This was inspired by Amberlin's fic 'The Musings of Mary Watson' so it is to her I dedicate it.
Eyes.
Mary Watson glanced between the two most important men in her life and only one of them knew it. John Watson glanced at her from time to time and smiled, she smiled back sheepishly. Her eyes, in spite of herself, rested on Mr. Holmes and would not leave his face. The intensity of the gaze he displayed on her husband was almost frightening but she found she could not look away. She had heard John describe him many times as 'formidable' and she could certainly see why. His entire body was tense as he spoke and he seemed hardly aware of her presence, save for the occasional glance or twitch of his lips at an attempt to smile at her.
Mary watched with fascination as his hands flew in the air as he spoke, how his fingers elegantly drew in the air what his lips were saying with word; she watched as his eyes sparkled and felt herself blushing. She should not be thinking of these things, looking at another man who was not her husband was a sin and she was well aware of it, but Mr. Holmes possessed a hold over her that her husband did not, could not. Power.
He was an extraordinary man, this she had known from the start, it was after all, his reputation that had brought her to him, to him she appealed when in desperate need and it was him who had answered, not John. Of course he had been there and it was him with whom she fell in love, but it was not for her husband that the wildest part of her yearned. She felt sick at the thought, as the two men debated whatever it was they were debating, she sipped at her tea. He was looking at her now; she looked up and paled at the sight of him. He smiled and she almost swooned away in front of them both.
"Are you alright Mrs. Watson?" She could have sworn she saw concern in his eyes, but waved the thought away as mere fancy. She nodded and the tea cup in her hand began to shake.
"I'm sorry my dear, we have been going on rather haven't we?" John had taken the cup from her and had now risen, offering her his arm; she took it gratefully and shakily got to her feet.
"Not at all, but I feel very dull and stupid not to understand it." She lied, hoping they would not discern the true reason for her silence.
"I am sure you are far from stupid Mrs. Watson." Mr. Holmes said without emotion.
Mary longed for him to call her by her Christian name but she knew that he would not, that that kind of familiarity he would permit himself to bestow; even to the wife of his best friend. She sighed, which her husband took to be tiredness and led her to a waiting carriage in the street below. As he shook his friend's hand Mary felt a pang of jealousy, but not for John, for the detective. She shuddered against her feelings and John bundled her into a carriage. She caught Mr. Holmes smile at this show of affection but he remained silent. As the carriage pulled away she was vaguely aware of John's words but she was barely listening, she longed for another man with the part of her soul that had forced her desires into her subconscious. John reached out for hand and without thinking she took it, it was cold, a single tear rolled silently down her cheek and without words John pulled her to him, she leaned into him and without thinking let forth a torrent a tears that her husband thought would never stop.