Chapter Text
Sherlock is trying to understand the new rules, with John.
They’ve finished their third case together -- their first big case -- since Sherlock returned from being in hiding. They’re in 221B, and they’re giddy with the excitement of having solved it, and having done several life-threatening and wholly foolhardy things in the process. Everything should be just like it always has been.
Except it’s not. John won’t be staying in 221B. He’ll be returning to his new home, the flat he inhabits with Mary. Sherlock would like him to stay here, as he used to. But that’s not how it works, anymore. Sherlock would also like John to get dinner with him later, now that they’ve solved something major and satisfying. Sherlock would like John to watch crap telly with him afterward. Sherlock would like John to make him tea, and to help him screen requests from people who want him to take on their cases. Sherlock would like John to send texts for him, when he can’t be arsed to get his phone.
Sherlock is not sure which of these things are acceptable, given the way things are now.
They’ve rebuilt a level of trust between them, but it’s a bit fragile. And there are more rules. The new rules include that John gets to yell at him more, and Sherlock shouldn’t yell back (Sherlock made up that one, after realizing how much it improved John’s mood to yell at Sherlock, lengthily, upon his return). Sherlock must report to John frequently on his whereabouts, and must always ask for help from John, even if he doesn’t think he needs it, or thinks it would put John in danger (John made those up).
There are other rules for making John happy -- most of them unstated -- that Sherlock is still learning. It’s important that Sherlock succeed. Because if John gets unhappy, he will leave 221B. Sometimes he does leave, anyway. He goes home. And Sherlock doesn’t see him for a long time. Hours, often, or sometimes days. Sherlock would rather avoid that, when possible.
Sherlock will figure out all the new rules. For now, he’s trying to be cautious.
“Would you like tea?” He offers, as John collapses on the sofa.
“What, really? Yeah, all right.”
Sherlock goes into the kitchen, and returns a few minutes later, with tea. John takes his cup with a smile. “Ta.”
Sherlock sits on the other end of the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping an arm around them. He sets his tea aside; he only got some to be polite. Sherlock thinks he should talk about something. Something that John would like to talk about. “So, John. Tell me about how things are. With Mary.”
“Um.” John looks at him questioningly. “Yeah, they’re all right. Rather good, actually.” His expression indicates a mixture of surprise and approval (much like when he opened the fridge earlier to find his favorite brand of beer and no body parts). Sherlock’s discussion of John’s girlfriends used to be limited to making accurate but unkind observations about them, sometimes to John, and sometimes directly to them. Especially when they took up too much of John’s time. He knows he can’t afford to do that with Mary, though. Can’t risk losing John.
“Settling down, being in a serious and exclusive relationship. It suits you.” Sherlock wants to enumerate all the ways he can read John’s happiness -- the weight gain, the well-rested appearance, the lack of limp, the creases in his face which have increased in depth in a pattern that indicates a great deal of smiling in the past year -- but doesn’t know which comments on his appearance John would appreciate. Sherlock gladly lists them to himself, however. He knows that John grieved deeply for him, for a long time. (John has made that very clear; it was the source of a large amount of yelling.) But then he found Mary, and she helped John be happy once more. Sherlock is grateful to her for that. Should be completely happy.
But the new rules are different, and Sherlock isn’t completely happy.
John laughs briefly, in the time Sherlock has these thoughts. “It does suit me, yeah. Mary is great. But we’re not, exactly. Some of that.”
Sherlock frowns. They’re not serious? He knows John has bought her a ring. That certainly signifies seriousness, to John. They’re not exclusive? He has seen no evidence that either of them are having sex with any other partners. But could John be worried about that? Why would he be so happy, if he were?
“John, Mary has been faithful to you,” he says, just in case. “I would have alerted you if that were not true.”
John laughs, looks down at his tea. “Yeah, I know,” he says slowly. Carefully. He’s thinking about his words, but Sherlock can’t predict them. Maddening. “We’re fine -- I’m not worried. But I wouldn’t say we’re exclusive. Exactly. Not in theory, anyway.”
Sherlock must be misunderstanding. John can be so imprecise, even inaccurate, in his wording. “You’re monogamous... in practice only?” He draws his words out carefully, giving John ample opportunity to correct him.
John looks up at him and laughs. “This is odd. I never expected to be talking about this with you. You wouldn’t have... before.” Answer the question, John. “But yeah, that’s about the size of it. We’ve talked about being not. Exclusive. Don’t know if anything will come of it.”
Sherlock gives the slightest shiver (John won’t have noticed), then forces himself to be still. He thinks about it some more. “Because Mary is interested in women.”
John chuckles again, but doesn’t sound surprised, this time. “Is that a question, or a deduction?”
“I’ve seen her exhibit evidence of an attraction to females. And statistically, most non-monogamous relationships that are openly acknowledged as such by partners who are still happily engaging in sexual congress with one another --” (John winces a little and doesn’t ask if that’s a deduction) “-- are due to the woman having an interest in other women. This tends to be the least threatening situation for the man; in fact, some men find it arousing, regardless of whether they participate in activities with both women.”
John blinks a couple times. Sherlock wonders if he has again made remarks in a fashion that is non-standard. He’s never bothered to learn the rules for discussing sex and relationships. He wonders if he will need to learn, for John. “Um. Yeah. Well. That’s part of it. She does like women. And not just... sex, either. Relationships. She’d like that, maybe. If it comes up, if she finds someone that she wants that with... Well. We’ll talk about it more.”
“That’s part of it,” Sherlock echoes. Though he knows a great deal about the statistical outcomes of relationships, and the actions people take when motivated by strong emotions including love and jealousy, he is operating outside his realm of expertise. “Continue, John. Please.” (He tries to sound like he’s being polite by asking for more information; tries not to let on how much he doesn’t know.)
John scrubs a hand through his hair. “Well...” he hesitates. Then he stops. Aggravating.
“You would allow her to be involved with other men, as well,” Sherlock theorizes, trying not to sound like he’s guessing.
John’s mouth twists just a little. “Yeah, if it comes up.”
“That possibility makes you more jealous,” Sherlock observes.
“Of course,” John says, as if it’s obvious. “But, yeah, I mean. I hope she doesn’t, to be honest. But... well. She told me she doesn’t fall for people because of what’s between their legs. She doesn’t seem to categorize that way. Kind of refreshing, really. Wish I could be more like that.” He gives a small sigh. “I’m not, though. I do categorize. But... mostly I want her to be happy. Whatever that ends up looking like.”
Sherlock digests this. He’s uncertain how to respond; as John’s friend, he should perhaps offer an opinion. Be supportive? Offer wishes that Mary not sleep with any other people, or any other men? Sherlock does not know whether openly non-exclusive relationships are statistically more likely to last longer or be happier than monogamous ones. He should find out.
He wonders if John has similar permission, from Mary. That would be equitable. Sherlock isn’t sure if that is something that would be important to John, though -- perhaps he only cares about making Mary happy. John is good at making others happy.
“And I hardly have room to complain, as far as jealousy goes,” John says, looking down and fiddling unnecessarily with his teacup.
“Mmm?” Sherlock cannot imagine John making someone jealous. John flirts extensively, but only when not in a relationship.
“Well. Mary puts up with an awful lot from me.” Perhaps John does flirt, then, when Sherlock can’t see. Sherlock is still guessing. This is irritating.
“You’ve had no other sexual partners, since Mary.” He remains quite sure of this.
John smiles at his tea. “No. But she has to share me.”
“You mean, she’s open to sharing you, as well?”
Silence, for a long moment. John looks up at him, finally, and swallows. “No, I mean she does share me. Now.”
Sherlock’s eyes dart back and forth. Finally: “Oh.”
John laughs, a bit uncomfortably, but keeps looking at him. “We joke about it, she and I, actually. We call it my other relationship. What I have with you. She knows it isn’t... well. But she also knows what it... what you mean to me. And she knew, after you came back, that she would have to share. We were already talking about all this before, because of Mary. But once you came back... well, yeah.”
Sherlock has no idea how to respond to this. He focuses on the concrete details. “So, the arrangement is that she can have sex with other people, and you get to spend time with me?”
John shrugs. “Essentially.”
Sherlock’s mouth turns up in a small half-smile. “That hardly seems fair.”
John smiles a little, too. “Well. You’re my best friend. It’s important to me to spend time with you. And you’re much more demanding than most friends -- it is more like a relationship.”
Sherlock acknowledges this with a nod. “But we’re not lovers.”
“Um. Well, no.” John laughs in the way he does when he’s uncomfortable, but trying to make light of it with a joke. “It’s not like you’re offering...”
Sherlock is quiet for a long moment. He must be careful, so careful, not to break the rules. But he doesn’t know what they are, anymore. Finally, he says, “Isn’t it?”
John’s eyes go wide. He rapidly inhales. “I. Oh. Sherlock. Are you...? I’m not...”
“You’re not gay.” Sherlock says, collapsing in on himself just a little. It is probably the right time to make it seem that he was also joking. He starts selecting from possible responses.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” John tells him quietly, watching him. “I mean, I’m not, usually. But maybe. I think maybe I would. That I could want that with you. I don’t know.”
Sherlock stares at him. The words that usually rattle through his brain -- even when he doesn’t say them -- are suddenly silent.
“I thought about it, after you were gone, and before I met Mary,” John continues. “Thought that I’d never had another relationship like this. In my whole life. Woman, man, didn’t matter. I wished I’d told you. Wished I’d said a lot of things -- things I still haven’t completely told you.” He takes a deep breath. “And I wished, once or twice. That I’d kissed you.
“I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what I want. But it, it would be all right. Mary knows. But I didn’t think you wanted.” He looks at Sherlock questioningly.
Sherlock feels a bit lost, stunned. But he does want. Has been aware of wanting since at least the moment when he said goodbye from the rooftop. He wants so much, but doesn’t know how to say it. He nods.
“Oh.” John smiles, biting his lower lip just a little. They stare at each other for a long moment. Then John laughs. “I guess now might be when we’re supposed to kiss.” Sherlock nods again, feeling strangely unable to move otherwise.
John still doesn’t move either, though, except to run his tongue along his lips. They stare at one another some more. Surely he knows that Sherlock isn't likely to initiate this. It's not his area, as John is well aware. It is rather excessively John's area. So why isn't he doing anything?
Presumably he doesn't just sit there normally, waiting for his girlfriends to come to him. He’s hardly a passive person. What's different now? Is it because of the pain Sherlock caused John, still -- is John going to make him wait, in retribution? No; John is not wearing the expression he used to wear when refusing to hand over his laptop because Sherlock had ignored some of John's requests.
Instead, John is looking at him a bit like he looked at his plate the first time they went out for Ethiopian food -- cautiously, pausing a long moment before hesitantly approaching it. (Sherlock hopes John will take to kissing him as well as he took to Ethiopian food.)
Why is John still waiting? Is it because they already have an established pattern of interaction which does not involve sex, and John is worried how changes to that pattern might affect their other interactions? Is it just because Sherlock is a man? Stupid, John. Irrelevant. For purposes of kissing, anyway.
Finally -- finally! -- John draws and releases a deep breath, and says, “Right.” He shifts across the couch, leaning forward slowly toward Sherlock. He’s watching closely, as if to see if Sherlock is going to stop him. (Didn’t he nod, before? How much confirmation does John need?) Sherlock just waits, letting John come to him.
And then the distance is gone. John is kneeling before him, gently pushing Sherlock’s knees -- still pulled up to his chest -- apart, just enough to allow John to get closer. He reaches out and takes Sherlock’s face in his hands. Sherlock is aware of every bit of his stubble that is intersecting with John’s hands; the feeling is a bit overwhelming. Then John’s face is in front of his, and then their lips are touching, and then Sherlock is trying to learn everything about John’s mouth, using only his own lips and his tongue. It proves to be a fun challenge -- more engaging even than he would have expected.
Finally, they break apart. Sherlock gauges the degree of elevation in John’s heart rate and the dilation of his pupils, looks down at John’s partial erection.
“Um. Yeah, I liked that,” John confirms, blushing a bit.
“I know,” Sherlock says.
John laughs. “You did, too?” Sherlock nods. Obviously. He is exhibiting the same signs, only more so. “Mmm,” John says, just looking at him, and smiling. Sherlock tries to figure out what he should be saying, at a time like this.
“I’m glad it’s not against the rules,” Sherlock says, finally.
“Yeah, me too.” John grins.