Chapter Text
John is walking home from the DVD rental shop, feeling particularly clever. Not only did he persuade Sherlock to have a quiet movie night at home, he's also pretty sure Sherlock would love "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind".
This is John's favourite movie and he watched it more times than he's willing to admit.
The first time he watched it was on a slow and quiet Friday night. As slow and quiet as they come in Afghanistan, that is. He had a night off duty and for a change wasn't completely knackered. A night off, or any time off for that matter, was usually spent catching up on his sleep. That night he went to the rec room instead.
Someone brought a copy of the movie and a couple of the guys were sitting down to watch it. He didn't notice he was the only one still watching an hour later. Everyone else either left or moved on to the pool table. Seems the movie wasn't what they were expecting.
John just sat there until the credits rolled, completely mesmerised and utterly invested. Something about this movie resonated with him in a way he couldn't fully understand… How can something make you so happy, almost elated, and yet so sad at the same time? John was no stranger to this mixture of emotions. The war had the same effect on him. It brought him to life, illuminated his finest qualities and gave him a sense of purpose. But it also saddened him deeply. He wasn't blind to the suffering of the local civilians around them and he lost too many good men. But this was different — this was a movie, it wasn't real. He didn't understand how he could be so moved by fictional characters… and why?
The question kept popping to his mind in the years that followed, but the thought never lingered. He didn't let it. There was work to be done, and he knew he needed to keep focused. The only small pleasure he allowed himself was to wallow in this warm feeling while watching.
When watching, he fantasied about a love like that. A love so powerful that it can't be resisted. A love that encompasses a man and transforms him bit by bit until he's better and happier. John knew most people considered him a happy and content man. He never tried to correct them, but deep down he felt that was all just a facade. Sure, he was always a good sport, joking with his mates at the pub and making his patients laugh a bit to ease the pain and fear, but it never felt genuine to him.
Harry told him once that even when smiling, his eyes always stay sad. It was unusually observant of her, but he didn't know how to respond and so they never spoke of it again.
Now he's going home to watch it with his boyfriend, and he's almost a bit embarrassed by how giddy that makes him. 40 year old men do not giggle.
He knows Sherlock would like the movie. The idea that memories can be retrieved or erased at will — even misplaced — reminds him of Sherlock's mind palace. Sherlock would probably argue that he doesn't misplace things, and John can practically imagine the accompanying disdain in his head, but he knows better than getting dragged into that argument again. He just assumes Sherlock deletes losing things.
When he gets home he finds Sherlock is just wrapping up his latest experiment, so he makes them both popcorn and tea and they sit down to watch the movie. When Clementine and Joel are running on the beach and Beck's version of "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime" starts playing, John, who's lying on the sofa with his head on Sherlock's lap, turns on his back and looks up at Sherlock.
"What do you think? Do you like it?" he asks, with a small smile. "I do." Sherlock answers and John's smile broadens.
"I honestly don't know why I like this movie so much," John says, "I think I like its optimism"
"Optimism? Surely you're joking." Sherlock snorts. John is sitting up now, head tilted.
He's looking at Sherlock, "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's pretty obvious this relationship is doomed," Sherlock waves his hand in dismissal, "we already know how it'll turn out — they told you so themselves — he'll start resenting the very things he loved about her and she'll grow bored with him. It's all very predictable."
John is not giving up, "No, don't you see? It's exactly the opposite, because now they know."
"Know what?"
"They already know it could end this way, so now they can change it," he says, smiling at Sherlock excitedly. He feels like a parent looking at their child, encouraging them not to give up on a puzzle… Just a few more pieces and they could see the full picture.
Sherlock laughs, "You can't seriously be this naive, John."
John's smile is gone now. He's getting a bit upset and Sherlock can tell this was probably not the right thing to say.
"I am not naive, and please don't make fun of me." John's voice is low.
"I didn't mean it like that," Sherlock is not really backtracking — when is he ever? — but even he can tell this conversation is going from bad to worse, and that he'd better stop it. Unfortunately he chooses to go with "You know people don't change, John. They are what they are, so their relationship will always be the same, regardless of how many times they reset it."
John is obviously annoyed with him now and Sherlock has no idea why. He's getting pretty annoyed himself, so he declares "This is a silly discussion" and gets up off the sofa.
"You just don't get it, do you?", John's voice is raised now, "How could you, really? You always have so little faith in people... of course you don't see that this is a good thing."
"What's gotten into you?" Sherlock's voice is dropping an octave.
"Me?? Why do you always have to be such a smart-arse? Always seeing the worst in people… Can't you just accept that people change for the ones they love?"
"No, they don't!" Sherlock's voice is almost roaring now, "No one can change who they are, not truly, and definitely not for the rest of their life, John!"
John shakes his head and looks down at the carpet, mumbling to no one in particular "Figures you'll think so."
Sherlock is truly exasperated now because for reasons he can't understand John looks disappointed, so he tries asking "Why are you so worked up about this? It's a movie, for heaven's sake! What's gotten into you?"
John is still not looking at him. He drops his head back and runs his hands over his face, "Nothing, it's nothing, I'm… I'm tired, I think I'm gonna go to bed now." and with that he walks out of the living room and the conversation.
Sherlock looks after him, still confused. He hears John in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. When John walks silently to the bedroom Sherlock calls to him "John…", but there is no answer.
It's not long before Sherlock is ready for bed himself.
John is curled up on his side, facing the wall. Sherlock can tell he's not asleep, but gets the distinct impression John doesn't want to talk to him anyway, so he gets into bed and turns sideways, his back to John.
John is not asleep. He's also not entirely sure what just happened. Why was he so upset? He's not sure he understands his own reaction, but he knows deep down that Sherlock is wrong. He might be a certified genius and the smartest man John has ever met, but Sherlock has no idea what he'e talking about.
He's suddenly very tired. He closes his eyes and soon enough he falls asleep.
This is the first night in three months that he's sleeping alone, even though they're sharing a bed.