Take care of those you call your own, and keep good company...

[lightconductor]

It had been a long, if not unrewarding day. Now, though, Watson was glad to relax in the comfort of familiar surroundings. There was something perfect about the cosiness of their rooms, the crackle and warmth of the fire, the scent of dinner and brandy and tobacco smoke. It was home, and it was far more perfect than he felt he had any right to claim.

He was stretched out on the sofa, comfortably full, with a novel propped up on his chest while he rested his head in Holmes's lap. The position was comfortable, intimate, and while in part he worried that it was... unmanly, unbecoming, unduly effeminate... it felt strangely safe, and he was grateful for the warmth of the thigh beneath his head.

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[lightconductor]

Watson sputtered, suddenly panicked. What was Holmes thinking? He liked Mary well enough, but not enough to judge whether or not she would be comfortable with that, whether she would not be disgusted and turn them in to someone over Lestrade's head who might care more than he did.

And yet, denying the charge, denying Holmes, was impossible.

Without any notion of what he might say, Watson looked at Holmes, his expression tight and his face pale; he couldn't bring himself to look at their guests. Fleeing was unthinkable, cowardly. Denial was too much of a lie. He faced it head-on, frightened though he was. "It is... quite true, I suppose." Watson gave a small, tight smile, but a fond one.

[theyarder]

Lestrade almost doesn't stop himself from rolling his eyes; what does help is that he's watching Mary for her reaction, hoping that she'll react the way that he'd like her to. He isn't quite sure what he'd do if she didn't. What if she wanted to report them? What if she found them disgusting? Could he really tell her no, don't report them?

Instead of thinking about that, he clears his throat and attempts to initiate some damage control.

"Well, that's high praise. I don't think you can get a higher recommendation than that, eh, Mary?"

[missmorstan.livejournal.com]

With a small intake of breath, more surprised than shocked, Mary turned a piercing stare from Holmes and Watson to Lestrade beside her. He was not surprised. He was not shocked. He had known.

That was... interesting.

She looked at this pair of... of... of lovers, in front of her, her expression quizzical, and she considered. It was... well, a little thrilling to be proven right. And she was too much a romantic to entirely disapprove of it. They were, she knew all too well, good men.

"I suppose it's very high praise indeed." Mary looked at Lestrade, an eyebrow cocked teasingly. She could have been coy, she could have affected indifference, but the woman in her would not have allowed her to be anything but direct. "You knew, didn't you?"

[mustbethetruth]

Holmes is surprised -- very pleasantly so -- when out of all the people in this room, it's Mary who has the nerve to address the topic so plainly. It's clear Watson and Lestrade were going to carry on as normal, and likely Holmes would have too out of sheer desire to avoid pressing the issue -- that wouldn't seem very prudent. He smiles comfortingly at Watson before he answers for Lestrade.

"Lestrade made the discovery shortly before our trip to the Continent," he says, far too happy with the turn of events to keep the merriment out of his voice. "His discovery was owing to an unfortunate coincidence, however; you must be credited for coming to the idea all on your own."

[lightconductor]

Watson shook his head in disbelief, but there was a certain amount of relief in his manner. They had, somehow, impossibly, escaped disaster yet again. Relaxing fractionally, he took a long breath.

"You... don't seem troubled by it, Miss Morstan, if you don't mind my saying so."

That was almost comforting. Another ally, another confidant they could, hopefully, rely on. He already liked Miss Morstan, and it was comforting to not have to revise that opinion.

[theyarder]

Lestrade is infinitely relieved, but more than that, he's a little proud of her and her open mind and her sharpness and her willingness to just come right out and talk about it, which had been more than Lestrade was able to muster for a while there. But then again the circumstances had been quite different.

"There you have it, then. I'm not keeping any other secrets from you, honest," he says with a small smile. "You don't have any objections about keeping this secret with me?"

[missmorstan.livejournal.com]

"No, I don't believe I do." Mary squeezed Lestrade's hand again, feeling a peculiar combination of elation and affection. She liked having been proven right, she liked that it was a secret between them, and rather selfishly she liked that this meant that Watson simply hadn't found her attractive. She wasn't proud of that last part, but she couldn't exactly help it either.

"And no, Dr. Watson, I am not." She pursed her lips together thoughtfully, searching for words. "I'm unfairly biased to your advantage, after all. You've done me such a number of favours. You uncovered the mystery behind my father's death for me, you introduced me to Guy." Mary laughed, honestly and warmly. "Perhaps it's unladylike of me to be anything other than shocked and horrified, but if my dear Guy doesn't mind... I can't say it worries me too much."

[mustbethetruth]

"If being ladylike requires you to be repulsed, then I would ask that you refrain from that. I promise not to be too offended," he drawls, though he is rather inwardly annoyed at such notions of being ladylike and prone to fainting and all that ridiculousness. At least Mary isn't like those other kinds of women, and not just in areas of being open-minded about homosexuality.

[lightconductor]

"I'm of the opinion," Watson offered, beginning to relax a little again, "that men who demand their women be perfectly meek and 'ladylike' have little interest in their wives as people in their own right."

He was giving her a slightly evaluative look; he felt his heart might pound right out of his chest with worry, but... she seemed genuine, kind enough to not dismiss them out of hand for one mere sin.

"But I thought I liked you." He grinned. "Good to see I still do."

[theyarder]

Lestrade is, just now, so in love with his fiancee that he feels it bubbling up into a flush in his cheeks. It is, too, a relief to know that he doesn't have to keep this from Mary, that he can talk about Holmes and Watson and not have the knowledge of this secret rattling around in his brain. And maybe, too, they can be good for Holmes and Watson.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Watson," he says, smiling. "Personality's much more important than propriety, that's always been my opinion."