"I love you."
John felt that usual pang of guilt explode in the back of his thought and shiver down his spine.
"I… I love you to!" Said John, trying not to make eye contact with Mary, his wife the assassin. Blissfully unaware of John's thoughts she kissed him on the cheek and skipped out the door; car keys rattling in her palm. John glanced out the window at his wife's car driving away out of view. He walked quickly to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey. For a while he just sat in his chair swirling the golden liquid around in his glass. It was getting worse. The thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind lurched forward and knocked a single tear out of his eye. He couldn't look his own wife straight in the eye anymore. Just because she loved him, with all her heart. She was carrying his child and had changed her name and identity to be with him. How could he let her down now?
She was there for him, after Sherlock "died". I guess when you have no one you'll fall for anyone. He liked her, even loved her at one point. He'd thought he'd moved on. That Mary was the one just because Sherlock wasn't there anymore. He needed somebody to love, anybody. When Sherlock came back Mary just became a distraction. And he hated that fact so much. But just the thought of Sherlock brought a smile to his face. His ebony hair, His sea green eyes and his innocent, clueless face that appeared whenever love or emotion was mentioned. But that didn't happen very often, he avoided those subjects so that Sherlock would never know his true feelings. For Mary. He took a swig of his pain-numbing drink at the same time as a notification popped up on his phone. He took a look at his mobile and read the notification with exited eyes: 1 new message, From Sherlock.