"John-"
"I don't understand," said John. He trembled violently as he stared around at the boxes. Those boxes didn't belong at 221B Baker Street. He sank to the floor.
"Let me explain," said Sherlock desperately. He couldn't let his friend ignore reality anymore. Doctors were ready to get court orders to have John committed. Sherlock wasn't going to let that happen and he certainly wasn't going to rely on Mycroft to prevent it.
Gladstone trotted cautiously into the room and put his head in John's lap. He let out a concerned whimper. John lightly stroked the bull pup's head. "Too much," he whispered. "It's just too much."
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS
Two Years Earlier…
"Moriarty's gone," said Molly. "Why can't you tell the other's you're alive. They're devastated thinking you're dead."
"I have to make certain they're safe," said Sherlock.
"How could they possibly still be in any danger?"
"Moriarty shot himself to ensure I jumped. It's entirely possible he's somehow kept the assassins on the payroll. I need to find out every insurance measure he took."
"The assassins are all gone," Molly pleaded.
"So it would seem," said Sherlock. He twirled his magnifying glass in his fingers. "I have to be thorough on this."
"But-"
"Molly, there were snipers aiming at John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. If I reveal myself too soon they might pull the triggers. The only reason there wasn't a sniper aiming at you as well is because I didn't realize how much you mattered. I do now."
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
"You must be Mr. Wilson," Said Dr. John Watson as he entered the exam room. A nine year old boy sat on the exam table. The boy's hair was neatly combed and his clothes immaculately pressed. The boy coughed and smiled sheepishly.
"How long has your son had that cough?" John asked the woman sitting in the chair next to the table. She was wore a posh skirt and blouse. She'd taken off her high heels and was stretching her toes.
"Oh, I'm not his mother," she said.
John glanced at the chart. "I should really read these more closely," he said as he scratched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Morstan."
"Mary, call me Mary," She glanced at his name tag. "Dr. Watson."
"Um, John, you may call me John."
Mary nodded and smiled. "This is Daniel. He's had a cough for about five days and regular cough syrup isn't helping."
John took out his stethoscope. "Let me see if I can figure out a way to make it better. Can you take a deep breath for me, Daniel?" Daniel complied. "American?"
"Yes." said Mary. "He's the diplomat's son. I'm his private tutor while they're here."
"Well, welcome to England."
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
"I need to use the bathroom," Daniel whispered to Mary as they were about to leave the office.
"Alight, I'll wait here," she said. She leaned against the wall and clutched Daniel's prescription in her hands. John watched her thoughtfully from the next room.
"Oh, sod it!" he muttered to himself and marched over to her. "Miss Morstan?" Mary's eyes drifted up from her hands and met John's eyes. He stopped for a brief moment, taken aback as he noticed for the first time that they were blue…a very familiar shade of blue. He shook the troubling thought and swallowed.
"Mary," she said. "I told you it was okay to call me Mary."
"Mary," said John as he felt himself relax a bit. "Look, I know this may seem a bit forward, but would you like to have drinks with me sometime...tonight perhaps?"
Mary looked at him thoughtfully. While her eye color was familiar, the thoughtful glance she gave him was refreshingly lacking in shrewdness. "Do you know your way around London very well, John?" She asked.
"I imagine I do, why?"
"Because I don't," said Mary with a grin.
Shshshshshsh.
Author's note: I'm an American who's addicted to the BBC series. I made Mary American because having her be a private tutor to a diplomat's kid is the closest I could think to a modern equivalent to a governess. That and Irene Adler was British on the BBC series so I'm balancing things out, Although it will be revealed in future chapters that Mary's father was from London and that's why she took the tutor job. If anyone from England wants to Brit pick this story, I'm open to help and would be grateful for it.