Chapter Text
Four months after their return from the States John decided he had had enough. He left 221B and went directly to visit his oldest brother-in-law. It was time to have a long chat about Sherlock’s eating habits.
Since they had come back no matter how much effort he poured into cooking for them, his partner wouldn’t take more than a couple of bites. Even if the brunette tried to be kind about it, and made the visible effort to take more than he usually would, he never finished any of the dishes, and it was even worst when he prepared any kind of meat. The whole thing worried and frustrated Watson endlessly and he was putting an end to it. From the moment Sherlock went back his old habits the former soldier had been replaying in his mind the talk he overhead between his lover and Hannibal and no matter the cost he would find out which was their preference.
He rang the bell of the well built house where Lecter and Graham lived and waited. He was half-nervous considering that the younger Holmes had told him before that the psychiatrist didn’t share his secrets but, he trusted the other man would make an exception for his brother’s health.
Hannibal answered the door already dressed up, and if he was surprised to see the former soldier so early in the morning, he didn’t show it.
“So nice to see you, John! Please come in.” He said amiably inviting the man in.
They moved silently to the kitchen since the psychiatrist didn’t want to risk waking William up. Even if the young profiler was resting better he still had a very light sleep.
The other doctor knew about it, of course. The brunette and John had been bonding lately, he even invited the former FBI special agent to join Mycroft’s mate and himself when they went out to have some beers and generally vent about their lovers, share their troubles or have an understanding audience for their stories and work-related frustrations.
The Holmes knew all about it thanks to their middle brother’s well placed surveillance on the men. It made them feel delighted that their mates could get along so well.
“I was about to make breakfast, would you like some tea?” Hannibal offered softly and began to gather the ingredients, giving the other man the chance to gather his courage to ask what had been plaguing him.
The former soldier studied Lecter for a little bit. John had been thinking how to pose the question that troubled him from the moment he had taken the resolve to do it disregarding his lover’s warning but now all the options sounded somewhat rude and he hated that. But, the doctor rather ask forgiveness than let Sherlock starve himself any longer now that Watson knew that the detective could not only eat healthily but enjoy it.
“Hannibal, can I ask you something?” He said at least.
The psychiatrist smiled to himself before putting on a neutral face and turning around to his brother’s well chosen mate.
“Of course, John” The blond said in a friendly tone. He could tell how hard the former soldier was trying to come up with a polite phrasing and that made the psychiatrist remember why he liked the man so much.
“I know you don’t like to share your cooking secrets but… since we came back to London I can barely seem to be able to make Sherlock eat, so I want to know what is it that makes your dishes so good for him?”
Lecter twisted his head and studied the doctor. He knew that things between his brother and his partner were getting better but they weren’t quite good, yet. But, he didn’t like the fact that his little brother wasn’t eating healthily. The concern the runt's mate was showing for him made Hannibal’s heart grow fonder of the other man . Maybe there was a way to compromise.
“I only use organic products and the meat comes from a very little place that caters for a very narrow number of clients. I could put you in contact with them, if you wanted.” He was sure that Mycroft could arrange for some deliveries to be made to John’s and Sherlock’s flat. If not, he could certainly hunt for them for a while.
John knew that organic food was expensive, but he could simply try to work a couple more hours at the clinic and talk Sherlock into taking a few cases where they would be paid. At least he hoped he could. The brunette always rejected boring cases even if they could bring them a fortune in fees and rewards. But, meat from an exclusive place… he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to cover such expenses on his own or even with his lover’s paying for half the shopping. Hannibal and Mycroft had both well paid jobs but he still struggled to keep his at the clinic since he was always running away to help his partner. Some days he suspected that the only reason for him not been fired was because of his brother-in-law’s influence. And even if Sherlock had more than once given him his credit card to buy whatever they needed he wasn’t sure if it was right for him to abuse such confidence making a big purchase that he would never be able to cover on his own, at least partially. Maybe there was a bit of pride in that, he could admit that to himself.
“Doctor Watson, I’m pretty sure that my brother wouldn’t object to you buying food he actually enjoys by using his money” The dark, rich voice took him out of his reverie.
John blushed lightly at the other’s words. He shouldn’t be surprised at Lecter’s ability to read his thoughts; he was a Holmes after all –even if he didn’t go by the surname-.
“Do they have a website or any way to know what they offer?” He asked trying to force down his discomfort.
“Of course not. They are old school. You tell them what you want and they send it to you charging the prize to your card.” Hannibal explained quietly while going back to cooking but still paying attention to the blond.
John nodded. He would talk about it with Sherlock and then, if the brunette agreed the former soldier would ask the psychiatrist the phone number and they would place a small order. With that issue sorted out, there was only one more thing to deal with, and Watson hoped it would go as well as the first part had gone. The blond doctor braced himself and decided to jump.
“There is something else I need to ask you” He said seriously.
“Go ahead” Hannibal answered still busy.
“What’s Sherlock preference?” That question had been eating him inside and his lover had absolutely refused to answer it whenever he had tried to bring up the subject and even when he asked directly.
The doctor was certainly daring, the psychiatrist conceded. Lecter had hoped that the green eyed man would be satisfied with the information he had already been given, and arrive to the conclusion that high quality ingredients were what his brother favored, at least for a time. Once more, Hannibal turned around after making sure that none of his preparations would get spoilt or overcooked.
“Let me finish breakfast preparations and we can talk about it while we eat.” He proposed knowing that John was too polite not to agree and it would give him time to consider if the former soldier should be entrusted with his family secret. Hannibal had to decide if he was ready to risk giving him the information that could possibly doom his relationship with Sherlock and his life or refuse to answer making John begin to wonder what could justify such secrecy and become even more determined to find the truth. He didn’t really like any of the choices.
They sat down in the kitchen table. Watson was growing more and more impatient, but he tried to control his curiosity and the nagging suspicion that was about to hear something he wouldn’t like. But the blond doctor had grown used to that.
“The first thing you need to know, John, is that my family preference must remain a secret no matter the cost” Hannibal began to say in a dark, calm manner.
The blond doctor didn’t seem daunted in the least, he just nodded seriously. It was obvious that he had come to the conclusion it would be something that had to be kept very quiet about and seemed completely right with that part, at least. Lecter hoped that his youngest brother was right about his mate’s resilience, for all of their sakes.
“We only eat meat that doesn’t come from animals at all” He said finally in a quiet voice, watching closely the man’s reaction.
Hannibal saw John’s confusion at what he had been said, but noticed that the man never once even considered that he was cracking a joke. He could tell when Watson began to make sense of what had heard: the quickly faded horror that graced his face when he realized what the psychiatrist had meant and then Lecter saw determination. What John had resolved remained to be known.
The former soldier was shocked for a second, when he realized what the blond was saying. His lover, the whole Holmes family -apparently- eats humans. Cannibals, his mind provided. Then he suddenly became aware that he had done it too, back at the United States, and later in Mycroft’s and Hannibal’s house every time he and Sherlock went to visit, which, admittedly, wasn’t all that often. And he had been doing it right to the moment when the psychiatrist had told him!
John stopped all motion and just observed his host. He knew that most people would puck or do something even more dramatic. He suspected that they would try to run away and contact the police. Most people hadn’t seen or done half the things he had in his life. It wasn’t just the war that sent him home hurt and battered; the last straw to almost break him. Even before that, he had been more than just an army doctor. He had taken part on some covert and black operations with all they entangled back at the beginning of his career. He had walked out of it less than four years after a particularly horrible mission, asking not to be contacted ever again. Watson suspected that Mycroft knew all about it and sometimes wondered why he had never breathed a word. John sometimes wondered if maybe his partner also knew or even suspected it. Still, he knew it would be uncharacteristic of the younger Holmes not to say anything, but from time to time the brunette did show some restrain.
The doctor finally closed his eyes for a second and tried to decide how he felt about what he had just been told. When he unconsciously took another bite of the deliciously made food, he had his answer.
“Is he partial to anything?” John asked at least looking at his brother-in-law directly to the eyes so the other man would be sure that he was deadly serious in his question. Deep down the former soldier knew he had made up his mind but he still had a lot of things to think about, there were several possibilities that he had to consider.