Three times your usual rates because he asked you to work on the 30th! He paid our first class train tickets, now places inside a pod..."
"I know, your sister knows big shots!" She laughs, thinking about the email she had received a few hours ago with the request of getting her brother to the London Eye at quarter to midnight. "Quick, John! We only have 10 minutes left!" Raising her eyes she spots an elegant woman with a little sign with their names on it. "Oh! It's there! Hi! My name is Harry Watson, and these are my two guests."
"Everything is ready, Ms. Watson, please follow me." Anthea, a little smirk on her beautiful face, walks through a security corridor until they reach the platform. Turning to John, she smiles. "Is this your first time in the London Eye, Sir?"
"Yes, it's going to be interesting..." John replies politely, not acknowledging the beauty of the woman as he used to do. A cute woman joins them a few minutes later.
"Hi!" She smiles at their little group. "I'm going to share the pod with you! My name is Molly!"
Knowing at once, who she is, Harry shakes her hand with a big grin. "It's grand, don't you think? First time for all of us!"
"Oh! I've been up there many times! It's quite romantic, don't you think?" The pathologist, happy that Mycroft was able to set up everything on such a short notice, couldn't stop grinning.
John looks up, impressed by the brightly illuminated structure. It's true that it must be romantic, except for the fact that you are with a bunch of strangers... Most of the pods, each one able to hold 25 people, were already full. Usually, each pod is emptied at every complete thirty minute rotation, but as tonight is a special occasion, the people were staying inside many turns so to be there for the fireworks. Wondering when it's going to be their turn, John turns to Anthea to ask the question, not realising that an empty pod was slowly arriving.
Sherlock is on his phone, a bit angry. "Mycroft! Your man never showed up! I am turning for no reason in a stupid Ferris wheel while scantily clothed women scream at me from the other pod!" He turns away from the window - to the dismay of the young ladies - just to find out that the pod on the other side is also full of young, very drunk professionals. "You asked me to arrive at 11:30, which I did, told me that the man was going to be right behind me, which he did not. I've met my part of the bargain, I'm going to get out as soon as this glorified bicycle wheel comes to a stop! And you are still going to take care of Mummy's presents!" Angrily, he closes his phone.
Looking out over the Thames, he admits that is was kind of a nice view... And Parliament is quite spectacular. Maybe I should bring our parents on their next visit. He frowns at his sudden burst of sentimentality. What's wrong with me, first these crazy feelings for the doctor and now I want to do something with my parents? He breathes a bit easier when he realises that the pod is nearly back on the platform. About time! He is walking a few meters to get to the sliding doors when he sees him. He's talking with Anthea, what is this... I don't understand. Then he saw a grinning Molly and everything falls into place. Oh, the little minx!
Anthea, watching as Sherlock's pod arrives back to the platform, presses the doors open and motions John to step in first. Closing the door after him quickly, leaving Harry, Clara and Molly outside. Thinking it was an error, he quickly bangs on the door, shouting. "What's going on? HEY!"
"Sorry to say, I think this is a set-up, Doctor Watson." The voice, echoing in the closed space, was velvety and warm. Slowly, John turns in the direction of the end of the cabin. And he saw him.
"It's you..." John says, his voice shaking. "I... I... don't understand. How is this possible?"
Unable to see who was with Anthea as the pod starts its ascension, Sherlock shakes his head. "I am not fond of repeating myself, but as I said, I think it's an elaborate set-up..." Thinking about the woman he saw with John just forty-eight hours earlier, he adds a sad "apologies."
"Oh, don't be sorry... " Laughing with relief that a logical explanation existed for the fact that this extraordinary looking man kept showing up in his ordinary life, even if his own soul was slowly falling into the realm of the mystical, he nods. "Of course. Harry."
The feeling of a jackknife entering his body suddenly cuts the detective's heart in two. "Harry?"
"Yes, Harry. My sister, short for Harriet. You saw her with me... back at my house."
"Oh... " The sister, always something.
"Is it weird, that I kept thinking about you? I've seen you two times and..."
"Twice?"
"This makes three. The first time was at the ferry, you never saw me." John was mesmerised by the man's voice.
"A big mistake, the first of many probably. I was so focused on finding you that I never realized that you were here." He blushes, feeling like an idiot.
"It's okay," John apologizes, stars in his eyes. "I didn't know either, that I was waiting for you..."
Suddenly, to the men's surprise, the people in the other pods start shouting. "10, 9, 8..."
"Almost the new year..." Sherlock says, walking near John.
"6, 5, 4..."
"Yes, we waited - without knowing it - for too long...."
"2,1"
Letting their bodies do the talking, the noise of the fireworks making any conversation impossible anyway, they kissed.
Without stopping, except for breathing. Softly first, then with a more heated passion.
Without reacting to the rowdy catcalls from the others pods.
Without watching the beautiful fireworks.
Until their lips aches, until the only sound was the combination of their beating hearts and raging breaths.
Until the wind and the cold of the opening door caught them off guard.
"Gentlemen? They are closing..." Anthea was waiting, keeping the door open as both men - a bit stunned - walk out of the pod, Sherlock taking John's hand to avoid being separated in the crowd.
Not wanting to leave, but not knowing what to do next, they both ask at the same time.
"Do you -"
"Are you -"
Remaining silent, Sherlock motions John to speak first. "Do you have somewhere to go now?"
"No, don't really want to go back to my dingy flat."
"Same, don't really want to go back to my sister's sofa."
Stepping one step closer, even if they were already nearly as close as they could be, Sherlock asks with a raspy voice. "A walk then? Somewhere more peaceful."
"Yes," John replies, his gaze fixed on the other man.
As they both remained immobile, thousands of Londoners walking joyfully around them, the detective's phone starts buzzing. And buzzing. And ringing.
"You better check it, it may be urgent."
Rolling his eyes at the inconvenient timing, Sherlock replies impatiently "It's better be impo -" His beautiful face becomes radiant as an exhausted Lestrade explains why he called. "Where? Okay, we are going to be there in 15 minutes." Not explaining anything to John, he grabs his hand again and starts running in thedirection of Belvedere Road to get a cab; his imposing stature creating a path through the crowd, when the voice of the doctor stops him.
"What! Where are we going?"
Pivoting quickly, he saw the confusion upon the man's, John, JOHN's, face. "You have questions?"
"Yes..." The doctor chuckles. "I do."
Watching longingly after the cabs that pass near them, Sherlock sighs. "I'm a consulting detective. Invented the job. The man on the phone was from the Yard, he needs help. Always, kind of sad, especially at this silly season. So... Cab."
"Okay." John, still confused, turns his wrist to get Sherlock's attention. "But why are you holding my hand?"
"I don't want to lose you." He didn't say 'obviously' but it was clear in his tone. " And, isn't that what people do?" The tall man asks, a bit lost. Am I doing something wrong?
"When?" John asks patiently a grin slowly appearing on his face.
"Well, when on a date?"
"A date?" the doctor laughs merrily at the madman. "We don't know each other, I didn't even know your name, and you want to go on a date?"
Looming over the smaller man, the detective murmurs in his ear, "I know that you are a former captain of Her Majesty's Army, that you have a psychosomatic limp, that you are a great doctor, but a better human being, that an isolated life isn't for you but that you are perfect for me. And I want to be the man who's going to help you see the beauty in the stars again..."
Not knowing how to close the deal, he stands back a bit and winks. "The name is Sherlock Holmes."
Unable to resist, John swiftly pulls on their hands to bring the man to his level and presses his lips upon Sherlock before calling a cab with his other hand.
His walking stick high above them, abandoned in a capsule above London skyline was testimony to the fact that, yes, Doctor John H. Watson is back in London.
For good.