MARY
Mary held her hand to her heart waiting for the other shoe to fall. She knew what was about to come out of his lips. Had known from the moment that they had found John on the park bench. When Sherlock had laughed and done that little jump, the look on John's face had been so open like an infant who sees its mother enter the room. It was love pure and simple. Mary knew that John loved her, but his love for Sherlock was on another level altogether.
Mary was not happy with her own conduct these last few days. Her ideals and her actions had not been aligned. She couldn't keep herself from wanting to fight, to compete with Sherlock. When Sherlock had entered the shed and saw John kissing her, he had been hurt. John had seen it. John wanted to go to him, but she had held him back. She was jealous. She wanted John to herself.
Her love of Brad had also been a jealous love. He had been her life, and if he wasn't around, then life could go hang! Her inaction wasn't fear as she had always thought, but anger. Anger that the world had taken Brad from her. Anger that everyone expected her to go on without him. She had thrown a tantrum like a stubborn child. Staring at the coffee maker until everyone thought her an invalid.
Now she looked at John, and she thought that he might chose her not out of love, but out of pity. What kind of life would that be? Having a husband who had sacrificed his happiness to care for her. John would do it. John was noble and kind and self-sacrificing.
She didn't want to change John. She didn't want to hurt him either. She would let him go. She would get counseling and buy a new coffee maker. She would go back to the way she had been before she married John. Yes it was painful to live alone. But she would take that pain rather than inflict the smallest shadow to John's beautiful heart.
She turned to face John. He was in pain now because they had given him the burden of choosing between them. She rose out of her seat. She had to stop him before he broke his heart. She had to save him.
