When Sherlock heard the door close behind the two he finally turned on his heel with an exasperated sigh, left alone with the memories of the mess he had made of his life. Oh he could never forgive himself for this, he had been unfaithful, he had fallen right into Victor's trap! Sherlock had known when John arrived that there was something amiss; he should've known...he should've guessed. And so Sherlock stooped over and recollected his dressing gown, pulling the cold fabric over his shoulders and searching the ground for his wedding ring, finding it lying under the desk where he had left it. Sherlock took the golden thing in his hand and stared at it, turning it over in his hands disappointedly. He had failed it, that little band of gold; he had betrayed his marriage, his wife, and himself. All because of the temptations that man presented him with, all because of the love he harbored for John Watson, it was a secret he couldn't bear to keep and yet It was a secret he must hide nonetheless, Molly would never understand, she would never permit such actions! Now that the memories had returned, now that the idea of unfaithfulness had resurfaced, well there was no pushing it back now! It had been easy enough to forget John when he was on the other side of a massive change in Sherlock's life, and now, now there was that idea growing in Sherlock's mind, the idea that he could get away with it, that he could live and he could appreciate the love another man could offered him without any sort of consequences... well it was impossible to ignore! It was impossible to drown something twice, it was impossible to forget something that was trying so hard to make itself known.

Victor POV: It was a very awkward walk back down the stairs, for the image of Sherlock with his lips on that man was still ever present in Victor's mind as he tried to make this descent as sneaky as he could manage. John was walking rather slowly, almost as though he was trying to make it so he could stay longer, almost like he was hoping Sherlock would call and recollect him if he waited five minutes on the landing of the staircase.

"Come on then." Victor growled, looking about the entrance hall to see that it was abandoned before ushering John rather hastily down the stairs and to the door.
"Do you have a carriage?" Victor wondered when he got John to the door, pulling it open and letting in the freezing air.
"No, no I walked here." John mumbled, looking rather regretful as he stepped out onto the front stoop. Victor sighed heavily, his hand still on the door and a smile on his face.
"Well then, I suggest you bundle up. Thank you Mr. Watson, I'm sure he appreciates it." Victor assured with a smile, and with that he swung the door closed, keeping John Watson and whatever he was going to say trapped outside in the cold. Victor could only smile in satisfaction, guessing that John had disappeared before he finally turned around and headed towards the stairs.
"Mr. Watson then? Hm. I knew you were smuggling someone in, but I hardly would've guessed that you would be as bold as to invite that man into my house." said a deep voice from the hallway, to which Victor's heart completely stopped. He turned to see Mycroft standing concealed in the shadows near the dining room door, leaning on his walking stick and staring rather carelessly at Victor with his soulless black eyes.
"Mycroft...Mycroft I'm sorry I can...this is all my fault, completely all my fault I set it up, I thought..." Victor assured in a breath, holding his hands up defensively, to which Mycroft just laughed.
"Victor I do not blame you for my brother's indecencies. Love is an ever so tempting thing; I have also noticed how...down, he had become." Mycroft admitted with a sigh.
"I'm sure you understand, my Lord, the fragility of this situation?" Victor wondered nervously.
"My lips are sealed, Victor, as long as I think it necessary to keep his secrets to myself. My brother thinks he can get away with so much in his house, he assumes that everything goes right over my head as long as I have cakes and wine to amuse me." Mycroft muttered, tapping his fingers against his walking stick thoughtfully.
"He's not as discreet as he intends to be, my Lord." Victor agreed with something of a nervous smile. Mycroft nodded, humming in agreement and lost in thought.
"Neither are you, Victor. I assume your actions are for his own good, however, and therefore I will turn a blind eye as long as my own blindness benefits me and my family. I do advise the both of you, however, to be a little bit more cautious in the future. The servants who wander these halls at night are very willing to share the secrets that do not affect them." Mycroft warned thoughtfully. Victor nodded nervously, feeling like this conversation was slowly coming to an end and yet he didn't know when he was allowed to leave. Mycroft was a very confusing man, and surely he acted as such for a reason, he liked to make other people confused, he liked to keep them in the dark.
"Thank you for your understanding my Lord." Victor muttered, bowing his head in respect and finally rushing up the staircase without any formal pardon. Surely Mycroft would understand that he had to wait on Sherlock as he always did, for the platters set for breakfast were probably already getting cold. When Victor arrived at Sherlock's bedroom once more he found that Sherlock was seated on his bed in his dressing gown, turning his wedding ring over in his fingers for a moment before sliding it on and looking at Victor harshly.
"How dare you put me in a position like that!" Sherlock roared, getting to his feet as soon as Victor closed the door and storming over to his servant, towering over him despite the single inch that Victor had over him.
"My Lord, it was only for your best interest." Victor defended, helpless to do anything but cower in the man's shadow.
"My best interest...Victor I disgraced my wife, I broke my promises, I have ruined my marriage! I told you flat out that I did not intend on straying from the path that had been laid before me and yet you hand deliver the one man who would be sure to tempt me away from morality!" Sherlock roared.
"Sherlock you were on edge, I noticed that you were upset, I know that you appreciate Ms. Hooper's presence and yet she's not enough to keep you happy, I have never seen you smile more than when you were falling in love with him. I only want you to be happy!" Victor defended in a weak voice, trying to play the innocent card here. Sherlock may hate him for what he did, however he could never hate someone who was looking out for him.
"Mrs. Holmes." Sherlock growled. "She's not Ms. Hooper anymore, despite your constant efforts to forget, I am a married man, I am bound by my promises and I did not intend to break them!"
"My Lord do you regret last night? Do you wish he had never arrived?" Victor growled, stepping up to Sherlock and finally staring him down, challenging him to deny the beauty that last night had held for him. Victor had jumped through hoops to get that man here, a man he didn't even like, all so that Sherlock could once more have the satisfaction of love. And this is what he got in return, no thanks, no praise, no appreciation! Victor was treated as though this were all some great tragedy, as if Sherlock couldn't have just said no!
"That is beside the point!" Sherlock growled, pushing Victor away and turning his back to the window.
"You love him, my Lord, and I know how love can eat away at your soul if it is not satisfied." Victor insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head and keeping his gaze on the carpet, keeping his back to Victor, as if he couldn't stand to see his face.
"Yes Victor, I understand. I love him, I know. And it hurts, I know. And yet now that he has been returned to me I cannot turn away again, I cannot forget! You have put me on a downward spiral, you gave me a taste of my drug after I had beaten the addiction and now, now I'm going to need more. You had good intentions Victor, I understand that, and yet now we are both trapped in a spiral of sins. I can't let him leave me, not again, this is going to happen again, this is going to have to happen a hundred more times, this is going to have to happen until the day I die, Victor I cannot get him out of my head now that he has taken up permanent residency in my heart!" Sherlock exclaimed, worming the ring off of his finger once more, evidently having given up all fallacies of commitment.
"I am sorry my Lord, truly sorry." Victor muttered, however he wasn't upset, he really wasn't. He didn't know why Sherlock was so dedicated to a woman they both knew he felt nothing for, just because she wore a ring as well didn't make her into some sort of moral necessity, she was a friend, nothing more, a friend playing a wife in public. Sherlock was allowed to love; he was allowed to enjoy himself. Surely she would understand?
"I'm going to have to break her heart; someday it will have to shatter. She'll find out eventually, she'll have to guess, I'm horrible at keeping secrets." Sherlock whispered.
"This will be a joint secret then; we will keep it hidden between ourselves. But now it has been made very clear, you need him, my Lord, just as much as he needs you." Victor insisted. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head in disappointment and yet he knew it to be true. Instead of responding he just looked down at his ring in disappointment, knowing that it was staring up at him as well, somehow.
"Do you think she knows?" Sherlock wondered finally. Victor stood obediently next to the door, keeping his posture and his stance, watching the back of Sherlock's head curiously.
"How could she?" Victor wondered quietly.
"I don't know, wife telekinesis, I feel like all women have a built in monitor for these sorts of things...waking up in a cold sweat and what not. Oh what a husband I have become!" Sherlock moaned, forcing the ring back into his finger and sitting down heavily on the bed.
"My Lord there is no need to worry, secrets can live themselves out, someday...someday maybe this will turn into one big joke." Victor suggested with a little shrug.
"I already told you Victor, it's not going to end it here. I know enough about myself to know that I cannot contain these feelings, not once they've sparked again in my heart. They're burning me, from the inside, and I'm afraid that Molly is going to someday notice the smoke." Sherlock admitted. Victor nodded, clearing his throat nervously, not quite sure how to respond. It was true, of course, he could see it now. There was to be an eternity of sneaking around, catering to Sherlock's secrets, building on them, growing them. He would fall more and more in love with John with ever secret meeting, a simple kiss, a simple night, words and touches and kisses exchanged before they had to part ways. The rich man, with so much at stake, and the shoe shiner who loved him for who he was, it was a love story that basically wrote itself, and its own tragic ending. This was all going to be Sherlock's downfall, Victor could sense it now. John Watson was going to single handedly ruin his life.

            Sherlock POV: Molly returned to a warm welcome, of course. She looked no different, maybe a bit tanner, maybe a bit colder. She seemed ever so happy to return to the Holmes manor, for she insisted that her friends were all psychopaths, going swimming in the cold ocean when it was well under sixty degrees outside. Sherlock treated her as he always had, he let her get her things unpacked, stuffing all of her dresses into her wardrobe and setting her multiple hats back on the rack on which they usually hung, and yet there was something off about the atmosphere, something was eating him away. Sherlock couldn't just tell her though, it would break him to tell her, for her heart would shatter and he would be wholly responsible. Maybe he would admit to such sins at a later time, when it was possibly related to whatever they were talking about. How could he just bring it up out of the blue, while she was smiling, while she was twirling with silk scarves around her neck and gushing about how good it was to be home?
"And what did you do Sherlock; did you enjoy yourself while I was gone?" Molly wondered finally, looking on her husband out of the corner of her eye as she checked her reflection in the large mirror. Sherlock nodded forcefully, thinking immediately to all that mirror had displayed while she was gone, and yet he could only nod.
"Oh well, it wasn't the same of course, but I managed. It was quiet." Sherlock admitted.
"Quiet in a dreadful way I can only hope? I bet you all were just out of your mind with boredom, crying into your little cups of tea in despair, oh when will Molly be back, oh we're just lost without her!" Molly exclaimed sarcastically, running and jumping onto the bed, right next to where Sherlock sat.
"How did you guess Molly, that was what we all were saying! Especially Mycroft, he just didn't know how to cope with the silence." Sherlock agreed sarcastically. Molly just laughed, lying across the bed with her heeled feet swinging off of the edge. Sherlock sighed heavily, feeling as though the guilt was eating him alive and yet he had to bear it, he had to take the pain because he knew that whatever pain he felt now would only be transferred to Molly should he admit his sins. He had to be strong.
"I'm not sure Mycroft likes me." Molly admitted, to which Sherlock just shrugged in agreement.
"Marriage was his idea in the first place, maybe he didn't quite grasp that it wouldn't be all that much of a punishment in the end." Sherlock decided finally. Molly finally sat up on her elbows, staring at the back of Sherlock's head so that he had to turn to notice her watching him.
"What made him punish you with marriage in the first place? And why did he think that it would torture you so?" Molly wondered finally. Sherlock just laughed, thinking to that fateful night in the theater, remembering back to the night when he had felt so invincible...
"Oh it's a rather funny story actually. He knows I enjoy my freedom, and he also knew that every woman in the country was seeking my hand, none of them I had ever desired to be with. Thankfully I picked the right one, however that's not the point. It was punishment for my childish behavior; you see I had brought Mr. Watson to an opera..."
"Mr. Watson?" Molly asked with a little laugh. "He doesn't seem like opera material." Sherlock just sighed, nodding his head in agreement before trying to force himself to continue. It was rather ironic actually, John's presence in his life was what had gotten him into this marriage in the first place, and now it was his reappearance that was going to destroy it.
"Well he's not, evidently. He talked through the whole thing, making jokes, making me laugh hysterically. Of course my brother didn't like that, so in the middle of the production he sat himself in between us so that we'd behave. We in turn left him at the theater, we drove the carriage back home and I can only assume he walked back, for I saw him at breakfast. It was rather hysterical, and yet at breakfast he broke the news." Sherlock admitted heavily.
"And it broke your heart." Molly guessed. Sherlock sighed heavily, smiling sadly at her but nodding all the same.
"I didn't intend on being married, for I certainly had never fallen in love." Sherlock admitted with a careful shrug.
"Never fallen in love? Is that even possible?" Molly wondered curiously, letting her head bend at an intuitive angle that looked almost painful. Sherlock just shook his head, for no of course it wasn't possible, even his heart of stone had melted for a man that he shouldn't even know.
"Well I suppose maybe it is." Sherlock shrugged.
"You're still not in love then, are you?" Molly guessed sadly, her shaking feet pausing for a moment as they hung of the bed in a strange stillness. Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on the carpet, for he didn't want to see the sadness in her eyes.
"Molly, my heart works differently than you might expect. I actually..."
"Ah Molly, it is so good to see you!" exclaimed a new voice, the door flying open to announce Victor's untimely arrival. Sherlock groaned, falling back onto his pillows as Molly jumped to her feet to welcome the servant. It was rather odd to see the two of them hug, for they had hated each other at first, however Sherlock just looked away. Victor was so fake. He was literally responsible for setting up Sherlock's love affair and now he was hugging Sherlock's wife as though they were best friends, oh it was disgusting to see him talk with her, as if he saw himself worthy to even look at her without bowing down and kissing her feet. She was just as dignified as Sherlock was, maybe even more, and yet Victor, a mere servant, thought he was big enough to orchestrate her downfall behind her back.
"Victor it's great to see you as well, I'm sure you kept him in line while I was gone?" Molly wondered. Victor just laughed, looking over at Sherlock with a bit of a guilty grin, walking himself over to the closets and trying to get everything neat and orderly, at least as much as he could manage with such a mess.
"Well I certainly did my best." Victor assured with a smile. Molly just laughed, looking over at Sherlock with such a trustworthy glare, one that just shone of dedication. She was looking at him as though the very idea of his getting in trouble was laughable, as though she were married to a man that took their marriage just as seriously as she did.
"Your best is all I ask for Victor darling." Molly assured, walking back over to the bed and flopping down once more. "Now Sherlock was just telling me that he's never fallen in love, and I am quite curious to hear what type of proof he has of that."
"Oh Sherlock has fallen in love, of that I'm quite sure." Victor laughed, walking over to the desk chair and seating himself in a very poised position, sitting in the little wooden chair as though it was a throne.
"Well of course he was, I'm sure he just never noticed. Poor dear probably diagnoses his heartache as some sort of flu." Molly decided with a smile.
"Oh I don't know what would be more annoying, Sherlock with the flu or Sherlock in love." Victor murmured with a laugh.
"Oh well you've definitely seen me through one of them." Sherlock growled, glaring at Victor with a newfound hatred, oh how he detested that smile, for there was no legitimate joy in it.
"It was the flu of course." Victor assured. "He was so weak, clammy, even paler than he is today." Molly laughed, and Sherlock of course had to put on a smile as well; however he and Victor both knew that Sherlock had never had the flu. Victor had seen him through heartache, not sickness, Sherlock hardly ever fell ill and he hardly ever fell in love.
"Oh well it's good to see that it never scarred our Sherlock permanently. It would be a shame for such a plague to destroy beauty." Molly assured.
"Ah, there's something he'll agree with you on." Victor agreed with a little chuckle. Sherlock sighed heavily, looking to where Molly was now laying on her stomach, flopping her heels through the air like some sort of gossiping teenage girl.
"You both talk of me as if I'm not even in the room." Sherlock pointed out with a bit of a pouty frown.
"Sorry Sherlock, what do you have to say on this?" Molly wondered with a laugh, looking on him and poking him rather teasingly in the side. Sherlock winced, glaring at her to which she just held up her hands in defense, evidently forgetting that she wasn't allowed to invade on Sherlock's bubble of personal space.
"Absolutely nothing." Sherlock admitted finally, to which Molly just huffed triumphantly.
"That's exactly what I expected." She agreed. And so that was that.