ironmonger | (no subject)

"Yes."

Some fairly significant parts of that conversation took place without any words at all.

"I take it it met with your approval."

Call it a hunch.

"Yes," again. He laughs a little, snuggling up against Obadiah's side. "Very much. He was—it was clear how much he'd enjoyed himself, and that he trusted you, and that he had good reason to."

It takes time, Obadiah thinks, but once he's warmed up, Sherlock is even more responsive to touch in his way than Tony. Which is impressive.

The information is filed away in the back of his mind.

"I'd imagine it would be hard to miss how much he enjoyed himself."

"He was rather less than subtle about it," Sherlock agrees. "Often he would tell me about the same part two or three times, either for emphasis or because he liked to revisit the memory."

Obadiah chuckles.

"That sounds like Tony," he says. "Storytelling never was his forte."

Still, that particular effort is one Obadiah wishes he could have heard.

"In fact I believe the only part he didn't mention more than once was the second time you strangled him."

But what he did say about it was...

Sherlock hesitates on the point of continuing.

Obadiah feels the hesitation and gives him a questioning glance.

He smiles.

"Shall I show you what he said?"

He notes the word choice.

"Please do."

He leans tiredly on Obadiah's shoulder, the way Tony does. Well. The way Tony leans on Sherlock.

Soft and fond and a little bit frightened, or perhaps a little bit awed: "It's... it was like I loved him so much there wasn't room for anything else."

He pauses for a second to absorb this, then says,

"That's what oxygen deprivation will do for you," and sips his drink.

Sherlock laughs.

"If you like," he says affectionately, shifting to sit like himself again and nestling a little closer as he does it.

He tightens his arm around Sherlock to accommodate the move.

"Or so I hear."

"I suppose you are not well versed in either phenomenon directly."

"No, I've been lucky enough to avoid them so far," he says casually.

"They can both be quite pleasant, but perhaps not to your taste."

"Perhaps not."

Certainly not. Obadiah prefers not to offer himself up to be taken advantage of when he can avoid it. And these days, he can.

He is quiet for a short time—a few seconds.

(He wants to be sure it is true. Not more than an hour or two ago, he was sure it wasn't.

And then he was less sure.

And now that they are on the subject...)

"I love you," he says. Casually, not at all the way Tony says it; with Tony, it always seems as though the affection behind the words overflows his entire being. With Sherlock, there is fondness there but it is not so all-consuming. He is reporting a fact, not acting to express an emotional flood.

(Bizarrely, he is nervous. This is so thoroughly nonsensical that he ignores it, puts it outside of himself, refuses to let it influence him in any way visible or otherwise.)

He raises his eyebrows over another sip of whiskey.

"Really?" he says. "That was quick."

He laughs.

"I would congratulate you if I thought you had done it on purpose," he says comfortably.

(A hint of those nerves he refuses to feel? Surely not.)

"Why would I?" he asks reasonably. "I don't need you to."

The bare minimum he needed from Sherlock was for Sherlock to stop interfering in Obadiah's business with Tony. He got that. He doesn't need this.

"Precisely," he agrees, smiling.

(And he doesn't think Obadiah would have known how to, could have intentionally used what he inadvertently gave away. But he won't insult Obadiah's skill at manipulation by saying only the half of that he can get away with, and he won't damage their already impossible relationship by so much as hinting at the rest.)

It's because of Tony, of course. Must be. Sherlock said as much before - what Tony loves, what makes Tony happy, gains his own affection. Now that he's satisfied himself that Obadiah's presence in Tony's life is a good thing, he loves him.

Obadiah wonders if Sherlock has feelings of his own, or if everything is a reflection of or response to Tony.

"As long as it doesn't bother you," he says.

"Which part?"

He doesn't sound bothered. His earlier anxiety, if it was ever there at all, seems to have vanished.