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As John Watson climbed the stairs to 221B Baker St., the only thing the doctor wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a cup of tea and his favorite consulting detective/boyfriend. The day had been incredibly busy at the clinic. There had been a bachelor party with over thirty completely shitfaced men, and they all seemed to end up at John's office. He was exhausted.
From the stairs, he could hear voices from inside the flat. Sherlock's voice, one he could pick out in a crowd in a heartbeat, and another mystery voice he didn't recognize. It sounded like a woman. Client, perhaps?
He pushed the door open, his eyes immediately falling on Sherlock, who was sitting in his chair with his violin resting gently on his knees, smiling fondly at the person sitting in front of him. He didn't seem to notice John's presence. "Oh, come now, how can you not possibly enjoy Chopin?" He was asking the woman, obviously irritated by this fact, although there was still a smile on his lips.
The woman was sitting in John's chair, so her back was to him. He saw her shoulders rise and fall in a dramatic sigh. "It's not that I don't, I just thought some of his works were utterly dull. He was never-"
"Oh, John!" Sherlock chirped, his face warming up completely. He got to his feet and strode across the floor to capture his significant other's lips in a cheerful kiss.
Th doctor laughed lightly under the kiss. "Afternoon." He murmured.
When Sherlock pulled away, he pressed his head to John's as he always did when he came home from working all day, which earned a prolonged 'a www' sound from the woman who was still seated in John's chair. "You two are just adorable." She crooned. The detective blushed and pulled away, allowing John to see her for the first time since he arrived.
His ability to breathe was immediately ripped from him, and he had to reboot his mind. The woman herself was no older than forty, but that was perhaps just from the magnificent way she carried herself. Her hair matched John's sandy color, but it was incredibly curly and falling in elegant waves on her shoulders, while her eyes, a stunning blue, stood out against the pale complexion of her face. Her knee length black dress was tightly fitted on her body that was nothing short of a supermodel's form. The sleeves of her dress only went down her elbows, and John could see a tattoo on her forearm that was just poking out from underneath the knitted sleeve. Her face was flawless and glowing against the light. The woman herself was stunning. Absolutely beautiful.
She was smiling at the two men with a ecstatic, crooked smile that was almost as stunning as the rest of her. "Well, I should be on my way, Sherlock, dear, now that your better half has come home." She teased him lightly, winking at John.
The doctor stood there in absolute shock. The entirety of the English language had slipped his memory.
Sherlock came to his rescue with a playful smirk at the woman. "Oh, please, I am definitely John's better half."
She threw back her head in laughter that sounded like raining bells. "Oh, do keep telling yourself that, Sherlock, dear." She pushed herself out of John's chair and pulled a bright red pea coat-that oddly enough matched the color of her lipstick-from the floor and slid it over her shoulders. She pulled Sherlock away from John long enough to hug him tightly. "You must come see me one of these days, I miss playing with you." She said.
The detective chuckled. "I will, I swear."
When the beautiful woman released him, she turned to John and held out her hand. "I'm sorry, I've been dreadfully rude, I'm Aurora Prescott." She said sweetly. "Mycroft's wife."
John's knees nearly gave out underneath him. He attempted to smile, but he could barely manage it. "Oh! Oh, hi, nice to meet you." He stuttered, shaking the woman's hand.
Aurora pulled away and leaned down to pull Sherlock into a hug, which-much to John's surprise-he returned. "Goodbye, dear kinsman, do come by the house sometime, I miss our visits."
"Only if Mycroft is conveniently not there."
She swatted him in the chest with the back of her hand. "You are terrible."
"So is he!" Sherlock protested.
Aurora rolled her eyes and turned to John, who was still standing aghast a few feet away. "Their squabbles have always been so petty, haven't they, John?"
The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
"They aren't petty, he's an insufferable prick. Honestly, Aurora, I don't know why you put up with him, you could do so much better."
No kidding. John agreed silently.
The beautiful woman giggled. "Oh, Sherlock, always the joy. Your brother is darling, and so are you, under all that-" She paused and made a face that mimicked a snobby upturn of the nose. It was enough to make John laugh. She acknowledged his snicker with a grin and went to button up her pea coat. "Well, I should be off, my dears, Mycroft is taking me to dinner once he gets back from Cardiff." That earned an eyeroll from Sherlock, which she blatantly ignored. "John, it was lovely to meet you, I do hope to see you again soon."
He smiled weakly. "I'm... Sure you will."
With a cheerful smile, the woman left the room and clicked down the stairs with a graceful step.
Sherlock'a face went cold and he sat down in his chair with his laptop. "You can close your mouth now, John, she's gone."
My mouth is open? The doctor closed his jaw wits an audible click and cleared his throat. "So... That was Mycroft's wife?"
"Yes, we're you not playing attention?" Sherlock's voice clipped. He seemed irritated.
"Yes, of course, I just..." He shrugged and sat down in his chair. "I wasn't aware that Mycroft was married."
The detective sighed. "It's not something publicly known. She's away a lot, he's busy, and they don't wear rings."
Although John recalled never seeing a ring on Mycroft's finger, it confused him. "Why not? I mean... With a wife like that, wouldn't he want to..."
"My brother is a very reserved person." Sherlock interrupted, that hostile tone flashing in his words again. "He gets into a lot of nasty business with a lot of horrible people. When they got married, Mycroft insisted that she keep her maiden name. The argument lasted two weeks, and of course, Mummy was sure that there wouln't be a wedding after all, but I explained the situation from his side, and she agreed. They don't wear the rings, but his is always on him, he keeps it in his coat pocket. Hers is on a chain around her neck. My brother has no enemies that are out to get him, but he is in a position to have them, and it is painfully obvious how devoted he is to his wife. He's a heartless bastard to everybody but her. He's... Quite protective."
"I can see why."
Sherlock looked over at his boyfriend with unmistakable hurt, but quickly hid it.
John felt a bit bad, so he quickly switched the conversation around. "I mean, I'm sorry, no offense to him, but how does Mycroft Holmes, your brother, as possibly the biggest prick I've ever met manage to get a girl like that?"
The younger man shrugged. "I ask that a lot, actually, but, I assume it's the same way I managed to get you." His voice was surprisingly soft with an underlining layer of uncertainty.
"Devastating good looks?" John teased.
Sherlock laughed. "I would hope that's not the only reason you love me." He said, earning a loving stare from John. "I believe he captured her attention with his mind. As much as I hate to admit it, my brother is intelligent. If I remember correctly, and I always do, he attended a charity gala, and she was there with her date. He fell for her within five minutes of knowing her, and deduced her date's extended string of lovers, half of which were in the same room. She threw a glass of champagne at the man she came in with, and Mycroft asked her out for dinner the next night. They've been together ever since." He rolled his eyes, unable to comprehend it. "She absolutely adores him, it's terrifying. Disgusting really."
John scoffed, much to Sherlock's cheer. "So, is Aurora like Mycroft?"
"In what way?"
"Is she the British government too?"
"Oh god, no." Sherlock replied, as if it were the dumbest question he had ever heard. "She's a cellist."
That made sense. Given the love of classical music that both Holmes brothers seemed to have, the idea that Mycroft had married a musician made sense. "Is she good?"
"Very good. We used to play together. Actually, we're planning to play together again soon for this charity event in March."
John smiled. He could just see Sherlock and the colorful woman playing music together in a fancy concert hall while John and Mycroft watched on fondly. Well, the idea of Mycroft being there was a bit of a mood-killer, but he loved hearing Sherlock play. He cleared his throat. "So, you like her, then, his wife? You like her."
The corner of the detective's mouth twitched up into a smile. "Aurora is more tolerable than my brother is. I actually enjoy her company quite a lot. She's cultured, she's smart-not like we are, but she can keep up for the most part-she's witty, and she can stand to be in the same room as my brother without wanting to murder him, so props to her." He then frowned and looked away. "And you obviously like her too."
"What do you mean?"
Sherlock looked up at his boyfriend with the eyes of a kicked puppy. It stung John's heart as he realized what he was getting at. "I saw you looking at her. She's... Beautiful, I know. I don't mind, honestly, I-"
Suddenly, John couldn't contain his laughter, and the sudden outburst of giggling made the younger man flinch."Sherlock Holmes, you are an idiot." He roared, laughing so hard that he could no longer breathe. Sherlock was watching him with his mouth agape and his eyes the size of saucers, and all John had to do was lean over and press a kiss to his nose. When he pulled away, Sherlock's eyes were still fille to the brink with confusion, causing John to laugh again. "You're such an idiot, you know that?" He breathed, kissing the man again.
"John, I don't understand."
"Then let me explain. Yes, Aurora Prescott is quite pretty, I will admit, but I was more confused at how she ended up with your brother. She's colorful and pretty and not completely insufferable like he is. Yes, I was looking a bit, and I'm so, so sorry, but I want you to Know that I love you with all of my heart." He uttered softly, kissing his nose again. He thought h felt the man relax, but when he pulled away, Sherlock looked even more hurt and afraid than he had earlier. John frowned and pushed a dark curl out of his face. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"
Sherlock bit nervously at his lip. "You don't miss being with women, do you?"
John was appalled. He took in the detective's expression and saw every insecurity written on his face in permanent ink, and John's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He understood how hard it had been from the beginning for Sherlock to take in the fact that John "Three Continents" Watson, the biggest womanizer in the army, and the handsome doctor who could score four different dates in a single week, had picked him over everyone else. When John told him he was in love with him after he returned from the 'dead', Sherlock had panicked and stuttered and had been a total mess until the doctor kissed him and then everything disappeared. Sally made some comments about how John would eventually find a nice girl and leave him, and although he pretended it didn't bother him at all, the detective always worried. Anytime a pretty girl flirted with John, it was like a knife was plunged deep into Sherlock's chest because in the back of his head, a little voice would relentlessly inform him that he didn't deserve such a man as John Hamish Watson. When John found out about this, he immediately put it all to rest. Or, at least, he though he had.
The doctor reached out and stroked Sherlock's cheek. "No. No, I don't." He replied, sternly, in the same voice he used to convince criminals to drop their weapons. It was gentle, yet strong, something that could melt steel. "I'm sorry that I was looking at her, but hear me when I say that I would never trade a diamond for a rock." The detective's eyes lit up at the comment. "I have never in my life pinned after someone like I pinned after you. Gaining you was like winning the lottery, and I have honestly never in my life been happier with anybody. You are the most brilliant, beautiful, amazing person I have ever met, and I wouldn't trade you for any women on this Earth. Or man, for that matter." He kissed the blushing detective again, watching as all of the self-consciousness fall from his features with ease.
When the finally pulled away from each other long enough the breath, Sherlock smiled brightly enough to power the sun and picked up his violin. "Would you like to hear the piece Aurora and were thinking about playing?" He asked.
John smiled and leaned back in his chair. "You know I love to hear you play." He murmured.
Sherlock sent him a loving glance, then lifted the sleak instrument to his chin. When he played, the euphonious sound echoed off of the walls of the flat and brought John to tears. This man was indeed a prize. He could never have anyone better.