by helloliriels - 🍰 Happy Birthday, Sherlock 🍰 in response to post
John left Sherlock at Baker Street after they had gone out to the cake place with Molly and fully celebrated Sherlock's birthday - the way it should be …
But John's mind kept going back to their conversation earlier.
The text alert noise.
The Woman.
He knew Sherlock was lying of course … when he said that he had replied to her sometimes … ?
Only, (of course!)
After John had yelled at him … !
(Again.)
He was mad at himself.
Mad for being jealous. Again.
Mad that Sherlock wasn't taking this chance at happiness!!!
Mad that Sherlock hadn't told him that he knew The Woman was still alive??!!!
And why hadn't Sherlock run off with her … ? If he had this second chance at happiness?
Fifty-eight texts!!
His mind raced …
That's how many he had counted before The Woman had … 'died'. He was sure of it!
Now there were seventy-seven.
The year of Sherlock's birth.
The 77th text today, the day of his birth.
6th January, 1977.
He had looked.
He had counted the texts ...
… when Sherlock was busy choosing his coffee order. (Ordering was always a bit of a nightmare decision for Sherlock … especially when the menu had a million options).
The Woman had known his birthday before John did?
The Woman had made sure to text him 77 times … ???
John grit his teeth.
But Sherlock …
Really hadn't replied to any of them???
Idiot!
He counted the texts again.
Checking to see if the replies had just been deleted?
No.
He wasn't lying.
Sherlock never had replied to her.
It made him angry.
Sherlock deserved to be happy!
Not home and hurt and miserable because of John …
John typed up a quick reply from Sherlock's phone, inviting the woman to meet up with him tonight …
He would find a way to get Sherlock there!! Somehow …
He felt pretty good about himself, after hitting send. Humming away, uncharacteristically, even as Sherlock returned. Smiling at John's good mood. Molly was carrying the double layered cake. Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock sporting their freshly selected coffees.
John accepted his plain black brew with a knowing smirk. Dropping the mobile back into Sherlock's pocket.
Sherlock was gonna get some tonight.
If he had to personally ensure it!!
(continued under the cut)
John heard a *ping* and the buzz of a text notification as he was stepping out of the bus to head home with Rosie asleep in his arms …
He was walking on sunshine!!
No longer angry at …
At what? Exactly?
Angry at himself. He had been so stupid and selfish! But Sherlock deserved this. Sherlock deserved the world …
Another *ping* sounded as John was spinning around. Trying to grab for his keys. Reaching while fumbling with the baby's bag. Adjusting the kangaroo pouch carrier so he didn't wake her softly sleeping form, as he unlocked the door playing octopus. Trying and failing to juggle everything in his arms.
He dropped the phone and the keys as he stepped inside the door and managed to shut it behind him. Just. Gingerly laying down this and that. Shedding layers … freezing at the sound as one more thing fell to the floor with a thud behind him … and checking to see if her eyes were still closed? They were! Thank God! … He twisted, glaring at the offending object to see … it had fallen from Rosie's own clenched fist. A Winnie the Pooh doll … he sighed and tiptoed into the living room, going to put her to bed …
He could pick up this mess later!
***
John crashed. Napping hard for a solid hour until little Rosie's cries woke him and he stumbled back into the living room and through to the kitchen to start the kettle boiling …
He yawned. Stretching.
Then he heard it again?
*ping* buzzz…
Oh, right. Text.
John poured a cuppa, leaving it to steep as he went and gathered up Rosie.
She was rubbing at her eyes. Hands all grabby grabby to reach out for him! He laughed. "Sweet baby girl! You awake?" He danced around with her, carrying her back out to the living room.
"I saved some cake for you, sleepyhead! You conked in the birthday boy's arms … *tsk tsk* … Never gonna be popular if you fall asleep at the start of a party!"
He laughed as she pulled on his ears and gurgled in reply!
*ping*
*ping*
Buzz buzz buzz
*ping*
Buzz
Someone was blowing up his phone!
"Hold on, baby girl! Let me -"
*ping* buzzz *ping*-*ping*-*ping*-ping-
pingpingpingbuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …
"What the hell???" John yelled.
buzzz *ping*ping*ping*
John secured her in her playpen before dashing over to the hall, frantically digging and searching through the bags and piles of dropped miscellany he had left in his wake coming home, trying … to find!!! his phone!!!!!!!
Meanwhile it just kept vibrating and pinging alerts … text after text after text!!!
Something terrible must have happened while he napped??? He was only out an hour?!
His heart was in his throat, racing uncontrollably when he at last "FOUND IT!" he shouted, realizing he had just startled Rosie. And no one else was here to hear him.
He swallowed a rising panic. Opening the text app just as he heard one more …
*ping*
buzz
His hand was shaking. 77 missed messages from Sherlock! SHIT!!! What could have happened??!!
Then he remembered
what.
Irene.
He almost dropped the phone.
Shit!!!
Had Sherlock figured it out, already?? Had Irene texted back - even though he said not too? - as it would upset John?
Was he mad?
What had she said?
Was he giving John a belligerent breakdown of why sentimentality and feelings were NEVER SOMETHING HE WAS GOING TO DO???
John deliberated for a few moments. Breathing a few deep, steadying, breaths … before opening the app up and scrolling through … to find out what happened.
Biting the bullet.
He read the last text first. Facing the worst of it. Hoping it might not be something horrible and … staring at it … in confusion?
Was Sherlock answering something …
John had asked?
It was a nice day, you're right, John.
I will.
-SH
What the …?
It was …
It was weird.
It didn't sound urgent? It didn't even appear to be about anything? Really …
John read a few more …hoping they would shed some light … ?
Do you walk in the park often now?
It would be nice to go with you sometime.
Just to get out. No cases.
-SH
I had fish and chips. By the riverbank.
You?
-SH
What are these?
John was puzzled as he scrolled back through the wall of texts … scanning the words as he went. To get back to the top where it all began …?
Sherlock was … just …
Talking about his day?
Small details. Small talk.
Witty comebacks.
A few … emotions? Even?
It was so unlike Sherlock ...
The man who only texted when absolutely necessary, and usually preferred to have John do it for him ... ?
John's finally scrolled back to where they began. His eye landed on the first text. And his stomach dropped.
Sherlock
I know you're not there.
But can I text you anyway?
I miss you.
I wanted to say something.
Before you jumped today.
Before we left the flat.
I should have said it.
I will always regret not saying it.
Maybe tomorrow?
If I get the courage.
-JW
John looked at the date. Wanting to go and bury himself underground. Where he belonged …
He knew what these were, now.
These replies.
Sherlock was answering those texts …
All
of
the texts,
John had sent,
after Sherlock died.
He hadn't even realized Sherlock's phone was still on? Still working? Until he had tried it that day.
Then he found it … to be cathartic … And he knew Sherlock would never see them … so …
John began to hyperventilate. Panicking.
Now?
Here?
Sherlock was methodically answering? Every. Single. Text. John. Had. Sent … Why?
Shocked and a little bit awed …
John folded himself down to the floor to read them all … glancing up every now and then to make sure that Rosie was still doing all right …
What had prompted this?
Had Sherlock even known about them? Before?
… Had he ever even looked?
John found himself engrossed in the banter. It felt like home again. Like them. Again. A slice of life. Just talking and being. Content as they always were in each other's presence … as if the Reichenbach fall had never happened … as if Sherlock had never died …
A second catharsis … even though the words, and the sentiment were often bleak and gray …
Here … Sherlock … was lending them colour.
Filling them in …
Giving him answers.
At the points were John remembered he had felt his lowest …Sherlock was replying? By telling him what HE had been doing at that same time … Filling in the blanks that they had never discussed … openly, between them. Since his return.
Like it had been a taboo subject.
Something too painful for either of them to recall …
John found himself laughing and crying alternately as he read on … Able to be amused at his own stupidity, in the worst and darkest moments … able to be uplifted by Sherlock's antics … and occasionally stunned … and pleasantly surprised at his frank openness … at the best of moments …
Until.
He saw it.
That text.
The last one he had sent before
Mary …
Up until then, John had tried several times!
He had come so close! To saying how he felt … about Sherlock.
But even in text.
Even in death.
He couldn’t.
Couldn’t
Bring himself to admit … what he had lost.
John’s mouth fell open in horror as he realized, Sherlock had just read this too:
I’m sorry, Sherlock.
I have to move on.
I have to try.
I loved you.
I love you.
Forgive me for not saying it sooner?
I was afraid to lose you.
And I needed you too much. It was selfish of me.
I owe you so much. I still do.
I won’t say goodbye.
You’ll always be alive to me.
I need you to be.
You’ve just moved on.
So can I.
This was a beautiful day.
The last day of summer. A time for change.
Time to be a new man.
Time for a new life. A normal life.
If you see me again.
Give me a chance to repay the enormous debt I owe you.
I still believe in Sherlock Holmes.
-JW
He had sent it.
And he had met Mary.
And found his domesticity.
Long before the bullet.
The betrayal.
The lies.
Each and every time … returning.
Circling.
Returning.
Back to Baker Street and ultimately …
To Sherlock’s side.
An inescapable loop.
How the years keep returning me to you …
John held his head in his hands. Wanting to shut out the realization … that it didn’t matter! It didn’t matter if Sherlock had read that message for the first time today …
Or yesterday … ?
Or a year before he had returned.
Either way, it meant the same thing.
John had moved on.
John had loved him, yes. But not enough. Never enough.
That now he was only helping Sherlock as a friend.
A debt to be repaid.
Fuck.
But wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t that what he had tried to foster since Sherlock’s return?
He realized he was still disappointed in himself. He had had one chance to tell Sherlock the truth. Here. And even then he had lied to Sherlock … and to himself.
John was so glad Sherlock hadn’t caught on to his secret text to Irene! He needed this to work!!
He should also be relieved that Sherlock read all of those cringe-worthy texts! Now they were over and done. A thing of the past that they could both laugh about later … His chance to do anything about it, had already been long lost anyhow …
John rolled up his sleeves. Standing. Resolute to give Sherlock the best birthday present a person could offer …
- No. I delete his texts. I delete any text that begins “Hi”
We haven’t talk about this. I’ve been trying to not loose my mind about the season we just had, I just have talk about some things that caught my attention in the second I saw them.
This is a little thing, that more than anything, when I first listen it just hurt me. Of course it hurted me because I thought of the things John might have written to Sherlock that he didn’t read ... But now, I’ve been thinking maybe is just part of the nonsense in this season.
Why in the world would Sherlock not read a text from John? He even read the poems john sent to his girlfriends! He can read stupid things if they’re John’s. So why delete any texts that begins “Hi”? And even more, why would ever John say “Hi”, I’m sure that salute reminds them both of Jim Moriarty. He is THE character that says that.
So why would John use that word in a text for Sherlock?
Another fucky thing, just saying.
And the things John might have texted Sherlock... Like the note we never got to see...
you ever see a post with a screen shot of a text message sequence and they have like 30+ unread messages? and you're like??? how? I get about 4 texts a week
