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raina-at · 1 year

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Family

John slowly opens his eyes. The room is quiet. The lights are dim, and the television over his bed is showing cartoons on mute. The blanket is uncomfortable and it smells of antiseptics and human misery.

He hates hospitals. Well, on this side of the bed at least.

There’s something heavy and warm lying on one half of his body. He looks down and sees Rosie, fast asleep, her head on John’s shoulder. Apparently, she took a bit of a break from colouring on his leg cast and fell asleep.

It’s impossible to tell what time it is, but he guesses it must be rather late.

The door opens and a nurse comes in. She smiles when she sees him awake. He nods at Rosie and motions her to be quiet and she nods.

“Everything all right?” the nurse asks quietly.

John nods. “So far so good.”

“With a bit of luck, you'll be out of here by the end of the week,” she says, adjusting his pillow. “Your husband should be back in a second, he just stepped out to take a phone call.” She smiles at Rosie’s sleeping form. “Couldn’t get either of them to leave. You have a lovely family.”

“Thank you,” John says, returning her smile, not bothering to correct her about the assumption she made about Sherlock. It’s easier this way, no arguments about visiting hours. Also, he’s used to it. So many people think they’re lovers, and he’s long since stopped even trying to explain that they’re not, because honestly, it doesn’t make any difference.

“Looks like the little one might be out for the night. I’ll bring in a cot for her later, we can settle you both more comfortably.”

“Thank you,” John repeats.

The door opens again, and Sherlock walks in.

“Hey,” John greets him with a weak smile.

Sherlock looks tired, but he returns John’s smile. “Hey yourself.”

The nurse excuses herself, muttering about seeing to the cot.

Sherlock sits down next to John’s bed and scrutinises him with narrowed eyes and what John calls his ‘deduction face’. “You still feel like shit, don’t you?”

“I was hit by a car not 48 hours ago, what do you think?” John asks, but he keeps his tone gentle because Sherlock looks exhausted and worried. “It’s not that bad, though. Could have been worse.”

“Three broken ribs, a broken leg and a light concussion, that’s not trivial, John.”

John holds out his hand and Sherlock takes it, clasps John’s fingers between both of his hands, moving closer to the bed.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” John says, gently, quietly, careful not to wake Rosie.

“Hardly your fault,” Sherlock mutters, looking down at their joined hands with a murderous expression. “That stupid driver. He’s lucky you weren’t hurt any worse, or I would have murdered him with my bare hands. Or maybe I would have just broken all his bones but let him live a life of misery and-”

“Calm down, love, you’re going to wake the Gremlin,” John soothes, squeezing Sherlock’s hand tightly.

Sherlock grumbles something inaudible, but he subsides with the threats.

Silence falls, and John watches Sherlock watch him. There’s obviously something on Sherlock’s mind, but John knows from experience that it’s better to let Sherlock work things out in his own time.

“They didn’t let me see you,” Sherlock finally says, quietly. His eyes drop to John’s hand still entwined with his. “I had to tell them we’re married, otherwise they would’ve made me leave.”

“But you’re next of kin on all of my records,” John answers, frowning in confusion.

“There was a problem with the Internet, they couldn’t access your records.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been stressful,” John says, squeezing Sherlock’s hand. “I remember when they wouldn’t let me see you after you were shot.” He shudders a bit at the memory. “It was horrible. I didn’t know whether you were dead or alive for hours. I had to wait for Mycroft before they’d tell me anything.”

Sherlock looks down at their joined hands again, obviously lost in thought. “I was so scared,” he mutters, almost inaudibly.

“You held it together like a hero for Rosie, though,” John says with a fond smile, remembering Sherlock and Rosie just before he was wheeled into surgery, Rosie holding on to Sherlock’s hand in a death grip, Sherlock white as a sheet but outwardly composed, explaining calmly to Rosie that John would be just fine.

“I was sick in the bathroom when Mrs Hudson came to take her home,” Sherlock mutters, still addressing their entwined hands.

John smiles fondly. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“John-” Sherlock looks up from their joined hands. “This is going to sound incredibly stupid-”

“We should get married,” John says, interrupting Sherlock.

Sherlock looks gobsmacked, and John congratulates himself silently for managing to surprise Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock blinks a few times in the way he has when his mind palace crashes, so John decides to take over the talking out loud part of the conversation. “I’ve thought about it before, but it never seemed urgent. But you know what I thought yesterday, when I saw you standing there? If anything happens to me, they’ll send Rosie to live with my sister, and we can’t let that happen.”

“But-” Sherlock blinks again. “But we’re not-”

“Sleeping together?”

Sherlock nods and actually blushes a bit. “I don’t-”

“You don’t want that, and I understand. I don’t, either. I know you don’t like sex, and I’m not interested in a sexual relationship with you,” John says gently. “But you’re everything else to me. You’re my friend, my confidante, my rock, my partner, my co-parent. My family. We live together, we work together, we’re raising a child together. You know how often I get asked if I have a partner? I never hesitate to say yes because that’s what you are.”

“You said romantic entanglements would complete me,” Sherlock says, his voice hoarse with emotions, his eyes wide and uncertain.

“That was six years ago, and I’ve learned a lot since then. You taught me a lot. Love is complicated, I get that now. And I love you. Not conventionally, but since when do we do anything the conventional way?”

Sherlock smiles slightly, but says nothing, so John continues, “I was always looking for someone who’d stick with me, someone to spend my life with. Well, you’re it for me, Sherlock, and if that’s a problem for you, you’d better tell me right now, because otherwise, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Not a problem,” Sherlock says, and there’s an expression on his face John has never seen before. Soft and gentle and hopeful. “You’re it for me as well.” He pauses. “And - I love you too. In case that was in any way unclear.”

John smiles, overcome with relief. “So that’s a yes, then? To the whole marriage, adopt the Gremlin, stay with me forever thing?”

“Yes,” Sherlock says, brushing a soft kiss over their joined hands. “That’s a yes.”

I think I never wrote Ace Sherlock/heterosexual John before, but there's a first time for everything. Fluff of the tooth-rotting variety here, sorry for the sappiness two days in a row.

Thanks for keeping us going with the challenges, @calaisreno!

Tagging a few people again: @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @jrow @meetinginsamarra @catlock-holmes @khorazir @lisbeth-kk @thetimemoves @topsyturvy-turtely @fluffbyday-smutbynight @7-percent @the-reading-lemon and anyone else who wants to play!

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #my fic #johnlock fic #may prompts #family #tooth rotting fluff #ace Sherlock #heterosexual John #queerplatonic relationship #parentlock #slight John whump

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ncwhereman · 9 months

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spanish holiday: a collection

Let me ask you about something else that was in the Hunter Davies book. At one point you and Brian went off to Spain. Yes. Did you… you must have... We didn’t have an affair. You never had an affair with Brian? No, not an affair. Yoko: [laughs] What were the pressures from Brian? Cyn was having a baby and the holiday was planned, but I wasn’t going to break the holiday for a baby and that’s what a bastard I was. And I just went on holiday. I watched Brian picking up the boys. I like playing a bit faggy, all that. Yoko: [laughs] It was enjoyable, but there were big rumours in Liverpool, it was terrible. Very embarrassing. Rumors about you and Brian? Oh, fuck knows—yes, yes. I was pretty close to Brian because if somebody's going to manage me, I want to know them inside out. And there was a period when he told me he was a fag and all that. I introduced him to pills, which gives me a guilt association for his death. I mean they go that way anyway. And to make him talk—to find out what he’s like. And I remember him saying, “Don’t ever throw it back in me face, that I’m a fag.” Which | didn’t. But his mother’s still hiding that. But what I hate is the way they’re all attacking Allen. And Brian was a nice guy, but he knew what he was doing, he robbed us. He fucking took all the money and looked after himself and his family, and all that. And it’s just a myth. I hate the way that Allen is attacked and Brian is made like an angel, just cause he’s dead. He wasn't, he was just a guy. Allen will go berserk when he hears all this.

John Lennon, Jann S. Wenner, Lennon Remembers, 1970

Bob had insinuated that me and Brian had had an affair in Spain. And I must have been frightened of the fag in me to get so angry.

John Lennon, 1972, Peter McCabe and Robert D Schonfeld, John Lennon—For The Record, 1984

Brian was in love with me. It's irrelevant. I mean, it's interesting and it will make a nice Hollywood Babylon someday about Brian Epstein’s sex life, but it's irrelevant, absolutely irrelevant.

John Lennon, Playboy, 1980

I was on holiday with Brian Epstein in Spain, where the rumours went around that he and I were having a love affair. Well, it was almost a love affair, but not quite. It was never consummated. But it was a pretty intense relationship. It was my first experience with a homosexual that I was conscious was homosexual. He had admitted it to me. We had this holiday together because Cyn was pregnant, and I went to Spain and there were lots of funny stories. We used to sit in a cafe in Torremolinos looking at all the boys and I’d say, ‘Do you like that one, do you like this one?’ I was rather enjoying the experience, thinking like a writer all the time: I am experiencing this, you know. And while he was out on the tiles one night, or lying asleep with a hangover one afternoon, I remember playing him the song Bad To Me. That was a commissioned song, done for Billy J Kramer, who was another of Brian’s singers.

John Lennon, Rolling Stone, 1980

Very quickly John became jumpy and on edge. He was beginning to feel trapped and it was time for him to escape but before he left he told me that Brian had asked him to go on holiday to Spain with him and he wanted to know if I objected. I must admit the request hit me like a bolt out of the blue and I really didn’t take it in properly at first but when it sank in I suppressed my true feelings and acquiesced. I was well aware that John deserved a holiday. He had just completed a tour and recording sessions. In actual fact he had never really had a holiday as such. They had all been working very hard and under great pressure since the success of Please Please Me, so I concealed my hurt and envy and gave him my blessings. He was delighted and left me a happy man. I on the other hand was left holding the baby, and what a baby. As soon as John returned from his break in Spain, fully relaxed and raring to get going again, we went together to register our son’s birth.

Cynthia Lennon, A Twist Of Lennon, 1978

Some accounts of that time claim that Brian was in love with John, which was why he wanted to manage the Beatles. I don't believe this for a second. They had a good relationship, but Brian cared for all the boys and he wanted success for the group because he thought they had something unique. Claims have been made since that Brian and John had a gay relationship. Nothing could be further from the truth. John was a hundred per cent heterosexual and, like most lads at that time, horrified by the idea of homosexuality. The bond between John and Brian was one of mutual respect and friendship. They liked and admired each other. Brian could see John's intelligence and distinctive talent. John appreciated Brian's business ability and his ambition for the group. They talked for hours and planned the group's future together. They both wanted the Beatles to be the biggest thing since Elvis, and were hell bent on making it happen.

When Julian was three weeks old, Brian invited John to go to Spain with him. John asked if I'd mind and I said, truthfully, that I wouldn't. I was preoccupied with Julian and nowhere near ready to travel, but I knew how much John needed a break where he wouldn't be recognised and could really relax. I gave them my blessing and they went off together for twelve days. It was a holiday John came to regret because it sparked off a string of rumours about his relationship with Brian. He had to put up with sly digs, winks and innuendo that he was secretly gay. It infuriated him: all he'd wanted was a break with a friend, but it was turned into so much more.

Cynthia Lennon, John, 2005

Brian and John spent so much time together, scheming and dreaming about the Beatles' future, that they seemed almost inseparable. In April 1963, John went so far as to accompany Brian on a holiday in Spain, leaving Cyn behind with their newborn son. In the absence of this decidedly odd couple, tongues began wagging all over town. I visited John at Aunt Mimi's a few days after his return to England. And when he started in about how much he had enjoyed Spain, I could hardly resist taking the piss out of him. "So you had a good time with Brian, then?" I smirked. Nudge nudge, wink wink. I was somewhat taken aback when John didn't so much as crack a smile. "Oh, fuckin' hell," he groaned. "Not you as well, Pete!" "What do you mean, not me as well?" "They're all fucking going on about it." "It's O.K., John. Don't take it so serious. I'm just joking, for Christ's sake." "Actually Pete," he said softly, "Something did happen with him one night." Now that wiped the grin right off my face. Had I even dreamed there might be any truth what soever to the rumors, I would never have made light of the subject in the first place. Still— as John surely knew— I would have stood by him, and let the rest of the world handle the business of passing moral judgment, even if he had just told me he'd committed murder. And John would surely have done the same for me. Which, after all, is what true friendship is all about. "What happened," John explained, "is that Eppy just kept on and on at me. Until one night I finally just pulled me trousers down and said to him: 'Oh, for Christ's sake, Brian, just stick it up me fucking arse then.' "And he said to me, 'Actually, John, I don't do that kind of thing. That's not what I like to do.' "'Well,' I said, 'what is it you want to do, then?' "And he said, 'I'd really just like to touch you, John.' "And so I let him toss me off." And that was that. End of story. "That's all, John?" I said. "Well, so what? What's the big fucking deal, then?" "Yeah, so fucking what! The poor bastard. He's having a fucking hard enough time anyway." This was in reference to the "butch" dockers who, on several recent occasions, had rewarded Brian's advances by beating him to a bloody pulp. "So what harm did it do, then, Pete, for fuck's sake?" John asked rhetorically. "No harm at all. The poor fucking bastard, he can't help the way he is." "No need to get so worked up," I said. "You know I don't give a shit. What's a fucking wank between friends anyway?" We then moved on to other topics, and neither of us ever mentioned the incident again. (And as far as I was concerned, the real revelation that night was not that John had "had it off" with Brian, but that he had demonstrated— albeit in his own brusque way—such genuine compassion for that most hopelessly besotted of all his many admirers.) Unfortunately, certain Liverpool acquaintances (who had no way of knowing that there was a kernel of truth to their allegations) wouldn't let John hear the end of it. All in good fun, no doubt, but John was still too enamored of his macho self-image to take lightly any inference that he was anything less than 100 percent heterosexual.

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life, 1983

John told me he had had a one-night stand with Brian, on a holiday with him in Spain, when Brian had invited him out, a few days after the birth of Julian in 1963, leaving Cyn alone. I mentioned this brief holiday in the book, but not what John had alleged had taken place. Partly, I didn't really believe it, though John was daft enough to try almost anything once. John was certainly not homosexual, and this boast, or lie, would have given the wrong impression. It was also not fair on Cynthia, his then wife.

Hunter Davies, The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (updated edition, 2010)

Almost three weeks after the birth of his son—whom he had seen only a couple of times by then—he agreed to go to Spain with Brian on a private holiday, while the other three Beatles flew to the Canaries for their spring break. I don’t think John told Cynthia what he was doing—he rarely told her anything—and he certainly wouldn’t have asked her permission. When she found out, she dissolved in tears, but she was scared of John and said nothing. To say we were astonished is an understatement. Much has been made of this trip. It was sun, sand and sea—but was it also sex? John himself said he finally allowed Brian to make love to him “to get it out of the way.” Those who knew John well, who had known him for years, don’t believe it for a moment. John was aggressively heterosexual and had never given a hint that he was anything but. If it had been George, we might have believed it. George could act camp and had many homosexual friends, but John loved to say things to shock, and his sly statement was probably just another in a long line of such provocative statements. In fact, it was more in character for John to taunt Brian with promises during those long hot nights in Barcelona than to succumb. Equally, it was in Brian’s masochistic nature to enjoy being tormented, then perhaps to rush off in search of a young bullfighter. Brian adored bullfighters so much, he ended up sponsoring one. (And I think Brian would have confided in somebody if it had happened.)

Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours: My Life With The Beatles, 2014

First, he wanted to make Brian the baby’s godfather. Second, he was leaving on holiday as soon as this tour was over. He was going away with Brian—just the two of them. The other Beatles were going to the Canary Islands. This meant John wouldn’t see Cynthia for several weeks, long after she had returned home from the hospital. Cynthia lay back in the hospital bed, her head spinning. How could John go off and leave her and Julian like that, she demanded, and with Brian Epstein no less? John flared up at her. “Being selfish again, aren’t you?” he said. “I’ve been workin’ my bloody ass off on one-night stands for months now. Those people starin’ from the other side of the glass are bloody everywhere, hauntin’ me. I deserve a vacation. And anyway, Brian wants me to go, and I owe it to the poor guy. Who else does he have to go away with?” Brian and John went to Barcelona at the end of April 1963. It was a city that Brian had explored on his 1959 solo trip to Spain. He had since become a great fan of the bullfights and considered himself something of an aficionado. He took great pleasure in introducing John to the pageantry and excitement. They spent the days shopping and taking side trips. At night they toured the nightclubs. Later in the week they rented a car and drove down the coast to the glistening white town of Sitges on the Costa Brava. Each night they would sit in the candlelit cafés and watch the couples stroll by in the moonlight. Over many bottles of wine they talked candidly about Brian’s personal life. It was a great relief for Brian to finally be able to talk honestly with John. He told John that for a man who valued honesty as dearly as he did, it was a terrible burden for him to live his life a lie. “If you had a choice, Eppy,” John said, “if you could press a button and be hetero, would you do it?” Brian thought for a moment. “Strangely, no,” he said. A little later a peculiar game developed. John would point out some passing man to Brian, and Brian would explain to him what it was about the fellow that he found attractive or unattractive. “I was rather enjoying the experience,” John said, “thinking like a writer all the time: I am experiencing this.” And still later, back in their hotel suite, drunk and sleepy from the sweet Spanish wine, Brian and John undressed in silence. “It’s okay, Eppy,” John said, and lay down on his bed. Brian would have liked to have hugged him, but he was afraid. Instead, John lay there, tentative and still, and Brian fulfilled the fantasies he was so sure would bring him contentment, only to awake the next morning as hollow as before.

Peter Brown, The Love You Make, 1983 can't wait for the full fic on ao3 peter!

One story the Press certainly didn’t get at the time was that in April, in the middle of the euphoria that followed all the early success and acclaim, Brian and John went off to Spain for a holiday. So much invention and rubbish has been made of this trip by so many people since, that the truth deserves at least a brief mention. The most sensational version, of course, is that the holiday was a chance for Brian to consummate his overwhelming passion for John, which inspired him to sign the group in the first place. I’m afraid it wasn’t like that. John roared with laughter at the rumours that began afterwards. Typically, he encouraged the stories that he and Brian were gay lovers because he thought it was funny and John was one of the world’s great wind-up merchants. He told me afterwards in one of our frankest heart-to-hearts that Brian never seriously did proposition him. He had teased Brian about the young men he kept gazing at and the odd ones who had found their way to his room. Brian had joked to John about the women who hurled themselves at him. ‘If he’d asked me, I probably would have done anything he wanted. I was so much in awe of Brian then I’d have tried a night of vice-versa. But he never wanted me like that. Sure, I took the mickey a bit and pretended to lead him on. But we both knew we were joking. He wanted a pal he could have a laugh with and someone he could teach about life. I thought his bum boys were creeps and Brian knew that. Even completely out of my head, I couldn’t shag a bloke. And I certainly couldn’t lie there and let one shag me. Even a nice guy like Brian. To be honest, the thought of it turns me over.’ All the same, John was very selfish to have gone off on holiday with Brian then because it was just after Cynthia had given birth to his son Julian. John’s whole romance and marriage to Cynthia was kept a secret at the time because Brian feared the effect of publicity about one of the Beatles having a wife, let alone a family.

Alistair Taylor, With The Beatles, 2003

While Brian thought a Beatle’s image could be affected by marriage and fatherhood, his next move proved wildly indiscreet and potentially dangerous. On April 8, 1963, Cynthia gave birth to Julian, and Brian was named his godfather. Shortly afterward, Brian invited John to join him alone on a holiday in Spain. Lennon had been working hard, writing songs and touring Britain. He needed a rest, and Cynthia relished some time alone to adapt to life with a baby. John accepted and flew to Barcelona on April 28 for the twelve-day break. John made it clear to everyone that he was a woman-chaser, a hundred percent heterosexual. But it was inept of Epstein to risk the whispering that was bound to ensue from such an expedition by a manager and a solitary Beatle. It was one of the few times when Brian’s perception of public opinion faltered, for the Spanish trip fueled rumors in Liverpool of an Epstein-Lennon relationship. Paul McCartney’s theory is that “John, not being stupid, saw his opportunity to impress upon Mr. Epstein who was the boss of this group … he wanted Brian to know who he should listen to.” Lennon knew that Brian held him in awe, regarding him as a genius. On their return to Liverpool, Brian and John decided to deal with the gossip decisively. At McCartney’s twenty-first birthday party on June 18, Bob Wooler and Lennon were seen chatting together and within minutes the Beatle had pummeled the Cavern compere to the ground. “He called me a bloody queer, so I bashed his ribs in,” John later told Cynthia. Epstein, no less angry but sensing the need for repairing all wounds, physical and oral, drove Wooler to hospital for treatment of torn knuckles and for shock. Next, Epstein moved swiftly to prevent the friction from escalating. Through his solicitor friend Rex Makin he paid Wooler £200 in damages and insisted that Lennon sent him a telegram of apology. The rumors were quelled. But nothing could prevent the attack on Wooler from reaching the Daily Mirror, whose pop reporter Don Short, in a first recognition of the group’s burgeoning importance, published a back-page story headlined: “Beatle in Brawl Says: Sorry I Socked You.” Since the deaths of Epstein and Lennon, many with no access to, or observation of, both men in their lifetime have peddled the assumption that Brian and John had a sexual liaison. This is despite the lack of any evidence, despite firm declarations of John’s heterosexuality from Cynthia and many other women, and despite the statement by McCartney that he “slept in a million hotel rooms, as we all did, with John and there was never any hint that he was gay.” Brian possibly had a homosexual fascination for Lennon but it could never be reciprocated. And since Epstein was not a predator, that eliminated the likelihood of such a link. More than anyone, Epstein saw the Beatles as an indivisible unit. He would never have risked so profoundly changing his relationship with them, individually or collectively. Nothing mattered more to Brian, after his devotion to his family, than the entity of the Beatles.

Ray Coleman, The Man Who Made The Beatles, 1989

Years later, John finally came clean about what had happened: not to anyone who’d been around at the time, but to the unshockable woman with whom he shared the last decade of his life. He said that one night during the trip, Brian had cast aside shyness and scruples and finally come on to him, but that he’d replied, “If you feel like that, go out and find a hustler.” Afterward, he had deliberately fed Pete Shotton the myth of his brief surrender, so that everyone would believe his power over Brian to be absolute.

Norman Philip, John Lennon: The Life, 2008

I don’t actually know the truth of the John rumour. I suspected that the John trip to Barcelona was a power play on John’s part because John was a very political animal. I think John went away on that Spanish holiday because nobody went on holiday. I would have gone, anyone would have gone. A free holiday? You’re kidding. I’m there. Number two, I’m sure John took Brian aside and said, ‘Hey, you want to deal with this group, I’m the guy you deal with, OK.’ John was that kind of guy. He was a very sensible, very pragmatic guy. So I’m sure that was the main reason John went there. As to whether there was any sort of gay dalliance or whatever, I don’t know. All I can ever say about it is that I slept with John a lot because you had to, you didn’t have more than one bed – and to my knowledge John was never gay.

Paul McCartney, Debbie Geller, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story, 2000

Brian Epstein was going on holiday to Spain at the same time and he invited John along. John was a smart cookie. Brian was gay, and John saw his opportunity to impress upon Mr Epstein who was the boss of this group. | think that's why he went on holiday with Brian. And good luck to him, too — he was that kind of guy; he wanted Brian to know whom he should listen to. That was the relationship. John was very much the leader in that way, although it was never actually said. So there was the homosexual thing — I'm not sure John did anything but we certainly gave him a lot of grief when he got back.

Paul McCartney, The Beatles Anthology, 2000

My sense of the trip to Barcelona is that it was an intriguing situation because John left his wife to go on this holiday, who was still in hospital having given birth to her first child. So it was an extraordinary thing, but John wanted to go on holiday with Brian and there was a great bond between them. John knew that Brian was going and he also knew that Brian was very attracted to him and I think this intrigued John. My understanding only comes from Brian. I never discussed this with John but I heard that there were lots of discussions about the business of homosexuality and Brian’s homosexuality. But I think it’s wrong to discuss something which is really rather significant when I only know one side of the picture.

Peter Brown, Debbie Geller, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story, 2000

It had nothing to do with advancement of career. John knew that he already had Brian as an ally; he knew that Brian liked him, was attracted to him and stimulated by his intellect. Anyway, I don’t believe John was that manipulative. And the idea of going along with it, and trying to take advantage of it, just wouldn’t have been Brian’s way.

Peter Brown, Norman Philip, John Lennon: The Life, 2008

It was during the same discussion that he told me that he and John Lennon had been lovers. Now that’s too much for me to take on. We’d never talked about his personal life before, so I left the room.

Lonnie Trimble, Debbie Geller, In My Life: The Brian Epstein Story, 2000

#mostly just for me to have it in one place :)#might add more if i dig something up #he was 100% heterosexual #but he 'encouraged stories about them being gay lovers.... because he thought it was funny'....................#(all straight people do that don't they?)#but he beat bob up for insinuating they were #but then again what's a fucking wank between friends anyway???#brian epstein #john lennon #jb #quote #ref #m

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