Archive of Our Own

John looked up as Sherlock entered the pub, and raised a hand in greeting. The detective swanned over with his hands in his coat pockets, collar up against the slight spring breeze.

"G&T?" John asked, sliding one across the table without waiting for a reply.

Sherlock took his seat with a wry look. "Are we planning a big night?"

"No, no, nothing big," he smiled, "Just thought it might be nice if you actually had a drink when we 'have a drink'."

The other man looked suspicious but took a sip, humming with mild satisfaction. "I suppose it draws less attention."

John leaned back and took a swig of his pint. "Like you've ever had a problem being the centre of attention."

"Ah, but this isn't about me, John." Sherlock gave a very small smile.

"How is your other half?"

"Oh, you know. Collapsing drug cartels and saving orphans."

John frowned, and he laughed.

"Alright, the orphans are less likely, but who knows? Jim can be...whimsical. Honestly, Mycroft probably knows more about what goes on in our flat than I do."

"Mate, from what I've heard, there's nothing going on in your flat."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Hilarious."

"You two are getting along though?"

He smiled. "As well as two difficult geniuses can. I imagine it seems hellish to an outsider."

"I dread to think," John shuddered, "Did he get over that tantrum about the milk?"

The brunette pouted. "Eventually. After he'd tipped an entire can of baked beans over my sock index."

John chuckled, hunching over his beer. "Who'd have thought a criminal mastermind could be so petty?"

"I suppose petty arguments call for petty revenge." Sherlock shrugged.

"He was right though."

"What?"

"He was right."

"You're taking Jim's side?"

John snickered. "Yes. Putting the empty milk bottle back in the fridge is a dick move."

"I don't know how these things work! It always seemed to refill itself at Baker St."

"Yeah, because I went to the shop and bought more!"

Sherlock huffed. "Seems a rather tedious way to manage household supplies. Surely he has a minion capable of regularly dropping off groceries, in anticipation of our needs."

John shook his head. "What are the common riff-raff coming to? Don't even have time to pick up the milk."

Sherlock glowered at him, but it did nothing to quieten the doctor's snort, or dull the mischievous glint in his eyes. Seeming to sense he wasn't going to win that one, the detective sighed.

"How's the surgery?"

"Good, good. Busy. We're taking on extra staff to try to keep up. I've been working so many shifts I can barely remember what the flat looks like."

"Amazing how much you can get done when you're not chasing some mad ponce around London." Sherlock smirked.

"Oh, I dunno. Had its charms."

They were silent for a moment, exchanging a fond smile over their drinks. Sherlock cleared his throat.

"And Mrs Hudson?"

"Good. Asked me to tell you to visit more often."

"She's not still seeing that man from the cafe?"

"Uh, don't think so - I'm pretty sure she said she was going out with a magician?"

"Children's party entertainer, according to his LinkedIn." the word sounded odd in Sherlock's mouth.

"I don't know if that sounds better. They're both a bit - well - dodgy."

"I think we can safely say that's her type."

They both laughed again, Sherlock's face falling slightly towards the end. He caught the other man's eye, suddenly serious.

"Spit it out, John. I can only feign ignorance for so long."

The blond sighed, scrubbing a hand over his neck. "I've met someone."

Sherlock made a small contemptuous noise that adequately conveyed how obvious he thought that was. "What's her name?"

"Mary. Mary Morstan. She's one of the new nurses," John's eyes lit up, "And she's great. Really, really great."

"Congratulations. When are you moving in together?"

The doctor scoffed. "What makes you say that?"

"Surgery's been busy, you're both barely home - makes sense to share the rent. Plus it's obviously serious if you've finally decided to tell me about her. You rarely bothered to mention your previous romantic pursuits."

"Because they all hated you - with good reason, I might add."

"What makes you think this one won't?"

"This one doesn't have to be under the same roof," John screwed up his face, "And I think she'd give as good as she got."

"Oh? Then I look forward to meeting her."

He looked a bit stunned. "You want to meet her?"

Sherlock frowned. "I thought that's what you were about to suggest. Do you...not want me to meet her?"

"No, I do, I just-" John exhaled harshly, lips popping, "Didn't expect you to be interested. You never were before."

"Perhaps marriage has softened me."

The other man bit back a snicker, leaning his forearms on the table. "Yes, Sherlock. I'd like you to have dinner with me and Mary. But you have to be nice."

"I'm nice!"

John just stared, until finally the detective huffed and folded his arms.

"I'll try."

"Good enough."

*****

Sherlock strode into Angelo's, vaguely aware that he might be a bit later than socially acceptable, and scanned the room in an instant. There were a pair of blonde heads at a table in the back corner and he made his way over in a flash of coat and curls.

"Good evening. Apologies for my tardiness - I was-"

"Working a case, as usual," John smirked, "S'alright. I lied about the reservation time."

Sherlock regarded him with surprise. "Huh. That was unusually forward-thinking of you."

"Mary, this prat is the fantastic Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Mary."

He finally turned to look at the woman. She was about John's age, with short hair, and wore a comfortable beige sweater that reminded him immediately of the ex-soldier. She was also smiling at him, unlike any of John's previous girlfriends.

"I can't believe I finally get to see what all the fuss is about. I thought for sure you'd come down with the mumps as soon as John asked you to dinner."

The twinkle in her eyes was warm, and a smile crept over Sherlock's face. He took his seat.

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed this. You weren't wrong about her, John."

Mary glanced at the other man. "What lies have you been telling about me?"

"He said you were formidable."

"Really?" she chuckled.

"Well, that might not have been the exact words, but the gist was there."

She laughed, meeting his gaze without the slightest discomfort, so Sherlock kept looking. Deductions floated through his mind like machine-gun fire, the detective discarding most of them as his eyes roamed. Mary leaned her chin on her hand, smiling at him.

"So, what'dya think?"

"You'll keep him on his toes." he smirked back.

John sighed. "Well, if we're done, I'd like to have some dinner before I fall asleep right here at this table."

"Don't overexert yourself on our account, John. I think I have enough embarrassing stories about you to keep Mary entertained if you need a nap."

The doctor ran a hand over his brow. "Why did I want you two to meet?"

"Because we're both a pain in the arse and you love it." Mary kissed his cheek.

John cleared his throat and stared at his menu, trying to hide a smile. "The spaghetti's good."

Sherlock scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

He waved at Angelo, the proprietor hurrying over.

"What can I do for you tonight, Mr Holmes?"

"We'll have the pumpkin gnocchi, and that red wine you've been keeping for when England wins the World Cup - it would be a shame to waste it."

Angelo looked resigned and took their menus. "Coming right up."

Mary frowned. "There was no gnocchi on the list. How did you know?"

"His shoes."

"I'm more impressed you're eating." John snorted.

"Only because I've learned the consequences of not taking care of myself." Sherlock scowled.

"More beans?"

"Endless."

Sherlock flicked his collar up as they stepped outside, jamming his hands in his pockets. "Well, that was...nice."

"Charmer," Mary leaned in to kiss his cheek, "You weren't half the tosser John made you out to be."

The doctor made a mocking face. "Would I do that?"

"Yes." Mary and Sherlock said at the same time.

John ignored them, sticking his hand out at a cab. "Do you wanna take this one?"

The brunette surveyed the street, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. See you soon?"

"Yeah, we'll do fish and chips or something."

"I'd love to see the new place." Sherlock smirked.

Mary winked at him and took John's hand, heading for the cab. He waited until they were inside before turning and hurrying down the street. There was a second cab parked slightly down from the restaurant; its lights flicked on as he slid into the back. The driver turned, resting his arm on the back of the seat.

Jim smiled. "You survived."

"It was pleasant, actually. They seem...well-suited."

"Oh Sherly, it's adorable how much you dote on your pet."

He clucked his tongue, tilting his head to catch the criminal's gaze. "It seems I'm not the only one."

"What can I say? I'm a curious man, darlin'. You might even call it my defining trait."

"I assume you got a good look?"

"Course. She seems plucky."

"She is."

"We know our Johnny likes difficult partners."

Sherlock glared at him and Jim tittered, turning back to face the road.

"So, where to?"

"I suppose that depends. You seem to be in the mood to play."

"I had a satisfying day in the office."

Sherlock's smile fell slightly before he quickly dragged it back. "Elektra's?"

Jim cooed, pulling the taxi into the street. "Oh, William, you do spoil me!"

"Isn't that what good husbands do?"

"I'm not sure either of us qualify as good."

Sherlock rested his elbow on the window sill, smiling into his hand. "Good's boring."

"Amen, honey."

*****

"Sherly?"

"Mhmm?" he replied, not looking up from his laptop.

Jim perched on the arm of the sofa beside him, running his palms down the detective's arms until his chin almost touched Sherlock's shoulder. "What did you say Johnny's latest unfortunate gal pal was called?"

That got his attention. He turned, arching a brow. "Why?"

Jim looked too innocent. "Humour me."

"Mary Morstan. She works at the surgery."

"Hmm."

"Hmm? What does 'hmm' mean?"

"It's a common expression when someone doesn't quite know what to say."

He scowled. "You always know what to say. Why are you asking, James?"

Moriarty pursed his lips. "Oo, you know how Daddy likes it when you say his name like that, Sherly."

"You're avoiding the question, James."

Jim huffed, dropping to the cushion beside Sherlock. "I thought she looked familiar, that's all."

The brunette stared at him expectantly. Jim stared back, still wearing his faux-naïve smile. Finally he sighed, rolling his eyes as he threw his hands up.

"God, Sherly, you're so pushy!"

He took out his phone and tapped at the screen for a moment. A notification popped up on Sherlock's computer, and he opened the new email, taking a moment to skim its contents.

"This is...a personnel file."

"Uh-huh."

"For Mary."

"Yep."

"From British intelligence."

Jim's mouth went perfectly round as the genius raised a hand over it in feigned shock. "Scandalous!"

Sherlock's scowl deepened. "Where did you get this?"

Moriarty's face became a rigid mask. "Don't ask stupid questions, dear."

He shook his head, scrolling through the pages. "I thought we agreed to interfere in each other's lives as little as possible."

"I'm doing you a favour, William! Out of the goodness of my heart."

The detective gave him a disbelieving look and Jim shrugged.

"I told you, she looked familiar. I maintain a little list of handy people to know - freelancers, subcontractors, that sort of thing. Had a flick through some photos and there she was! Looks like there's a lot more to Dr Watson's sweetie than meets the eye, and since you worry about the poor thing so, I thought you might be grateful for the heads up."

Sherlock's brow twitched. "How grateful?"

Jim bit his lower lip. "Let's saaaaaaaay...another trip to Elektra's and one thirty-second kiss?"

"Twenty seconds."

"With tongue."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Moriarty spread his hands and looked upwards, like a supplicant in prayer. "And so the wicked receive their just reward."

Sherlock looked back at the document with a snort, noting the dates & mission names. "Not active recently."

"No, she seems to be taking a break from all that special forces guff."

He felt a twinge of relief; she probably wasn't after John then, or Sherlock, or even Mycroft or Jim. "Should I...tell him?"

Jim tilted his head with a curious look. "Do you want to? Sounds like an uncomfortable conversation to me - all those feelings."

"He'd want to know."

"Probably. But Johnny isn't always honest with himself about what he wants."

Sherlock glanced at him askance and Jim huffed.

"Oh come on, William! That psychosomatic bullshit when he got home from Afghanistan? Falling in with you? He doesn't want a normal, boring life. He couldn't make it work with any of those normal, boring girls."

"That may have been a little bit my fault." Sherlock muttered.

"Maybe Ms Morstan is just what he needs. You did say she seemed good for him."

"Yes..."

"And you can't blame a person if their chosen profession is a little unconventional. It certainly didn't stop you proposing to me."

"I have it on reasonably good authority that I am an idiot."

Jim tutted, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "Oh, don't listen to that nasty big brother of yours. He thinks we're all idiots."

He scrolled back through the file, stopping on the photo of Mary - or whatever her name actually was. Her mouth was a hard line, eyes determined but still lively.

"You make a good point."

"Always, darlin'."

"John himself has done regrettable things in service of queen and country."

"And dashing well-dressed detectives."

"But a secret like this won't stay secret."

"It might."

Sherlock raised a brow at the other man, who shrugged.

"I suspect Ms Morstan is an expert at secrets, and she has rather a personal investment in keeping this one."

"If she's on your radar, she must be on others'. I wouldn't want John blindsided."

Jim carefully studied his nails. "I might be persuaded to keep an eye on the situation, head off any meddlers."

"Persuaded how?"

He leered, eyes raking over the brunette. "Make a deduction."

"Not happening."

Jim shrugged. "Can't blame a man for asking."

"I know what John would say if he found out I'd withheld information," Sherlock stuck his lip out, "The right thing to do is give him all the facts and let him make his own decision."

"The right thing is for boring people."

"Maybe so, but sometimes those boring people know what they're talking about."

Moriarty scoffed. His face brightened, and he leaned over to kiss Sherlock's temple. "I'll go back to not interfering then, shall I?"

He bounded off the couch, heading for the kitchen.

"Jim? Thank you."

The genius beamed. "Any time, gorgeous."

*****

Mary unlocked the front door and stepped inside, dropping her keys on the hall table. She hung her coat on the stand and paused. Something was off; the air in the flat was wrong somehow. She crept towards the living room, easing the gun out of her waistband.

"John?"

There was no answer. She spun around the door frame, aiming at the dark figure in the armchair just as he turned the lamp on.

"Sherlock."

"Good evening, Mary. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Yes you did."

"I wasn't sure I could, if you're as good as they say." He dropped her file on the coffee table, the dull thud echoing through the silent apartment.

Mary gave a quiet snort. "It really is amazing the lengths you'll go to to chase off John's girlfriends. It's sort of sweet, actually."

"I'm not going to chase you off." Sherlock sat back, crossing his legs.

The blonde looked curious. "Why not?"

"Because you're perfect for each other."

Mary laughed, but finally lowered her weapon. She sat on the couch facing him, gesturing at the folder. "You read it?"

"Naturally. The contents are heavily redacted, of course, but that doesn't mean much when you have the right resources. Your skill set is impressive; your service record even more so."

She didn't bother hiding a proud look. "Does it bother you? You do catch murderers for a living."

He shrugged. "Personally I have no qualms with your activities, though I know most would. Every government employs a certain number of clever people like you; it's practically civil service. And you've gone to a lot of trouble to leave your old life - I doubt you'd be careless enough to let it endanger John."

"If I thought there was a threat, I wouldn't be here."

"I believe you." Sherlock steadily met her gaze.

"So if this isn't a warning..."

"It's a friendly suggestion. We both...love John. We want to protect him," he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, "You have to tell him."

Mary gave a mirthless chuckle. "I can't do that."

"You have to, because if he finds out, any trust you had will be irreparably destroyed. John Watson is quick to anger and very slow to forgive, himself most of all. He's a soldier, stubborn and proud. If he discovers you kept this from him," Sherlock tapped the folder, "He will shut you out, and you will never break back through that wall."

She regarded him fondly. "And they call you a sociopath."

The detective looked uncomfortable. "Yes, well. I've had more time to study John's emotions up close."

"Why me?" Mary asked, "You could tell him."

"Coward's not a good look on you."

"It was a honest question, actually. I know how much you like to show off," she smirked, "Why wouldn't you want to be the one to expose my secrets?"

"And give him another opportunity to accuse me of quote-unquote 'ruining' his relationship?"

"Now who's a coward?"

Sherlock scoffed. "If I tell him, he will feel lied to. If you tell him, you are sharing the painful, dark details of your past in a display of trust and vulnerability - isn't that one of those things couples do?"

"He won't understand."

"Oh I'm sure he'll make a bit of a scene at first," the brunette curled his lip, "But you'd be surprised what John can learn to accept about the people he cares for."

She looked thoughtful, gun still dangling in her hand like part of her. "You wear a wedding ring, but no one's ever mentioned you being married, not even John."

"My spouse is...complicated. Definitely not someone he approves of, but he's learned to live with it. And I think if Jim and I manage to make it work despite our differences, then you and John should be fine. You share so many interests: helping people, fuzzy sweaters-"

"Handguns?"

He smiled. "Exactly. As I said, John was a soldier, a job not entirely dissimilar to your own. He may not be as horrified as you think."

Mary still looked uncertain, leaning forward to mimic Sherlock's pose. "So go on then, tell me about this hubby. I can't imagine the man extraordinary enough to charm Sherlock Holmes."

"Who said I was charmed?" he frowned, back arching like an offended cat.

She laughed. "Oh Sherlock. I do know something about reading people, you know?"

The detective still looked a bit indignant, but he settled back in the chair. "Charmed is still a strong word - I'd call it captivated."

"Ooo. Hot stuff then?" she wrinkled her nose.

"If you're interested in that sort of thing."

"And completely mental, if he can stand living with you."

Sherlock glowered, but didn't object. "Like attracts like."

"Ahhh," she nodded, "Hence the mystery?"

"Let's just say you have mutual acquaintances."

"Hmm. But you're happy together?"

He smiled. "Somehow, yes. A lot of people try to paint the world as a random, unpredictable place, but it's always made perfect sense to me. Jim and I might not seem logical, but we've learned to compromise; to respect each other's boundaries."

"Quite an achievement, from what I've heard."

"Oh, I think you'd find plenty of people willing to testify that living with John made a drastic improvement on my character. He has that effect."

Mary sighed. "Alright. I can take a hint."

Sherlock stood, buttoning his jacket. "Lovely to see you, Mary. We must do it again sometime."

She smiled. "Sherlock? Next time, knock. John might be cross if I shot you."

"Maybe less cross than you think." he smirked back over his shoulder, striding out.

The brunette didn't bother going home; he headed for his office instead, trawling through some emails while he waited. It was almost seven when the lift dinged, Sherlock pulling a pair of glasses and his emergency Scotch out of the bottom drawer as John staggered in.

"Uh, hi."

"John."

The blond rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You know when you just have one of those days?"

Sherlock quickly poured a glass, sliding it over the desk. "Sit."

He obeyed blindly, taking a very large gulp of whiskey and immediately choking. John hunched over, coughing, and finally fell back in the chair.

"Just had a chat with Mary. Very informative."

"Oh?" Sherlock said, too innocently, "What did she say?"

John eyed him for a moment, then snorted. "You knew? Of course you knew."

"In my defence, I haven't known very long."

The doctor flapped a hand at him. "It's fine. You always know things before me; I'm sort of past feeling insecure about it. I mean, you knew I'd come here."

He leaned forward on the desk. "I wasn't sure how you would react to Mary's confession, but past experience has taught me that most relationship dramas can be remedied with a good friend and a lot of alcohol."

John laughed, the detective joining in. "Suppose it's my turn, after all the times I've put up with you whingeing about Jim."

"I do not whinge!"

"Everybody whinges about their partner sometimes, Sherlock. It's a side effect of co-habitation. When we were living together, I whinged about you all the time."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Did she give you the file?"

He shook his head. "She offered, but I didn't take it."

"Why not?"

"I don't need the details." he said, lips grimly pressed together.

Sherlock waited, not wanting to say anything until John did. But the blond didn't speak, determinedly working his way through the Scotch with a half-stunned, half-angry expression.

"How do you...feel?" The detective winced, cursing Jim for being right.

"Shocked. Embarrassed that I didn't see it, after all that time chasing after you. Lost," he finally turned to meet the other man's eye, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Sherlock. My girlfriend was an...assassin? Spy?"

"Bit of both."

"The sane thing to do would be run away as fast as my gimpy leg can carry me."

"Since when have you ever done the sane thing?" Sherlock said fondly.

John smiled. "Like you can talk, Mr Moriarty."

They both chuckled, Sherlock curling his fingers around his glass. John tilted his, idly watching the whiskey run down the sides. He sighed, sounding older than he had in months.

"She's dangerous."

"So am I. So are you."

"She lied."

"You can hardly blame her for not putting it on her resume."

John glanced up at him. "I love her."

"I know."

"God," he sank down in the chair, resting his head against the back, "Why do I keep surrounding myself with nutjobs and criminals?"

"I will point out the common denominator-"

"Shut up."

"Shutting up." Sherlock took a swig of his drink.

"What if she's just using me to get to one of you?"

The detective didn't answer. John turned, raising his brows in a question.

"I thought I was shutting up?"

"Sherlock."

"Fine," he sniffed, "I thoroughly checked the information in Mary's file, and everything leads me to believe she has left her former occupation, possibly due to a perceived threat against her, and gone underground as the friendly neighbourhood nurse. Nothing in her recent behaviour points to an alternate agenda."

"But how can I ever be sure?"

"I suppose it's a risk you'll have to take. You like a bit of risk."

"This isn't a joke, Sherlock."

He arched a brow. "I didn't say it was."

"How am I supposed to share a bed with a trained killer, never knowing what she's done, or who might be after her, or if she's going to go back to that life?"

Sherlock gave him a very pointed look, and John pursed his lips.

"Oh."

"Indeed. Speaking from personal experience, you learn to live with the uncertainty and focus on the facts."

"Well, you read the file, Sherlock. Tell me the facts."

"Fact one - Mary loves you. Fact two - you love her. Fact three - the past has no impact on the present unless you allow it. Fact four - all relationships involve some degree of chance, be it heartbreak or disappointment. This one may be slightly bigger, but I think my marriage is proof that big, stupid chances can pay off."

"Jury's still out on that one." John smirked.

"Fact five - you don't want a safe relationship, John. You never have."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his neck. "You make it sound simple, but people don't work like that. Emotions are messy. Thoughts creep into your head: doubt, worry, jealousy. It's hard to ignore them."

"I've never put much faith in emotion, but facts are my religion, John. No matter how you feel, you can't argue with the facts."

He nodded, jaw tight. "Right. Fact one."

"Precisely."

"Fact six - my glass is empty."

"Let's take care of that then."

Sherlock closed one eye as he held the bottle up and peered inside. "Looks empty."

"Already?" John slurred, "Can't be."

"No it is, look!" The brunette tipped it upside down, sadly watching the last drops dribble out.

"Where's the 'mergency stuff?"

"That was the h'emergency stuff."

"Oh," John blinked, "Well let's go out!"

"Yes!" Sherlock half-stood, "Out. Fresh air. London. More Scotch!"

His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at his pocket with confusion. The detective fumbled it out, squinting at the screen.

Hey sexy - did you find a tantalising case? You're missing a delectable dinner xo James

"S'Jim!"

Havin a drInk with Jhn. Ne4d to keep mor than one emersgency botle - William

"Ask him why he's such a prat." John snickered.

Sherlock flapped a hand at him, pulling on his coat. "Come on."

The blond nodded solemnly, retrieving his own jacket.

Oh Sherly. Are we celebrating or commiserating?

S'all good. John nd Mary willk sort it iout.

"Did you tell him?"

"No, I said you and Mary were all kissy face."

John screwed up his nose. "Child."

"S'Jim, he's a bad influence."

"That's an'understatement."

"You are though. Kissy face. S'good."

"Yeah," John nodded as they squeezed into the lift, "You're right. I like a little bit of not good."

Sherlock snickered. "She is little."

"She's probably a better shot than me," John hiccuped, "How can I live with that?"

"You'll cope."

An admirable turn as Cupid, William. Have fun. Call if you need the car xox J

See you at hjome x WSSH

*****

Jim stepped out of the bedroom and smiled. The lanky detective was sprawled over the couch, one arm trailing off to touch the floor, his cheek pushed into the cushion. He'd draped his coat over the back of the sofa, but his suit was a rumpled mess. The criminal crept past into the kitchen, making a start on breakfast.

Sherlock stirred, the scent of coffee wafting towards him. He lifted his dishevelled head. "Jim?"

"Good morning, sleepy. I take it you and Johnny had a good time?"

"Can't remember."

He laughed. "That's a yes."

Jim came over, handing him a mug. He kissed Sherlock's forehead.

"What a noble sacrifice, my sweet. Suffering for the emotional wellbeing of your good doctor - should I be jealous?"

"I've suffered for you plenty of times." he eyed Jim askance.

The other man pressed his lips together in silent delight, eyes twinkling. "Your good deeds deserve a reward. Fatty bacon & egg sandwiches are mere minutes away, if you can stomach them."

"I can rally."

Jim giggled. "That would sound more convincing if you weren't still fused to the couch, Sherly."

The detective glared at him, and Jim placed a hand on his heart with mock terror.

"Ooo, you're such a beast when you're hungover."

He headed back to the stove and Sherlock took a long sip of coffee, sighing as the warmth flooded stiff muscles - he was really too tall to be trying to sleep on the very Jim-sized couch. His phone buzzed against the cushion, and after a bit of digging around he found it jammed down the back of the seat.

MORNING. DOES YOUR HEAD HURT AS MUCH AS MINE?

John, don't ask stupid questions - SH

I'm stunned you're even conscious - SH

WELL, MARY TOOK PITY ON ME. SHE MADE BREAKFAST.

Jim had a similar reaction. Perhaps they are taking the opportunity to make an affectionate gesture while we are too weak to object? - SH

OR THEY JUST THINK WE'RE PATHETIC?

Or that. - SH

ANYWAY, SHE WANTS TO HAVE PEOPLE ROUND TOMORROW TO SEE THE FLAT. YOU, MRS HUDSON, MOLLY, LESTRADE, ETC. THINK YOU CAN MAKE IT?

Sherlock smiled at the phone.

Wouldn't miss it - SH