Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/1387675.

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen, F/M, M/M Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Relationship: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Character: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, His Last Vow Spoilers, Mary/John is offscreen, Ficlet, Pre-Slash, Mary's Past, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, mostly canon compliant, Sequel, Angst Series: Part 2 of HLV Missing Scene Series Stats: Published: 2014-03-30 Words: 759 The Truth is a Beginning

by Desertpoet

Summary

HLV Missing scene. John and Sherlock follow through on their decision.

Notes

This ficlet directly follows Without Words and won't make sense unless you read that first. N.B. This ficlet mentions Mary's past as an assassin. I think she is treated fairly. I hope you'll give it a chance but if it isn't your cup of tea hit the back button. This is not Britpicked. This can be read as gen but I consider it pre-slash. A big thanks to my two betas who wish to remain anonymous. Ladies, this fic is 100% more readable for your efforts and thanks to toooldforthissh-stuff who was nice enough to give this a final read through. She reigned in my comma use and bolstered my confidence. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Also I'm looking for betas and britpickers for future fics if anyone is interested.

See the end of the work for more notes

John felt like he'd aged a thousand years in one night. Reading the information on the damned memory stick had taken hours. John had stared at the screen until his eyes burned and his vision blurred. If, occasionally, the blurring was due to tears no one but him ever needed to know. If (when) Sherlock noticed he didn't comment. After a while Sherlock pulled out another laptop from somewhere and transferred the files so they could both read more comfortably.

Once John looked up to find Sherlock standing over him a cup of tea in his hand. Startled John reached for it automatically, "You made me tea. Is the world ending then?" John tried to joke but his voice broke on the last word and he fell silent.

Sherlock raised one eyebrow, "It seemed appropriate under the circumstances," he said, with a one of his real smiles that only John got to see. John smiled slightly in return. "Don't become accustomed. I shall not be making a habit of it" Sherlock added, as he flounced away.

Sherlock really does care about me John thought fondly. He experienced a sense of wonder at the thought. He was finally beginning to understand his importance to Sherlock. He was truly grateful for Sherlock's support, unique and unexpected as it was.

He took a sip of the tea and made a face. It was, by far, the worst tea he'd ever tasted. He set the cup carefully on the floor. He couldn't bring himself to stop reading no matter how much he wished he could forget the last few days. Despite the angry, sick feeling in his stomach he soldiered on, Sherlock a familiar presence in the background.

When he was finally finished, John set the laptop aside and sat in silent contemplation. All that he had learned left him reeling. Mary had never been very talkative about her past. He knew she'd had a hard time of it. He had always wanted to know more, but had respected that she didn't want to talk about it. He was a soldier, and he'd killed in the line of duty. He'd also killed to save Sherlock, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

Mary had said people like her existed for a reason, that they were necessary. A part of John understood, but he couldn't reconcile the woman he had married with the cold-hearted assassin in the files. He felt hurt and betrayed, but he had to believe the woman he loved hadn't just been an act. He had to believe that their life together hadn't all been a lie. He knew that she loved him. She was still his wife, for better or worse. She was still the woman who was pregnant with his child. Ultimately, he had to decide if he could he live with her, knowing she'd lied about her past, and knowing about the people she had killed. Knowing she had shot his best friend. Despite Sherlock's assurances that she hadn't meant to kill him, John didn't know if he could forgive her. He didn't know if he could trust her, again.

Suddenly, John felt trapped; the walls closed in on him. Adrenaline rushed through his system. He couldn't breathe. He stood up quickly, his back stiff from hours of sitting. He needed to get out. He needed to clear his mind so he could think. He went to grab his coat and saw Sherlock sitting in his chair. John was sure Sherlock's amazing mind was already working through everything he had learned. All the information on Mary's past was being cataloged with ruthless efficiency in his mind palace. John's feeling of claustrophobia increased. He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths.

Sherlock turned and looked at John, his expression unreadable. "We need to talk, John", he said, the demand in his voice tempered by a surprising note of gentleness.

"I know", John replied. "I can't now, all right". If he was forced to talk now, John was sure he would break. He felt himself stretched thin, about to snap at any moment. "I'll be back," he added as an afterthought, and then grabbed his coat from where he'd left it so many hours ago. He put the coat on even as he ran down the stairs and out the door.

The sky was just beginning to turn pink. A new day had begun. John picked a direction and started walking quickly. Perhaps, if he walked fast enough, he could escape the nightmare his life had become.

End Notes

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