Jealousy of Sherlock Holmes (RDJ Downey Version) (Johnlock + Mary/John)

[RemedyBane]

Chapter 1: Forget Me Not

 

The latch on the door of the carriage opened and Irene Adler stepped inside, sitting down. She had only been there for a second before Sherlock Sat up from the other side of the car, having previously been hidden under a dark cloak, obscuring him from sight.

"Oh!" Irene started and closed the door quickly. When she looked back, there was a bouquet of flowers in her face, "for me?" she feigned innocence. 

"Myosotis," Sherlock let the flowers drop in her lap, looking less than amused, "Forget-me-nots, as they are commonly known. Not your most subtle gesture."

"They could have been from John," she tilted her head back up and smiled, "they'd suit his eyes perfectly."

"Don't be daft," Sherlock started to rise as the carriage slowed down, "he's terribly allergic. If you're going to blame Watson, the least you could do it is making it probable."

"I’ve seen you give him flowers all the time; I didn't know." 

"They were for Mary, and I've never bought Myosotis," He jumped out of the carriage and tipped his hat to her as the carriage begun again.

Irene looked at the flowers then called out the window, "This is only half!" 

Sherlock just waved and disappeared in the crowd. Irene really didn't mean to hurt John.

---

The familiar sound of a cane hitting the wood floors stirred Sherlock from his nap, startled but relieved, "Watson?"

"Right here," Watson walked into the bedroom and leaned against the door frame.

The moment Sherlock's eyes saw John's frame, multiple things stood out. 1. the man was leaning against the doorframe, doing everything in his power not to put pressure on his bad leg. 2. There was a scuff mark on his arm sleeve, most likely from John stumbling outside as his leg gave way, and he was quick to grab nearest thing to steady himself; the brick wall. 3. the bottom left of his coat was a bit of mud, which just furthered his theory that John was in a lot of pain today.

"Come sit," Sherlock started to get up.

"I haven't come for a lie down-"

"I insist," Sherlock got up and forced John to take off the coat, scarf, and pulled him to the bed, both ungracefully falling on top of it.

"Ouff," Watson grimaced as he moved to lay on his back, "Why on earth?"

"Stop questioning me and just breathe," Sherlock moved again, now between John's legs.

"Sherlock-"

"Don't get excited," he teased right before grabbing John by the waist and pulling him closer, earning him a soft gasp from his companion, "you're in pain again."

"I'm fine-"

Sherlock started kneading where the bullet had lodged into his leg, massaging the very sore appendage.

"Ohh.." John flopped back down against the pillows, eyes closing, "Oh... that's good."

Sherlock grinned and worked his way down his thigh, swinging the leg over his shoulder so he had easier access, "You are very tight."

"Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson gasped as she opened the door, "Oh, I am so sorry- I.."

"Don't worry, Nanny, Pants are still on, much to my disappointment," Sherlock didn't look at the woman, and just kept massaging.

"It's not what it-Oh.. lower..."

"Don't just hover, come with that tea and place it on the nightstand."

Mrs. Hudson quickly went to do so, and now that she wasn't behind Sherlock anymore, she could see exactly what was happening, "oh. You poor dear."

"I'm really alright-ah." He winced.

"Big Knot." Sherlock raised both brows.

"I don't remember what I was saying." 

"You never do," Sherlock gently put the leg back down, "This would have been much easier without pants."

"Yours or mine?" John teased.

"Oh my," Mrs. Hudson shook her head and walked away, "I'll be back with a cold compress for your leg-"

"He needs heat not cold!"

"I don't need anything-Ohh," John's eyes rolled back into his head, "don't interrupt me-"

"Do you really want me to stop?"

"No," John sighed and kept his eyes closed this time, "damn rain."

"It always does you in," Sherlock smiled and put the blanket he was sitting on over John's other leg and across his chest.

"I have things to do today, Holmes."

"Of course," Sherlock didn't stop the massage.

"I really did sleep well last night."

"I haven't a doubt," Sherlock lied.

"I'm really... alright."

"Right as rain," Sherlock put his thumb just in the right spot, making John moan and release the rest of the tension in his body.

"Here you are, dear," Mrs. Hudson placed the warm compress on John's leg, "It really would be better without pants."

Sherlock expected John to retort, but he saw on his face that he had fallen asleep, "perhaps next time, Mrs. Hudson."

"Poor dear," Mrs. Hudson tutted before walking back out of the bedroom.

Sherlock gingerly got off the bed and properly tucked John in, before hesitating for a moment. John's face was so peaceful. It had been a while since he had seen John in such a state. This whole engagement business was taking more of a toll than John would ever admit. His eyes lingered on John's lips, watching as they parted slightly. His lips were chapped, and a touch paler than normal. He wasn't hydrating properly. 

"How ironic," Sherlock smiled to himself before bending over and kissing John's forehead, to feel for fever, of course. No other reason.

--------------

"Sherlock?" Mary walked into the study and frowned when she saw poor Gladstone unconscious under a table, "oh, what have you done to him now?"

"He's taking a nap," Sherlock raised a brow, "dogs do sleep, you know."

As if on cue, Gladstone popped his head up, almost glaring at the two of them for waking him up.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," Mary gave the puppy a quick head scratch before moving over to Sherlock, "Have you seen John? We were supposed to go over flower arrangements."

"Delphiniums, blue, white roses, and cala-lilies," Sherlock didn't look up from his paper, "The blue suits him best, and you prefer creams and whites."

"I like that," She sat down next to him in John's chair, "now where is my fiancé?" 

"Having a lie in," Sherlock finally put the paper down and handed Mary a single stock of Forget-me-nots, "Perhaps these for a filler flower?"

Mary took the flower and immediately walked to the window, throwing it away, "nice try."

"I haven't tried a thing."

"Making John sick isn't going to postpone this wedding."

"I hadn't the thought," Sherlock stood up and threw the paper down, "his leg is aching, best not to have him walking about in this weather."

Mary actually looked surprised, "He said he was fine."

Sherlock just raised his eyebrow for a moment in disbelief, "John, lying about his health?" he rolled his eyes, "you know how he gets about that blasted injury."

"So, you've tricked him into falling asleep?"

"Not a trick, just some creature comforts."

Mary gave him a look like she didn't believe him and walked towards Sherlock's bed, opening the door to see John asleep in the bed, a new heated cloth on the now exposed leg. Sometime in the last few hours, Sherlock managed to get his pants off.

"Purely medical," Sherlock walked in behind her and checked the temperature of the tea.

"Is he in pain?" Mary sat down on the bed and looked at the scar, something John had rarely given her an opportunity to see.

"Always," Sherlock handed her a cup of lukewarm tea.

"If he wakes and I see him this way, he will just pretend all is well again."

"Quite right," Sherlock nodded, pretending to suddenly be very interested in his tea.

"I shall finish our errands alone. I trust you will take care of him for me?" 

"I always have," Sherlock opened the door for her, and was relieved when she was finally gone. He hated how he'd grown to actually like her.

-------------

John woke up slowly, not entirely sure what was bothering him, until he was properly conscious, "Etschii" John sneezed into the pillow and sighed. 

Sherlock was smoking his pipe, smiling down at him, "you look gorgeous."

"Bugger off," John slowly sat up, careful not to move his leg too much, "must you smoke in here?"

"Why ever not?" 

John answered his question with another sneeze into cupped hands, "Etschii."

"Bless you, old cock." Sherlock did put his pipe away before coming over to feel his forehead, "coming down with a cold?" 

"Never pegged you for a mother hen."

"Yes, well," Sherlock tutted and went to grab the now cold tea, "my doctor is out of commission. Someone must fulfill the role."

"I'm not out of commission, but I do like the sound of Nurse Sherlock."

"I take that as you're staying?"

"If I am coming down with something, I don't want to bring this to Mary."

"And seeing as you're already here, better not move," Sherlock quickly came back to the bed and checked on the compress, "I want you off this leg."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Nurse," Sherlock winked.

"Sherlock," John looked down, "where are my trousers?" 

"Folded nicely on that chair far away. Your leg was cramping. Best to have direct contact."

John wanted to protest but he quickly threw his hands up to his face, "huh'tschii-tSchii." 

"Gesundheit." Sherlock tried not to smile at how adorable Watson was.

"Thank you," John sniffed and scrunched up his nose, one of the many things John did that drove Sherlock nuts, "terrible timing for a cold."

"A sneezy one at that," he wrapped a blanket around John, "Mary stopped by. Said you were not needed at the florist."

"I'm not cold-" John turned away again, "Hutsschii- huh.. chii." he shook his head slightly, "the florist?" 

"She knows what she wants, it'll be faster without you hobbling about," Sherlock took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to John, one of the many items of clothing he'd stolen from John over the years, "get some rest." 

"i've just woken, and I truly don't feel unwell-"

"you're sneezing every moment, and you can't stand to move your leg. Where would you go?" 

The fight in John left rather quickly, and he leaned back down, "I really am a right mess, today."

"Yes, but fortunately, I am an expert in messes," Sherlock tucked him in, "I shall get another pot of tea, and I’ll grab the chess set."

"Why is your bed so comfortable?"

Sherlock huffed a small laugh, "It's a bed."

"No..this is... wonderful," He made a soft stretching motion before wincing at his leg, "now I understand why... you're always-" he yawned and closed his eyes, "sleeping."

Sherlock Holmes could sleep anywhere, which he'd shown many times in John's company. What John didn't know, is that he bought a new mattress and sheets, specifically for ultimate comfort, just in case for moments like these.

"Sweet dreams, John."

----------------

Sherlock had made the mistake of leaving bakers street for merely half an hour, only to come home to John up and walking, heavily using his cane, clearly in search for something, "I brought you lunch."

John slowly turned around, masking the pain he felt, "thought I’d have a bit more time."

"I had a hunch."

"of course, you did," John turned away once again, sneezing into his shoulder, almost knocking himself over, "Atschii!" 

"What were you looking for?"

John sighed and rubbed his face, "Doesn't matter, I’m caught." 

Sherlock put the food down and came closer, taking John's body weight, as he snaked an arm around his waist, "come now." 

"Sher'huh-" John twisted away again, "TSchii!" 

"None of that," Sherlock patted his hip, "let's keep going." 

"Sherlock..." 

"What-?" Sherlock looked at the man's face and instantly knew what was wrong, "alright, sit sit." he put him in a chair and kept a hand on his shoulder, "the spell will pass."

"It's just the pain..."

"I know," Sherlock put a hand on John's forehead, "you need to lie down."

John sighed and closed his eyes tight, "when... the room stops…spinning."

"And here you wanted to walk around London looking at China patterns," Sherlock nodded disapprovingly before picking John up, bridal style.

"Darling," John buried his face in Sherlock's neck, "this is not helping the spell."

"Yes, but I’d much rather you faint in bed than in a chair," Sherlock didn't show any sign of exertion at carrying John. He'd done it many times before, "Besides, I might just have to handcuff you to the headboard for this level of disobedience."

"Don't you dare," John rubbed his nose against the stubble on Sherlock's neck, "do we have anymore tea?" 

"Endless supply," Sherlock kissed the top of his head, "throat tickling?" 

John sighed, "I hate that you know that."

"I know your patterns John, dear."

They arrived in the bedroom and John realized he missed the contact once Sherlock laid him down.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?" he hadn't moved from the bed.

"The tea isn't urgent," John swallowed thickly and looked away from the man, "I.." 

"of course," Sherlock crawled into the bed and pulled John in his arms.

"Just until the room stills," John croaked.

"Of course, nothing more," Sherlock smiled and kissed his head again, "try to stay calm." Sherlock didn't let him know that he knew John had stopped feeling dizzy merely moments after he was picked up. John's eyes were more focused and the scrunch in his forehead ceased. The last thing he wanted was for John to let go.

John coughed lightly, "this is probably all a bad reaction of hay fever."

"Best to stay indoors then," He was hoping John would think it was a cold or better yet the flu, but he'd take hay fever. As long as John didn't find the hidden strands of Forget-me-nots in the apartment. 

[SleepingPhlox]

My goodness, this has EVERYTHING. I haven't seen this fandom in a while, and boy is it a welcome sight.  Since it says "Chapter 1" I hope that means that there is a continuation in the future!

[RemedyBane]

Chapter Text

On 3/21/2024 at 3:38 AM, SleepingPhlox said:

My goodness, this has EVERYTHING. I haven't seen this fandom in a while, and boy is it a welcome sight.  Since it says "Chapter 1" I hope that means that there is a continuation in the future!

Thank you so much!  Yeah! I hope to make a few more chapters at least. (I can promise at least 3 chapters, but hoping for 4, if not more)

Chapter 2

Sherlock weighed his options. He had woken early this morning, content to just lay there, staring down at his sleeping partner. John’s nose was beginning to take on a reddish hue, having rubbed it continuously through the night, right against Sherlock; not that Sherlock minded. Draped across him was exactly where he wanted Watson; Ill or otherwise. It was a comfort to see that in his sleep, John didn’t think anything of this position. He probably should have snuck out of bed and gotten rid of any flowers in the flat, but he couldn’t get himself to move away. Besides, he was fine, as long as John wasn’t coughing. Coughing was not good.

“Good morning,” Mr. Hudson came through the door with a tea tray, smiling, which was rudely interrupted when Sherlock hushed her.

“Don’t wake him,” He set his jaw and turned away from the woman, “he needs his beauty rest.”

“That’s not all he needs,” Mrs. Hudson put the tea on the table and poured Sherlock a cup, “What are you going to do if Mary comes around.”

“You’ll just have to give me time,” Sherlock ran his fingers through John’s hair, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“I’m not worried about her feelings, Dear,” She tsked and looked over at poor, sleeping John.

“Let me worry about the good doctor, and you worry about the goat that needs milking,” his words leaked venom.

“How gracious of you to remind me,” She shuttered before retreating out the door.

“tschi…” Watson sneezed daintily against Sherlock’s chest, telling him that he was slowly waking up.

“Damn,” Sherlock gently lifted Watson’s body off of his and put it down against the pillows. He tucked the man in and got rid of any signs of himself also being in the bed. While it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a bed, now that John was taken by another, those days were few and far between. Now, Sherlock kicked himself for taking those days for granted. How he burned for the chance to hold Watson like that again, properly, unbridled. How he yearned for the chance to explore his body again. His mouth salivated at the thought. The hours he would spend tasting every inch of that man. How he savored the lavender and salt on his skin, and the occasional smell of tobacco on his clothes. Just the thought made him reach for his pipe. To smell himself on Watson was better than any aphrodisiac. A marking that said he was his and only his. Oh, but those times have longed passed, and it is his own fault.

Surely, if he smoked now, Mary would smell the tobacco on John’s clothes. Not that, that was odd. John did still spend a lot of time at his place, and Mary had joined as well from time to time. A little bit of tobacco wouldn’t be too odd.

Just as he started stuffing his pipe, he heard a yawn from the bed. Watson was now spread across the sheets, starfished, and taking up the entire mattress. It was an unreasonably delicious thing to do. He was still pant less, and now with his rumpled shirt, and mouth slightly open, Sherlock was having to cross his legs. His arms were by his head, making his shirt rise up just enough for Sherlock to see his naval. God, he needed a distraction.

Sherlock walked over to the curtains and dramatically threw them open, revealing the morning light. He gasped and closed his eyes, hating the sudden burst of light, but he needed Watson up, now.

“Hmph?” Watson opened his eyes, only to wince, and turned away, “W’as?”

“Morning,” Sherlock wrapped his robe around himself tighter and came to pour Watson some tea, “How is your throat?”

“My throat?” John looked at him with that sleepy look, not quite awake yet, but doing his best to untangle the first words being spoken to him, “Uhm… fine?”

Sherlock almost moaned at the look of peace in his eyes. That look would be gone the moment he tried to get up and realized how stiff he was. Watson would need to stretch the leg out and take a few painful steps before he found his rhythm and feel ready for the day. He wasn’t ready for Watson to be a soldier yet today, “drink some tea.”

John smiled groggily and took the tea, taking a sip, “It’s hot.”

“Mrs. Hudson has impeccable timing,”

“She knows our schedules,” John sniffed, putting his teacup on the tray before swinging his legs off the bed, stifling a wince.

“You shouldn’t- “

“I’m fine,” John took a breath and heaved himself off the bed, taking a step before his knees buckled.

Sherlock saw it coming and placed his cup on the tray before John tried to walk. The moment he buckled, Sherlock was right there, catching him against his chest, but instead of letting him go, he just held him there, “you’re still in a lot of pain.”

Usually, John would have gotten back up and tried again, but the concern and fear in Sherlock’s voice made him pause, just letting the man keep him up, “I just need a moment.”

“Take all the moments,” Sherlock put John’s arm around his neck and wrapped an arm around John’s waist, “we can begin this together.”

John tried another step, trying not to wince, less Sherlock see, but he knew Sherlock could see the micro expressions. He was probably checking his pulse from under his shirt and listening to his heartbeat. Sherlock’s hands were warm against John’s skin, something he believed was on purpose. Sherlock knew he was going to need help and warmed his hands as to not startled him. There really was very little Sherlock didn’t think about.

“If you knew I was going to be a mess, why did you let me leave the bed?”

“You wouldn’t let me keep you in bed,” Sherlock walked with him a few steps, then seemed to hold him back, “you should rest it.”

“If I rested every time I had an ache, I would never get out of bed, Holmes,” John let go of Sherlock and took some steps until he reached the window, using the wall to stretch his leg without losing balance.

“So, I assume you are going to find Mary.”

“I don’t need to find her,” John sniffed, “I know we have a wedding cake to...” he turned away from Sherlock, who got very close very fast, “Etschi-schii!”

“A wedding cake to sneeze on?”

“It was a fluke.”

“My dear Watson, you are never a fluke,” Sherlock grabbed him by the waist again, “stay indoors with me. I’m sure I can find a case.”

“I thought you wanted me off my leg.”

“There are always a few cases we can work from home,” Sherlock hugged him from behind, subtly sniffing his neck, taking in the hints of lavender. He was glad that hadn’t changed.

“Like what?” Watson was unconsciously leaning into Sherlock.

“That child who came in crying about her lost Chinchilla last week.”

“That was a rabbit, Holmes,” John chuckled slightly, “and you told her that her father cooked it for dinner to feed them after he lost his job.”

“Meat is expensive these days,” he huffed.

“She was a child!”

“She asked,” He took one more sniff before letting John go and handing him his cane, “lets peruse the letters then! Your choice.”

“This isn’t just about my leg,” John went over to the tea and leaned heavily on his cane, “you can’t postpone this wedding by keeping me locked up like a plague victim.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Sherlocked feigned innocence, hand over his heart like he was appalled.

“Stop that,” He took a sip of tea before suddenly putting it down and coughing.

Sherlock’s heart stopped for barely a moment, before he realized he had swallowed tea down wrong, “You’re doing a fine job of postponing it, yourself.”

“Not inten..intentionally,” he cleared his throat.

Sherlock watched as Watson swallowed thickly. He tried to tell himself that he was still bothered by the tea, but when he saw how he thinned his lips, and pushed his brows together for a split second, he knew there was doubt. John was doubting this wedding. Perhaps there was a chance.

“Holmes,” John cleared his throat again, “this is happening.”

Sherlock raised a brow, “Wonderful,” he faked a smile before opening the bedroom door and walking out.

“Where are you going?”

“Won’t be a moment!” He could hear John trying to catch up. He took the flowers out of their hiding place and threw them out of the window just as Watson finally rounded the corner.

“Don’t jump out the window again, please? I think we’ve terrified Mrs. Hudson enough for one week.”

“Won’t terry the though,” Sherlock closed the window slightly more aggressively than he should have, “Hungry?”

“Starved,” John still looked unimpressed.

“I’ll have Nanny fetch you something.”

“You need to eat too.”

“Of course,” Sherlock raised both brows, “I’d hate for you to eat alone.”

John was resigned to being stuck there for at least another hour, two at most. He gently sat down in his usual chair and leaned back, “How about those letters, then?”

---------------------

“You could solve all of these with your eyes closed, Holmes,” Watson put the letters back and crossed his arms, “You don’t need me-“

“Of course I need you!” Sherlock turned from his place by the window, so quickly that he almost gave himself whiplash.

Watson’s eyes, now wide, met Sherlock’s and the sincerity and pain in theme made him look away, “I’m not leaving the country, Sherlock.”

“Just leaving the flat,” Sherlock fixed the collar of his shirt, as if he just noticed that it was crooked. He was a tad hasty this morning.

“Down the street. You can visit whenever you’d like-“ John tried to walk over to him but stumbled and grabbed the chair to keep from falling over.

“John!” Sherlock came over and helped him into the chair, “what have I told you about keeping off that leg.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” John was still holding onto to Sherlock’s shirt. His hands were fisted in the front, accidently forcing his face to be mere inches from the others.

“You’re in pain,” Sherlock’s voice was barely a whisper, “you have nothing to distract you.”

“I don’t need a distraction,” John lied.

“A good case could distract you,” Sherlock leaned his forehead against John’s, feeling the slight warmth there, “I could distract you.”

“How?” John’s eyes were closed, face moving slightly upward, nose brushing against Sherlock’s.

Unconsciously, they were both leaning closer and closer until Sherlock pulled away, just barely a hairs breath away from his lips.

“Someone’s coming?” Sherlock stood up straight and moved his head so that his ear was facing the door; unaware that John had slipped forward, no longer supported from the front.

“Who?” John cleared his throat and sat back in the chair, lips pressed into a fine line, head bowed ever so slightly; ashamed at how badly he wanted to kiss Sherlock. It wasn’t fair to- “Mary?”

“Hello, John!” Mary came smiling into the room carrying a box.

“Sherlock help her, please,” John waved in her direction, making no move to get up.

“You must be in so much pain,” Mary handed the box to Sherlock and came quickly over to the chair, kneeling.

“It’s nothing, Mary-“

“He could barely make it from the bed to that chair. I don’t think he could walk down the stairs without causing an incident,” Sherlock opened the box and smelled the context, “it’s for the best he stays here another night.”

“Holmes-“

“He’s right, John. You know he is,” Mary moved up to kiss John’s cheek, whispering, “he’s lonely, darling.”

“He’s fine, Mary-“

“Don’t argue with your… Mary,” he couldn’t get the word ‘fiance’ out of his mouth, “She brought you cake.”

“What? John looked away from Mary to the box, “what is this?”

“Since you could not accompany me to the bakery, I brought the bakery to you,” She got up and took the box from Holmes, “besides, I wanted both of your opinions.”

“Both?” John and Sherlock said in unison, yet John’s was flabbergasted, while Sherlock’s sounded like she just complemented him, his tone having a more upward inflection.

“Oh John, I adore you, but you just agree with everything,” She put the mini cakes on the table, “I need someone to help me decide.”

“I can decide-“

“No, you can’t,” Sherlock stepped in and grabbed a fork, taking a bite of a random cake, with pink frosting, “Strawberry. It’s artificial. Absolutely not this.”

“That was Mary’s favor-“John was hushed.

“Is it really artificial?” Mary took a bite of it too, “Oh, you’re right. That will not go over well with our guests.”

John felt like he was being ganged up on, “How about the chocolate? That’s always a crowd pleaser.”

“Watson, stop trying to please random people, when the important ones are right here,” Sherlock took a spoonful of a yellow cake and put it in Watson’s mouth, earning him a small glare from the Doctor, “Lemon cake. You love lemon cake.”

“It is,” John’s ire was diminishing quickly as the sugar dissolved on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Mary took a bite of the lemon and smiled, “we should do lemon.”

“But you prefer vanilla-“

“I love the lemon,” Mary knelt back down and held his hand, “I love you, John Watson” Sherlock in the background was quietly gagging, “but I just wish you’d trust me with your opinions every once in a while.”

“Forgive me, Mary,” John kissed her hand, “It has been a while since my opinions mattered- “

“I value your opinions!” Sherlock looked truly offended this time.

“You pretend to,” John rolled his eyes, “poorly.”

Mary just began to squeeze his hand, “so we’ve decided then. The lemon cakes.”

“Yes!” Sherlock twirled back around, “Shall I get us some tea and brandy to celebrate.”

“Holmes it’s ten in the morning,” John hid a smile behind his hand.

“Just brandy then?”

“Sherlock,” John put his head in his hand.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Mary got up and went towards the door, “but I did bring a little something, in the event we did choose.”

“Oh?” Watson raised a brow.

Sherlock sat down on the arm of Watson’s chair and leaned closer to whisper, “Champagne.”

“Shh,” Watson elbowed him softly, but still smiled when Mary came in with a bottle of champagne and three glasses.

“I thought a little bubbly would cheer you up.”

“Wonderful thinking,” Sherlock took the bottle and opened it like it was nothing, letting the cork fly off into the abyss that was the state of the living room.

“Oh!” Mary jumped slightly.

“At least he didn’t break a window,” John took his glass and took a sip, “Mrs. Hudson might throw a party.”

“Let’s hope not,” Sherlock feigned disgust before sipping his champagne. He couldn’t help the slight giddiness in his voice, knowing what was the come next. John was a strong man in many regards, but with champagne, he was quite the lightweight.