No one is waiting for them at the airport on their return. Hardly surprising as neither of them are social butterflies. Even so, she half expects to see Sherlock there. She looks around for a black coat, then she looks at John, but he carries their bags toward the taxi stand without a word. After 'the incident', John hasn't mentioned Sherlock's name once.
They climb into the taxi and go to their new flat, the one on the ground floor with an extra bedroom for the baby. Two days later, they go back to work. They are on different shifts, so she drives and John takes the train. One evening, she casually points out that he's gained a few pounds. The next day he comes home with a bicycle that he parks on the back patio.
Their sex is lackluster. The wild John from that one night is gone. He's tender and cautious with her. When she calls him on it, he says that he doesn't want to hurt the baby. John is as kind, as he always has been, but now that she's seen his true self, his actions seem restrained. Perhaps it is embarrassment or shame that makes him want to hide that side of himself from her, but she doesn't mind that anymore. They were both a little off that day, and anyone can make a mistake.
John is a bit… obsessive. And he's been obsessed with Sherlock Holmes for years. He said it himself on that blog that she has taken it upon herself to read. Sherlock Holmes is 'like a drug.' John looks up to him. He respects him. He was understandably upset that he died the way he did, and getting him back... well, that was an shock. But everything is fine now. John buys a new phone, and doesn't call to give Sherlock his number. She knows because she checks his messages every night when he's in the bathroom.
John's PTSD is back with a vengeance. He tosses in his sleep almost every night. She holds his wrist to comfort him. At least that is what she tells herself. She won't admit that she is even jealous of his dreams.
The morning Kate arrives on their doorstep distressed about her son Isaac, is the first time in weeks that John seems to be acting like himself. Actually, he seems agitated and nervous, but when he puts that tire iron down his jeans, she can't help but smile. He does look 'A little bit sexy' when he plans to be violent.
She waits for him in the car thinking about what they'll do once they get home. They'll drop off Isaac first, then she'll ask him about what he has in his trousers. Knowing John, he'll make some off color joke about the iron. Then she'll unzip his jeans and pull it out. Perhaps then she'll see that wild John again. The one who took her breath away. The one that might be a true match for her. She doesn't want to give herself hope, but she has been fantasizing about him, a John every bit as forceful as the men she used to know. Someone exciting who'd hold his own with her in bed, and then get up later to care for the baby. John could be that man if only she could get him to open up a bit.
Isaac comes out first, a bit disoriented, talking about John having a fight. She jumps when the door flies off of it's hinges, and reaches for the glove compartment where she had stashed John's gun only to stop in shock when she sees who John is arguing with.
Sherlock Holmes.
Of course he would find a way to butt into their lives again. Mary starts the car and races over to where they are.
"In, both of you, quickly!" she yells suddenly angry.
They climb in, and then some man from the drug den gets in front of the car and insists that she take him with them. She is just considering running him over when John tells her to give him a ride. The druggy freeloader calls Sherlock 'Shezza'. Honestly, Shezza? What kind of silly name is that? She is starting to calm down when John insists that they go to Barts Hospital to give Sherlock a drug test.
Mary drives them to the hospital. She tries to keep her cool, but she is secretly fuming. Sherlock Holmes is a grown man. If he wants to get stoned off his head and lie all day in a drug den, that's none of their business, but John, John has to be his mother hen. Why does he treat Sherlock this way? Why does he feel that it is his responsibility to feed him and scold him, and bandage up his cuts? It's bizarre!
John storms into the hospital and she follows. Even the weird druggy freeloader comes along with them to the lab. Why not? Why the hell not! This makes no sense anyway.
John stands in the corner glaring while Molly does a drugs test on Sherlock. Mary falls back into cover as a nurse and bandages up Freeloader's arm only to turn in shock at the sound of Molly slapping Sherlock. She slaps him again and says, "How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts that you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you're sorry."
"Sorry your engagement's over, though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring."
John walks over to him, and lowers his voice saying, "If you were anywhere near this thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to me."
"Oh, please do relax. This is all for a case."
'Ha!' Mary thinks. 'A case? The only case here is the case of the whiny baby Sherlock who was missing his full-time baby sitter.'
"What kind of case would need you doing this?" John asks.
"I might as well ask you why you started cycling to work."
'Cycling? How did he know? Oh, the creases on his shirt. John folds his shirts and changes when he gets to work, but he didn't need to go into work today. Does that mean he folds all of his shirts?'
Mary thinks back to when she last did the laundry. She hung the shirts in the closet next to her clothes, but John must have taken them down and packed them again. Why? 'Oh God. John is planning to leave me!'
"Ow!" Druggy Freeloader says as she pulls the bandage a bit too tight.
"Oh, sorry, you moved," she says trying to cover, "but it is just a sprain."
"Somebody hit me," he replies looking across at John, "Just some guy."
John shifts nervously on his feet and says, "It was probably just an addict in need of a fix."
Sherlock says, "Yes, I think, in a way, it was."
He's clever, John is. Mary finds her mouth turning up in a smile. Who would have expected that a man who is unable to lie might be able to hide his thoughts from her like this. She wants to congratulate him and hit him at the same time. She is on the verge of laughing hysterically. She needs to leave quickly before she does something that she can't talk her way out of. She walks over to John as Sherlock runs off to make a call. Why don't you take Sherlock home while I take Isaac back to his mother.
John nods, his eyes fixed on the door that Sherlock has just passed through. She leads Isaac out to the car, sighing as the freeloader, Bill, jumps in the back. She contemplates killing him for a moment, and then she smiles and asks him about Shezza.
"He's been comin' round off and on for a long while now," Bill says. "The last couple weeks, he's been by almost every day. He started out heavy, but lately he's been tapering off. He has me wake him in the morning. Says that he has someone he has to meet. Won't say who, just that it's important that he meet her. Happens sometimes. Someone has a wife or girlfriend that they don't want to know about their binges. He didn't seem the type, but there it is."
Mary drops him off, and then takes Isaac home to his mother who sobs and yells out thank yous, her gratitude overflowing. Once they are out of the door, Mary locks it, and walks into the kitchen. They'd just redecorated it adding a bright yellow, floral wallpaper. A crystal bowl full of oranges sits on the table. It was a wedding gift from Stella and Ted. She picks it up admiring the way their names are etched into the side, Mary and John.
She smiles, remembering when they first saw it on the night before they left for their honeymoon. She'd insisted they put the gifts away properly before leaving, and so they had sat on the living room floor smiling and laughing as they read each card and opened each box. John had talked about the future, about their children and their life together. He had made her believe in forever, and then he had gone into the bedroom and folded his clothes because he didn't plan to stay.
There was a loud crash. Mary looked down at the shattered pieces of the wedding bowl. Oranges scattered, bouncing across the floor and rolling under the table. She looked at her empty hands.
Empty.
She didn't understand.
Why?
Why could she never hang on to the good things?
