Chapter 2
It had been a week since Sherlock and John's big fight. Sherlock had been staying in Mrs. Hudson's flat since then, leaving 221B vacant. He sleeps on her couch, like he did when they first met, after Sherlock ensured her husband was never getting out of prison.
He'd been just a young man back then, a lot skinnier, eye bags deeper.
Mrs. Hudson noticed, with every day that went on, that Sherlock was reverting back to that young man.
It was for this reason that she tore the blankets off of him, despite his protests, and insisted he run errands with her.
"Mrs. Hudson, I can't." He pleads with her.
"Yes you can. Come on, up, up. I won't even make you bathe."
Sherlock sits up. "No, I need to." He says. "I feel dirty."
"Ah! See? You need an outing. Go shower, get dressed-"
"I'm wearing the bathrobe." He says quietly.
"Of course. Just, dry off, first. Don't get your shoes soaked."
Sherlock nods, and heads off to the bathroom.
As soon as the water turns on, she texts the group chat Mycroft had made of himself, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Greg.
Mrs. H
I have convinced Sherlock to come with me to the market. He's even taking a shower.😁
Does anyone need anything?
Mycroft Holmes
Good. No. Thank you. -MH
Molly
thats good! send sherlock my love. i think im good.
Greg L.
I'll come over while you're out and make sure both flats are clean. I don't need anything, thanks though.
Mrs. H
Alright, lovelies!❤️❤️🥰🥰
For the hundredth time that week, Mrs. Hudson considered calling John to give him a piece of her mind. Her finger hovered over his contact information, but she thought better of it at the last minute.
Mrs. Hudson pushed the cart through the grocery store, looking at her list. Sherlock was following her like an anxious child, helping her reach high items and placing a pack of biscuits into the cart when he thought she wasn't looking.
Not that she'd ever deny him sweets- anything to keep him from delving into opiates (she had found him trying to shoot up a few days ago, and hadn't left him alone after that)- but being sneaky always gave Sherlock a strange semblance of comfort.
"Ah! Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock!" A familiar voice called. They both froze.
Mrs. Hudson turned around, praying to every god she'd ever heard of that it wasn't-
Mary stood in front of them, smiling, a grocery basket hanging off her arm.
Mrs. Hudson wasn't exactly sure what the fight had been about- she had her suspicions, of course, but nothing confirmed. She had, however, heard snipets of the fight. 'Mary' was shouted by both men at least five times.
And John hadn't even told her.
It was obvious by the way she was looking at them- she didn't even know Sherlock and John had fought at all.
"Hey, Mary." Sherlock said gruffly. "You look great. Love the dress."
"Thanks! John bought it for me just last week. Isn't it lovely?"
Sherlock nodded.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head, grabbing Sherlock's arm. "Oh! I forgot, we have to- to grab Molly's prescription!" She turned to Mary. "Poor girl has-" she paused for a moment.
"Endometriosis." Sherlock supplied dryly.
"Oh, God. You know, I hear magnesium helps. You can get her supplements. They're a natural muscle relaxer-"
"Oh, I'm sure, dear. Thank you! Bye-bye!" She pushed the cart past her, dragging Sherlock with her.
"She's perfect, isn't she?" Sherlock says as Mrs. Hudson hurried to the bakery to grab a loaf of bread.
"Oh, dear. She isn't perfect. No one is." She pats his back.
"Hm."
They got back to the flat, and Sherlock collapsed on the couch, pulling out his phone. He dialed a number, put it on speaker and threw it on the coffee table.
The phone was answered after the third ring. "Hey, sexy."
Mrs. Hudson raises an eyebrow at Sherlock.
"Hello Irene." He says.
"Oh, hello Miss Adler." Mrs. Hudson quite liked Irene Adler, actually. It was nice that Sherlock had a friend who was so alike to him. She also had quite nice manners, too.
"Ah! Mrs. Hudson? Hello, ma'am. How have you been?"
"Very good, very good. You?"
"I'm great actually. Kate and I are on the beach."
"Have you retired?"
"Nope, just vacationing."
"Oh, well, have fun! I'll leave you to Sherlock, now."
She went to the kitchen to put away the groceries.
"So, what's got your panties in a twist?" Irene asks. Sherlock can tell just from her voice that she's lounging on a beach chair, arm wrapped around Kate, her head tilted back with a smile plastered over her face.
"I told John." Sherlock said, lying down on the couch and crossing his ankles.
"Oh. Is my deduction that it wasn't... Successful correct?"
Sherlock closed his eyes, steepling his fingers and placing the tips of them against his chin. "Yes."
"Ugh, I'm sorry, lover. How bad was it?""
For fucks sake! I'm not fucking gay, Sherlock! I don't know what you thought you saw, but it wasn't fucking love!"
"Lust, then?" Sherlock taunts cruelly.
"No, Sherlock, I'm not a-"
"A what John? What?"
John stared at him, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. "I'm not a-"
Not too bad." Sherlock lies.
"Right. I totally believe you."
Sherlock sighed. "Well, we haven't spoken since then. It's been a week." He laughed a little. "He bought Mary a dress almost immediately afterwards."
"Pathetic little coward." Irene sneered. "I can't be gay, I give gifts to my girlfriend. Tell him about the baby I almost had with my ex."
Sherlock chuckled. "Well, he still thought we were a thing."
"Us? Really? You and me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Jesus."
They were silent for a few moments, before Irene's voice crackled through the phone.
"Do you want me to come over?"
Sherlock sits up and stretches, rolling his head from side to side, cracking his neck. He ached for some morphine. But he'd noticed the blanket on the couch had been refolded, and knew that meant Greg had been through the flats looking for drugs. As much as Sherlock hated to admit it, he was rather thorough in his searches. It would all be gone.
"No. I have too many people fussing over me already. I just wanted to talk."
"Alright. Well, you know where to reach me."
"Yup."
"Stay sane, sexy." She hung up.
Sherlock turned his phone off, walking to the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson was already holding two mugs.
Sherlock sighed, taking his mug without any thanks.