Sherlock made the coffee as he always did, yet this morning there was something strangely exhilarating about it. He was always up earlier than the rest of the house, way earlier than John who preferred to sleep right up until he had to be at work in twenty minutes, and so that big pot of coffee was always quite necessary for getting him up and on his feet in time. Yet this morning, well it was a morning Sherlock would never forget. He watched as his ring sparkled against the light that filtered through his new window panes, he cherished the way it glistened and bent around his silver capped walking stick, even the ring's help in decorating his fingers as he prepared the coffee pot was jaw dropping. His own ring, his own commitment, his own diamond! Sherlock though that only women were offered such stones on their rings, in fact he was quite sure that for men there were simple golden bands that were engraved differently so as to be distinguished from the actual wedding band. Yet it was appropriate, in fact everything about this bedazzled ring got Sherlock's heart racing like a little girl's, in which he was so overwhelmed and so happy to be wearing something so expensive and sparkly that he really didn't mind the stigma behind it. And besides, who was even going to see the thing? He had no friends...well he had one. Sherlock bounded over to the phone just as soon as he remembered to call, and after punching in the number for his old apartment complex he waited patiently, listening to the buzzing. Mrs. Hudson would be up, of course she would be, for it was six o'clock and that woman was still on the coal mining schedule, and so her brain always woke her around three o'clock without her body's consent. Usually she was miserable at this time of morning, but her attitude would surely change if she would only pick up the phone! Finally the beeping was interrupted by a grumbling "Hello?" followed by what was an unmistakable yawn.
"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked quickly, nearly jumping up and down with his anxiousness. For she was the only person he could ever tell, and so he might as well make it meaningful.
"Sherlock? My goodness, it's six in the morning!" Mrs. Hudson complained.
"I know, and I'm sorry. But it's important." Sherlock insisted in a sort of wheezing voice, so excited he could hardly contain himself but to scream it into the receiver and make Mrs. Hudson's hearing aids ring.
"Important? What? Don't tell me someone's dead?" Mrs. Hudson wondered nervously; however despite her tone of urgency she didn't sound too surprised. Almost as if she was waiting for the call to announce that Sherlock's killed another one.
"No, no it's better than that. It's...well John proposed! We're going to get married, I...I said yes!" Sherlock exclaimed happily, and with that he actually did jump in exhilaration. Mrs. Hudson started to spew her congratulations in what seemed to be loud, excited gibberish, and all the while Sherlock was squealing as well. Together they sounded as if they were speaking some sort of alien language, however anyone who may have observed the two of them would know very obviously that they were ecstatic.
"Sherlock darling that's wonderful! Oh my goodness, you lucky thing!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "So quickly too, after Mary left?"
"Well yes, of course. She was my poor excuse for a replacement anyway, it was only a matter of time before I came to reclaim my spot in John's heart." Sherlock agreed with a bit of a grin. Mrs. Hudson chuckled; obviously agreeing with Sherlock's conceited statement.
"Well, from what I can tell you two are the perfect match. What's the ring like then?"
"It's got a diamond, my very own diamond! It's gorgeous, it sparkles." Sherlock admitted proudly.
"Well sparkling is always good. I assume I'll be getting an invitation in the mail then?" Mrs. Hudson presumed with a little laugh, the one that she used when she was begin completely serious. It was more of a threatening chuckle if anything.
"Well I mean...if we do have guests you'll be on the list for sure. But I don't know if John knows enough people to fill a church, or even a folding table. I've only got you." Sherlock admitted with a shrug.
"That's sad, Sherlock. Why don't you go and make some more friends?" Mrs. Hudson wondered, once more regaining the role of protective mother.
"Because no one really likes me, and besides, they think I'm a psychopathic murderer." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well I hate to agree with them, but you sort of are." Mrs. Hudson debated, making Sherlock laugh a bit guiltily. She was right of course, he did in fact kill people, yet there was a difference between psychopaths and crazy people. Psychopaths felt nothing, or at least Sherlock presumed that was their definition. And he felt so many things, so many joys in his life, he felt love and purpose and exhilaration, and so he at some points would diagnose himself as merely crazy. There were some moments, however, when he would agree upon the term psychopath.
"I guess you got me there. Nevertheless, I'm still not going to go make friends." Sherlock debated with a little laugh of protest.
"Oh alright then, you go and be lonely, see if I care. And even if you don't have a big wedding, Sherlock, I should at least like a slice of the cake." Mrs. Hudson insisted, sounding very serious in the way she made her demands.
"I'll do my best, of course." Sherlock agreed with a smile. There was a momentary pause, and Sherlock expected Mrs. Hudson to finish off their conversation with a simple goodbye. That was what she usually did, however this silence lasted longer, as if she was off doing something instead of focusing on what she was supposed to be saying.
"I'm proud of you Sherlock, know that." Mrs. Hudson managed, now sounding as if she was crying tears of joy. "I'm proud that you were able to get over what you had no control over, I'm happy you left that life behind you and started anew."
"Mrs. Hudson you're not crying?" Sherlock clarified with a thankful little whimper, for he really didn't want the poor woman to cry.
"I'm just happy, Sherlock. Just happy." Mrs. Hudson assured, pausing now as the sound of her blowing her nose overtook their conversation.
"That's good, Mrs. Hudson. Because I'm very happy too." Sherlock agreed, trying to contain the emotion that was seeping out of his voice. He was trying to make it seem as though this was all very well contained, emotionally that is. Yet even as he listened to that woman sniffle he too felt tears sliding down his cheeks, tears of happiness and joy. Because he was proud of himself too, he was very proud. It wasn't every day that a convict was able to leave his life of crime behind, nor was it that a murderer was able to marry his former attempted victim. It was a curious case, yet a proper one all the same. Something so unorthodox but at the same time so...so meant to be.
Rosie watched Sherlock over the breakfast table, scowling despite the fact that her favorite breakfast was sitting in front of her. she never liked Sherlock, that was for sure, and even now as he tried to share what he thought should be a pleasant morning with her instead he was faced with a hellish creature, second in spite only to him. For as long as Rosie was scowling at him, well Sherlock was not afraid by any means to scowl back. Every so often he would wrap his fingers around his juice glass, if only to demonstrate the loveliness of his diamond ring, and Rosie would shutter with something that was either jealousy or rage. He didn't know why she was taking this so hard, was it that she deeply hated Sherlock for who he was, or for who she thought he was trying to be? Yes it was no secret that Sherlock was sort of taking Mary's place in the most abrupt of fashions, but how could Rosie not see that he meant the world to her father? Or was that just it, was she jealous that finally John loved someone more than he loved her? Well that seemed to be a mutual problem between the both of them, for they were selfish and possessive of the man they thought they had every right to claim as their own. Rosie wanted to be the only one who got her father's attention, and Sherlock wanted to have exclusive possession of his heart and soul. They couldn't coexist simply because they would forever be pitted against each other in a battle that Sherlock was now very obviously winning. They would forever be fighting, for if there were two of them then neither could really have the whole of John's attention and love.
"You're quiet this morning." Sherlock commented almost childishly, for John had long since gone off to work and his daycare duties were starting up again. John had tried to pay him for his time slaving away after this demon child, however now that they were to be married it almost felt wrong to charge for watching over what was soon to become his own child. Ew, can you imagine that? Sherlock being a father, having to raise this...this thing! It was almost ironic, however with marriage came his complete control over Rosie. He could enforce rules and give out punishments and ground her when he thought necessary. Yes he could stretch the extent of his new control and show her once and for all who really ruled over this household when John was absent. Even now he sat at the head of the table, eating his toaster waffle as if it was a meal worthy of a king. As the day crept on Rosie went up to her room, for she told Sherlock plainly that she didn't want to see him anymore, and that she hated him, and then she ran up to go color or play with her dolls or whatever it was she did in her free time. Sherlock could only hope that her idea of a good time was drinking rat poison, but of course he knew that such actions would be too good to be true. That child really needed to learn discipline, didn't she? Sherlock put on his favorite opera record and sat back, resting his walking stick against the coffee table as he extended his feet and lay back, trying to savor some relaxation as his nights were slowly beginning to become more active as his days. Yet as Sherlock's eyes just began to droop closed he was aware once more of a presence just outside of his view, a sort of sadness that crept about the halls like a pestilence, demanding attention and forcing Sherlock's eyes open once more.
"You don't have to hide there, you know?" Sherlock sighed, sitting up only to see Victor's head poking out of the kitchen, his eyes heavy and his frown noticeable even from here. It was not every day that Sherlock saw Victor so mopey, yet he knew of course the cause of such sadness.
"I was trying to give you your space." Victor admitted. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
"Always so apologetic, aren't' you? Hm, that's what I love about you." Sherlock said with a grin, holding out his hand so as to summon Victor closer. The boy looked confused, yet he had no choice but to creep forward.
"You can't love me anymore, not now that you've pledged yourself to him." Victor assumed, walking forward now to linger across the coffee table, looking down on Sherlock with those beautiful yet regretful blue eyes.
"Yes of course I can." Sherlock debated with a laugh. "That's the flaw in human beings, isn't it? The inability to love but one person, no matter how powerfully. You know there's a spot still in my heart for you."
"You're marrying him." Victor clarified, looking down and spotting Sherlock's ring sparkling on his finger even now. Sherlock nodded a bit guiltily, for he knew there was really nothing wrong in it yet all the same he at least felt obliged to make the blow as soft as could be managed. And so he sort of repositioned his hand, in a way he thought would best hide the ring from Victor's view.
"Yes, I'm marrying him." Sherlock agreed with something of an unavoidable smile.
"And that's quite alright." Victor assured, though his voice was ridden with sadness.
"Good. I was worried how you would take it." Sherlock admitted with a sympathetic smile, lifting his hand once more and trying to motion for Victor to take it. Yet the boy, being the pure heart he was, did not dare reach out and tempt Sherlock with what he now could not have. Victor was keeping in mind Sherlock's fresh new set of obligations to John, and now would flatly refuse to partake in anything that may be considered romantic. Yet he did not understand that infidelity really didn't count when it was merely in your head, and that was all that Victor was, wasn't he? Merely an illusion?
"I took it just fine. I knew...well I suspected it would come soon. I knew that he loves you, and of course you love him as well." Victor whispered quietly.
"I do." Sherlock agreed with a small smile. "I do love him."
"And if it's what's best for you...well who am I to impose? I want you to be happy, that really has been my goal. I'm here to protect you, and to make sure you're on the right path in life. And if your path is away from me, well that is quite alright. If I am not the thing that makes you happy any longer..." Victor took a deep breath, shaking his head regretfully and ending his sentence there.
"You're talking as if this is a goodbye." Sherlock said worriedly, now sitting up on the edge of the couch so as to be closer to Victor than he had been before. The boy was blinking tears from his eyes, now so worked up that he could barely form a proper word.
"A goodbye might be necessary, if I no longer serve a purpose." Victor whispered. Sherlock got to his feet now, worried that Victor wasn't just being dramatic, that now he actually had it in his head that he was legitimately useless.
"No longer serve a purpose? Victor just because I'm marrying John doesn't mean that I don't want you anymore, doesn't mean I don't need you!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"I'm here to love you, which is no longer necessary, and to protect you. Both of these tasks now fall onto John, if you do intend to give him your heart formally. I was who came first, and he...he is who will come last. It's fine, it's...well it's what I suspected." Victor whispered.
"No, you can't leave me, Victor I won't let you! You're inside of my head, where on earth would you go where I couldn't find you? I'll get you back, you just watch I won't let you go far." Sherlock growled. Victor forced a regretful smile, now with tears sliding down from his blue eyes, those eyes that for a moment flashed with amusement before sinking back into what could only be described as despair.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, yet you did not conjure me. You can't call me back, just as you couldn't push me away. I am here to serve a purpose, and such a task is exhausted." Victor whispered. Sherlock lunged at him, taking his hands yet finding that they were no longer solid; they were merely air, the stuff of delusions, the stuff of madness. Finally Victor was revealing himself to be nothing but a vision, something that became unnecessary now that Sherlock had John to protect him. But it wasn't...well it wasn't the same! John knew nothing of what happened inside of Sherlock's head, no matter how hard he tried John could never protect Sherlock from the darkness that was spawning in the corners of his mind. If the pit opened up, well John could never be there to protect him from it! That was Victor's task, that was his sole purpose! Why then, could he not tolerate to stand and wait for such a need to arise? Was he confident that the pit was gone, and that the darkness had been illuminated and destroyed? That or could he not handle sitting in Sherlock's head and watching as slowly more and more of Sherlock was dedicated to John, as his heart wandered away and his body was given piece by piece?
"I won't let you leave me." Sherlock growled.
"You don't have a choice. Sherlock, this is where I go. This is when I get to say...goodbye." Victor whispered, raising one of his hands towards Sherlock's face only for it to bleed right through, air that could not even manage a current just going straight through his face. And as those final tears started down Victor's face, as his blue eyes began to disappear, getting overtaken now by the background that lay behind him, well Sherlock's eyes began to tear up as well. The boy that he had loved, the boy who had loved him...dissolving before his very eyes.
"You can't leave me!" Sherlock yelled, yet even as the words were leaving his lips Victor had vanished. And Sherlock was left alone, with nothing to remember him by now except the memory of his frown, the memory of his sadness.
"VICTOR!" Sherlock screamed, but to no avail. He got no answer, getting just the silence that would be expected from a boy who had been dead for fourteen or so years.
John POV: John knew he wanted to tell someone about his marriage, but he could not think of a single soul who might at least manage to be happy for him. John's friends had always been very few, and even less now that he had taken Sherlock back as his lover. Yes, in fact he had no one anymore. He could always call his parents, yet that seemed a bit sudden. He knew that this wedding wouldn't be a big one, if there even was a ceremony at all. He didn't want to startle them, for the announcement of both Mary's 'departure' and John's engagement seemed to be something for another time, in which his parents would have plenty of time to accept the things as they were. Maybe he could invite them down just to see Rosie, and during that trip introduce them again to Sherlock. For they had known Sherlock when they were younger, and they were there every step of the way after things had gone sour between the two of them. John's parents were witness to Sherlock's murder attempt, his arrest and trial, and finally all throughout John's therapy and even suicide attempts. They had been through it all, and they hated Sherlock for the hurt he had caused John down the road. Yet he was different now, John knew that everything had changed between them, yet still...now might not be the time. And so he was sitting in a booth over his lunch break, tapping his fingers and waiting for his company to join him. He needed to tell someone, and even if that someone might not share his enthusiasm...well it was worth a shot, wasn't it? It was the police cruiser that announced Greg's arrival, and john had to admit that his stomach turned to think of what sort of trouble he was getting himself into now. He knew that Greg had it out for Sherlock, yet maybe through this marriage they could settle some things? Maybe once Greg saw that their love was legitimate and everlasting that he could finally come to grips with the fact that Sherlock wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Yet there was still the trouble of Mary, for her disappearance hadn't yet been investigated. It was almost insulting, for John and Sherlock had done such a thorough job of hiding her death, well John almost wished there would be an investigation! They could've left her dead, rotting body in the garage and suffered no consequences the way things were panning out. Yet Greg might still be interested on her whereabouts, and so nevertheless John had to be cautious. Greg strolled in with all that swagger, walking the way he did back in high school as if he was king of the world. Well he looked a little bit more powerful at least, now with his police uniform and gun hanging at his hip, yet he wore that same goofy smile that was so characteristic, and so welcoming even though the two friends hadn't dared to talk to each other since Greg had last stormed off from John's porch. A couple of people said hello to Greg as he walked through, for such a man as he was bound to be well known throughout the town, yet he settled at John's table and gave him a great big hug of welcome. John was a little bit taken aback, especially since he assumed Greg hated him ever since their last meeting. Yet he seemed to be as friendly and inviting as he was before, and it didn't take long before John reluctantly hugged him back.