if_inconvenient | (no subject)

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"Tony is home from school," says Jarvis.

Sherlock says nothing at all.

"Shall I let him know you're here?" asks Jarvis.

Sherlock says nothing at all.

"I'll take that as a yes."

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Knock knock.

"Come in, Tony."

He enters the workroom, shuts the door behind him, and crosses the room to stand over the couch that Sherlock is so thoroughly occupying.

"Scoot," he says gently.

He sighs.

"I'm thinking."

"Yeah?"

Tony leans down and picks Sherlock up off the couch, with considerable effort, to deposit him in a more upright sitting position so that Tony can sit down beside him and sling an arm around his shoulders.

"What about?"

Not that he doesn't know the answer, or think he does.

"Not sure."

Which is impossible on a number of levels.

"...Uh, if you don't wanna talk about it..."

He starts to withdraw his arm.

"No—stay."

Sherlock leans into him a little.

"Okay."

He resettles his arm, drawing Sherlock in closer.

"So, uh—I talked to your friend today."

Amused: "Cal."

Amused is good. Tony smiles a little.

"Yeah, him." In anticipation of Sherlock's next question, Tony adds, "About Obie."

"Really."

Fascinated is even better than amused! He brightens further.

"Yeah. Guy creeps him out, apparently. Reminds him of his asshole uncle."

(he's had something like that happen before—)

"Good heavens," Sherlock murmurs.

"What? You've got your epiphany face on. What's up?"

"Not sure," Sherlock repeats, much more thoughtfully.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Just that I should, uh, listen to how Obie talks."

"Good advice. You would do well to take it."

"Can we—can we not? Just." He leans his head on Sherry's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Not right now."

"Of course."

He wraps his arms around Tony and presses a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Of course."

"Didn't I come in here to make you feel better?"

"But you did."

Okay.

Tony can live with that.

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