Let The Shadows Win

Rid Yourself Of The Demon

John POV: John saw Sherlock away and went back to the kitchen for a glass of wine. He had already gone through two glasses, yet at the moment a third seemed almost necessary. Sherlock was acting strangely, yet then again John knew that was purely because he had almost been forced into doing something that he surely didn't want to do. He was being pushed too quickly towards the direction of John's intentions, and now he was getting stuck in the glue that was going to hold him there for a long while. That kiss wasn't just a kiss; it was a contract of sorts, ensuring Sherlock's faithfulness and John's dedication. One kiss was enough to reunite them the way they were supposed to be, one kiss was going to cement them back into the molds they had both managed to crawl out of all those years ago. It had felt right; it had felt proper even, to have Sherlock back where he belonged in his arms. That kiss may not have been much, it may have been just a brush of lips, yet it had represented so much more. It had represented their ability to continue with the relationship they thought had been lost, it was their moving on from the lives they had assumed had taken over. And yet John was wrong in assuming that his life with Sherlock was over when his life with Mary had begun, he was wrong when he hesitated in college and he was wrong when he attempted to maintain all of these years. Because whatever he did, whoever he married, and wherever he tried to go, well Sherlock would be there. Maybe Sherlock wouldn't have made the initiative, but John would've been there. He would've left his life, packed up and moved just so that he could be in a closer proximity to Sherlock and the love he had been forced to leave behind! Now his to reclaim, now his to cherish once more!
"Didn't he want to say goodbye?" Mary asked as she reentered the kitchen, noticing of course that her husband stood alone. His face was still flushed, and yet the wine aided in making that look more innocent. She might just assume that he had drank too much, rather than have cheated on her. Oh what a freeing feeling it was, to look at that woman and know that she wasn't his only option for love! Because it has been a long time since John was properly attracted to her, and just now he was liberated in the sense that she was going to be left behind. She was never meant to happen, none of this domestic life was ever supposed to belong to him, and just now he was moving past what was expected of him and into what was meant for him. A life with Sherlock, of course.
"He thought you went to bed as well, so he left." John lied with a shrug. It was true that Sherlock had sort of scampered away, yet it really was no surprise that he had left so quickly after the kiss. In fact no words were exchanged; as soon as Sherlock stepped away he had grabbed his coat and raced to the door. It wasn't in John's power to stop him, and so he just watched as the man raced out the door into the night. Of course he didn't have a car, yet there was no way Sherlock would ever allow John to drive him. Because he was scared, it was obvious that he was scared, yet there was nothing he could do to protect himself. He felt as though John was no longer his own, no longer his property to protect and defend. And so he must feel wrong in the sense that he was reclaiming him all the same. He must be afraid of what the consequences might be for his immorality and his easily swayed values.
"He's a bit of an odd bird, isn't he?" Mary commented with a sadistic little laugh. John leaned against the counter with a frown, watching his wife very judgmentally from overtop of his wine glass.
"That's not very nice to say." He muttered. "I thought he was very well composed."
"Well you could tell he was lacking, socially. There were times when his eyes just sort of glossed over, and times when he forgot to talk." Mary pointed out with a laugh, obviously not understanding that John didn't want to talk bad about Sherlock. Not when he was still lingering on his mind and on his lips, with his heart fazing in and out of euphoria as it remembered the past and was then reminded of the present.
"He's been in prison for thirteen years, please excuse him when he doesn't really know how to compose himself." John snapped.
"I meant no offense, John. I was just observing." Mary muttered, pouring herself another glass of wine and shaking her head a little bit in exasperation. "What a night it's been."
"Did you like him?" John asked, looking towards his wife with a very confrontational stare, as if daring her to say anything bad about the man he had come to love once more. Mary thought for a moment, shrugging her shoulders as if she had an answer that she knew was not going to be so graciously accepted.
"I think I would like him more if he hadn't killed three people." she decided with a grumble.
"Two." John corrected in a snap.
"And you as well." Mary pointed out. "I still can't get over the fact that you're keeping him around after that. I mean don't you think he's not all that, I don't know...there?"
"You're questioning the validity of his release?" John commented quickly, raising his eyebrows defensively, as if daring her to go on insulting Sherlock.
"Well yes, I mean how many other psychopathic murders do you know that got released after just thirteen years? Any other person with that sort of record would have been kept for life!" Mary pointed out, her face smearing up in an expression of disgust.
"He's not a psychopath, and besides, he was tried as a minor. He had a rough childhood, and he was living with that psychological damage the whole time. Now he's better, he's settled down, he's healthy." John defended quickly.
"I still don't know why you're so quick to defend him." Mary muttered in something of confusion, sipping at her wine and looking at her husband as if trying to tell what was really going on in his head.
"I'm quick to defend him because no one else will." John said simply.
"Well it's alright if you do that, it's alright to stand up for him! But John, inviting him into our house? Introducing him to our daughter? He's got blood on his hands, he's infamous, and you're letting him parade around here like...like you want more trouble! As if you hadn't had enough on his behalf!" Mary exclaimed, suddenly getting angry as the wine began to seep more and more into her system.
"Bringing him here was a mutual decision, you agreed to it..."
"Only because you had already invited him! On some secret phone conversation, or was it some secret meeting? Is he coming to visit you at work now, too?" Mary scoffed.
"I'm sorry, but when did this turn into my fault? When did you change from attacking my friend to attacking me?" John growled.
"When you made it your problem! When you made him our collective problem! Now we've got a serial killer on our hands and you're just inviting him over, what's next, giving him a house key?" Mary exclaimed.
"He's NOT a killer anymore!" John yelled, and in a burst of unforeseen anger he threw his wine glass to the floor, shattering it. Wine spilled over the tiles, bleeding through the seams and spreading out like an intricate circuit, the shade almost resembling blood. Mary screamed, maybe because she was afraid that she was going to get killed, or maybe because that was the second wine glass he'd shattered in as many months.
"John don't throw things!" Mary exclaimed. "Have a mature conversation for once in your life, and accept what you don't want to hear!"
"It's not that I don't want to hear it, Mary, it's just that what you're saying is wrong!" John exclaimed.
"He killed two people!" Mary defended in a defeated yell, as if she still couldn't process why her husband was so quick to jump to his aid.
"He was manipulated!" John pointed out.
"It doesn't make any difference why he killed them, it only matters to me that he ran a knife through two human beings! That he was willing to run a knife through you." Mary muttered, setting her glass down on the count errand clutching to her face so as to contain her tears. As soon as Mary broke it was difficult to stay angry, and while of course John was fuming he couldn't keep on yelling so long as his wife was now defenseless, sputtering into her hands as if she was ashamed of her own emotions. And so he sighed heavily, feeling the need to console her even though they were now standing on opposite sides of hazardous shards of glass.
"Mary, I'm sorry." John said finally.
"I don't trust him, John. And I'm worried that I can't trust you anymore." she whispered between her sobs, shaking her head once more as John now tried to tiptoe safely so that he could give her a reassuring hug.
"If you don't want him in the house anymore I won't let him." John promised, giving her a hug to the best of his abilities. It was a little bit awkward, and not at all opportune, that the last person he had hugged was Sherlock. He was almost worried that while being in such close proximity to Mary she would catch a whiff of Sherlock's cologne still lingering on John's skin. Or if she could just feel the presence of his lips upon John's just minutes before. It was horrible to change partners so rapidly, yet Sherlock's kiss had been one of passion, and this hug was one purely of obligation. For it was very rude to let someone cry alone.
"I don't want him around you anymore." Mary muttered flatly. "I don't want him to hurt you anymore."
"I'm sorry Mary, but there's no way I'm just going to cut him off, not after all we've been through." John said, shaking his head and retreating again with sudden repulsion. That was an impossible thing to ask, surely she must realize that?
"What have you been through? John everyone keeps mentioning this past you have with him, why won't you tell me everything? Why won't you tell me exactly how you got that scar, and how you could possibly forgive him for giving it to you?" Mary pleaded, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Yet this time empathy won't work, his marital obligations were no match for the impossible. He could never tell her everything, simply because if she knew then that would be the final straw. If she didn't want John to hang around Sherlock now then it really was no question as to what she would do when she found out there was a strong possibility his presence would ruin her marriage. If she sensed any sort of relationship threats, even those that she didn't at first realize, then she would shut it down with a blink of an eye. She would ban Sherlock not just from the household but from their lives, and John knew that there was no extent she wouldn't go to make it virtually impossible for the two of them to interact at all. John would lose Sherlock again, yet this time it would have been his own mistake and ultimately his own fault.
"I can't tell you everything Mary. I'm sorry." John muttered, stepping back carefully so as to grab for the broom and dust pan. He wanted this conversation to end, and it would be a lot easier to tell her to go away if he was handling broken shards of glass. And so Mary sighed heavily, shaking her head in some reluctance before bidding him goodnight and dashing up the stairs, leaving John alone on the floor to sit and ponder his life, the broom forgotten by his side.