Disclaimer: Sherlock and all its characters, storyline etc. belongs to its makers. No money is made out of this.
Rating: T
Author's Note: I have no clue where this is going, but the chapters will stay short. And probably frequent.
The things Mary left behind
Chapter One: Confusion
Mary left Sherlock behind, with an impossible task, an impossible case, because it wasn't a case exactly, it wasn't the game he played as perfectly as the violin, it wasn't his virtue – it was social. Social, for god's sake, as if she hadn't been aware of his lack of data and experience in this area.
Sherlock thought she had done it by choice; he had sworn to protect her and had failed and therefore, Mary had taken revenge asking the impossible. And he detested her for it, but weirdly, he felt obliged to obey, him, who did not obey anyone, not Mycroft, not Mrs. Hudson and surely not John.
And so he went there, to the baby who had lost its mother and the father who was too angry or grieving or maybe both to care. And Molly Hooper rejected him by John's order; Molly, who was in love with him, admired him, had helped him fake his death despite knowing what John would go through - rejected him.
And he hadn't quite understood before how fragile his and John's friendship had been, how it had cracked under the shot that had been meant for him, had broken into pieces as she had taken her last breath in her husband's arms.
He hadn't understood because it had all been so very cliché and he knew he shouldn't have thought it, but it just had been and his mind had focused on that instead of the consequences.
He hadn't shot her. John's anger was unjustified because he hadn't shot her and who could have predicted the old hag would really fire...
It was only justified because he had promised to keep her save. He never made promises, never in his career, not heartfelt ones, only the ones to show off, I can solve your case in a second and vice versa, but never out of emotion, out of care, out of sentiment...
He fired ten shots into the wall. And Mrs. Hudson did not stop him. She brought him tea and cookies instead and that was even worse than Molly Hooper's behaviour.
And Lestrade denied him a case. Instead, he gave him numbers and addresses of psychologists and urged him to go, to talk to a professional if he wanted to understand John, if he wanted to get him back. As if they were a teenage couple in love, going through their first breakup.
He went. He went because of Mary and he hated her. Go to hell, she had said, but that hadn't been enough, she had had to send him there herself. The first psychologist was too stupid to even get the point, he told him to talk about his feelings towards Mary's death instead of explaining why his friend, his best friend as John had said himself, abandoned him.
He had made that promise not for Mary. Yes, he had, but only to show off. He had made it to John, out of sentiment, because of goldfish.
The next one was a little better, dull but attentive, at least realising what he wanted, though she found no words to explain, except the usual phrases, your friend is in shock, he's lost the love of his life, he's alone with a child...
Sherlock gave up.
And then, Mycroft appeared. He appeared and tried to help him understand. It was then Sherlock really realised the situation was graver than he had thought, finally understood that it was possible John would never return, because his brother, the leader of the goldfish empire, was trying to act like a human being. He failed, in each sentence, in each word, but Sherlock couldn't mock him, just stared and then Mycroft left, uneasy und uncomfortable, as if he had bathed in dung.
It was then his mind palace failed. Cigarettes failed. Shooting failed. It was then, for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes couldn't sleep because his mind tried to work a way around this, solve this and failed. His mind ran in infinite circles around just one thing, one name and, most confusing, one person: John.
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