Fic: Coming Home (7/8)
Rating: Mature
Warnings/content: minor character death, depictions of violence; angst, slash, romance
Beta: lady_t_220. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Previous
****
Lawrence returned on Thursday afternoon, looking tired and a little shaky, but still smiling warmly when John met him at the train station.
"It's good to have you back," John said, clasping a hand over their joined ones.
"I'm glad to be home," Lawrence admitted with a weary smile.
"Well, let's get you settled, and then you can sit down, put your feet up, and have a nice cup of tea."
"That sounds perfect," Lawrence said with a slight sigh.
They returned home and in no time Lawrence was installed in an armchair with a cup of tea.
"I hope you don't mind," John started. "But I decided not to subject you to anything I could cook tonight. Chris and Lisa invited us over and it seemed like a much better option. Obviously, if you'd rather stay at home..."
"No," Lawrence said. "I think I'd quite like to be sociable tonight."
"Great. Well, you can still relax for a few hours. I told them we'd be over at about five."
Lawrence smiled and took a sip of his drink, and John hesitated in the doorway.
"I, err, you should probably know that Sherlock's been invited too."
Lawrence looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. "I see."
"Apparently Chris is a big fan," John said somewhat awkwardly. "Followed all the stories in the paper and everything."
"Ah. It finally came out then? I'm glad."
"You knew?" John asked, and then realised perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.
"It came up just the once," Lawrence explained. "I confirmed that you were that John Watson, and that Sherlock was dead. Nothing more."
"Ah."
"Anyway, getting back to the more important point, how is Sherlock?" Lawrence asked, shooting him a piercing look that made John a little uncomfortable when he thought of the several not-quite-chaste kisses and the several not-quite-dates they had shared in the last few days.
"He's well," John said. "Seems the same as ever, really."
"Well, I look forward to seeing him."
"You do?"
"Of course," Lawrence said. "I want to see the miracle for myself."
"Not really a miracle," John reminded him.
"It's a miracle you haven't killed him," Lawrence joked and John couldn't help laughing.
"It was a close thing."
Lawrence laughed and settled down with his drink as John left him to go and sort out the sacristy, the tidying of which had been somewhat neglected in Lawrence's absence.
****
Just before five, there was a knock at the door and John leapt up to get it, smiling softly when he opened it to reveal Sherlock on the other side. He showed Sherlock in and Lawrence rose to greet him.
"Sherlock," Lawrence said, stepping forward to shake his hand enthusiastically.
"Father Lawrence."
"It's good to see you. You look well."
"I- Yes, thank you," Sherlock replied, glancing at John - obviously a little surprised by Lawrence's friendly greeting. After a short pause, he cleared his throat and added: "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Oh, thank you," Lawrence said, finally releasing Sherlock's hand. "Shall we get going then?"
As they left the house, John gave Sherlock a warm smile, just reaching out to brush his arm. Sherlock held his gaze for a long moment, but then looked back ahead to where Lawrence was already at the gate. The three of them crossed the road to Lisa and Chris' house, and were greeted with the couple's usual friendliness.
"Dinner's almost ready," Lisa said. "Shall we sit down at the table?"
They went through to the dining room, Sherlock and Chris already deep in conversation about some experiment or another. John smiled fondly as he took the seat next to Sherlock and shared a look with Lawrence as he settled on John's other side.
The food was as good as ever, the company even better, and John was glad to see Lawrence in fairly high spirits. He was still quieter than usual, and at times seemed pensive, but he chatted quite happily with Lisa and John and laughed and joked along with them. It was a relief to John to see him coping well despite his grief; John wasn't sure he had been anywhere near as skillful at dealing with his own.
He sent a sidelong glance at Sherlock, who was still talking to Chris. He was in his element, eyes bright, hands gesturing smoothly, a smile curving his full lips.
"Another piece of garlic bread, John?"
John started somewhat guiltily and turned back to Lawrence, shaking his head. "No, thanks."
Lawrence gave him a knowing look and John felt himself blush, but Lisa saved him a moment later by asking a question about the Bishop's rumoured ill-health.
Dinner seemed to fly by and all too soon, it was time to go. John, Lawrence and Sherlock left together but when Sherlock lingered at the church gate, Lawrence called out a cheery 'goodnight' and left the two of them alone as he went into the house.
Sherlock seemed to be lost in thought as he watched Lawrence go, but when John placed a hand on his arm he blinked out of his daze with a slight frown.
"He's angry with me."
"What? Lawrence?" John got out in confusion.
"Yes. For what I did to you."
"I don't think so, Sherlock," John said with a smile. "You're just being paranoid."
"It's perfectly rational," Sherlock said, his eyes locked on John's. "He's your friend and he's been by your side for the last three years. He knows how hurt you were... because of me."
John let out a shaky breath and tightened his grip on Sherlock's arm.
"Yeah, he does know," he said after a pause. "He knows everything I've been through. But he's not exactly the type to hold a grudge. At the end of the day, it's between us, you and me. And Lawrence knows that."
Sherlock frowned, but then something seemed to soften in his expression and he wrapped his hand around John's wrist.
"I know it's up to you to forgive me... or not. And you are the only person whose opinion I care about."
John leaned unconsciously closer, his heart hammering at Sherlock's words. "What about Mrs. Hudson?" he whispered.
"Don't care."
"Lestrade."
"Even less."
John let out a huff of laughter, which was caught by Sherlock's lips as he pressed in close. John leaned into the kiss, his hand trailing up Sherlock's arm to his neck, but only a few seconds later, he forced himself away. Sherlock let out an almost inaudible sigh, but stepped away, his expression veiled when he met John's gaze.
"I should go."
John swallowed and nodded reluctantly. "I don't know if I'll be able to see you before Sunday. If you're coming to the service...?"
"I'm coming."
"Still tempting God's wrath?" John teased lightly - Sherlock had been at the previous weekend service as well. Sherlock just smiled softly and leaned in to brush a brief kiss over John's lips, before moving away again.
"I'll see you on Sunday."
"Yes."
Sherlock turned away and made his way over to where his car was parked, pausing to look back at John before getting in and driving away. John let out a long sigh, rubbed his hand over his face, and retreated into the house.
****
John made tea for Lawrence and himself, and sat down at the kitchen table opposite his friend, sliding his mug across to him. Lawrence took it with a quiet 'thanks' and they sat in silence for a while, both sipping now and then at their drinks.
"John," Lawrence said after some time, and John raised his eyes to his friend. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what are you doing with Sherlock?"
"Sorry?" John got out, a little shocked.
"You're clearly still in love with him, and he obviously feels the same way. I know he hurt you, but I can't understand why you're still... tiptoeing around each other."
John let out a faintly pained groan. "I... I don't know. It's complicated."
"Let me make it simpler," Lawrence said softly. "You've been a shadow of yourself for the last three years and it's been awful to see. Now Sherlock's back - and I know it's not that straightforward - but you're alive again."
"I... I don't..."
"If the last few weeks have taught me anything," Lawrence said, "It's that life is too short. Forgive him, John, and put both of you out of your misery."
"I honestly didn't expect you to say that," John finally got out.
"I want you to be happy," Lawrence replied. "He makes you happy. In my mind, that's all there is to it."
"I'm not sure I even know how..."
"Yes, you do."
John huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "I have missed your common sense the last week or so."
Lawrence smiled softly. "I just can't bear to see you fighting against what you really want."
John sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I do want him," he admitted. "I want what we had before. But I don't know if it can ever be the same. I don't know if I can trust him again."
"Of course you can," Lawrence said with surprising firmness. "John, what more does the man have to do? He spends time with your friends, he hangs on every word you say, watches every move. He's so afraid of losing you. Do you really need him to do more penance?"
John's mind was reeling; he had been so blind to the meaning behind it all - the visits, Sherlock's best behaviour, his attendance at Church. Sherlock was doing penance for his wrongs, waiting - just as he'd said not half an hour ago - for John to decide whether to forgive him or not.
"He always said I was rubbish at observation. I didn't even realise," John eventually said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I know. Perhaps you were still preoccupied?" Lawrence suggested quietly. "Still caught up in your own hurt and anger?"
"Yeah," John breathed. "God, I've been an idiot." John met Lawrence's sympathetic gaze. "What would I do without you?"
"I'm sure you'd muddle along," Lawrence replied with a small smile and John shook his head in disbelief.
"I think I'm going to go to bed," John announced. "I've got a lot to think about."
"Of course."
John rose to his feet. "Thank you."
"You're more than welcome. Goodnight, John."
"Goodnight."
John climbed the stairs to his room and slumped on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Had he really been so stupid, so blind to what Sherlock had been saying with every little thing he'd done? He'd always prided himself on his ability to read Sherlock where others failed, but it looked like this time he was just as shortsighted as everyone else.
****
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