Chapter Text
A frown crept across Sherlock's face as he watched his best friend and flatmate interact with his once-enemy Jim Moriarty. It had been two months since the wedding, six weeks since all three of them had returned from the honeymoon Sherlock had crashed, and the two were being as sickeningly lovey-dovey as ever. They were sharing the couch, John on one end with Jim on the other sitting sideways, toes tucked under John's thigh, and watching some movie about space and intergalactic battles. That ridiculous actor Benedict Cumberbatch was playing the villain. (And, really, what kind of a name was Benedict Cumberbatch?)
Things hadn't been the same once John had married Moriarty. (Though Sherlock supposed he couldn't actually call Jim 'Moriarty' anymore, not since that surprise at the wedding. Objectively, he really should have suspected that Moriarty wasn't his real name.) He'd been warned that things would change. Mrs. Hudson had told him a pointless anecdote about a friend and Lestrade had squeezed his shoulder in quite a befuddling show of sympathy. Even Molly had tried in her own mousy, tiptoeing fashion to tell him that nothing would be as it was. It was the emptiness, the lack of John, in the flat after the wedding that had prompted Sherlock to follow them on their honeymoon in the first place.
As if sensing his thoughts, John glanced away from the TV to shoot a grin at Sherlock where he sat at the desk, trying to decide on a new case to take. The detective's lips automatically tugged into a returning smile, an immediate reaction to such an expression on John's face. These little moments of contact, though, just made the pain of slowly losing his friend, his only friend, all the harder to bear…and Sherlock had no doubts that he was losing his blogger.
John still tried to make an effort. He carved time out of his busy days to follow Sherlock on his cases, still took notes and typed up his sensationalized version events on that blog of his. There was something about that ring on his finger, though, that meant that Sherlock would always come second to Jim. It was doubtful that John could see the changes, but they didn't escape Sherlock.
Upon returning from the honeymoon, John had moved his things down into 221C. He'd make the trek up to 221B after work to hang out and both the blonde and Jim generally treated the upper flat as their living space, only going to the basement to sleep, but Sherlock knew it wouldn't last. It certainly didn't help matters that he and Jim were still mostly at odds with each other. Sherlock had never been very good at sharing and he doubted Jim had been any different.
John was Sherlock's only friend, though, and he wasn't about to lose him without putting up one Hell of a fight. The detective could throw the epitome of all temper tantrums if he was so moved, but he'd have to possess the IQ of Anderson to think that would get him what he wanted out of this situation. If anything, throwing a fit would only drive John further away. No, this situation required something more delicate, a sideways approach as opposed to a frontal assault. Over the past week, he'd reached out to his contacts in an attempt to do exactly that.
Lestrade had, of course, been his first option. However, the Yarder proved himself surprisingly uncooperative when Sherlock had burst into his office.
"No, Sherlock! I can't just fake a crime scene so you have an excuse to hang out with John! You make my life difficult enough as it is!"
Sebastian Moran had been equally unwilling to see reason, despite Sherlock appealing to his mercenary tendencies.
"Uh…no. While I have no doubts you could offer a very competitive rate, you really couldn't pay me enough to pull Jim into the office during his 'John' time. He may not be as moody as he used to be, but I like my head attached."
As an absolute last resort, Sherlock had turned to his brother. He loathed being in Mycroft's debt, but he could be…useful on occasion…Just apparently not this one.
Mycroft heaved a sigh.
"As much as I would like to lock your criminal mastermind friend up forever you and I both know that he'd weasel out of it somehow. Besides, he's careful enough that we have nothing to hold him on, especially since the wedding. I am not wasting precious government resources on your petty feud. Can't you just…tell John you want to get dinner or something?"
Fat bastard.
The whole affair left Sherlock with very few options about what to do. He couldn't just give up, it wasn't his style and this was far too important, but he found himself at a loss as to what exactly it was that he could do. A chime from his phone interrupted his thoughts and alerted him to a new message. Flipping the small device open, Sherlock was surprised to find the incoming note was from Jezebel, one of Jim's minions who had befriended John.
'Hey snuggle butt! :3 Heard about your recent issues from hunky muffin top! I think I have a solution for you ;)'
Sherlock scowled as he typed out a reply. What did John like about this girl, again? She insisted on coming up with obnoxious nicknames for everyone, was irritatingly happy all the time, and couldn't seem to help herself when it came to poking her nose into other people's business.
'Do not call me that. I doubt Moran would appreciate your new nickname for him, either. -SH'
'Aw, lockipop D: youre no fun! Do you want to know my plan or what?'
Sherlock was pretty sure he was going to break a tooth from how hard he was grinding his teeth together.
'I'm listening. -SH'
'What if you and the boss man did a shared custody thing? Like in a divorce work out who will get john when and go from there'
Scratch that. Forget everything he'd thought previously. Sherlock loved this girl.
JWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSH
Sherlock's opportunity to act came faster than he would have expected. John was called into the clinic early Sunday morning, the day following the text conversation with Jezebel. Jim usually spent his time in 221C if John wasn't around, but he'd chosen that day to wander into the flat for tea. Sherlock wasted little time in cornering him against the stove.
"I wish to negotiate the terms of a split custody agreement concerning your husband."
Jim stared at him for a moment, clearly trying to catch up with the conversation. It didn't take him long and he was soon leaning back against the counter, arms crossed and smirk in place.
"You're seriously suggesting a contract for dividing our time with John? You do realize we aren't his parents, right?"
And wasn't that a disturbing thought. Sherlock scowled at the other man who was clearly not taking the situation seriously.
"If current patterns hold, there will be problems that develop."
"Problems for you. What, exactly, is my motivation for going along with this plan? Why shouldn't I just monopolize John's time and completely shut you out? I could do it, you know. It wouldn't even be that hard."
Sherlock's fists clenched at his side and he forced himself to stay calm. Emotions, positive or negative, would only complicate the situation. Still, he had an ace up his sleeve.
"I think you know."
Jim gave his a sideways look before sighing.
"Yes, you are way too good at being irritating. I can only imagine the impact you could have on John and my sex life if given the proper motivation…and you are much too important to him for me to contemplate removing you. Very well, let's get this over with."
Gleeful to find that his plan was actually working, Sherlock flounced into the living room. Both geniuses settled around the coffee table, Jim on the couch and Sherlock in a chair. In order to make this work, there were a lot of variables that would need considering. Jim gazed at Sherlock imperiously over his cup of tea.
"You realize, of course, that John can know nothing about this."
"It would likely not end well, no."
"Good, then we're in agreement about one point, at least."
In the hours that followed, it became blindingly clear that it would be their only point of agreement. The two argued about who would get which days, a tricky business since John's shifts at the clinic were unpredictable at best. That was not even considering the fact that there were an odd number of days in a week, what exactly constituted a 'day', the punishment for being late, and a thousand other details.
It was finally decided that Sherlock would get Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays while Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays would belong to Jim. They would alternate Fridays. If one or the other wished to have more days in any particular week, there was the option of buying or trading for one of the other's days. The form of payment and the amount would be determined at the prerogative of that particular's day's holder.
Originally, a day had been interpreted to start at 12:01 AM and end at the following midnight, but the issue with that arose from John's sleeping arrangements. It was highly impractical to expect either Jim or John to remove themselves from their bed based on the day. (To Jim, at least. Sherlock thought it was completely reasonable.) The issue was finally settled when they thought about what the blonde soldier would do to them should they interrupt his sleep schedule.
A day began when John got out of bed, whatever time he chose that to be, and ended whenever he returned to sleep. Since some of Sherlock's cases kept him up all night, it was further determined that, if John did not sleep, the new day would start at 8 AM. Which brought them around the John's availability to go on cases.
Sherlock insisted that John be able to go on every case, something Jim was not overly opposed to given that John enjoyed them and it would be hard to explain why he could participate in some and not others. Still, he wasn't willing to allow his whole life to be sidetracked by Sherlock's cases. (After all, he had no doubts that Sherlock would start taking up more and more of them just to get John all to himself.) So they had to come up with another solution.
John would have the option of going on every case. He would be fully informed and then given the choice as to whether to participate or not. If John chose to participate, he was welcome to, no matter the day. All time spent on cases, however, had to be paid back in full to Jim if they occurred on his appointed day. An interest fee of 15% would also be applied to time stolen ("Borrowed, Jim."). Furthermore, notifications to John about a new case would have to wait until the end of any ongoing date and/or coitus unless the case was urgently pressing. (Which had prompted an entire hour long debate about the definition of 'urgent', of course.)
By the time they had all of the details fleshed out, the morning had progressed into late afternoon. Both geniuses blinked in surprise. Sounds of tea making from the kitchen alerted them to John's presence and they exchanged panicked looks. If John had heard them planning, they were both in deep water. Cautiously, the two men rose and headed towards the other room.
John was whistling as he bustled around the small kitchen, making tea with long-practiced motions. He didn't even blink at the jar of pickled tongues in the cabinet with the tea or at the severed foot in the fridge when he went to grab the milk. His best friend and his husband both watched him from the doorway in silence. He looked pretty happy for someone in a blinding rage, but they didn't let that fool them. They each knew that when John was angriest he masked it with a bone-chilling amount of joy. Yes…they had learned that lesson well.
They were so silent, in fact, that John nearly dropped his mug of fresh tea when he turned and found them filling the doorway. The steaming liquid slopped over the edge of the mug but, thankfully, didn't catch the man himself. He cursed softly and grabbed a paper towel. Sherlock might have no interest in keeping their kitchen habitable, but that didn't mean John wouldn't do his part.
"Hey, I heard you two talking in the living room. Is there a case on? Must be pretty complicated if you've gone to Jim for help."
The greeting was followed up by an interested grin, an expression that would have looked puppy-ish on another's face but merely looked attentive on John's. Another look passed between Sherlock and Jim before the detective spoke.
"You didn't hear what we were talking about?"
John's expression had a touch of confusion added.
"No. I only just got in and wanted some tea first. Why?"
Jim smiled broadly and stepped in before Sherlock could respond. He crossed the kitchen to deliver a peck to John's lips, kissing away any suspicions the man might develop.
"No reason. Sherlock just asked my opinion on an old case that had him stumped." That brought a frown to the curly-haired man's face, but he didn't dare comment. "I'm afraid I couldn't bring any new light to it."
John's grin grew and he looked between the two happily.
"Well, it's good to see you two starting to get along again, though I'm surprised there's anything that could stump the both of you together."
Sherlock grinned despite himself. The contract would go into effect in the morning and John would be his for the day. He wasn't going to lose his best friend after all.