Chapter Text
Bruce patiently waited for the elevator the bring him to his desired floor. Clint and Natasha had returned from their mission a couple of days ago and when asked what had caused their delay the archer had responded that they had made a detour to get something for John.
Tony had needeld a bit to find out what kind of souvenir Clint thought was appropriate for his cousin, but both spies had been very unforthcoming with information. Bruce normally wouldn’t really care what the secrecy was about wasn’t it for the fact that he hadn’t seen John since the assassins returned home.
So now the physicist was riding the elevator up to Clint’s floor with a box of tea. The tea in question was a new flavour he had found in the shop he and John frequented to get tea and mostly served as an excuse to visit.
After knocking on the door and receiving a distracted sounding “Come in”, Bruce found John seated on the floor surrounded by paper.
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Bruce started, “But apparently not this.”
The blond doctor turned around to look at the newcomer and smiled when he saw the other doctor standing in the doorway, “Hey Bruce.”
“What have you been doing?” the part-time goliath asked, before adding, “I brought a new flavour tea.”
“I could probably use a cup,” the blond replied, “Do you remember what I told you about Sherlock.”
Bruce knew Sherlock whit a bit of a sore point for John, “I know what you told me about him,” the physicist responded while making his way to the kitchen around the collection of paper, “He was a genius who solved mysteries and you met him when you became flatmates. Then he died.”
“I always appreciated that you didn’t bother to dig more, not even by yourself,” the blond commented while carefully making his way over between the pages spread on the floor, “Anyway, this is what Clint brought me.”
Bruce took the piece of paper the other doctor handed him, they had to wait for the water anyway. While reading the letter his eyebrows gradually rose higher and higher.
“I honestly don’t know what to say about it,” the physicist confessed as the other doctor started to pour the water in two cups, “But how are you feeling about it?”
“On one hand I really want to punch the git in the face,” John replied while handing his friend a cup, “On the other hand I’m really relieved.”
Bruce took the cup of tea and patiently waited for the blond to continue talking.
“The events leading up to his ‘death’ were always complicated,” John started, “But it ended whit Sherlock jumping off a roof in front of my eyes while I was practically on the phone with him.”
The physicist's eyes widened in shock, meanwhile, the blond continued.
“One of the things I just couldn’t get out of my head was that I failed to save him. And the ‘what ifs’ were driving me crazy.” John paused for a moment, “So it is a relief to know the daft bustard was always going to jump.”
“You know,” Bruce started, carefully, “I kind of want to hit him too now.”
The blond barked out a laugh and then grinned at the other doctor, “I won’t stop you.”
After another moment of peace in which the two men enjoyed their tea, John spoke up again. “Do you know who I really want to punch though? Mycroft.”
“Mycroft?” the other doctor asked.
“Yes Mycroft,” the blond elaborated, “Mycroft is Sherlock’s older brother. And he helped set the entire thing up, no doubt about it. There is a multiple of reasons why I would like to punch him in the face one day but the most recent one is that he knew.”
“While Sherlock hasn’t been in Londen, and thus didn’t really know what was happening until Clint spotted him, Mycroft knew exactly what was happening,” The former soldier explained, “He saw me multiple times after ‘the fall’ and still decided not to tell me.”
John visibly took a deep breath, before letting it go again, “But that is something for another time. Meanwhile, I’m trying to find a chronological order in this mess,” the blond commented while indicating the papers spread all over the living room.
“What is it exactly,” Bruce asked, interested.
“It is the present Nat brought me,” the blond doctor replied with a delighted grin, “Three hours’ worth of Sherlock trying to write an apology.”
Curious the part-time goliath picked up one of the nearby pages.
Sincerely Sherlock
Your friend,
Sherlock
Kind regards,
Sherlock Holmes
Love,
Sherlock
SH
Sherlock
John looked over his shoulder to see which page he found.
“There is another one just like it,” the blond doctor commented, “Only it is used to try out salutations.”
“It is a lot of paper,” Bruce said.
“Yes, it is,” John replied, “I appreciate it almost more than the actual letter.”
The physicist looked at his friend, silently asking him to elaborate.
“All this paper proves that he really put time and effort in writing the apology,” the blond explained, “And that means something.”
Then after a beat, the Brit asked, “Do you want to help me try and order it?”