FIC: Nothing to Make a Song About (2/9) [John/Sherlock, explicit]

[emmagrant01]

Title: Nothing to Make a Song About (2/9)
Author: Emma Grant
Fandom/pairing: Sherlock (BBC), John/Sherlock
Rating: Explicit
Summary: When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.
Warnings: None
Length: 3100 words this part, 5800 words total
Notes:
• Written for Alectoperdita, who won a fic from me in a Tumblr giveaway months ago. Sorry I'm just getting to this now, but I hope you enjoy it!
• Beta'd by the ever fantastic drinkingcocoa, whose cheerleading and honest critique are invaluable to me.
• Title is taken from the poem Reconciliation by William Butler Yeats.
Links: Start with Chapter 1: On AO3 | On LJ
Alternate link for Chapter 2: On AO3

*****


Chapter 2

The first text came at two in the fucking morning. John squinted at the phone on the nightstand, wondering if he'd dreamed that little trilling sound. But no, a glance at the projection on the ceiling confirmed it.

You were correct. Killer strangled her. –SH

John groaned and rolled over. The trilling sound repeated, and he turned his head to look at the ceiling again.

Apparently didn't have a good enough knife for full decapitation. Fled the scene. -SH

John closed his eyes and had nearly drifted off before: trrrrrrrllll. He looked up.

Police found him covered in her blood. Idiot. –SH

"What the fuck?" John mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. He'd expressed zero interest in the case and had made it clear he wasn't going to get involved. Why Sherlock was texting him to keep him updated on the outcome was anyone's guess. Two minutes later, the phone trilled yet again.

It was good to see you again. –SH

John groaned and reached over to the nightstand to silence the phone, then turned it face-down for the rest of the night.

*****

When he checked his phone on his lunch break, there were seven texts waiting for him, spaced exactly half an hour apart.

Are you at work? –SH

New case, could use your input. –SH

Kidnapped plastic surgeon, apparently. –SH

Not the sort of thing that would usually interest me, but I thought you might enjoy it. –SH

Or perhaps you no longer despise elective plastic surgery? If this is the case, ignore the previous four texts. –SH

Never mind. Disgruntled former patient, as suspected. –SH

If interested in dinner, text when your shift ends. –SH

John switched off his phone and shook his head, incredulous.

*****

"You gave him my number, didn't you?"

"What? I've no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about Sherlock, Greg. You gave him my mobile number. It had to have been you; no one else who knows the both of us has it."

Greg groaned and John could almost picture the look on his face. "I didn't give it to him, I swear. He probably had Mycroft get it for him. You know how those two are."

"Fuck." John pressed a hand over his eyes. "He's texting me. Constantly."

"So tell him to stop."

John hesitated, pressed his lips together. "It's not that simple. And frankly, I'd rather not respond at all. You'd think he'd get the fucking message."

"He's changed, John, but not that much. He won't get the message until you actually tell him to fuck off."

"Right." John sighed.

"Which I suspect you'd already have done, if you really wanted him to stop."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't want to be friends with him. I don't want him in my life. I want him to leave me the fuck alone."

"It'd just take one text, then. Or were you hoping I would do it for you? You could write him a note and I could pass it to him in class, that sort of thing." John could hear the barely contained smirk in his voice.

"Good night, Greg."

John flopped back on his own bed and glowered at the ceiling. His phone trilled. He didn't look at it.

*****

A week later, John was still receiving a dozen texts a day. Some were case-related: Missing dog remains. Am almost bored enough to accept. –SH. Others were a clear cry for attention: BORED. Respond or I shall be forced to take extreme measures. –SH. Still others were utterly random: Favorite cheese? It's for a case. –SH

He had ignored them all. Greg's advice still tugged at the back of his thoughts, and his reluctance to follow it was more than a bit disturbing. He could, he knew, cut this odd barrage of texts off with a single response, but as time went on, he found he was actually starting to look forward to that little trilling sound. He had few friends here and his work schedule was mad, and he had little to distract him from his loneliness except these odd texts from Sherlock Holmes.

"It's been a decade," Greg said over a pint two weeks after the crime scene incident. "That's a long time to hold a grudge."

John felt like banging his forehead on the table. "It's not a grudge. I made a decision to cut him out of my life, for my own sanity, and that's that. He and I cannot be friends. It's just not going to happen."

"And that's nothing like a grudge, is it?" Greg's eyebrows rose. "You don't have to be friends. Just talk to him. Do it my sake, if nothing else. He's driving me mad."

John took a drink of lager. "I'm sorry you've been sucked into this."

"Sherlock is a friend of mine, John."

John turned to look at him, surprised. "A what?"

"A friend. I've known him for more than fifteen years. Barely a week goes by that I don't talk to him."

"What are you saying?"

Greg sighed. "I wish you'd give him a chance, is all. He's a good man, John. You know that he did what he did to protect you."

"Yes, but—"

"I just want you to think about it. Please."

John pressed a hand against his forehead. Perhaps he was being a tiny bit unreasonable. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Greg said, raising his glass. "Cheers to that. Now, can we change the fucking subject?"

John managed a smile. "England vs. Scotland this weekend. You watching it?"

Greg grinned. "Fuck, yes."

*****

One week later, when his mobile trilled in the middle of the night – It was the gardener, as suspected. Dinner? -SH -- John plucked his phone from the nightstand and, before he lost his nerve, tapped out a response: Friday, 9:00. Barshu. You're buying.

The response was immediate: Of course. See you then. –SH

John set the mobile back on the nightstand, and hoped he hadn't just made a huge mistake.

*****

John's stomach was in knots the entire day of his dinner with Sherlock. He'd almost canceled four times in the last 48 hours, but each time he'd held off. He was just old-fashioned enough to find the idea of canceling by text horrifically rude, and he knew from past experience that any attempt to ring Sherlock and lie to him over the phone would fail spectacularly.

So here he was, in a taxi on his way to have dinner with Sherlock, a decade after insisting he never wanted to speak to him again. He still would rather not, but Sherlock's persistent annoying texts had finally worn down John's resistance to the point that he reckoned he had little to lose. At worst, the evening would be stiff and awkward, and then Sherlock would finally leave him alone. At best, they'd have a good evening together and… John had no idea what that would mean.

Traffic was mad, and John drummed his fingers against the seat in frustration. He was sweating, which was utterly ridiculous for February. Why it had taken him half an hour to decide what to wear was still a mystery. He usually didn't care, but this restaurant was a formal sort of place, and it was London, after all. He'd tried very hard to walk the line between demonstrating that he knew how to dress for dinner and looking as if he'd tried too hard. Sherlock would notice, of course, and would read a dozen things into anything he wore. John hoped he'd relaxed a bit about making such deductions public.

The taxi finally pulled up in front of the restaurant. John paid the driver and swore under his breath when he glanced at his phone: five minutes late. He despised being late, as a rule. Sherlock would probably read something into that as well.

Sherlock was seated at a table in the corner, glass of wine untouched in front of him, and scanning the screen of his phone. John's stomach lurched again at the sight of him. His clothes were just as perfectly tailored as John remembered, and his insane mop of hair had been combed back into something shockingly presentable. He looked perfectly in his element, not at all like a half-mad genius who'd single-handedly ruined John's life a decade ago. Damn him.

Sherlock looked up and smiled, and John felt an odd twinge in his chest.

"Sherlock," John said as he crossed the last few feet to the table. He held out a hand, and Sherlock stood and took it, gave it a firm, polite squeeze before releasing him and sitting again.

"John. Thanks for coming tonight."

John sat and looked around the restaurant, suddenly needing a bit of space before he could look directly at Sherlock. "This is lovely. I've never been here, but the reviews were spectacular."

"Neither have I. Take-away is the most I usually have time for."

John turned to look at him at that. "So that hasn't changed."

Sherlock smiled. "I don't currently have someone nagging me to eat, but otherwise, I suppose not."

John's lips quirked into a small smile. "I didn't nag; I reminded. And only every few days at that."

"And I appreciated it more than you know." A waiter appeared by their table before John could respond, and Sherlock picked up a menu and scanned it. "I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. No doubt your tastes have changed, but you used to prefer this sort of dry Bordeaux blanc."

"It always went well with the take-away." The waiter gave John an odd look as he filled his glass, but John didn't care. He was suddenly, unexpectedly glad he'd decided to come tonight. Maybe Greg had a point. It had been a decade, after all. They'd both changed. Perhaps they didn't have to avoid each other completely.

"How is Mary?" Sherlock asked once the waiter had gone.

"No idea. We're divorced, you know."

"I know. I was just asking to be polite." Sherlock's gaze was still fixed on the menu.

John plucked his own menu from the table. "You know, asking a recently divorced person about the well-being of his ex-wife is rather impolite."

Sherlock's jaw clenched slightly. "I meant no offense, I—"

"Joking, Sherlock." John smiled at him. "She's fine, as far as I know. Far happier without me underfoot, I'm sure."

Sherlock set the menu down and pressed his lips together. His fingers clenched and unclenched, and he seemed to be trying very hard not to look at John.

John sighed. "Go on, then."

"Go on what?"

"I know you want to do it. Just get it over with."

Sherlock's brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"Deduce the reason for my failed marriage from, I don't know, the state of my necktie."

There was a pause, and Sherlock's expression hardened. "Is that really what you think of me?"

John opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated for a moment. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, wasn't it?"

The corners of Sherlock's lips turned up, though the movement seemed forced. "It does sound like something I would have done, once. But I no longer inflict my deductions on people. So few appreciate it. Now I only do so when specifically asked."

John stared back at him for a moment before returning his attention to the menu. The waiter reappeared and took their orders, and then there was no distraction, no excuse for avoiding interaction.

"All right, then. I'm asking." John raised his wine glass to his lips.

"Asking what?"

"Deduce whatever you like. Do your worst."

Sherlock looked surprised. "Really?"

John swallowed, nodded his head. "You can't possibly tell me something I've not heard, either from Mary or my therapist."

Sherlock looked uncertain for a second more, but the moment he decided to proceed was incredibly clear. His focus sharpened, his eyes darted over John's face and torso, and John felt like he'd been transported back in time.

"You were the one who ended it, but only after she'd left you and come back a few times. There was no infidelity – you wouldn't do that, far too loyal, and you wouldn't stand for it, either, so you wouldn't have taken her back if she'd cheated on you. You moved to London shortly before the holidays, which says you wanted a clean break, to make a fresh start, that you weren't sentimental about it at all. And you, you're sentimentality personified. If she'd left you, you would have stayed, hoping you could make it work, as you did each of the previous times she left. So no, the last time, you left her. Perhaps it was over for you long before she left the first time, but you kept holding onto the marriage because you didn't want to admit you'd failed at it."

John exhaled and picked up his wine glass. He'd forgotten how it felt to be the center of Sherlock's extremely intense attention. It was a bit like that dream where he suddenly realized he was naked in public. "Go on."

"You wonder now if you ever loved her in the first place, though you did, obviously. You're far too much of an idealist to marry someone you weren't in love with. But the love faded quickly, perhaps because you left London and were unhappy with your work, or with the place where you lived, or perhaps because you had unfinished business here." Sherlock's gaze broke away from John's and trailed down over his chest before settling on John's hands. "At any rate, the relationship itself wasn't strong enough to sustain your happiness, and when you grew unhappy, so did she. Perhaps her unhappiness added to your own. Perhaps she took out her frustrations on you. And though you are faithful, loyal, and committed to the people you love, there is only so much you'll take before you decide you're finished. So you ended it."

John nodded and cleared his throat, and stared into his wine glass. Sherlock paused for a moment before continuing.

"Despite returning to London a few months ago with no job, no marriage, and no friends to speak of, you're clearly happier now than you've been in years. Everything about the way you're dressed tonight and the way you carry yourself implies you're looking ahead, that you're optimistic about the future. That tie, for God's sake – no one even remotely depressed about his life would wear such a color around his neck, and certainly not with that shirt."

John had to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling.

"You're relieved that part of your life is behind you, as well as the utterly horrible therapist in Chelmsford, whom you were glad to be shot of. You haven't tried to find a new one in London yet, and I agree that you don't need one. There's nothing wrong with you. You simply married the wrong person, for the wrong reasons, right as they seemed at the time. You now think the marriage was a mistake, and you hate making mistakes. But you are one who always looks for the lesson in your mistakes, and for that I have always admired you."

John looked up again, surprised. Sherlock's eyes were startlingly clear, and his face was unusually kind.

"I am sorry, John. For the distress I caused you, for the way I came back to you, and for the way we left things. It was…" He paused and pressed his lips together.

"I know. So am I." John exhaled and smiled at him. "That was amazing, you know."

Sherlock stared at him for a full second before his face registered recognition of what John had said. "Was it?"

"Of course it was. And unbelievably accurate. Not that I expected any less."

"Well, thank you." Sherlock's cheeks tinted, and it occurred to John that he probably didn't hear compliments like that very often these days.

"Enough about my pathetic life," John said, raising his wine glass again. "Tell me what you've been up to."

Sherlock launched into a highly detailed discussion of cases he'd solved over the last several years and John settled in to listen. Their food arrived and Sherlock barely touched his own, instead continuing to weave a spell that John found difficult to shake. When they finally asked for the bill, it was an hour later than John would have guessed, so quickly the time had flown.

"Should we share a taxi?" Sherlock asked as they stood out on the kerb in front of the restaurant a quarter of an hour later.

"Are we going the same direction?" John asked. "My flat's not far from Paddington Station."

"Close enough," Sherlock replied, already raising his hand in the air.

The taxi stopped at John's address far sooner than he would have liked, and he found himself regretting that the evening was over. That was a surprise, and one he hadn't prepared himself for.

He opened the door and turned back to Sherlock. "Thank you for dinner. I had… it was fun, it really was."

Sherlock's smile was completely genuine. "Want to do this again in a week or so?"

John hesitated. In spite of his initial knee-jerk response of no, he actually had enjoyed himself tonight. As long as he kept Sherlock at arm's length, there was no reason not to continue. They lived in the same city, large as it was, and they had common friends and a history together. Sherlock was not the same person who'd deceived John so horribly a decade ago; he was older, more thoughtful, and he so clearly regretted the pain he'd caused John.

And despite the current situation, John had never been one to hold grudges. Maybe it was finally time to let this one go and see what became of it.

"Yeah, that'd be great. You pick the restaurant next time."

"I will." Sherlock's gaze bore into him.

"Right. Well." John held out his hand and Sherlock took it, and gave it a firm shake that lasted a second or two longer than was technically proper before releasing it again.

John closed the door of the taxi and gave it a curt wave as it pulled away. He could make out the silhouette of Sherlock in the back, slightly lit now by the glow of his phone. John grinned as he turned to unlock his door, and something blossomed inside his chest, something he couldn't quite pin down. Relief, perhaps. It did feel like a weight had been lifted. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd felt this happy in years.

In retrospect, that ought to have worried him.

*****

Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!
Go the the next chapter

Comments

[angelbabe_cj]

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Sherlock's texts, John being worn down, the marriage analysis, the tie comment, Greg and John's friendship. Everything.

*happy wriggle*

[geneva2010.livejournal.com]

Great stuff. I can see that it's going to take a big leap from John before he's able to move closer to Sherlock. He's going to be much more likely to withhold intimacy, both friendship and more, after leaving both Sherlock and Mary in the past. Can't wait.

[winstonmom.livejournal.com]

Oh John.....I couldn't blame you for accepting his invitation, I would have done the same thing :)
There isn't a way in this world that will help you ignore Sherlock.
Great second chapter.

[kikislasha.livejournal.com]

Brilliant. I'm glad that John was finally worn down enough to give Sherlock a chance to be dashing. And thank goodness Sherlock didn't stick his foot in it. The deduction of John was absolutely stunning, and heartwarming when John asked Sherlock to do so; I'm not sure if he realized what a gift it must have been to both of them.
Some of the things that needed to be said were said, and I can't wait to see how the rest tumbles out <3

[holyfant.livejournal.com]

This made my (otherwise quite lousy) day. I *love* that John holds onto his decision not to see Sherlock for so long, and that he's had a life without Sherlock and that he's friends with Greg, and happy where he is, now. I think I can see him falling back into step with Sherlock with an attention to his own good and happiness that he might not have had before. I love that Sherlock apologised fully. That he deduced John so thoroughly and that John loved it and that Sherlock was able to say, that way, that he appreciates John. (I also love that Greg calls Sherlock a friend. <3)

Oh yes, I love this very much. *curls up with story under a warm blanket and goes to sleep*

[lijahlover.livejournal.com]

This is brilliant so far I have so much love for this series.

John can only hold out so long against a force as determined as Sherlock.

I loved all the texts and the comment about John's tie :)

[aprilstarchild.livejournal.com]

Yes yes yes!!

I love the ways Sherlock has changed, and how eager he is to please John. (Also, desperate to see him at first.) That he blushes when John says it was amazing....yes.

Avoiding someone, being angry with them, holding a grudge--it takes mental effort. Letting go of it is often a relief, especially if you didn't really want to be holding the grudge in the first place!

But....there's another six chapters to go. My angst senses are tingling. I cannot wait.

[aprilstarchild.livejournal.com]

Also I just read the poem the title came from and I'm nearly in tears. SO PERFECT.

[aome.livejournal.com]

I'd love to know what all the little clues were that Sherlock was picking up when he made his analysis of John, besides the tie. :D This was a lovely first date. Er, well, date-to-be, anyway. ;)

[yaycoffee.livejournal.com]

Oh, I am loving this! I am thoroughly enjoying the older, more... mellowed? versions of these characters. Very subtle. Very well done! And, just like last time, I growled a little at the chapter's end. GAH! WAITING! ;-) Wednesdays just became my new favorite :-)

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

I hope you continue to enjoy it! :-)

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

Thank you, sweetie!

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

Aw, thank you so much! I really appreciate it. :-)

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad that you mention how long John holds out, because that was surprisingly hard to write. I really wanted him to give in a lot sooner! And of course, they have a long road in front of them.

Thank you so, so much!

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for reading. :-)

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

It does take a lot of mental effort to maintain a grudge, doesn't it? Especially when you really luuuuv the person. *coughs* ;-)

Thanks so much for the enthusiasm!

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

It's amazing, isn't it? The prompt was "reconciliation", so I did a search on that term and the poem popped up. :-)

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

That's exactly the hand-waving one does as an author. :-P It's interesting to think about how Sherlock would start with what he knows about John and from that deduce the reason for John's marriage splitting up. It was fun to write.

Thanks so much!

[emmagrant01.livejournal.com]

I love aging characters up. Sherlock is basically my age in this fic, and that's a lot of fun to write. ;-)

Thank you!

[oninomaggie.livejournal.com]

I instantly drew parallels between John's not-responding to Sherlock's texts and Sherlock's not-responding to Irene's texts. Though I do wonder if John was right, that a negative response from him would have ended Sherlock's attempts to reach him...he made it very clear at their first re-meeting that he had no desire to have Sherlock back in his life again, and Sherlock ignored that pretty thoroughly. It might have stopped the texts as such, but I think he would have just found a different, possibly subtler tactic.

[ariadnechan.livejournal.com]

I really this!!

And i really hope that John get that he never stop to love Sherlock Holmes!

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

"It did feel like a weight had been lifted. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd felt this happy in years."

It was so good to see them back together again, however tentatively . . . and both on their best behaviour!

[trouscaillon.livejournal.com]

Hahaaa that last line. Now I'm really, really looking forward to the next chapter !
I really enjoyed the little reference to Irene's texts ("Dinner?" (or was it ?)), sounds promising. (insert knowing smile here)

Oddly enough, I don't read too much fanfic these days but I think I'll follow this one, both chapters were very good - and I like your older Sherlock. You've made him more of a grown-up/responsible person, but I like that he still doesn't approve of John's clothing choices and tells him so.

Very glad you're writing something new, I can't wait to see what happens next ! :) x