Today's prompt is from MadameGiry25 - Watson discovers that Mary's been hiding something from him, and is hurt when she won't talk to him. BUT. Little does he know...
Shamlessly fluffy.
He pushes in through the front door. Rain drips from his coat, and his shoes smear the clean wood with mud. It smells of bread and hot soup.
His shoulders loosen. It is good to be home.
"John? Is that you?"
Mary's voice is soft. She comes in with a shawl draped around her slim frame, curious.
"Hello, love." He kisses her forehead.
Dark strands of hair have strayed across her face; he brushes them back gently. She smiles up at him with warm, grey eyes.
"How did you fare today, good Doctor?" She asks, teasing mixed with concern. "It wasn't too much, was it?"
"No, no." He takes her hand and raises it to his lips. "I am well. Glad to return to you, most of all."
She laughs, a light, floating sound. "And I am glad to have you back. Now. Come into the kitchen. I would place good money on a guess that you neglected to eat today."
His sheepish silence is answer enough.
"Take off your wet things," she directs, smoothing the front of her lavender dress with a businesslike nod. "I'll set the table."
His mouth twitches. "Yes, ma'am."
She winks, and steps neatly into the other room.
Squeaks echo his steps, wet soles rubbing waxed wood. He tugs his heavy coat from his arms and lets it hang on the rack.
With a smile, he turns to follow his wife. A sharp knock at the door pulls him back, a frown crossing his face.
"Hello?" He asks, puzzled as he opens the door. The Smith boy tips his hat, breathless in the cold.
His greeting tumbles out. "Evening, guv." Feet shuffle in a futile effort to get warm. "T' owd cove what lives next to me mum axed me if I'd run a note down 'ere." The paper is thrust out by red, shaking hands. "It's for Missus Watson, sir. 'e said it was urgent."
"Thank you, Smith," he says politely. Fishing in his pocket, he pulls out a coin and drops it into the boy's palm. "For your trouble. Get home, lad, and warm up."
Smith nods, stashing the coin dashing down the steps.
Slowly, he closes the door, sealing out the chilled air. The paper is crumpled, but the writing is neat. Unable to help himself, he reads.
Dear Mrs. Watson,
I am afraid the return appointment we set today will no longer be possible, as I am departing to the country tonight to attend to an injured friend. I cannot say when I will return. I apologise most profusely for the inconvenience. If you experience any trouble, I recommend that you seek another physician promptly.
Sincerely,
Doctor Williams
He stares at the words for a long moment, blood rushing in his ears.
"Mary?"
The room seems far away, and her response faint even as she comes to stand beside him.
"John? John, are you alright?" Her hands find their way to either side of his face, warm and tender. "You've gone so pale."
"Mary," he says quietly, holding out the letter. "What is this?"
Her eyes widen. "Oh... Oh dear."
It feels as if his breath has been stolen from him. Words come with great pain. "You have been... seeing a private physician?"
"I..." She swallows, hands clasping beneath her chin. "I did not mean for you to find out."
Hurt stabs through him, slicing like a knife. "But... Why?"
"Come and have something to eat," she pleads, tugging on his wrist.
"Mary, please."
Her arm falls limp at her side. She refuses to meet his gaze.
"I had meant to... after dinner. But I suppose now is as good a time as any." She looks up, her eyes shy. A tinge of pink paints appears under her freckles.
She takes his hands in hers. "I am expecting."
His heart skips a beat. "You... What?"
Softly, "We are going to have a baby."
Stunned, he stares at her. Then the world begins to turn again, and a smile splits his face. "A baby."
"Yes." Her answering smile is nearly as large as his, and tears well up to spill down her cheeks. "Yes, a baby."
He laughs breathlessly, spinning her around and pulling her into a tight embrace. "That is wonderful news," he whispers.
She gives a sob that is really a laugh. "I know."
With gentle fingers, he tips her head up, placing a fervent kiss on her lips. She returns it, and hugs him again. Her hair smells of flowers.
"Oh, how I love you, John Watson," she breathes, and buries her face in his chest.
He lets his forehead rest on the crown of her head, holding her in his arms. The moment presses into his heart, never to leave. Never to be forgotten.
Joy fills his soul.
"And I love you."