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After Sherlock Holmes returned from exile,two years after his apparent suicide, Dr John.H.Watson regurally visited his best friend at 221B Baker Street. John was still employed at a local surgery, as a GP, with his beautiful wife, Mary Watson. He can't see himself anymore happier than he has been the past few months. He has his best friend back, he has a beautiful wife and an adorable baby girl on the way.
All though he regurally visits his therapist for the recent events of Sherlock's return and the near death experience of his previous army commander, James Sholto, John's life has been going by in a flutter of sheer happiness. Everything that seemed complicated had worked it's self out by now. Moriarty is dead,Sherlok is alive and Molly Hooper was still hopelessly fond of the rather famous consulting detective. Despite her attempt at convinving the NSY that she is well and truely over him with her fiance,Tom...she isn't fooling anyone.
So, as usual, John locked up the surgery doors on a Friday evening,and made his way to Baker Street. Normally,when John met up with Sherlock,he had usually found him in his chair, his fingers steepled underneath his chin, travelling endlessly through his mind palace to make sense of a recent case. John had also found Sherlock composing on his violin. Everytime he sees Sherlock in the flat,he's overcome with a feeling of nostalgia. He watches Sherlock do the every day things he'd usually see his best friend do two years ago. Playing the violin, composing, moaning , thinking and of course being a complete and utter dick head. He can't help but think of all the memories he and Sherlock have together when he enters the flat, and he doesn't find himself hating it either.
As John Watson climbed the stairs of 221B,he was met with silence. Silence of which he presumed was endused by Sherlock's lack of consciousness to the world around him, while he was in his mind palace. None of this was strange to John. He was used to Sherlock talking for days on end and then complete silence from him the next. He continued up the stairs and opened the door to his previous flat and what he saw,was definitely not something that John was expecting. He stood there in complete shock, raking through his brain looking for answers that only Sherlock could supply.
It wasn't until the light click of a boiled kettle sounded in the kitchen that John snapped out of his trance. Out of everything he's seen today,and he's seen woman with thrush, men with piles and others going through their mid-life crisis'... he did not expect to see a small,beautiful woman sleeping soundly on Sherlock's couch, with a rather fluffy blanket draped over her thin body. "John! tea?" , Sherlock's voice rang through his ears and John spun around quickly. "W-what?" , was the only word John could seem to utter that was at least a tiny bit coherant to Sherlock's brain. "I'm not repeating myself, John. I know you heard what I said and I'm certainly not a parrot" . Sherlock knew John had questions, but he wanted to drag it out for as long as possible. He knew John had to be home by seven o'clock for a night in with Mary,and considering it was laready six, John wasn't staying much longer.Unless of course he wanted to meet the rage of his hormonal pregnant wife for cancelling their plans last minute or arriving terribly late.
"Tea,right...yes" surpressing a grin, John sat down on his old chair and glanced towards the woman sleeping on the couch. "Good, the kettle just boiled" , Sherlock announced, folding himself onto his arm chair in an old t-shirt, pyjama bottoms and his soft,blue dressing gown. Sighing dramatically, John pulled himself to his feet to make the tea, muttering things like "I guess not everything has changed then". Smirking, Sherlock laughed inwardly at how confused John was. It was quite amusing to Sherlock,seeing him so flustered and trying so hard to deduce who she is.John was in utter shock, he didn't know what questions to be asking or what to say at all. Delaney, Sherlock thought,while tapping his index finger against his chair. My dear,Delaney.
After settling down with their tea,they exchange a few quiet words until Sherlock finally says "Okay, you've got questions" , getting up and placing his mug on the mantel,he made his way towards the window. "Yes...yes I bloody do", John declared. "Keep your voice down, John". Taking a breath, John spoke again. "So, you have a girlfriend then?", no reply. "Sister?". John's temper was rising as Sherlock continued to ignore him. The army doctor knew that Sherlock was listening to him and it was beginning to get on his nerves. "Sherlock, will you bloo-", "Wife" , Sherlock interupted. John nearly choked on his tea. He thought he misheard his best friend, but there's not much that actually rhymes with wife apart from knife or strife and it seemed pretty logical for him to refer to things with a violent nature. "Did you mean-" cutting John off again, Sherlock sighed in annoyance. "No, John, I said wife."
Silence fell over the flat of 221B where an army doctor and a consulting detective stood their ground. Sherlock knew that John would find out this way, but he couldn't seem to find an alternative way to introduce her to John, because either way, the outcome would be John getting extremely angry at Sherlock for keeping this secret from him. Sherlock had kept this secret since the day he had first met John Watson in the lab, at St Bartholomew's Hospital. He had come so close to telling John so many times,but decided against it. John was the only one who didn't know and Sherlock didn't want John's pity. He wanted to get away from the pity of Greg Lestrade and his family, and John was his escape route, his tunnel to a new era and a suitable distraction from the sentiment that revolved around Delaney Holmes.
"I...don't understand", John had finally spoken.It had been at least five minutes of silence,the both of them too stuborn to speak first,of course John gave in before Sherlock. "My apologies,John" ,Sherlock replied, turning towards John. He couldn't find himself to look John in the eyes for some reason. He hadn't told him anything about Delaney.John would of understood,you idiot, he thought to himself. "You're apologising?! Look! There's another thing that's completely NEW to me,Sherlock!" , "John, will you please keep your voice d-" John interrupts Sherlock. His rage had finally reached it's tipping point and right now, Sherlock was getting a face full of the army doctors violent side. Sherlock stumbles sideways. Despite the situation a light smile reaches his lips as he says "Okay, I deserved that. Are we quite done with this little domestic now?". Sitting back down in his chair, he folds his legs.
"No,Sherlock. We are not bloody done! How long have you kept this from me? when did this happen?", John rushed out in a single breath.Oh dear god, Sherlock thought. They both looked at eachother properly for the first time since they started arguing and immediately broke out into immense laughter. They realised how ridiculous this all must look at this point. John was happy for Sherlock, he knew he wouldn't be lonely in the flat anymore and that his best friend was content with how things were. He also knew Sherlock, and he knows he wouldn't choose a girl from the street and suddenly marry her.
"Sherlock?" , a low, croaky, feminine voice came from the other side of the room. The two men looked in the direction of the woman lying on the couch. Sitting up slowly, she began to rub her eyes. Sherlock stood almost immediately, and made his way over to his wife. John watched as his best friend walked over to her, a part of him is shocked, but he's mostly happy for Sherlock. All though he's angry because Sherlock didn't tell him, he knew there had to be a decent reason. I mean come on, John thought. He's Sherlock Holmes,he always has something to say.
Snapping out his thoughts, John looked towards Sherlock. He sat on the edge of the sofa, one of her hands in his own and the other on her leg. They just looked at eachother for what seemed the longest time. It was almost as if they were having conversations with eachother just by looking and not speaking at all. It fascinated John. He had only seen this happen between Sherlock and Mycroft. They intently stared at eachother, deducing the inevitable until one of them got too frustrated with the other. He expected it to happen between Sherlock and his wife at any second, but they all they did was break their stare with a loving smile between eachother.
Sherlock stood up, his wifes hand still in his own as he waited for her to stand. As she stood up she looked towards,John. With an excited smirk, she dropped Sherlock's hand and walked towards John as he stood up ready to be introduced to her. "John, it's lovely to finally meet you. I'm Delaney" she spoke sweetly. It took John a minute to realise she knew his name before he had even said it, so Sherlock was either talking about him or she's a genius too and noticed his doctors tag in the pocket of his jacket.
"Delaney" he stuttered. "It's nice to meet you, even though I only know of your existence the past twenty minutes or so" John spoke awkwardly , trying not to make eye contact. When he finally looked towards them both, they both had devious smirks on their faces.Christ, another one with the smirk. Does she have a coat with huge collars too? John thought to himself.
"Well, I'm going to get dressed. I look like a right mess" Delaney declared, giving Sherlock's arm a light squeeze before she passed.