It was never meant to end this way. It was supposed to be a simple case and then they would all leave together. They would leave and life would carry on as normal. Well, as normal as it could get for Sherlock. Fate had a twisted way of ruining everything. It lured people in to believing one thing, a false sense that everything would be fine, before springing them in to uncertainty and leaving them lost.
It was never meant to end this way. After all, there was a baby to care for, to cherish. There was a baby to watch grow in to a young woman, changing the world one step at a time. They were supposed to grow old and weary together.
It was never meant to end this way but it did.
The gun was fired. The bullet flew.
Sherlock braced himself. This was the moment he stayed true to his word, true to his vow. His vow was made to seal Mary and John in protection ; to cocoon them from the danger that seemed to naturally follow Sherlock like a balloon being dragged by the wind.
Sherlock braced himself. The bullet was going to come and he would have fulfilled his promise. He stood, stance bold, as he stared at the bullet head on. Everything became a blur.
Someone jumped in front of Sherlock, taking the bullet for him. The bullet seared through skin, leaving suffering and pain in its wake. The victim crumpled to the floor, agonised. The room gasped. Sherlock gaped as Mary clutched her wound with trembling hands. John was latched to her side like a leech, attempting to suck away pain but unable to do so. He was panicking but Mary was oddly tranquil. She soothed him while he fretted. She hissed words through her clenched teeth, gripping him lovingly with as much force and energy her body would allow. Sherlock was fixated with shock, eyes glued on the alarming flow of blood seeping through the once pristine fabric. It was clear that Mary Watson was dying.
She said her goodbyes, scarcely tearful, with her head held high and voice strong. Her tone was firm. Mary insisted that her baby, her innocent and sweet Rosie, would be cared for when she departed. John sounded like he was about to break.
Take care of Rosie.
Her body automatically reacted to the pain by writhing. She held on for as long as she could before she let death ensnare her. It stole the air from her lungs; the pulsing rhythm of her heart and, above all else, the odd glimmer of light (whatever it had been) from her wide fearful eyes. She lay lifeless. John was keeled over Mary, body quivering. Bursting in to bitter tears, John mourned. He looked up at Sherlock and glared with as much anger as he could as he hissed darkly "You were supposed to protect her."
"John, I-"
"YOU MADE A VOW." John was upon his feet now, screaming and bellowing with his eyes, now cold, set upon Sherlock's own remorseful ones. "You promised you'd protect her. You lied!"
In that moment, John's world shattered whilst Sherlock's began to crumble.
He shut Sherlock out of his life. The front budged for no one but Molly. Sherlock tried all he could to help but John turned his back and Sherlock's pleas fell upon deaf ears. Texts were ignored. Calls were unanswered. One day, he stopped and left John alone.
Sherlock left and sat in his flat, attempting to seal himself away too. His emotions sought out a reason to seek the relief of drugs. He had promised John he would never touch them again. He was done breaking promises. At least until he discovered Mary's message.
Miss me?
She had known at some point she would die. Somehow, she knew it would be to protect Sherlock. Perhaps she knew that John would be destroyed without Sherlock for she had seen him when Sherlock was believed to be dead. Perhaps she knew that she could not live with a man who was forever hardened by the fact Sherlock Holmes died and no one stepped in to save him. Perhaps that is why she jumped in front. Perhaps she saved Sherlock because she had been the one to shoot him and, as the consulting detective lay in a hospital bed, the one who witnessed John fear he had lost Sherlock for good.
She tasked Sherlock with what she deemed "the hardest case of all". To save her husband. He had to put his life on the edge with a vicious criminal and allow John to save him. That way, John would move on. He would be saved from himself. Only then would Mary be satisfied.
The needle pierced the skin immediately. The drug gushed through in to his bloodstream and set his heart thundering. Bliss surged through Sherlock and he exhaled with relief. His thoughts rushed by in a jumbled mess, almost impossible to decipher. Sherlock had always loved a challenge. He found it in a high-profile celebrity who Sherlock immediately deduced was a serial killer. He became obsessed with trying to untangle his brain and think coherently about the mess he was in. Word spread like a rash upon skin.
Sherlock had gone off to the deep end. He was insane.
From his drug-induced state, he could assume they were correct. Not that it mattered. The only thing that mattered at the moment John. Even if the man never wanted to see Sherlock for as long as he remained living, John would be the primary priority. His safety overruled Sherlock's entirely. That led him to where he was now, twitching madly in his living room. He muttered one minute and screeched the next. All due to the drugs pumping around his body. He depended upon it as much as oxygen, craving for the next hit. He fumbled for the latest needle and pricked his arm faintly and the feeling of satisfaction fogged his mind. Once John was saved, Sherlock would be completely satisfied.
The last of the drug seeped in to his system. Sherlock felt slight guilt for having the drug so openly. He had promised never to let another "drop of that damn drug substance". Yet, he swore to keep Mary, Rosie and John protected. Sherlock deduced, whether humans agreed to acknowledge the fact or not, that we all forget promises we make or we break some.
At last, Sherlock Holmes was pulsing with the thrill of solving a crime and ecstatic with the twisted effects of drugs. His promises were never meant to be broken but they were.
For sometimes we must break promises made to those dear to us in order to protect them.