Chapter 2 (or, the revenge of the plot bunny!)
See chapter 1 for warnings, disclaimer, and all that other stuff. Please review!
John had been sedated. Someone had shoved a needle into his neck and pumped some type of sedating drug into his veins. From a medical perspective, John thought the injection was made of morphine sulphate. It made him numb and the world seemed to be spinning at a faster rate than normal. Well, technically he wasn't numb mentally; just his thought processing was a bit slow. Which John could see was probably a good thing because he kept trying to collapse onto the ground but Lestrade had left him sitting against a doorframe. The lights in the hospital were far too bright, and John suspected he would wake up in the morning with a headache, but that wasn't really important because John had an itch on the tip of his nose and his arms, hands, legs and feet were refusing to move. John blamed the injection.
"I can identify the body, he doesn't need to see her like that," Lestrade's voice floated from around the corner. It sounded desperate, worried.
"I, I know, but it must be next of kin," Molly Hooper sighed. "After the Empty Hearse society posted that video, I nearly lost my job."
"Bloody asshole," Lestrade mumble. "He just couldn't keep it between him and Sherlock, could he? Oh, hey! Sherlock could do the identification!"
"It must be next of kin."
"Bloody hell,"
Footsteps approaching and Lestrade turned around the corner. John lifted his head, meeting Lestrade's gaze.
"John, I..."
"I'll see her," John slurred, trying to sit up. Trying to get up and falling back against the chairs. "She, she's my wife, my wife... my wife..." John choked before his lips curled downward and he leaned over in the chair, sobbing.
Lestrade kneeled beside him, hand on John's back. "We can do this tomorrow; you don't need to do it now."
"I was in the army, I have seen my fare share of bodies," John said seriously, his mood switching suddenly; evidently the morphine sulphate was playing havoc with his system.
"Are you sure?"
"I am bloody well sure!" John roared then sat back, numb hand covering his mouth. Lestrade looked startled before that constant grim look he wore when dealing with emotional issues reappeared. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't worry about it. Here, let me help you up," Lestrade said, arm wrapping around John's shoulder, easily lifting him to his feet.
John was surprised by Lestrade's strength and as they walked together, taking small steps around the corner and toward a small room, the idea of Shelly taking her first baby steps and Mary not being around to see it made his back buckle and his knee's shake.
"I, I don't want Shelly to see her," John whispered as they approached the door.
Lestrade hesitated before knocking on the door. Molly opened the door and stepped aside, head bowed as John and Lestrade walked into the room. They weren't in the morgue, like John was used to being when Sherlock had to look at a body. Instead they were into a small little room with a table in the middle of it and Mary's body laid out with a white blanket on top.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," John said, hyperventilating as Molly looked at Lestrade uncertainly.
Lestrade jerked his head and Molly clumsily removed the blanket down to shoulder height, revealing Mary's face. There were three execution style gunshots to the temple of her head, and the evidence of a shot gun pellets dotted across her left shoulder. There was a moment of silence before John tore himself away from Lestrade's arms and cupped Mary's face, sobbing.
"No, no, noooo!"
"Molly, call someone, a doctor or something before he collapses!" Lestrade barked and Molly was on the phone calling for a paramedic as John pressed his forehead against Mary's and cried.
"Whose bloody idea was it to allow him to see Mary without me being present!?" Sherlock roared.
"I wanted you to identify Mary but because of the business of the damned Empty Hearse society, Molly has to stick the rules now or else she'll lose her job!" Lestrade roared right back.
"Oh, and that is why John's in the hospital again?" Sherlock snapped.
"Arrrgh, listen, the doctors say it took as much sedatives to drop John as it would an African elephant." Lestrade snapped back.
A small shrill scream was what made John crack open his eye.
"Oh now you've done it, now you woke Shelly!"
Standing at the foot of the hospital bed John was lying liquid like on, Sherlock and Lestrade were bickering with one another. Lestrade in his traditional trench coat and tie, and Sherlock in his infamous black coat and... Is that a pink polka dotted baby swing he was wearing and holding the pink bunny nappy bag Mary had picked out two days before she gave birth? Sherlock was trying to shush Shelly, the chime of keys causing Shelly to stop screaming and start cooing.
"I didn't know you had so many keys," Lestrade said, leaning in to examine Shelly.
"Oh they're not mine. I left mine at the flat. These are from the security guard sleeping in his truck in the parking lot." Sherlock said absently.
"You stole them from the guard?"
"Stole is such a strong word, I merely liberated them as at the rate he was sleeping, they would have dropped to the ground before he woke up and drove home to his irate wife whose upset he's working such long hours but really he can't stand her 'homemade' cooking."
"Boy you're gonna have fun when Shelly starts dating," Lestrade remarked and John opened both eyes.
"Dating?" Sherlock asked, surprised.
"Yeah, you know, dating boys. The poor lad is gonna be scared out of his wits," Lestrade said finally noticing John was awake. He cleared his throat. "I, um, I need to go check on some files," He said before leaving a stymied Sherlock and drugged John alone.
"Date? Why would Shelly need to date?" Sherlock said, looking down at the bright eyed, blonde haired baby. "You don't need to date do you? Well, any man you bring home will have a full background check, don't you worry," He mused.
"Sherlock?" John crocked.
Sherlock lifted his head.
"John."
"How's Shelly?" John asked weakly as Sherlock took two steps and sat in the chair next to the bed, placing the nappy bag on the floor.
"Shelly is good. After she ate this morning, she fell asleep listening to the violin, and then Mrs. Hudson came by and watched Shelly while I went out for some more nappies, and then she had her afternoon meal, and then I came back and bundled her up and brought her here." Sherlock said, absently readjusting the sling.
"How long have I been out?" John asked, reaching out to Shelly inside the sling. Shelly reached out too, grabbing John's pointer finger with her small hand, clinging to him.
"Not long, just a few days," Sherlock said quietly.
"Do we know who did it?"
"...No. Not yet, but Mycroft has his creatures scanning CCTV footage, checking mercenary actions within the country, examining bank accounts, and cell phone data tracks for the day around the house. I have my homeless network searching the streets, gathering any and all data John. We will find who did this to Mary." Sherlock said.
John smiled faintly as Shelly grabbed his finger with both hands and giggled as he wiggled his finger in response.
"Are we safe?"
"From what has happened so far... yes. I think for the meantime you and Shelly are safe. What happened, I think it was solely to do with Mary's past," Sherlock said gently.
John was quiet for a while, just watching Shelly giggle and gurgle until finally, still holding his finger, she fell asleep in the sling.
"I want to go home. I want Shelly to be safe." John said quietly.
"John, the house is crawling with Mycroft's creatures. It wouldn't be right—"
"No, Sherlock. I want to go home." John said firmly and Sherlock's eyes widened.
"Of course John. Whatever you want." Sherlock said.
Omg, the angst, the domestication, the baby sling!
I just wanted to say when it comes to terminology and language, as a Canadian my language is divided like this: 50% English, 12% American, 13% French, and 25% international (spelling is fun!).
Please rate and review! :)