Chapter Two
"Mary"
Mary stood in the door of the bathroom, throwing her brilliantly red coat over her shoulders. Her gaze was drawn to the man rinsing his face in the sink.
"I'm off to work love, see you there?" she queried softly.
"Hmm?" John relied, his face covered by a hand towel.
"I'll see you there? The office?"
"Oh yeah. I'll be along in a bit. I've got an errand to run before my first appointment." he replied slowly, taking extra care to drape the damp towel neatly along its rack.
Mary knew that tone of his- the sound of his voice that meant he had a lot on his mind. She knew her doctor well, and the deliberate way he moved, his intense expression let her know his "errand" was much more than that, and weighed heavily upon him.
The last few months John's attitude had been steadily improving. He had stopped pretending to be okay, and had begun to truly be alright. The crippling pain at his partner's apparent suicide had finally begun to lessen its grip on his life. Mary knew she could only take credit for some of his improvement. John's own natural resiliency had begun to put him back to rights.
Having met him almost ten months ago at his new offices had been one of the best days of her life. She had known instinctively that Dr Watson was broken, hemorraghing inside and he needed to have his life saved. He had made the bare efforts of existing- washing, dressing, walking to work, going through his appointments methodically but without any expression of emotion. Work, home, sleep, repeat.
After of few weeks of working with him, Mary had made the the decision to ask him out. John had just stood there, as if he had forgotten that people still did things like that, going on dates. His expression had been blank, and she had to repeat herself. To her surpise, John had shook his head as if to clear it, and then, even more surprisingly, had said yes.
A quiet night out at a nearly empty pub had been less of date and more of therapy session. Mary knew very well John's past with the late Sherlock Holmes, as their escapades the year before had been hard to miss. Even Mary had grieved when she heard that Holmes had committed suicide by falling from the roof at St Bart's. Hearing the story directly from someone who had lived it was heart wrenching, and the strength of the man she sat with was dazzling. She spent the night teaching John how to have a conversation again- he hadn't felt the need or the desire to really talk to anyone in a long time. By the end of that night, and after several empty pints, Mary was satisfied that the real John was still alive, buried under the trauma of Sherlock's death. One day he would find himself again, and she wanted to be with him every step of the way.
"Ok love. I'll see you there," Mary told John, walking over to kiss him gently on the forehead before leaving. Since his dramatic return the week earlier, Sherlock had alot to answer for, and she knew John was in the mindset to make him pay for it. She knew exactly where he was going, and she hoped for everyones' sake that both men would be able to survive what was coming and still be whole on the other side.
John stood next to his dresser, and with a deep sigh reached for his clothes. He had a ghost to confront, and putting it off would only make it harder.