Chapter Text
Each week I would dread every step I took toward the pub. Sometimes, I would just skip the night out all together, but the “long shift at hospital” excuse began to be a bit over-abused. The nights I didn’t go made me feel even guiltier. I often sat up in my bed, blankly staring ahead at the wall and thinking to myself about how much of a fucking coward I was. Four years ago, the John Watson everyone knew would not have acted in such a way, with such timidity and carefulness. The John Watson from before would’ve been brave and strong, but that was before war and love broke him.
“Bloody hell,” I mumbled, standing up from where I’d been sat in my scrubs on my bed for far too long. It was long time to change and head to the local. I needed a good pint. Or four.
~
Sherlock wasn’t there that night. I grew concerned as the night continued on and Victor became more violent with every drink. While he was being fine with us, his actions toward the bar staff and other patrons reminded me too much of what would be done to Sherlock upon Victor’s arrival back to their flat. I decided I couldn’t bear to think that, and ordered myself a double gin and tonic, the first of many for me that night.
~
“Mate,” said Greg one day a couple months later. “This is the second time in the past three weeks you’ve blown us off. What’s going on?”
I had cast my stare downward, not wanting to look my best friend in the eyes. “I just can’t go there anymore.”
“What?” asked Greg, taken aback. “Did something happen that I missed?”
Shaking my head, I hummed to myself. Greg narrowed his eyes, knowing something was up.
“C’mon, John. Tell me.”
Greg was a good person, but he wouldn’t understand. A smart man he was, brave and strong - he had to be, what with his job. But this was different, unlike the normal problems and issues I would confront him with. I could’ve told him, trusted him, but what difference would it even make?
“Just been a rough few weeks,” I lied.
“John Watson, do not lie to me.”
“What fucking difference does it make?” I suddenly shouted, furrowing my eyebrows and looking at my friend with slanted eyes.
His expression changed a few times in the course of a couple seconds, his lips pursing and frowning. He finally sighed and let his hand come to rest atop my shoulder. “Please, John. What is going on? Are you alright?”
I stared at my best mate for a good long moment before letting my shoulders slump again. “I can’t see him like that,” I finally said.
Greg was taken aback, frowning. “What? Who?”
“Sherlock,” I said impatiently.
“Sherlock?” Greg asked. “What’s this got to do with him?”
My head was starting to pound, and I sat up to walk around my friend to get a glass of water. When I sat back down at the table, Greg was staring at me expectantly. “What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?” I asked.
Silent for a few moments, Greg looked up thoughtfully. “Not much now that you ask. Still, I don’t get why you’re upset.”
“Think about it, Greg,” I said. “What do we see of Sherlock? He constantly makes himself appear smaller, he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t say a word all night, he does anything Victor asks him to do. What does that tell you about their relationship?”
After a pregnant pause, sudden realization dawned on my friend’s face. “Oh. Oh fuck, John.”
“And we all know how violent Victor can be. We’ve all experienced it firsthand.”
“Christ, the poor bloke,” said Greg, shaking his head. “This is why you’ve avoided nights out?”
I nodded. “I can’t see that shit, Greg, not after my mum and dad... You know.”
Greg reached forward to squeeze my shoulder sympathetically, nodding. “I understand. What do you think should be done about this?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted painfully. “I feel so weak, there’s so much I could have done by now, but every time I go out and tell myself tonight's the night, I’m going to help Sherlock, I just... Can’t do it. War weakened me. I’m not strong anymore, Greg.”
“Like hell you aren’t!” Greg exclaimed. “John Watson, you are the strongest man I know. This is a difficult situation you’ve found yourself in. Don’t go beating yourself up.”
I shook my head, my shoulders hunching dejectedly as I swirled my water around in its glass and picked at a few crumbs left on the table from the Digestives I’d had after my dinner. Healthy eating, and all that nonsense.
“I may be able to get the Met involved,” said Greg thoughtfully. “It’s not my division, but I’m sure we could find some sort of help.”
I just shrugged, dejected. Greg continued though.
“Evidence would be difficult though. Victor is sly, always has been. I mean, I certainly didn’t notice until you pointed it out.”
“And I grew up around it,” I added. “I know the signs. To the naked eye, he’s just a quiet guy with a noisy, annoying boyfriend.”
“Fuck, John. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. Maybe come out with us tonight though? We can try and distract Victor, maybe talk to Sherlock about it if he’ll open up?”
I shook my head. “We can give it a try. Abusive relationships stick though. Bet the poor bloke’s got some form of Stockholm syndrome, real common with this kind of thing. Took Mum a long time to get better, just one night of talking with Sherlock won’t make a difference.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try though.”
I hummed.
“I’m sorry, mate, I really am,” said Greg again.
I turned to look at him, letting my neck crack as I did so. “S’okay.”
“We’ll get it sorted for him, yeah?”
Nodding a little, I stood up, taking my water glass with me and depositing it in the kitchen sink. Greg followed close behind me, helping to wipe off the table and wash up a few things. We worked in silence for a few minutes before I moved to switch the kettle on.
“So you’ll join us tonight?” Greg asked again once we were sat on the sofa with two mediocre cups of tea and an old episode of QI playing quietly on the telly.
I took a deep breath and nodded. Greg tipped his head and recognition before taking a big sip of tea. Sighing quietly and casting my eyes downward once again, I took a sip of my own tea. Into war again, I thought sullenly. As if I hadn’t seen enough.