OT3+: Things I like to think about
Mary loves John, but there's something about his that just doesn't fit. The way he moves at times, the things he starts at – the things he says.
The things he won't say.
And then there's Sherlock, brazen and overconfident and insecure and stupid and brilliant, and all of the pieces, they fall into place.
She never had no choice but to love him, she thinks, later. There's simply no way to love John Watson without loving Sherlock Holmes.
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Jim showing up hurt at the door and John being all sullen – because he doens't really care for Sherlock being intimate with what ought to be his arch enemy, see – but still, he's a doctor, so he goes to help, and... Jim's really beaten up, properly, so John gets him upstairs (Sherlock's away, I suppose?) and cares for him, and by the time Jim's all sorted there's something, and John doesn't worry so much about Jim and Sherlock after that. (And it's only much, much later that John learns that the people who beat Jim up were very handsomely paid to do so by none other than Jim himself, because Jim is not nothing but a very clever player.)
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And then there's the time when she miscalculate and they both how up at ther door at the same time, and she should be worried, but seeing the looks of shocked outrage (Sherlock) and shocked amusement (Jim) she can do little but laugh.
They turn to her, then, and she's probably the only one not surprised by how similar they look when impressed.
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John and Sebastian going out for a beer or two or fifteen, not becuase they like each other (except they do, kinda) but becausse two certain assholes are being their usual obnoxious selves, and retired army guys just need a break sometimes.
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”Just for the record,” Sebastian says. ”I'd just as soon snap your neck.”
”Noted,” Sherlock says, so very unimpressed.
They'd glare at each other, but Jim is two weeks gone, and this really is their last resort. Sebastian wishes he was half-way through a bottle of vodka; Sherlock wishes the whispers were right and that he had no heart.