'Are you going with me?' John asks me when he is about to be going to Mary.

'Why?' I know why, he needs moral support, but I just want to hear him say it.

'You know... Just... You don't have to. You can stay here and do whatever you were doing.' he nods to my experiment. I'm trying to find out where the dirt in Mary's elbow scratches comes from.

'Just kidding. I'll go.' I've been trying to make jokes lately but Johns face tells me I'm not very good at it.

'Right.' he says. 'They are trying to wake her up.'

After Mary was shot Mycroft had to put her in an artificial coma so she could recover in rest.

'We must take Paige with us by the way.'

In the cab she cries her lungs out on John's lap and I give him my we-both-know-whats-going-on-here look but he smiles and starts to lull her. But she keeps crying.

'OK, you win.' John says and passes Paige over to me. 'Damn, sooner or later she is going to think you're the father.' He jokes but his grin fades away when she really is quiet.

'Sorry.' I mouth.

'No, no. It's okay.' John says, who apparently took it as some sort of excuse.

Suddenly he bends over to the cabby and says: 'Can you first make a stop at 37 Broadly St?'

'Your house?' I think out loud.

'Yes, my house.' There's apparently no need to explain so we sit in silence.

Once arrived at John's house we pay for now and John tells the driver we'll be back in five minutes. I've never been at John's before, not even while planning the wedding, everything happened at Baker St. I've always been keen on not going there because I knew I couldn't have handled it, seeing John live his life without me. It's kind of selfish though. John never brought me here either, again, everything happened at Baker St. But now he does, he is going to show me his house which is kind of a big deal for me, so I go inside.

I'm quite surprised when I get in, the furniture in the living room is in the same position as at Baker St. I haven't puzzled out what to think of that, yet. But later I will, I will save this place in my mind palace whether I want it or not. It's too heavily loaded with emotion to delete. I already regret my choice to get in here, but I tell myself that I can handle it at least ten minutes.

After the furniture placement everything has a different style, Mary's style. A lot of light and a lot of colours.

'So, what you do think?' John ask all sudden.

I'm trying hard to find an intelligent answer that would suit the best but I decide to say: 'It's nice.'

'Good, let's go upstairs.'

John leads me upstairs to the bedroom where he sits on the edge of a big king-size bed and where he lays Paige down. I just stand in the door post since the unpleasant feeling is getting stronger.

'Why are we here?' I ask.

John swallows and shuffles a little, he's struggling too. 'Can we, Paige and I, come live with you for a few weeks?'

Suddenly the unpleasant feeling disappears and makes room for a lot of love. Love for John Hamish Watson. Practically everyone seemed to know that I love John, everyone except John and myself. I already knew that I cared a lot about him, and I've missed him very much since I don't see him that often. That are the only emotions I've figured out yet. 'Everything is going to be like it was before.' I think for a moment, but it isn't. Mary is still in a coma and John loves her. If she dies John's heart would break and that is the one thing I don't want to happen.

I smile. 'Sure, you can stay as long as you like.'

'Thank you.' John says and he smiles but a teardrop escapes, and another, and another. I can tell he isn't crying out of happiness.

Normally I would prevent him from anything that can hurt him, but now I can't. I can't put my poker face on and make a joke now. I can't prevent him from the pain, so I do what I'd like John to do if I was in a similar situation. I go sit next to him, hold one arm on his back and lead his head with the other to my shoulder. He starts sobbing and I pet his head and back.

He tilts his head so he can look me in the face. 'This is really embarrassing.'

I just shake my head and keep petting his back. A few moments after John has laid his head against my chest, we start sliding of the bed and I grab him tight as we bump to the ground. John almost giggles, but very soon he is crying again, with loud moans.

Suddenly he crawls up and I'm afraid he has changed his mind because I rather liked it. But he's just looking for a more comfortable position so he lays his head on my lap and his whole body stretched out on the floor. But he's apparently not comfortable enough so he turns around, now facing my belly. Comfortable enough, he continuous crying with his head buried in my shirt now and me petting his head again. That is the moment I realize I'm not as asexual as I always thought, but happily I'm able to keep it unnoticed.

After a short ten minutes (the cab must be gone by now) the crying has ebd away and John looks me right into the eyes. 'Not a single word!'

'I've read it' John says out of nowhere when we're sitting in our chairs. Just like a long time ago.

'You read... what?' I ask.

'Amelia Robin Gabriƫlla Abagnale.'

'Hm.. sounds familiar. Who is it? Ahh... I get it AGRA.' My brain is getting slow. we should investigate Mary's case faster.

'What do you mean "sounds familiar"?'

'Amelia Abagnale, Frank Abagnale jr's daughter.' I answer, the Swedish government offered me his case once. Although it wasn't really offering, more begging. I solved everything in 2 days and went home.

'I got that so far yeah. But am I supposed to know who he is?'

'You should, in fact. Top criminal. But don't worry, he's turned his life around.' I don't mention I solved his case by the finding out a snow flock had fallen in the printing machine he used for printing his false identities.

I can practically see the realization drop in Johns eyes.

'What the hell am I supposed to do now?'

'Nothing, she is brain dead. There is nothing to do.' I say. Rude, but the truth.

'SHE IS NOT BRAIN DEAD!' John yells at me.

'Not yet, she will be if she slips off any further.' I admit I always want to have the last word.

John stands and walks angrily out of the living room.

'Why did you read it any way?' I yell.

John's head peeks from the door post, he is crying again. 'Because if I have to end her life... If I'll be able to... I want her formal friends and family to be able to say goodbye.'

I shrug.

'I shouldn't have done it.' He adds.

'Why? You already knew it, didn't you? You have been wondering.'

'Yes. But it's worse.' He sobs.

'What? Murder?' Stay businesslike.

'Yes, but I thought she stopped murdering. She still is an assassin. She didn't meet me by accident. She married me to get information about you. I feel so stupid for loving her.' John says while sobbing hard.

Mary's case is solved. The shutter must have considered her threatening. He must have access to secret files, including the ones from the FBI. It's so obvious, I thought too far away all the time.

John is still staring at me in the most venerable way you can imaging. I must help him. 'Sit down.' I command.

He sits.

'You must be very angry at her.'

He nods.

'But I can tell you, she didn't marry you for that reason. She could just be a friend, a neighbour, your psychiatrist, but she choose to be your wife. She even carried your baby. If she was pure spying she would have cut off the pregnancy before you or I could find out. Maybe she didn't meet you under the right circumstances, but she has grown to love you, and you know that.'

I get up and get my coat.

'How do you always do that?' John asks.

'Do what?' Why can't people just be direct, when I'm in a hurry.

'Being right.'

Whit that in my mind I run downstairs and hail a cab.

'YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!' I yell while I storm into Mycroft's office.

'Well, well brother mine. Don't get too vulgar, you're implying to our own mother.' Mycroft sits triumphantly on his desk.

I sprint over to him, push him backwards and pin his hands on the desk he is lying on. 'YOU PIECE OF SHIT!' I scream in his face.

'She was a threat.' He says calmly.

'JOHN IS RUINED!'

'Please calm down, Sherlock. She isn't going to die.' Mycroft says, oddly cold.

'Explain.' I back off, allowing him to get up.

'We weren't planning to kill her. Just keep her in a artificial coma for undetermined time. I suppose you've got the fact that she still is a spy. She got hold of extremely secret information, which if it ended up in the wrong hands, it would mean the end of the kingdom. They are really going to wake her up within a few days. It's essential she doesn't remember what happened before my men shot her. I admit it could have been less dramatic.'

A wave of happiness overcomes me, I run out.

When I get home John isn't in the living room or the kitchen, instead he is in my bed. Mrs Hudson rent his old bedroom to someone else, not expecting John to move back in. On first eye he is sleeping but the open curtains tell me he isn't. He is crying.

'Do you want me to do something for you?' I touch his shoulder to let him know I'm here.

He turns his head to me, his eyes are red and swollen, it's horrible to look at.

'She isn't going to die, Mycroft's promised me.'

John looks confused at me, and he has reason to and I expect him to fire all sorts of questions on me. Instead he gets up until he sits straight and spreads his arms. 'You look horrified.'

I sit on the edge of the bed and give in for the hug. Neither of us pulls away and we keep holding on to each other. I kick out my shoes lay us down on our sides, still holding on. John lays with his head on my upper arm and has his face pressed in my rib cage. He remains crying and I swing a leg over him and tug his between mine. I hope it will give him the feeling he is safe.

'Sociopath, sure.' John giggles into my chest.