Who on earth could be at the door this late in the evening? Molly wondered as she approached her front door cautiously. She peered through the peephole. Mary Watson? She hastened to unlock the door and let her friend in.
"Mary, are you all right?" Molly asked in concern. Mary looked pale and her eyes were reddened and puffy. She pulled off her coat and dropped it in a careless heap on the floor.
"John and I had an awful row," Mary confessed, distressed. "We never quarrel, Molly. Never, ever. And it was all my fault."
Molly was puzzled. "But you've been married, what, almost seven months? And this is your first fight? I think that's amazing, Mary. I'd have to say it's about time you had a disagreement. It's not human, otherwise."
Mary plopped down on Molly's sofa and sighed. "I can't even call it a proper quarrel, really. I was the only one arguing. John just stayed completely calm and listened to me rant at him. A few times, he tried to end the disagreement, but I just kept at him. I was . . . I was a horrible NAG, Molly!" Mary looked mortified at herself.
Molly tried to picture Mary Watson as a nag and John Watson as a nagged-at, hen-pecked husband and utterly failed.
"I always promised myself I'd never be a nagging wife," Mary continued. "And there I was, just pushing and pushing at him, until finally he just . . . got up and left."
Molly gasped."Oh, he ought not to have done that." She sat gently beside her friend and put her arms around her comfortingly. "No matter what an awful nag you were, he should have been man enough to stay and listen to it."
Mary smiled ruefully. "No, I drove him away. I was relentless. He was being perfectly reasonable and logical, and I was completely out of line. And then I was so ashamed of myself, I left home before he could come back."
"You didn't shout at him, did you?" Molly asked, a bit aghast at the thought.
Mary shook her head. "No, of course not. At least I have that much dignity left. But . . . oh, Molly! I called him 'John'. Three times!"
"Oh," Molly's hands flew up to her mouth in shock. "Oh, Mary, that was a bit . . . extreme, wasn't it?"
"I'm an absolute harridan! How could I be so cruel to him? He didn't deserve it. He was just being protective of me," Mary cried in dismay.
"What . . . what was the quarrel about, dear?" Molly was almost afraid to ask.
"Harry. You know, his sister. Her birthday is next week, and I thought we might go for a visit. They've never got on, but lately they aren't even speaking to each other. I wanted to help mend things." Mary sighed again. "But I've never even met her. What do I know?"
Molly patted Mary's shoulder comfortingly. "It sounds as if you had John's best interests at heart. I'm sure he understands that."
"He knows his sister and how best to deal with her. I ought to have listened to him. After all, he's known her all his life, and I don't know her at all. I trust his judgement in all other areas; why wouldn't I trust his judgement about his own sister? I was just being . . . a pushy nag! And all the time he was just being loyal to me. The reason they don't speak anymore is because she disapproves of me. Strongly. And he won't put up with her speaking ill of me. 'You are the most important person in my life,' he said. 'Until she's ready to treat you with respect, I'll have nothing to do with her.'"
"Oh," Molly gasped again, impressed. "Oh, Mary, what a lovely thing to say. You have to apologize as quickly as you can!"
"I know," Mary said miserably. "But I left my phone at home. And I don't know where he is. And I don't know how to face him."
"Don't worry," Molly soothed. She whipped out her phone and dialled John's number in a flash and handed it to her friend. It went straight to voice mail. Mary's eyes welled up again.
Molly smiled bravely. "Oh don't cry, Mary! I'll bet anything in the world he went to Baker Street when he found you weren't at home. You can try Sherlock on my mobile."
Mary bit her lip and looked pensive for a moment. "No. I can't talk to Sherlock. He's very protective of John. He won't want to give me a chance to nag at him again," she sniffed sadly.
"Then call Mrs. Hudson. No, here, I'll do it." Molly scrolled to Mrs. Hudson's number and pushed send. "Oh, Mrs. Hudson. This is Molly. Molly Hooper. Is John with you, by any chance?" She listened a moment, then turned to Mary. "Mrs. Hudson isn't home, but she's on her way there."
"Tell her I'm trying to find him. Tell her why," Mary prompted.
"Mrs. Hudson, Mary's trying to find John and she was hoping he'd gone to Baker Street. Could you check when you arrive? They've had a bit of a tiff, and he walked out. Yes, I know he ought not to have done that, but you know how he is. He's always going out for a breath of air when he and Sherlock have words. Mary's quite worried about him. . . . Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Just tell him she's with me, all right? Thank you, dear." Molly hugged Mary comfortingly. "There, Mrs. Hudson will take care of things."
Sure enough, in less time than either girl could have thought possible, there was a knock at the door. Molly looked through the peephole. "It's him," she whispered to Mary. "He looks very upset."
Mary pressed her lips together anxiously. "Let him in. I might as well face up to things," she said bravely.
Molly opened the door and let John in without a word. He stepped into the sitting room and looked uncertainly at his wife. Mary rose from the sofa and looked uncertainly back.
"I am so sorry," they both burst out at once. "No, I'm the one to be sorry," they said together. It couldn't have been better coordinated if they had rehearsed it. When they both opened their mouths to speak simultaneously a third time, they snorted with laughter and dissolved into giggles. Mary flung herself into his outstretched arms. Molly chuckled in delight, unabashedly watching a perfect make-up kiss.
"I'm sorry I walked out. That was thoughtless and cruel of me," John said gently into her hair.
"I'm sorry I nagged at you. I should have left you alone once you said no," Mary replied.
"But you were absolutely right, you know," John told Mary apologetically. "We'll go and see Harry for her birthday. I shouldn't have given up on her like that."
"No, no. You were right. You know her better than I do. If you think my being there will set her off instead of helping, I should stay out of it."
"Well, we'll talk about it tomorrow, when we're feeling less upset. Let's go home, shall we?"
"Captain, why didn't you answer your phone?" Mary asked as he helped her on with her coat.
"My phone?" He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it sheepishly. "Erm. The battery's dead."
Mary snickered and kissed him again.
Then they left without even saying goodbye to Molly, who sat down on her sofa and laughed and laughed.
