"But please, there's just one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me, don't be…dead."
After the funeral, I removed myself from the Baker Street premises. I continued to stop in now and then to see how Mrs. Hudson was getting on – I couldn't just abandon her, after all she'd done for me – but I couldn't face the flat on a daily basis, not with all his things still there. The bullet holes in the wall, the beakers on the kitchen table, the "London A-Z" on the shelf, the skull on the mantle – all around me, countless reminders that he was gone forever.
The fierce pain that immediately followed the funeral has since subsided, replaced by a dull ache that, while not all consuming, will nonetheless probably stay with me for life – after all, the hurt of such a loss does not go away quickly. Whether I am conscious of it or not, it is there, but I've learned to resume my daily routine. I have my job at the practice, I have my afternoon walks in the park…and I have Mary.
Mary Morstan could not have come into my life at a better time. It was on one of my walks that I came to find my usual bench occupied by a woman deeply immersed in something. As I came closer, that something proved to be a sketchbook, the page open to a half-finished drawing of the surrounding landscape and the lady's hand adding careful touches with a light pencil. My shadow passing over the picture caused her to look up.
"Mind if I sit down?" I asked.
"Not at all," she replied, sliding over on the bench to make room.
"Quite a drawing you've got there," I said, almost surprised at how eager I was to make conversation. Ever since the funeral, I'd preferred to keep mostly to myself. "Fantastic, really."
"Thank you!" She seemed genuinely pleased. "Mary Morstan," she said, offering her hand. She was plainly but fashionably dressed, with an elegant blonde bob, and she had a warm smile that extended to her large, doe-like eyes.
"John Watson," I replied, shaking it. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Morstan."
"Mary, please."
"All right, Mary, then. Are you an artist then?"
"Dear me, no," she laughed, "it's merely a hobby. I've loved drawing since I was a little girl, and the weather has finally been nice enough for me to bring my book outdoors again. I'm a secretary by trade."
"A secretary? Whereabouts?" I asked, hoping I wasn't coming off as nosy. I hardly exaggerate when I say this was the longest conversation I'd had in months. Mary gave the name, and I was pleasantly surprised to hear that it was quite close to my own place of work. After a few more minutes of idle chatter, she rose to go.
"Fancy a coffee after work Monday?" I asked suddenly, feeling brave.
"I can't, my sister's in town for the evening," she said. Then, after a pause, "but I'm free Tuesday." She gave me a small smile, which I returned.
"Tuesday it is then."
The coffee date went well, and we've been together since. Mary is pretty, charming, and smart, but most importantly, she's compassionate. She, along with the rest of London, saw the headlines after Sherlock jumped, and she knows enough to understand that he was incredibly important to me. From the get-go, she's made it clear that if I ever need to talk about it, she will listen. She is my rock, and I love her more than I can say for being there for me on those awful nights when it all comes racing back and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and let the tears come. It is our anniversary soon, and I'm hoping I can come up with something special enough for her before then.
The morning is particularly fine – how could it not be? Last night, I received a breathless "yes" from those sweet lips I love so much, and now a small but beautiful ring glitters on her delicate hand. I am on my way to my weekly meeting with Ella – she insists on keeping them up, says the regular talks will do me good. She approves of Mary, and no doubt the conversation today will be a positive one. And indeed it is – "John, congratulations!" she says with a smile as I tell her the good news. "I'm so happy your life is moving forward in so many wonderful ways!" Even though this is a therapy session, I too cannot stop myself from grinning. Just the thought of that "yes" makes me positively giddy.