The power of three
chapter 4
Mary had just come back from a long visit with her mother. She was tired out and in tears. Her mother was in the last stages of the condition and was now suffering from dementia. It was heartbreaking. She probably would not live many more weeks. Yesterday, her mother seemed not to recognise her. Mary had to come back as it was getting dangerous to be caring for her mother. She was now nearly eight months pregnant.
John was not here.
Where was he? It was too late to be shopping or at work.
Mary's hand trembled a little bit as she picked up the phone. She looked at it with horror. This would be how it was when you feared you may have Huntington's. Every day, a little tremor here, a little stiffness there, all could indicate onset. The first symptoms of the first stages. John was not here. He was out with that friend of his. He was always out with that friend of his.
Mary did not like Sherlock. At first he had been charming to her and he was very handsome. He had been the best man at her wedding and had given a beautiful moving speech about John. How he wished him all the best, hoped they had many children and so on. He was not what he had seemed. Later she had begun to see what was going on. What she saw unnerved her. John seemed to follow him like a little kitten. Sherlock seemed to expect it. Even after their marriage he would not let John alone. They had a big fight about it and it ended with Mary promising John she would not interfere. But she hated how Sherlock treated her husband like some sort of sidekick.
She dialed her husband's iPhone only to get no answer. She put down the phone and made herself a cup of tea, wiping away her sorrow as best she could. A few hours later she tried again. It was past midnight and she had hoped by that time he would be home. The phone rang and Sherlock answered.
"He's asleep!" Sherlock said dismissively when she asked for John. "What is it?"
She felt a sudden pain in her side and couldn't help crying out.
"What's that Mary, is the baby coming?" Sherlock asked. He suddenly seemed concerned.
"I think it's just a Braxton Hicks", she said, "but can you wake him? He should be with me."
"Of course."
She heard someone moan. Sherlock was trying to rouse her John as best he could. He was obviously pretty out of it. Sherlock no doubt, had kept him awake too long on some case or other. She heard her husband protesting in the background.
"What is it Sherlock? Not now, I'm trying to get some kip."
"It's your wife John; she is having contractions of some sort,"
"What? Why didn't you tell me! How long have I been asleep? Where am I? Sherlock, what are you… Mary? Having the baby, oh my!"
"Yes, John she may be having our baby. You need to speak to her."
John came on the phone. "Mary? How far apart are they?"
"No, no- it's just a Brixton hick contraction John. Why are you not at home asleep? I've come back this afternoon and I need you. Yes, I have left a message on your phone." She laughed. "I just heard Sherlock say 'she's having our baby' to you. So funny! No John, I haven't miss-heard. Come on, get yourself in a taxi and get over here, I'm really sad, John. Mummy's really bad. I need you."
She put down the phone and her hand trembled involuntarily again. What was he doing over there asleep? Why did Sherlock answer his phone? He must have crashed out on that sofa at Baker St. and Sherlock could have been watching him from the chair opposite. She could see a picture in her mind of Sherlock; his hands steepled together, observing her husband as he slept.
She shuddered a little as she imagined John snoring gently on the couch, his mouth partly open, while Sherlock, his strange blue green eyes narrowed, observing John as a tiger might regard his prey.