( A continuation of a previous thought experiment involving John Watson after the Fall. Some feels, so do be warned and prepared -- and indirect spoilers! )
"Why do you think it was actually Mycroft?"
John looked at Sarah. "Well--" he began.
"I mean, it's silly, isn't it?" she asked. "It doesn't seem the sort of thing he'd do. Hacking your Twitter account? Even though you're angry with him."
Under his breath, John sighed a little. He loved Sarah most of the time -- it was just strange, having a girlfriend who stopped dating him, but who ended up as a sort of mate. That kind of friend.
He wondered sometimes if it was because the two of them had both survived almost dying with Sherlock. Something that Mike Stamford never had done. Lucky for him!
But then Henry was somewhere between Stamford and Sarah...
Sarah cleared her throat. She grinned at him. "Ah, John. Drifting off during a rant?? Should we go do something else?"
John smiled at her despite himself. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, if we could stop talking about Twitter, and hackers, that'd be nice. I was thinking take-away and maybe that movie after."
"Which movie was it again?"
If anything, her grin got bigger. "It would serve you right, John Watson, if I dragged you off to a chick flick. Odds are you wouldn't notice until halfway through."
John almost laughed. "I would so notice!"
"It would depend on which one I chose," Sarah replied provocatively.
"I have seen chick flicks, you know."
Sarah kept teasing John, almost on autopilot, but she watched him lighten up. Inside, she very nearly cheered.
She managed not to make a big deal out of it.
It was great how his mood was improving. From what John had said, and not said for that matter, he still went up and down quite a bit. She wasn't sure what Mike thought. Sarah meant to check in with him later. He'd known John longer than she had.
And Harry would complain a lot, often quite bitterly, and very specifically about Sherlock, until John got quite vicious with her. Sarah did watch him on Twitter. She didn't think he knew.
Sarah smiled a little wretchedly to herself. John really didn't know how many people were watching him, trying not to fuss, trying to let him be, and yet... Watching a friend's grief was incredibly painful.
She didn't mind keeping an eye on him. What she minded was how John was. How he would miss things, things that he used to be able to see, things he seemed blind to now.
It was sometimes like watching a child grieve more than an adult.
But then it had been that kind of friendship, hadn't it?
Sarah hadn't minded Sherlock either. He'd always thought he was cold, and had played it very well, but Sherlock wasn't really, not when it mattered. She remembered how he'd stopped in that damned circus.
Just to comfort her.
Her throat caught.
John stopped. "Sarah? What's wrong? What did I say?"
Sarah swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "You didn't. It's all fine, John. Even though you loathe my taste in movies, you!"
"Oh." He had a look of awful realization on his face. "I did step in it, didn't I? I'm sorry. Was she one of your favorites then?"
He paused, clearly regrouping. "I do not loathe your taste in movies. I am loath to see that sort of movie. It is not the same thing at all, Doctor!"
She smiled for real now. "Oh, my dear Doctor Watson, you have no idea. Look, if I can watch one of my movies first, then you can watch one of yours. Deal?"
John laughed. "This means you have them at home, doesn't it? Are we getting curry then?"
"Why not? You know they make the best kind on my street."
"They do not..."
Sarah linked arms with John. Still bickering, they left the diner.
=-= =-= =-=
No bombs or snipers were used, nor hurt, nor even considered during the making of this story. Just in case you were wondering. No one with dark curls was watching either. It's not that kind of story. Except now you're wondering, aren't you?
One secret of storytelling is to tell a story that uses lies, mysteries, and secrets, according to one sage. Because we all do that.
Props to you if you catch which of those exist in this little incident.