The shivering was getting worse and even putting the heater on and wrapping the duvet around herself like a cocoon did nothing to diminish it. There was no warmth on Earth it seemed that would let her escape the icy clutches of the sorrow in her heart, which was the cause of her current state. As if she wasn't been punished enough.

Mary had been banished to the spare room after the truth had been revealed and she had obediently complied. John needed the space to breathe and think things over yet-though she understood this-every night that passed in this lonely room made the pain worse and turned a part of her once loving home into a prison cell.

A small cry escaped her, the resolve crumbling because at that moment her baby had decided to kick. This innocent child that was stuck in this cold, dark room with her when it didn't deserve any of this. She'd brought her baby down with her (which was a silly thought really but her grief was overtaking reason) and she began muttering softly, rubbing apologetic circles on her stomach.

"I'm so sorry darling, so sorry. Don't you fret though my love, daddy isn't cross with you he loves you very much. It's just mummy he's unhappy with." Because Mummy hurt him a lot.

The thought cut deep and another sob came out, though this time she managed to muffle it into the pillow.

Oh how she missed her own bed where the warm embrace of her husband had once been waiting! Now it was held back as he turned away from her, looked at her like a stranger. Why couldn't he see that everything she'd been with him was still her? Just because she'd held bits back, kept parts of her life hidden didn't mean ALL of her was a lie. Everything she'd shared with him-her likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams-had been real. Her love for him was real.

If only Sherlock hadn't foiled her plan! She would have still had her husband, the one who loved her, and he wouldn't be threatened with unknown danger. Putting and end to CAM wasn't for selfish reasons but to keep John safe, so that he wasn't used again to get to her. She didn't want their baby growing up without a father and she couldn't imagine having to live without him; he was her everything.

A shiver of fear ran through her at the thought of that monster out there, ready to bring them down. Oh Sherlock why did you have to interfere? But she couldn't really blame him when he hadn't known could she? But still.

The baby kicked again so she resumed her caresses, "settle down love, you're keeping mum awake." But the baby carried on, knowing that something-no, someone-was missing.

With a sigh she got up, pulling on a dressing gown before padding softly to the kitchen to get some milk. It was something the baby enjoyed at the moment.

"You're getting rather spoilt you know? I suppose you want a biscuit too?" Mary laughed as she got another kick, it was small moments like this that she treasured, as they passed by so quickly and then were gone forever.

However, as she was reaching for the biscuit tin the little mite decided to kick extremely hard, causing her to double over and cry out loudly.

"Mary?!" Light flooded the hall as John opened the bedroom door, his tired face peaking out.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just the baby kicking. I'm sorry if I woke you." She turned her back to him and resumed trying to reach for the jar, half hoping he'd go back to bed as she wasn't in the mood for the fighting and awkward conversations and then the other half of her wanting him to stay, to talk to her and comfort her. In that moment it was as if the angels were smiling down at her, for John's hand reached up beside hers and grabbed the biscuit jar, unscrewed the lid and then he passed her a bourbon. Her favorite.

"Thank you." Mary sneaked a glance at him as he stood at her side-the closest he'd been in a long time.

"Is the baby okay?" John asked plainly and she tried to not let a simple question hurt. The baby's fine John but I'm not. I'm not okay. What about me?

Not trusting her voice, Mary nodded and instead moved away for her feelings were too strong at the moment. Stupid hormones.

"I just came in for a glass of milk then I'm going back to bed," she murmured, "we'll have to get someone in to look at the heating though, it's freezing in that room."

"Yeah, mine is too." John coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up that whispered sentence as if it was a secret not meant to be spoken; yet she heard it and stared up at him whilst he stared at her feet, rubbing his neck through the silence.

Eventually though-once she'd turned away-he did look and what he saw made his heart ache. His wife was stood shivering in a fluffy dressing gown-his dressing gown, he noted with a pang-and the bunny slippers he'd bought her last Christmas, clutching a biscuit whilst the other hand rested on her stomach.

The whole scene made her look like a lost child. She looked lost around her own home, around him.

Clearing his throat again, he jerked his head towards the room he'd just departed from.

"There's no point in freezing to death. It'll be warmer in the same bed."

Mary's head shot up. "Are you sure? You don't have to-"

"Just come to bed," he interrupted abruptly and then said in a more gentler tone, "you'll be ill if you stay in a cold room."

Too overwhelmed for words she followed him to their bedroom, eagerly climbing under the huge duvet that was both cosy and warm. She felt instantly sleepy, her eyes drooping as John climbed in beside her; even the baby had settled.

"Goodnight." John mumbled and she was happy to see him snuggle closer, his hand resting near, though not quite touching, the baby.

"Goodnight John." Mary closed her eyes and felt sleep overtake her. However, just before she fell into this perfect slumber she managed to whisper a few precious words she hoped he'd hear and always know.

"I love you." With that Mary slept on peacefully, for everything was a bit more okay and her heart didn't hurt any more.