The light burned Mary's eyes, pain throbbed through her head. She heard voices, ones she recognised. She let out a soft moan through her lips and all the talking deceased.
"Mary." It was Sherlock's voice that spoke first.
"Is she okay?" Next was a woman's voice that she couldn't place but had definitely heard before.
"Mary, are you awake?" It was her dad, he was sat very close to her.
She tried to form words but her whole face hurt, she tried to nod but it didn't work so she just made a sort of grunting noise.
She tried to open here eyes but only the right one responded, the left one was particularly sore. She turned her head slowly and looked around the room, she was in 221b baker street, lying on Sherlock's sofa. Sherlock was sat in his chair by the fire place, an unlit cigarette between his fingers and a glass of scotch in one hand. Sat on the arm of his chair was the voice that Mary could not place, it was Irene. James' mother.
Her mum and dad were sat by her, her mum had a glass of water and some ibuprofen in one hand whilst her dad a wet cloth and some bandages.
Mary's mother urged her to drink the water and she did, once her dad had helped her sit up.
She kept her one good eye on Irene the whole time until she spoke.
"I understand you must be confused." Mary would have laughed if she had not been in so much pain, confused didn't even to cover what she was feeling. Irene sighed and stood up, "I'm not James mother, I'm an old friend of Sherlock's but I owed Moriarty a favour and I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him I really did."
Mary didn't really react, she turned to look at her parents and tried to process the information.
An old friend of Sherlock's.
She knew exactly who this woman was.
"You're The Woman aren't you?" The words came from Mary's mouth but they were slow and broken.
Irene was caught off guard by this comment. "Not any more Mary."
Sherlock looked up at Irene with hurt in his eyes, Mary knew that this was the Woman Sherlock had told her about. The only woman he had ever really loved.
Mary decided to let it go for now, "Uncle S."
"Mary" Sherlock responded but he never looked at her, she knew what he was feeling.
"This wasn't your fault."
John flinched, it was a sensitive subject. Who's fault was all this? Everyone, including Mary felt guilty. How could she hurt all her friends and family like this? How could she have been so stupid?
Sherlock didn't respond to Mary's last comment and Mary knew he wanted to be alone, well alone with Irene.
"I want to go home Dad."
John looked up, surprised, "But-."
"If she wants to go home John, we're taking her home." Mary's voice was authoritative. Both her and John stood up in synchronisation but John bent down and picked up Mary in his arms. She was so light, so fragile.
They walked out of 221b and got in to the back of Lestrade's police car, he had been waiting for them downstairs this whole time.
"You really love her don't you, Mr Holmes?" Sherlock flinched, no one minus Mary had called him that in years.
It took Sherlock a few moments to reply before finally, avoiding Irene's eyes in the now empty apartment he said, "I really do."
