Disclaimer - I do not own anything that is already owned by ACD or BBC including characters/places etc.
AN: Okay so firstly I suppose I should mention a trigger warning for adultery. This story was inspired by the song 'Over the Hills and Far Away' by Gary Moore/Nightwish (check the song out if you havent heard it before) which I found a fantastic story concept that I felt was perfect for the Sherlock universe, even if the concept may be considered slightly OOC, though I've tried to make the rest of it as in character as possible to make up.
Also I realize Sherlock/Mary may not be a very popular ship for storys, but I wouldn't say this story really is that, it's totally John and Mary, it only touches on Sherlock and Mary for the sake of story concept. So really what I'm saying is I hope you give this story a chance even if it isn't your normal taste.
So without further ado, before I give away any more plot spoilers;
Chapter 1 – You Stand Accused
Sherlock knew immediately when he woke that he wasn't in his bed. The sheets were a cheaper make, almost itchy against his skin compared to the Egyptian cotton he usually slept in. The alarm was another sure sign; he never set an alarm. And last but not least, the groan and jostling of bed springs as someone rolled over and slapped at the alarm to stop it. His eyes opened at the same time as his bedmate gasped, and the memories from the previous night came flooding over him.
He had gone to the Watson's house looking for John, ready to tell him the fascinating results of one of his latest experiments. But John was away at some kind of medical conference, apparently he had told Sherlock, but he didn't remember. Anyway, Mary had invited him in, to visit their daughter, and for a chat, and insisted on giving him dinner as well. Somewhere along the line as they talked, a bottle of wine had been consumed, one thing led to another, and now here they were, in her bed -Her and John's bed- the morning after, feeling terrible for what they had done.
"We don't tell John about this." Mary told him, getting dressed with her back to him as he did likewise. At his silence she looked round slightly and added "I mean it Sherlock, this was a mistake but it won't happen again so John doesn't need to know. I know you like to be liberal with the truth, but I swear if you tell him and I lose him I will kill you properly this time."
"If John finds out you won't have a chance to kill me, he'll do it himself." Sherlock answered stonily.
"No he won't. John will forgive you, he always does. Me... I'm on my last chance." Mary answered sadly.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that. John is a fairly open minded guy, I'm sure if you explained to him-"
"Not about things like this. You remember how he reacted to people thinking you two were a couple. When it comes to love and marriage, he's pretty straight-laced" Mary asserted, now sitting at the vanity table running a brush aggressively through her short locks.
"He's fine with homosexuals and other unusual arrangements, he told me so the first day he met me." Sherlock insisted.
"He's happy for others to do that, but it's not what he wants for himself. Trust me, he won't take this well. Promise me, Sherlock, promise you won't tell him. You won't tell anyone." Mary stood back up and faced him.
"I won't tell. But I still think you should." Sherlock said, before turning and walking briskly out the room.
"Probably best not even to mention you were here. You're hardly the type to pop round for a social call, are you? No need to make John suspicious." Mary followed him out, leaning against the hallway wall as Sherlock donned his coat and scarf.
"I do have social calls, with you and John and... Charlotte." Sherlock defended.
"Only when we come to Baker Street, never here." Mary shook her head "You only come here to grab John for cases. Even when we invite you to dinner in advance you never come, you make some excuse."
"Fair point." Sherlock conceded. "Then I was never here."
And with that he swept out the house.
There was a police car waiting outside 221b when he arrived, and when he peeked up at the second floor window he saw a flash of silvery hair pulling away. Lestrade was waiting for him, and unusually anxious.
"Where've you been, freak?" Sally Donovan coldly greeted him the second he'd gotten into the flat. She had been remorseful for her part in destroying his reputation and fairly nice to him when he first came back, but time was rapidly undoing that, and she was almost completely back to her old self now.
"I don't believe that's any of your business." Sherlock returned, flopping down in his usual chair, nonchalant.
"Actually, it might be." Lestrade said, already sounding remorseful for whatever bad news he bore. "There was a murder last night, Sam Green, a 20 year old uni student. He was bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat outside of his local at about 2 o'clock this morning for no apparent reason." He paused and took a big breath "Your prints are all over the scene and from what the CCTV caught of the attack, the perp did bear a resemblance to yourself and that big coat of yours. Now I'm perfectly ready to believe you didn't do it, and get you on the case to figure out who did, but I'm gonna need to know where you were last night, and if anyone can confirm it."
"My alibi you mean." Sherlock replied, looking up at the DI he called a friend. So ready to believe the best of Sherlock, even if Sally behind him didn't look so sure. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he knew what Sherlock had really done the night before? He'd be disappointed for sure, probably stress over it, even if it wasn't his problem; that was just what he did. Obviously it would make him think of his own wife's infidelity. But would that motivate him to tell John, or leave it be? He certainly tended to prefer the bliss of ignorance where possible in his own case, but that didn't mean he thought it best for others. No, best not to tell. Mary probably wouldn't confirm it for him anyway.
"Sorry, can't help you there." He answered without missing a beat.
Lestrade closed his eyes on a deep sigh, rubbing his hand down his face in stress and exhaustion.
"I was hoping you wouldn't say that. Look, if it's drugs-"
"Do I look like I'm coming down from a high, to you?" Sherlock answered sharply.
Lestrade had seen Sherlock strung out on drugs far too many times in years gone by, and had to admit that Sherlock definitely didn't look as he had then, he looked clean.
"No, no you don't" he admitted, defeated, "Look, Sherlock, I'm trying to help you here, but with all the proof against you, and without an alibi, I've not got much choice, I'll have to bring you in."
Sherlock stood slowly, until he was toe to toe with Lestrade.
"Are you sure you want to do that, Detective Inspector? You remember what happened last time?"
Oh did he remember. The sleepless nights thinking his friend had killed himself over his betrayal, tirelessly working to prove Sherlock wasn't a fraud, and even when he did there was still the letters, more of them even, from Sherlock's supporters accusing the Yard of responsibility for Sherlock's suicide.
"Yeah well, that's why it's just the two of us this time, no rookies for you to steal a gun from." Sally responded in the pause, remembering things differently.
Sherlock's eyes remained on Lestrade's, until the DI could stand it no longer and had to look away.
"Cuff him, Sally."
Just as before, Sherlock didn't resist as Sergeant Donovan cuffed his wrists behind his back, a rougher and a little tighter than strictly necessary. Lestrade read him his rights, still unable to look him in the eye, and led the way out of the apartment and back down the stairs.
"Sherlock? What's going on?" Mrs Hudson asked fearfully, emerging from her flat as they reached the bottom floor.
"Not to worry Mrs Hudson, just a little misunderstanding. I'll make sure the rent still gets paid in my absence." Sherlock reassured her as light-heartedly as possible.
"It's not the rent I'm worried about." she huffed, pushing in front of Lestrade "And you, I thought we were past all this, you know as well as I do that Sherlock is nothing but a good man. Even if he is a bit rough around the edges."
"I'm sorry Mrs H. I really am." Lestrade said earnestly, slipping past her and out the door. Sherlock gave her another reassuring smile, and allowed her to hug him, before following Lestrade out to the car, followed by a silent but slightly uncomfortable Donovan.
