Chapter Text
“I do not think I can wait one minute longer.”
“Arthur, you’ve been jumping around like water in a hot pan all morning. Just calm down. Everything’s already set up and the party doesn’t start until this afternoon.”
“Yes, but Mr. Sherlock and Doctor Watson will be here before that and until they get here my hair is going to keep feeling like it’s made of candle wicks. Lit ones at that!”
“It’s only been a few months…”
“Three Months! That a full quarter of a year! I haven’t seen Doctor Watson or Mr. Sherlock or Mycroft for a full quarter of a year and I’m… AAARRRGGGGHHHH!!!”
Arthur was jumping foot to foot in a wide circle and Martin made sure he’s put down his tea before approaching the agitated figure. Luckily, Arthur was easy to quiet if you got your arms around his waist and turned his agitation into an opportunity to slow dance.
“While we were in Greece the other day, waiting for GERTI to be repaired, weren’t you watching a movie on your phone-telly with Sherlock?”
“He was bored! And Doctor Watson was at the pub and Mr. Sherlock’s experiment was incubating for awhile and I don’t know how my phone is able to play shows just like a normal telly, but it was brilliant that I could talk to Mr. Sherlock while he was watching the same program as me and I explained to him about mutants with superpowers and he explained why mutants with super powers couldn’t exist, but he did agree that if he had mutant superpowers he wouldn’t want to be telepathic because that would make solving crimes absolutely no fun. I listed all the mutant powers I remembered and he wants to be a teleporter so he won’t have to wait for cabs.”
“My point is that in the three months since we left London, you’ve been in contact with everyone there either by phone or text or letter almost constantly.”
“But it’s not the same!”
“And every week I ask if you want to move to London and you say no.”
“You can’t fly in London, Skip! And that would be too far from Mum, though I think that’s been less of a concern lately. For her. I probably shouldn’t gossip, but I have run into Herc more times that I care to count at very early hours of the morning. With him wearing very little.”
Martin slowly danced Arthur around his tiny attic room and reflected on the months since they’d returned from the city and the adventures, if that was the right word, they’d enjoyed or endured, depending… It had both been easier and harder than Martin had expected. For one thing, Carolyn and Douglas had not caused him as much personal grief as he had prepared for. Even though every other topic was still fair game for Douglas to mock him about, his substance abuse issue remained off the table. And, Carolyn had been suspiciously agreeable to his and Arthur’s relationship, forcing Martin to join them for dinner several nights a week and not batting an eye at the fact that Arthur tended to spend every minute of his free time in Martin’s company, even if that meant, as Arthur termed it, a sleep-over in Martin’s attic.
On the harder side, there was the return to his normal day-to-day life. Without the distractions of London, it was harder to ignore his brain when it yearned for something to bring up his energy level or take away the stress. He’d found himself several times driving past streets where he’d been able to purchase whatever his body had wanted without any memory of actually getting in the van in the first place. But Martin hadn’t succumbed. It had been very hard a few times, but he’d been able to hold back from taking the one step that would set him all the way back to the start of the yellow brick road. For those times, it was both a blessing and a curse that Arthur was a very perceptive individual. Martin hated when Arthur noticed his struggle, as it made him feel weak and worthless, but he loved that Arthur would take him up in his warm arms and kiss away his insecurities and doubts, whispering in his ear how proud he was of Martin and his victory against his ugly wants.
But that didn’t change the fact that he was still barely holding his nose above water and without Mycroft’s mechanic-on-call, the last van breakdown would have had him living on the street. Carolyn was trying to find some way to give him a salary and had been able to award him a miniscule percentage of profits when they were in the black, but she had been uncharacteristically transparent when she opened the books for Martin to examine. And not just MJN’s books, but her personal finances, as well. There truly was no margin for error, no excess, no spoils or fat. And that made Martin fearful. Not for himself, but for Arthur, who he knew had no idea how close he was to Martin’s own sad circumstances.
“Skip? Are you thinking again? You know how upset you get when you do that.”
“I’ll try to remember never to think in the future.”
“Silly Skipper, you know what I mean. I know the difference between you thinking and it’s a good thing and you thinking when it’s a bad thing. Are you nervous? I mean, I’m so excited for this party that I haven’t been able to sit still for days, but… are you maybe not as happy about it? This will be… well, like you said, we haven’t seen Mr. Sherlock in three months…”
Not that Martin had worried much about that particular fact. No, that wasn’t the full truth. It was easier to breathe without Sherlock in his field of view, but just because something was easier didn’t mean it was better. These months had given him time to think without anyone voicing their opinion on the subject and that had been a welcome reprieve. It gave him time to concentrate on his own feelings and listen to only one voice. Even Arthur had left the subject alone, besides general mentions of Sherlock and what was going on for cases or why John was currently taking a walk for ‘air.’ He didn’t push and didn’t pry and Martin was grateful for the time and the space to see where his comfort level finally fell. And it seemed that is was leveling off at a point higher than he expected. It wasn’t going to be easy and he knew there would be times he would regret it, but letting Sherlock make camp in a small corner of his life would be something he could do. And if the git cocked everything up again, it would be easy to implement a scorched-earth protocol to that small corner and salt the ground when he was done.
“I’m looking forward to the party, Arthur. And to seeing everyone. You’ve worked so hard on things, how could I not be anxious for the festivities to get started?”
Arthur had gone full-throttle into event planning and turned Carolyn’s home into a cross between Disneyland and a Cinco de Mayo piñata party. The only input Martin had for the ‘finding Skip’ party was that the cake would not say ‘We Found Skip!’
“Brilliant! Because you know, if you suddenly didn’t want your party, I would tell Mum to call the whole thing off and we’d get to eat all the food and cake ourselves. Which wouldn’t actually be a bad idea because most of it would freeze quite nicely and we’d have meals for a long time and cake for breakfast.”
“We have cake for breakfast at least once a week, Arthur.”
“Yeah, I have had a bit of the baking urge lately. But I did make amazing chocolate muffins!”
“That you did. They were very chocolaty and the shredded beets added that special something that made them particularly titillating.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve got plans to make the recipe even better, so you’ll get to taste test lots of muffins. Did you know that people in South America put red pepper in chocolate? Well, I’m not overly fond of hot pepper, but maybe some nice sweet peppers like those roasted ones they sell in jars. And I was thinking I’d like to make a Super Chocolate something with different chocolates and chocolate-covered raisins and nuts and those peanut-butter and chocolate candies. And licorice. I know that’s not chocolate, but it’s sort of brown, well more black but it looks brown in the right light and…”
“They’ll be wonderful, love. Simply wonderful. But look at the time… Sherlock and John should be getting to your mother’s house any minute and I don’t think we want them alone with her, do we?”
“Oh… right! Ooh… yeah, that might not be the best thing. Mum’s still a little miffed that Mr. Sherlock took me to London and I know she wants to talk to Doctor Watson about your… problem. And you know Mum, if she wants to talk to someone about something, they are in for a conversation.”
“Yes, that I know well.”
“Now Skip, it was only a few hours.”
“She made me divulge my entire medical history, my prior romantic interests, which she deemed pathetic, my detailed plan to ensure your safety and contentment for the future, thank heavens for Mycroft, how I plan to support her when she’s old and toothless, thank heavens for Mycroft part 2, and a long list of even more embarrassing things including, but not restricted to my personal measurements and her opinion on whether or not that will be satisfactory for her darling boy. There was a reason I had to have a lie-down afterwards, Arthur.”
“I think Mr. Sherlock and Doctor Watson can handle her.”
“Maybe with John’s sidearm.”
__________
“Well, at least we know we’re in the right place.”
“What gave it away, John? The streamers dangling from the windows or the several hundred balloons in the yard?”
“Remember what we agreed?”
“If I have nothing nice to say, I should say nothing at all.”
“Exactly.”
“Asinine.”
“Silence!”
Sherlock snorted and glared at his partner who was busily ignoring both his snort and glare. Damn John’s immunity to his scorn. It was tiresome and inconvenient. Sherlock parked the car on the street where, in his words, they would be assured of a rapid and unimpeded exit and both men descended from the vehicle. Sherlock stalked off towards the chaos of color, leaving John to gather the luggage and bottles of liquor he planned on sharing with Martin when the party died down. Just a little token of his pride that the man was holding on well and seemed to actually be following John’s recommendations for care. That he had gone through with interviewing a few counselors was a very bright spot and part of John’s visit would be discussing Martin’s observations and helping him choose one that would work best for his situation.
John dragged his overly-laden self through the front door and stood a moment relishing the sight of Sherlock Holmes pressed against a wall by an elderly woman with nothing more than the power of her extended index finger.
“…and you will think more than twice before you whisk Arthur off on another round of nonsense. I will not have that simpleton of a boy running loose chasing ne’er-do-wells all over Europe!”
“And you must be Mrs. Knapp-Shappey. How do you do? I’m John Watson.”
“At least this one’s polite. Hello Doctor Watson, the Imbecile Squad has told me much about you and… I suppose you’ll suffice. Now, your room is on the second floor and you’ll find it clearly marked. Try not to touch the sign, I’m not sure the glitter and glue have completely dried.”
Sherlock edged away from Carolyn, keeping her in his sights as if he was wary of a sneak attack the moment his back was turned. John pressed one suitcase into his hand and used the other to nudge him up the stairs.
“Don’t worry, Sherlock. I’ll protect you from the bad lady.”
“I am fully capable of taking care of myself, John. I simply did not want to cause a disruption that would subsequently distress Arthur or Martin.”
“That’s actually considerate of you. Was it true?”
“Not at all, but I calculated that you would respond better to that line of reasoning than ‘if I broke her, we’d have a body to hide.’ ”
“Very well thought out.”
“I am trying, John.”
“Yes you are, Sherlock… yes you are… and doing a wonderful job.”
__________
“Mr. Sherlock! Doctor Watson! Hurray!”
Arthur flung himself out of Martin’s van and raced across the yard as fast as his legs could carry him, nearly bowling down the detective and the doctor with his enthusiastic hugs. Martin used the commotion to sneak into Carolyn’s house and deposit his overnight bag in Arthur’s room. Carolyn had gladly given up residence for the duration of Sherlock and John’s visit, stating categorically that she had no desire to be part of whatever Bacchanalian activities a houseful of young men had planned.
“Good to see you, Arthur. Very good to see you. And the house looks wonderful. I very much liked the sign for our room. Quite handy.”
“Thanks Doctor Watson! I wanted this day to be as special as possible. And you look so happy! I guess you and Mr. Sherlock are getting on well.”
Arthur’s version of wink-wink-nod-nod involved a number of accessory body parts, but John got the gist of the gesture. Sherlock rolled his eyes heavenward and removed his phone from his pocket, pretending to ponder an important text.
“Every day is a blessing. And it looks like you’re taking good care of Martin. He’s looking healthy and, well more fit than I last saw him.”
“I’ve been making sure he follows all of your instructions to the letter, which believe me is not easy since he sometimes thinks he knows best about things even when they’re not his specialty, but I remind him that you’re the one with the doctor’s degree and not him and that he doesn’t want to get sick and not be able to work and that makes him straighten right up.”
“Sounds like you’ve got things under control. So, how many people are you expecting today?”
“Everyone! All the people at the airfield and the students Skip lives with and other people that Skip runs into in town. Mum says they’re only coming for the free food, but I know better. They want to show Skip how happy they are that he’s back!”
“I’m sure you’re right. Now, how about a bottle of that beer your Mum made me carry out. I’ll buy you one, too.”
“Can I have juice instead?”
“All you can drink.”
__________
Sherlock watched John and Arthur get reacquainted and was glad when they moved off towards the tables that had been set up for refreshments. The quiet was more than welcome, but it left him exposed when Martin exited the house and saw his cousin standing on the lawn. For a moment Sherlock thought Martin would simply turn and go back inside, but after a few breaths, Martin walked over and stood next to him.
“Hello, Sherlock. How was the drive?”
“Without incident.”
“Good. Good to hear.”
“And… how was the… decorating?”
“Oh, full and busy day of taking orders from Arthur to get everything right.”
“The results are very…ambitious.”
“That they are… that they are…”
Each man stood gazing around at the veritable Mardi Gras that had sprouted on the Shappey estate and desperately tried to think of something to say. With a simultaneous, ‘goddam it’ and ‘this is intolerable,’ each man reached into a pocket and drew out a piece of paper, Sherlock’s being an index card with writing in black ink and Martin’s a lime green slip of notepaper decorated by purple felt-tip marker.
“What’s your list say?”
“I am to ask you about your flying, you van business, your health and any social activities of which you have been a part. And you?”
“Recent cases, your health, goings-on in London, your experiments and cheese.”
“Cheese?”
“I have no idea.”
“Shall we begin?”
“Might as well. So Sherlock, tell me about your recent cases.”
“Several have been of interest. We concluded an investigation last week, for instance…”
John looked over at Sherlock and Martin, clutching their prompt sheets, and standing at near attention and had to smile. Not one thrown punch, no one was on the ground moaning and he couldn’t even hear what was being said because there was no yelling. This was going better than expected.
“They don’t look angry, do they Doctor Watson?”
“No, they do not. I brought my bag in case I needed to patch someone up, but it looks like I might not need it.”
“Well, that’s a weight off of my brain. Skip got a little nervous today and I was worried he’d let it rumble him up so his behavior wouldn’t be top notch. But he did me proud. Like he always does. “
“I understand that. Sherlock’s been in a state ever since we left London. But, it looks like now that he’s here, he’ll be alright. Shall we go over and see that they’re actually talking about something polite and not just insulting each other quietly so we don’t find out?”
“Very sneaky, Doctor Watson. And I agree. Because they’re even sneakier.”
“Kings of Sneaky.”
“I do have some crafts planned for your visit, so we’ll make some crowns for them. We can use mine as a model.”
“I honestly can’t wait.”
__________
Sherlock, John, Arthur and Martin milled about as the remainder of the guests began to arrive. John and Douglas had a long conversation about medical school and Sherlock found himself actually engaged in a stimulating discussion about animal dissection with one of the students from the agricultural college. Arthur and Martin circulated, spending time with each of their guests, ensuring that everyone was having a good time. After awhile, they caught up with John and Sherlock and stood as a group, watching the hustle and bustle of the crowd.
“Is this the flow pattern common to the average party, John?”
“If you mean people flow to and from the grub, then yes. Soon, there will be flowing to and from the loo for various reasons based on state of intoxication and then to and from available bedrooms if Carolyn lets her guard down.”
“You are not planning on hosting any parties in the future are you?”
“None bigger than our last Christmas get-together. Well, perhaps with one or two more attendees.”
John lifted his beer and gave a nod towards Arthur and Martin.
“Christmas in London! Brilliant! Skip, I do believe that we have to add that to our schedule. Can you think of anything more amazing! With all the lights and decorations and trees and Mr. Sherlock and Doctor Watson and Mycroft!”
“Speaking of Mycroft, wasn’t he supposed to be here?”
“He will. He promised me, but he did say he might be late. Actually…”
Arthur made a good show of squinting to see into the distance and the other three men were ashamed to admit they did the same thing.
“One large, black vehicle. Apparently, His Lordship has arrived.”
“Sherlock…”
“I will say nothing about his weight or cakes, John.”
“I know it will be a hardship and promise I’ll make it up to you. Arthur how soundproof is our room?”
Arthur’s blush made the men chuckle even harder, but all of that came to a grinding halt as the car pulled up to the curb and Mycroft stepped out of the back. From the other side another figure exited and Sherlock reached over to grasp John’s hand as if to reassure himself that he wasn’t in the throes of a side effect of some poorly remembered brain injury.
“John…”
“Sherlock…”
“I am not sure I can successfully tolerate this situation.”
“I’m with you on that one.”
Arthur and Martin stared at the two men and back at the other two who were approaching at a sedate pace.
“Well, I did as you asked, Mr. Sherlock. I got Mycroft to bring a date.”
“Good job there, love. Nice looking bloke, too. Not too often you see a fine head of silver hair like that…”
“I know… isn’t it brilliant!”