(And as a disclaimer, because I know you'll all pile in in comments, I do know that some of what I'm saying is wrong, stupid, idiotic. I do know Bryan talks shit. All I'm doing here is writing down my feelings on it. So you can tell me I'm wrong all you like. Hell, deep down somewhere maybe I know I'm wrong. But knowing and accepting aren't the same thing.)
All started as usual - chaos in the house, breakfast, dogs, jam, Sherlock, Mycroft, bickering, John being calm, everything I've come to love.
Then off to work, beneath threatening clouds (literal and figurative). Sally was being ridiculously nice (peril of blogging your entire life, I suppose). I was being useless. Mainly staring into space, or at paperwork, with very little of any use going on in my head. And a lot of very, very, useless stuff.
One o'clock came around incredibly slowly, but also far too fast. I headed to John's.
He talked too much, fussed, tried to make me eat lunch, talked more...and then gave me a hug, which, frankly, almost broke me.
And I was useless in the flat for a bit. Couldn't sit still, drank lots of coffee. Worried about Bryan. Worried about John.
Finally it was time to go. Weather had finally cleared up, so we headed into town.
I can honestly say that if John hadn't been there, behind me, hanging onto me, I might have just kept on riding.
But I didn't, so there we were, waiting for him. And he wandered in, looking totally fucking calm and collected, the bastard, and came over. Then gave John a completely dirty look - after checking him out. And the insults pretty much carried on from there. John went over the basics. All the old stuff, the old complaints. And yeah, most of them hit home. Because they're all based in truth. He insulted John, too, well - he mainly sort of pretended that John didn't exist. Tried to ignore him, whilst implying things. Which hurt too, just because I didn't want to expose John to any of that, even though I knew it was inevitable, and John can take it.
Bryan thought he should be the centre of my world - hell, probably the whole universe. And he wasn't. And he hated it.
Looking at him now, I mean, thinking about him, when he's not here, I just can't believe I let him rule my life for so long. But being there with him, I was a wreck.
When we were together he also spent a lot of time telling me how lucky I was to have him. How no one else would ever look at me. Which was easy for me to believe.
So I hope it really stuck in his throat that John was there, with me, supporting me, looking gorgeous (if bruised).
Anyway, all comes down to what he wants. And I already knew most of that. The answer was still 'no' (although if John hadn't been there God knows what I might have agreed to). Still, now I'm pretty sure he's going to go down the route of saying that he was held back in his career by supporting me in mine - therefore losing out. And I've just got to hope the Judge believes me and not him.
When we got back Sherlock had baked bsicuits, Mycroft had attempted to help him ice them - but was fighting a losing battle, Sherlock being very willful. Mycroft helped cook, too, which was good, as Sherlock kept grabbing my legs, or wanting me to hold him/carry him/sit on my shoulders, because Mrs Hudson and John had both told him I might need hugs. He can be very, very sweet sometimes.
A large drink, a cuddle with John...and I pretty much slept through the night, and so did John, which is nothing short of a miracle.