A visit from John

mr-johnwatson:

It’d been an more or less uneventful couple of months with Harry out of town, not that her being here would have made a dent in John’s life much - seeing as it never much had and selfishly, he didn’t have many intentions on changing that. Mycroft and Greg were engaged to be married a bit sooner than the retired military doctor would have thought with the eldest Holmes’ brothers more reserved mannerisms. He was a Holmes, after all, it had to be something in the genes.

His legs felt a bit heavier as he walked up the steps to his sister’s flat, eyeing the door handle, then the doorbell a bit uneasily, considering for half a moment turning around and just forgetting the whole thing all together. But that would be unnecessarily rude, and that also meant going back to a questioning (moreso deducing_ Sherlock Holmes who would psychoanalyze him until he simply could not take it anymore and he’d come running back. Or something. Maybe he was exaggerating but it was pretty close in his mind.

Pressing the doorbell with an exasperated sigh, he folded his hands patiently behind his back and waited.

Harry had been fine, initially. When she sent the text telling John ‘we need to talk’, she had actually felt confident about this whole thing. She thought she could just sit him down, and tell him everything she had on her mind, and then all would be well.  At least, well enough as it ever got between the pair of them.

But then John texted back, and suddenly he was on his way over. On his way over right now. And Harry was starting to doubt the whole thing. Maybe she was making  too big a deal over this? Maybe she was pulling him away from something important. Again. Like always. And of course, he put it aside for her, like always, even though  his exasperation with her was apparent. But… it was different this time, wasn’t it? It’s not like she was shit-faced drunk and incapable of putting herself to bed. no. It was alright to call him over this time. But suppose she told him, and he just didn’t care? What if he-?

"Oh for god’s sake Harry, stop thinking! Just shut up and make the bloody tea!”  Surprisingly, her nervous train of thought actually did seem to settle down. A little, anyway. Then the doorbell rang, and she was wires and nerves all over again. Harry gave a little yelp of surprise and nearly dropped the mugs she was placing on a tray.

"Oh lord."  She took a deep breath, which didn’t help, and went to answer the door.  "Coming! Just a second…"  A few avoidance maneuvers  around her various stacks of books, and she finally got to the door, swinging it open.  "Hullo! Um. Come in~ You know the drill. I cleared the books off the couch for you."