A/N: For those of you who have forgotten what the last three chapters have been about... it's just John. xD John has a fight with Lestrade and then John meets Mary. Suicide is touched on just a little bit but it's not the main focus. This chapter is set six months after the previous one.
Thank you to TARDIS Blue Carbuncle for editing! Enjoy lovelies. x
Six months later...
It's a cold winter's morning in London; snow covered the ground, making the day seem colder than it was. The setting was perfect; a miserable day with a chilling wind biting at the ankles of anyone who dared to walk the streets. It was just the perfect scene to say goodbye.
John Watson climbs out of Mary's car outside Newport Cemetery. He looks back at his fiancée in the driver's seat of the car and she offers him an encouraging smile. He returns the gesture, takes a moment to gather himself, and then approaches the gate to the cemetery.
John's dreams are much more peaceful now; there is less Sherlock and more Mary. He doesn't dread falling asleep anymore. He feels much happier during the day. He feels more at peace with the fact Sherlock is gone, and more at peace with himself. He doesn't know where he'd be right now without Mary.
They had remained friends at first, but after more lunches and eventually dinners, something sparked between them. John had said goodbye to her and she to him. It had been a cold evening, though the restaurant they had dined at that night had made him feel much warmer.
He hugs himself as he walks through the snow and towards Sherlock's headstone. He reaches it – it isn't that hard to spot a black piece of marble in amongst the snow on the ground.
He hesitates for a moment as he nears, but then presses on until his gloved hand is resting on top of the marble. He takes a moment to gather himself again by looking around the cemetery, but then decides he ought to get this over and done with.
John had begun to walk back to his flat, for it was only three blocks away, but Mary offered him a lift home. On the drive, it was somehow decided between them that their destination tonight would actually be Mary's house. The car was parked in the garage, John had been bustled inside by the widely smiling Mary and then she had been all over him.
He had accepted her more than happily, and it wasn't long before they were both in Mary's bedroom in nothing but their underwear.
After that night their lunches and dinners turned into dates. Kisses were shared and romantic meals were had. They had only known each other six months and yet they fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle; they were meant for each other – true soul mates.
And so after John finished his last counselling session with Ella at the clinic, he went out and bought a ring. They had eaten together at the café , talked about what-not and then John had proposed.
It had been nothing special at all. He had finished his food, pushed his plate aside, and then grasped both her hands in his. He had reached into his coat pocket and set the box on the table. She pulled a hand away, covering her mouth, but John had still continued. He used his free hand to open the box, revealing the beautiful diamond ring and asked her simply, "Will you marry me?"
He takes a deep breath. "Sherlock." he says. "I..." he trails off, unsure of what to say. It takes him a moment, but he finally continues, "The last thing I told you was that you were a machine." He swallows. "I regret that, you know? Because you were my friend. My best friend. My only friend." He swallows again. "But it's hurting to keep dwelling on you. I miss you, Sherlock, but I think it's best I say goodbye." he says, a lump forming in his throat as he spoke. "I met a woman. She's different from all the others, Sherlock. She understands me. I want to focus on starting a new life with her. I have to leave you behind..." he continues. He hesitates again, looking around the cemetery. "I have to focus on her. I... I have to say goodbye." He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. "Goodbye, Sherlock." he concludes with an incline of his head.
John had been expecting her to decline. But her other hand joined the other over her mouth, and she simply nodded. She then removed her hands, wiping her face down and then grabbed onto John's hands again.
"Oh my God... John! I... of course. Of course I will." she had answered.
It took a moment, but then the café broke out into applause.
Mary later told John she almost cried, and then even later told him it had reminded her of the way her deceased husband had proposed to her. He continually apologised that he was taking this too fast, but Mary assured him she was absolutely fine with it. She told him she loved him and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He had repeated the same to her.
That was the moment John decided he was going to take Mary up on the first piece of advice she gave him – say goodbye to Sherlock. He decided he was going to dedicate himself to her and let them build their new lives out of the ruins of their old ones. He was going to be Mary's, and Mary was going to be John's.
But in amongst the happiness of the engagement and the happiness of having Mary around, there was always the stray thought of suicide deep down in John's thoughts and dreams.
John turns away then. He wrings his hands as he walks back to where Mary parked her car. He isn't cold anymore.
Molly Hooper hands Sherlock Holmes the newspaper. He regards her with a slightly puzzled look, but takes it anyway and glances at the front page.
"The second page." The morgue assistant points out helpfully just as Sherlock sets it down on the table, disinterested.
He concurs to her suggestion and opens the newspaper, his eyes skimming over the words on the page. He reaches halfway when he does a double a take. He sets the newspaper down again, eyeing Molly as she retrieves her breakfast from the countertop.
"Moran has been arrested." He repeats what he just read in a matter-of-factly tone.
She nods. "I thought you'd be interested to know." she claims.
He reads the article again quickly. "I am." he confirms. He looks back at Molly. "But that's not why you asked me to see you." he says.
He sees her lips twitch up, forming the hint of a smile. She sets down her knife and fork on the plate in front of her, disregarding her breakfast. She clasps her hands in her lap underneath the table, and gives Sherlock a sad look.
"It's John." she begins simply.
He begins to read the newspaper again. "What about John?" he asks.
"He's engaged." she tells him.
"But?" he prompts.
Her eyes flick to the ground for moment, but then centre on Sherlock again. "But Lestrade is still worried about him." she adds. "They haven't spoken since their fight a couple of months ago. He's stopped his counselling at the clinic." she elaborates.
He looks up from the paper. "Where's John's old flat?" Sherlock asks suddenly, off topic.
Molly looks puzzled. "I... I don't know." she answers. "But that's not what we're talking about." she says.
"Yes, but Moran was arrested a block away from where John used to live." he continues. "That is much, much more than a coincidence. Moriarty doesn't have – "
"Sherlock." Molly interrupts, though her voice is soft.
He quiets. "What were you saying about John?" he asks.
"People are still worried about him." she repeats.
He looks down at the paper once again. "Worried he's finally moving on from me? I thought that would be a good thing." he points out.
Molly falters. "It is, but –"
"Do you have last week's newspaper?" he queries.
Molly sighs. "Sherlock, please." she entreats. "John is your friend. No one wants to see him hurt himself, and you especially shouldn't." she continues.
"John is a grown man." Sherlock retorts. "He can take care of himself. And what did you say before? He's engaged, wasn't it? Obviously he's found someone else to 'live for', as you like to put it." he continues. Molly opens her mouth to counteract, but he continues nevertheless, "I know Mycroft has entrusted you to babysit me, Molly, and I know it was way out of your comfort zone at the time. I know you have changed since that day, and I know I have too." He pauses for a moment, considering his last statement. "But I am perfectly fine, and I'm sure John is as well." he concludes.
Molly hushes, her gaze focused in her lap. He knows she's fiddling with her fingers – it had become her habit. Mycroft had indeed trusted her with Sherlock as her responsibility. She was to make sure he was alright, and she was to talk to him about John and keep him updated about him. Occasionally he would spend the night, and then she would fiddle with more than her fingers. He felt for her, in a way, for he was very conscious of how big of a burden he was. John's reaction to his suicide had shown him this. It had taken him a long time to get his head around it.
He's drawn out of his brief musings by another newspaper being handed to him. Molly hides behind her cup of coffee as he takes it from her hand, opens it, and begins to read. He skims the first three pages and then sets it down.
"When was it... the news about the drug bust?" he asked her.
Molly sets her mug down. "I... um..." she trails off, her eyes flicking around the room. It was obvious his mini-speech had unsettled her. "I think it was last month. October." she answers eventually.
He pulls out his phone and searches for 'uk drugs bust october 2013' on Google. Molly eyes him as he does his quick research, though whenever he met her gaze, she would look away or down to her unfinished breakfast.
"Ah." he announces as a news article loads.
Molly's eyebrows go up slightly. "What?" she questions.
"Moran was arrested for burglary with a deadly weapon." he says. "A burglary of a hardware store in broad daylight." he adds. "Moran is not that sloppy." he claims. "He wouldn't be caught unless he wants to be." he continues. "I have to see Lestrade." Sherlock says suddenly, grabbing both newspapers off the table and striding towards the door.
"Sherlock, wait!" Molly cries as he makes it into the corridor to her apartment. She's only dressed in her nightie. "Lestrade thinks you're dead, remember?" she pointed out.
He relaxes his form and then looks back at Molly. "Old habits." he alleges with a grim, Sherlock smile – the sort where his eyebrows would nearly reach his hairline, and his lips almost disappear into one another. He makes his way back towards Molly again, entering her apartment.
"I can talk to Lestrade." she offers shyly once the door is closed again.
"No." he disagrees.
She sighs softly. "Then at least tell me what's going on in that head of yours. Mycroft will want to know." she says.
Sherlock gives her a look. His lips quirk as he examines her, before rolling his eyes to look at the other side of the room. He then looks back at the small morgue assistant, his lips slightly parted.
"The drugs bust and Moran's arrest – I believe they're connected." he reveals.
"How?" asks Molly.
"Moriarty wouldn't have a right-hand man who gets himself caught in such an obvious robbery." he claims. "Moran wants to be in a jail, and so he is there. Both the crimes are handled by the same police department, and so Moran and the drug dealers would go to the same jail."
"Moran wants the drug." Molly says suddenly.
Sherlock pauses for a moment, giving her a surprised look. She smiles slightly in return.
"Yes, Moran wants the drug." Sherlock confirmed. "But I don't know why."