Yanking, John was struggling to get the flash drive out of his computer. He had read everything. The flash drive explained everyone she killed, everyone she met, and everyone she was. One imparticular assassin lingered on his mind. One of her tasks was to murder his best friend. It was December 22. The frigid air soothed John's mind. Even the fresh air couldn't make him forget what his wife did.
Arriving home from the store, Mary trotted in the house. John had already entered.
"You had a mission to kill Sherlock?" John yelled as Mary closed the door.
"Oh, you read it…" Mary said half silent.
her heart froze and sunk.
Advancing toward her, John slapped her silly: back and forth twice.
"John, I'm sorry. I really like Sherlock now and obviously, I never went through with the job," Mary pointed out, "Please, don't leave me, John. I truly am trying to start over."
"God, Mary! I just can't believe you. Really, what did I do to deserve you as I have said before" John snottily remarked storming off into his bedroom. Mary teared up.
Angered, John packed up all his clothes and dodades around the flat. Whisking out of the bedroom, John picked up his bags and shunned Mary. He whipped open the door and hailed a cab. Racing down the street, John was headed for Baker Street.
Left alone at home, Mary Watson dropped to her knees. She rested her elbows on her belly bump. Her tears soaked her bump. All Mary wanted was to start a new life with the man she loved most. Hour after hour she sat by the kitchen sink blubbering.
Meanwhile, John was over with Sherlock telling him that Mary was asked to assassinate him. Being the sociopath he his, he did not seem to really care.
"John, she loves you. Like I said we can trust her now. Assassin's are trustworthy people. They know all kinds of secrets that they have to hide," Sherlock persadded.
John was not buying this crap. For a few nights he remained at Sherlock's apartment. On Christmas, Sherlock invited both John and Mary to his parents house. He thought that showing the newly wed couple his parents, they would realize what a treat it is to be married. Unfortunately, his plan did not go as planned.
Sipping tea, Mary sat on the sofa. She read a book that Mrs. Holmes had written on mathematics. A brief conversation was shared between Mr. Holmes and Mary. John strolled in to see his wife seated on the couch.
"Mary we need to talk," John commanded.
"Oh, alright," Mary sighed hoping for the best.
"Look I have done some thinking and I have thought about this very throughly," John started.
"Okay…"
"Mary, I have decided that you are more of a dickhead than Sherlock Holmes. That's saying something. Your slimy sneaky personality is something I would hate to have to deal with; therefore Mary Watson, or A.G.R.A or Ms. Morstan, I am leaving you for good. I am moving back in with Sherlock, so you don't need to worry about losing your home," John finished.
"What about our baby?" Mary whimpered beginning to cry.
"I don't care what the bloody hell you do with it. Since it has your blood in it, I want nothing to do with it," John said storming off.
Mary was about to cry but was stopped because of something in her tea. Sherlock told John not to drink Mary's tea because it was contaminated. Sherlock asked him to join him to kill Magnussen, but John replied with a flip of the bird and ran off.
Within an hour, Mary woke up. For a second in time, Mary thought what happen was just a dream. Sadly, it was not. She did realize that it really had happened to her. Being left and forgotten was too much to handle.
Barely able to drive herself home, Mary somehow made it safely there. In her closet was the pistol she shot Sherlock with. Glancing at the gun, Mary admired it. Her decision was made. Raising the gun up to her temple, she shot herself. Squirting everywhere, blood gushed from her skull. Her brain stopped working and within a few minutes, her baby died as well.
Now it was December 31 four seconds to midnight and John was only thinking of Mary. As far as he or anyone else knew, she was still alive. The clock struck midnight. Throbbing, his heart ached not having his wife with him. All of a sudden it struck him that Mary was trying to start over and she really did love him. He wanted to change everything he said on Christmas. So that's what he did. He waltzed over to her flat. The shock of his life happened. Two out of three of his pressure points were dead. John collapsed clinging to his drained of life a woman. Everything as John knew it, was gone.
THE END.