Chapter Text
John paced in front of the window of 221B Baker Street looking at his watch for the millionth time and sighing. She was late… again. Being late wasn’t unusual for her, but he didn’t want to wait for the conversation he wanted to have and with his daughter, but at the same time he wanted to wait forever.
Olive bolted up the stairs, flinging her coat onto the rack on her way into the sitting room. She didn’t do anything by half and was a bit of a tornado at her quietest times. She kissed her father on the cheek and flopped onto the sofa.
“Olive.” John said with a resigned sigh.
“Oh, Daddy. I know I’m late. But the cake tasting ran later than expected and Peter had to get back to his office. So, I took the tube.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her slender arms around them as she answered. Her blonde hair hung around her face in a sheet and her smile reached her light blue eyes. “But I’m here now. So, what did you want to talk about?”
John cleared his throat nervously and sat down on the sofa next to her.
“Do you love Peter?” John asked hesitantly. He knew that she did, but it was the way he had rehearsed his conversation with Olive in his head.
“You know I do, Dad. What’s this about? Did Uncle Mycroft do something I should be concerned about?” Olive had to put a ban on her honorary uncle doing background checks on all of her boyfriends for all of her twenty five years. She was anxious that there might be something he found that she really didn’t want to know about.
“No. Mycroft doesn’t know why you are here. And it’s not really his concern.” John said soothingly. “But it’s good that you love Peter. He’s a good bloke.”
“Dad, you are making me nervous. What’s going on? And where is Father?” she asked looking around the flat for signs of an accident or her father.
“Sherlock is out. I need to tell you a story. We thought it would be better if I told you by myself.”
“A story about what?” Olive asked, her head tilting to the side.
“About love. About regret and about….” John took a pause and only breathed out the last words. “Your mother.”
“What about my mother? And what regrets?” Olive was more than intrigued and her face was alight with the promise of a mystery. Her mother was a taboo subject that was not brought up in the flat, ever. She knew that there was more to the story but she was content with her life as it was. She figured if she asked the right questions, Aunt Molly, Uncle Greg, or Uncle Mycroft might have told her the truth however she really didn’t care. Her two fathers were more than she could ever want and she didn’t lack for love.
“Well,” John started “I need to ask you a few more questions. What do you know about your father’s hiatus and what happened after he came back?”
“I only know what you and Father have told me. He faked his death to save your life and you two fought off Moriarty, then got married.” Olive recited from memory. It was an old bedtime story that Sherlock had spun for her when she was little.
“Good.” John said. “Fine. But there is a bit more to the story.”
“There always is.” Olive muttered. John twisted his lips at her and she smiled at him. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“So, what does all this have to do with Peter and my wedding?” Olive asked. “I only ask because you asked if I love Peter.”
“Just like your father.” John mused.
“Really, Dad. I’m like both of you.”
“Yes, yes.” John dismissed the old argument. “So, are you ready for this or not?”
“Yes. Please.”
John settled into the sofa a bit more and started with his tale.
“Your father and I started out as flatmates,only flatmates, and I got drawn into his life. We were solving crimes the day after I met him. I was working at the clinic from time to time, but basically I was working with Sherlock. Moriarty was a real threat and Sherlock jumped off of the roof at Bart’s after Moriarty ‘killed’ himself in order to save mine, Uncle Greg’s and Nana Hudson’s lives.”
“I knew there was something about why neither of you like heights.” Olive muttered.
“Yes. You are so smart. Now shut it and let me tell my story.” Olive nodded her head with a smile as John continued. “So, Sherlock came back after two years of being away. He had been trying to finish off Moriarty once and for all. But I didn’t know he was alive.”
Olive sucked in a breath. “I bet you were quite….” Olive waved her hand.. “So, he came back.”
“Quite right. I was upset. I tackled him, I split his lip and gave him that scar on it and nearly broke his nose.” Olive let out a low whistle. She was more than a little shocked at the thought of her fathers physically having it out with each other or that Sherlock let John have the upper hand. They were far from physically the same, but Sherlock was no shrinking violet.
“So, the thing is that I wasn’t alone while Sherlock was gone. I met someone. The night Sherlock came back into my life, I was in the middle of asking her to marry me.”
“No shit.” Olive said, immediately finding her hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry.” she said through her fingers.
“It’s fine. You are my daughter after all.”
John took a drink of his scotch. He swallowed slowly, letting the burn in his throat center himself again to be able to talk again.
“So, Sherlock and I eventually picked up where we left off, with my fiancé involved to a degree. Solved a few cases, restarted our friendship. But things took an interesting turn when Sherlock and I were working late one night about a week before the wedding.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I’m getting to that.” John said with a laugh. He sobered and took a deep breath. “I won’t go into details, but that night… that night was the night my life changed forever.” John sat back for a moment and thought to the conversation that he and Sherlock had.
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Sherlock was sitting in his chair, the strain of the last three nights of sleeplessness starting to show on his face in the form of purple bruises under his ever changing eyes. His face, usually clean shaven was shaded with a slightly auburn colored stubble and John found himself staring at his attractive friend with less than pure thoughts in his head. He was seated in his own chair across from Sherlock and he shook his head in an attempt to refocus on the case at hand. Sherlock suddenly looked up at John and narrowed his eyes.
“What?” John asked after a moment.
“Hmm.” Sherlock answered in his way. John chewed on the inside of his cheek, sure that Sherlock was able to read his mind at times, no matter how much he said he couldn’t.
“Really, Sherlock, What?”
“The way you are looking at me.”
“What about it?”
“You are thinking of something that’s not what you usually think of when you look at me.”
“You are so tired you aren’t making sense. Maybe you should kip on the sofa for a bit.” John said, trying in earnest to change the subject.
“No. I’m no more tired than usual. And I’m not getting anywhere with the case.” Sherlock said with a huff, flopping back into his chair.
“Why not?”
“I’m distracted.”
“By what?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“John, you are getting married next week. Things will be different and I can’t stop thinking about this fact.”
“Nothing is going to change.” John answered automatically. It had been a discussion he and Sherlock had before, several times in fact. “I’ve told you that.”
“But you can’t keep lying to me or yourself.” Sherlock countered, for the first time the conversation was taking a different turn.
“I’m not lying. Nothing will change.”
“But everything already has. I already lost my chance.” Sherlock said. His jaw twitched a bit as he realized that he spoke more than he intended.
“Lost your chance at what exactly?” John asked, his eyebrows raising towards his hairline. Sherlock’s lips were pressed into a thin line. He shrugged a bit and leaned forward again.
“You. I have lost you.”
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” John offered. Sherlock’s hand landed on his knee and Sherlock shook his black curls at John.
“You misunderstand, John. I lost you to her. I lost the chance I had to tell you how I feel.”
“How you feel?” John asked, confusion laced in his voice.
“Yes John.”
“How… what are you getting on about?”
Sherlock sighed. “I care about you.”
“I care about you too. You’re my best mate.”
“No, again, you misunderstand. I… care about you.”
John let the words wash over him as his eyes widened a bit in both surprise and understanding.
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“That was the night your father told me for the first time that he loved me.” John continued with his story. Olive smiled. She knew that neither of her fathers were good at expressing their emotions for each other, but their love was undeniable. Words like “git” and “idiot” replaced the usual pet names couples called each other. She nodded her head and John continued. “But I was committed to my fiancé and it was a week before the wedding. I couldn’t call it off. Sherlock was my best man. He stood next to me through the whole thing and helped plan it. But as I recited my vows, I found that it wasn’t the woman I loved across from me that I was thinking of, but it was Sherlock. The one person I truly was in love with.”
“You loved her?” Olive asked curiously.
“I did. I really did.” John nodded as he confirmed it. “But the difference was I wasn’t in love with her. Never was. At first she was something to fill the hole that Sherlock had left, but after sometime, it seemed that getting married, becoming a doctor in the suburbs was the logical course of action. So, that’s what I did. And then Sherlock showed up, told me he loved me and well, I was a wreck. My mind was full of Sherlock at my own wedding. Not my wife. My best friend. And sometime, you should ask Uncle Greg or Aunt Molly about the best man speech he gave. If it had been the speech he made at our wedding it would have been perfect, but he gave it at the wrong wedding.”
“What made it so bad?” Olive asked, cringing a bit. She knew that Sherlock wasn’t the best at public speaking and John often handled that part of their working life.
“It wasn’t a bad speech. But after his revelation to me, every word was a declaration of his love for me. And I sat there thinking about how long I could stay married to the woman sitting next to me before I left her or cheated on her or something. I was trying to decide if six months was enough or not. And how to leave her without hurting her too badly. I was inwardly cringing that I would have to sleep in the bed with my wife that night and not Sherlock. I was wondering how much more I needed to drink before I was good and pissed and could just pass out. Things no one should be thinking about during their wedding.”
“Oh Daddy.”
Olive’s face was said and full of the anguish John had felt at the time. He patted her hand a bit.
“There is no need for pity. Because now comes the best part of my marriage.” He smiled. “We stayed married for one year exactly. It’s not important why we divorced in the end. Yes, before you ask your father was involved with it, but not in the way you think. Because after our first dance, things were different. Your father in his wonderful way, deduced that my new wife was pregnant. With you.” Olive’s mouth formed a perfect o.
“So, I stayed because of you. But when you were just a few months old my marriage was over.”
“Is she… did she…” Olive blew out a breath and her fringe shifted on her forehead.
“She’s dead now. Mycroft told me she died shortly after you turned ten.” John answered her question. “But let’s just say she wasn’t really a good woman in the end. Your father and I started to raise you here at Baker Street the day I signed the divorce papers.”
“So, you brought me here to tell me this story. But I don’t understand why.” Olive said after a few minutes of digesting what John told her. John smiled.
“I have thought about my wedding, my first wedding for a long time. About what I would have done differently. If other things that happened after that night would have gone differently if I had simply not shown up at the church. If I had followed my heart instead of my head. And after talking with your father, I decided that the only way that I could come to some sort of…. peace with it all was to tell you. To assure myself that you understood that where I felt that I made a mistake, I didn’t get the worst deal in any way. I did end up with your father. The man that I love more than anything. And I ended up with you. My wonderful daughter. The best part of that relationship.”
Olive leaned near her father and laid a kiss upon his cheek. “I love you.” she said.
“And I love you too.” John said, pulling his and Mary’s daughter into his arms.
“Did you really stand in a church full of friends and family and think about Father instead of your wife?” Olive asked as she settled into a cuddle with John.
“I did. The church wasn’t bad. It was the dancing that killed me. And your father solved three cases during his speech. It was epic.”
“Three?”
“Yep.” the voice in the doorway said, popping the p in his posh way. John and Olive both turned their blond heads to see Sherlock standing just inside the room and leaning on the doorway. He smiled at them both and came to sit on the opposite side of Olive. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. She nuzzled his chin with her head like she had when she was child and he planted a kiss on her crown.
“Wow.” she said. “Three?”
“Yes. It was quite the speech.” Sherlock said. He reached behind his daughter and lay his hand on John’s shoulder. “But even as I was deducing the cases, I only had eyes for John. And he is as handsome today as he was then.”
John felt the blush rise in his cheeks and blossom across his face. “Shut it.”
“Seriously, guys, Dad you got married because you felt obligated to follow through on a proposal to a woman you loved but weren’t in love with… “ John nodded his head at his daughter’s fair summarization of his story when she drew a breath and turned towards Sherlock “And you, you arse, chose a moment a week before his wedding to tell him that you loved him instead of hundred of thousands of moments before.” Sherlock ducked his head and nodded at his daughter. She was the only person besides John who could call him out on his errors. “You two are the most fucked up people I know.”
“But I didn’t tell you this story for you to come away with that assumption.” John tried to explain.
“No, Dad. I got it. Listen to both your head and your heart. Don’t do anything I might regret. Live in the moment and in love. But I also got that the two of you are so made for each other it’s scary.”
“Her observation is as astute as ever, John.” Sherlock offered squeezing his husband’s shoulder..
“Shut it you. She’s telling you how much of a git you are too.” John said with a smile.
“Now, if story time is over, I want to hear some more about your real wedding. It’s not something you ever talk about.” Olive asked, settling back onto the sofa, snuggly encased between the two men who raised and loved her.
Sherlock snuck a look over her head at his husband. “I assure you, John’s head was still filled with ideas about me that day.”
“But I was supposed to be thinking about you.” John added.
Olive smiled and pulled out her phone to take a picture of her parents. One that she would cherish every time she looked at it. A family portrait from the day she was reminded how loyal her dad was and how besotted her father was. Just how much they loved each other.