4. A husband's duty
Morning came and John woke to Mary's touch. She brought a change of clothes, and she 'Ooed' and 'aawed' appropriately when she saw his wounds. She was so glad that he was all right, she cried for him. John felt stiff from sleeping on the hard bench, even after Mycroft's massage.
John went first to the emergency room. He found that Sherlock had been moved into a critical care ward. Mary wanted John to be checked out, but he deferred finally agreeing to go home with her when the doctors assured him that there was nothing to be done about Sherlock. But at the hospital or at home, John was restless, unable to work, unable to think clearly.
Lestrade came by in the afternoon with an officer to take his statement. The bomber gang had been captured, all except for two: one who had suicided, and one who had gotten away.
"But we're on his trail. We'll catch him." Lestrade said."So how is Sherlock? Will he recover do you think?"
"I don't know." John said, "He's stable. That's all that they'll say for now."
"Well I'm sure he'll be fine." Lestrade said, "Takes more than a bomb to kill Sherlock Holmes. I've seen him in bad places before, and he always comes back."
"Let's hope so." Mary said before showing the officers out.
John sat on the couch. A worried expression on his face. Mary sat on her knees at his feet. "Don't worry John. Sherlock will be alright. They'll take care of him."
John looked at her and gave a small smile that moments later turned back into a frown. He reached out and touched her cheek and then sat back to worry again. Mary walked out of the room. She brought him some dinner that he hardly touched and took it away again to store in the refrigerator.
John realized that his brooding must be worrying Mary so he turned on the telly and pretended to watch it. He brushed his hair with his fingers as he sat with his elbow on the armrest focusing on nothing except the image of Sherlock's bloody face in the parking garage superimposed on the corpse from the fake suicide.
A shadow fell over John. He looked up and saw Mary standing hands on hips before him in white lace lingerie. "John Watson" She began, "You are worrying too much. You need to be distracted, and I still haven't gotten enough wear out of this honeymoon trousseau."
John smiled and reached out holding Mary by either side of her narrow waist. He pulled her forward bending his head back to kiss her on the lips. Then he pulled her closer wrapping his arms around her so that she leaned over the couch standing on tiptoe. Then John turned her and kissed her under her arms.
Mary was a petite perfectly formed figure of a woman. John had thought so from the first time that he had seen her. John was not a large man. Something that was accentuated whenever he stood beside Sherlock, but he was strong compared to Mary.
The fact that he could lift her over his head never failed to turn him on. He lifted Mary now sliding her down over his reclining body. She lifted her arms and he kissed the skin beside her breast, at the base of her underarm, on her rounded forearm and inside her elbow. Mary curled up on his lap undoing the back of her bra as she kissed his lips tenderly. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms behind his neck.
Then John stood lifting her by putting his arms under her thighs and feet. She clung to him as he carried her into the bedroom. Now as always the sight of Mary's perfectly round breasts compelled John to cover them with his hands. Mary laughed, her voice ringing off of the bare walls.
John kissed the skin below her breasts and then blew into her bellybutton which made her laugh again. He slowly undressed her remarking loudly on how perfect each part of her was as he kissed it.
Mary took off John's shirt but when she tried to remove his trousers he stopped her. Reaching his hand down to caress her in a way that made her arch away from him and lie back on the bed.
These months of married life, John had not been idle. He had studied in precise detail what made Mary happy using his considerable medical skill to document each part of her. Even so, there was still quite a lot of research left to do. Mary made the most amazing sounds, and it was a joy to watch her. Her face grew more and more angelic in her pleasure, and her hair surrounded her like a halo of gold.
Eventually she grabbed his hand to stop him, nipping at his wrists before curling onto her side. She pulled John over to spoon beside her which he did until he heard her quiet snores, then he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling seeing again those closed eyes, and blood in that dark curly hair.