A Wife for Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 12 – The Eye of the Beholder

March 20, 2011

Sherlock was walking around the main room of the flat with his dressing gown about his shoulder, slacks, and a nice shirt on as he moved away reading news on his phone. It was a rather cold and wet day in London. No one in the house seemed to wish to go out yet.

John was drinking coffee at the desk while Marion, Sherlock's heavily pregnant wife was still sleeping or at least had not come out of the bedroom yet. It was still fairly early in the morning, and Sherlock saw no reason to wake her.

She was due to start her maternity leave on the first of April since she was due in the latter part of that month and the museum had advised her to do so. She was to take forty weeks off of which thirty-nine of them were paid and the other would be vacation she had banked. She would be off work until February of the next year unless she chose to return early.

Sherlock paced about the room and then his phone rang. Lestrade was on the line asking for help. They had a cold case. There was a body that had been found with ties to Shrewsbury. The case had been cold for more than two years, but now, in a building site, the case was reopened when the bones of a small boy, Henry Silverton, were found in a shallow grave of the earth.

Several boys had gone missing from Shropshire, over ten years, but no bodies were found.

Until now.

Sherlock looked at John. "We have a road trip ahead of us." He looked up. "Mari!" He barked. He walked back to his bedroom and pulled out his suitcase and began to throw things in it.

Mari looked at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We have a road trip."

She groaned.

"Oh come on it will be fun. Besides, have you ever been to Shrewsbury?"

"No." she said sighing as she sat up. "Read about it." She lifted her tablet to reveal the book she had been reading.

He took it and cocked his head. "A Morbid Taste for Bones. Interesting. Sounds gruesome."

"This one is fascinating."

"Why because they are in Wales practically?"

"Somewhat." She yawned and moved about to dress. "If we are going somewhere we need to get me some bottled water."

"Why?"

"I do not know how my stomach will take new water." She said.

"Odd thing to worry about." He said looking up from packing.

She rolled her eyes and nodded to the suitcase. "How long we going to be gone then?"

"A couple days."

She narrowed her eyes and then moved to pack for herself. He closed it and she leaned back, a hand on her back as she stood, balancing the rather large amount of weight she was carrying. He then took the bag and smiled at her. "It will be worth it. It is the country. Fresh air would do you some good."

"Right…" She said rolling her eyes at him.

They dressed and then went out with John right behind. They loaded their bags and then got in, the three of them making a tight fit in the taxi he had called. The train arrived on schedule. The three sat in the first class car. Marion was sitting looking out the window sipping her water from a water bottle.

The train ride took several hours, but they arrived at Shrewsbury in the evening. John and Marion went to inquire about rooms at an inn downtown. The one Mari liked and looked into was a lovely B and B next to the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. John got a room there as well and Mari set about getting her room set up.

The B and B gave her some water bottles. She was halfway through one when her husband walked in and smiled a little at her. "I see you are getting settled."

"Yes."

"Ready for some dinner?"

"I am starved." She said.

"We can't have that. Tut-tut Doctor Holmes…"

"You wouldn't let me eat before."

"You were sleeping." He pointed out. "Why wake you?"

"But you woke me to come here."

He nodded. "Yes. Come on then. I have heard that Shrewsbury cakes are delicious."

"Do you eat nothing, but junk food when I am not around?"

He smiled as they walked out the door. "Sometimes. I actually have a very high metabolism for my size and age."

"Yeah. For which some of us are jealous."

He smiled a little and paused a moment as she blinked reaching for the wall. He looked at her. "Mari?"

"Nothing…just a headache. I am fine." She said. "I just need food."

He nodded.

They met John at a small bistro down the street. John and Sherlock talked about the case while Mari sat, distractedly playing with her pasta. She ate her fill, but was staring into space for a time until Sherlock reached up and snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. She blinked, startled, and looked at him.

He smiled. "There you are?"

"Sorry, I was worlds away."

"Clearly." He said. He looked at her as she sat, hands on her very rounded belly. He knew she was becoming self conscious about the baby weight. The baby had clearly dropped before. Mari could now breathe easier, but the baby was on her bladder more. She still was suffering from heartburn, which was why she was drinking water. It seemed to make it less.

She looked up at him. "What were you saying?"

"I was just commenting that it was a beautiful night." He said. He looked at her. She looked about and nodded.

"Yes."

"My, you are very distractible." He said.

"I think I am just tired. I am going to lie down." She rose to her feet and Sherlock rose and helped her to maneuver around a table. He then let her go as she waddled toward the B and B. Sherlock watched her a moment and then sat down.

"Remarkable how she even moves with so much weight."

"Women are remarkable creatures. Aren't you going to go see to her?"

"No. I need to speak to the police."

John blinked. "So you are going to let her go in a strange town?"

"It is three blocks." Sherlock said leaving money on the table as he pulled on his coat.

"Still."

Sherlock just shook his head and walked the opposite way toward the police station. Lestrade was there with the evidence of the cases waiting for him.

"Good to see you made it in good time, Sherlock." Lestrade said.

"Yes. Thank you." Sherlock said.

"John." Lestrade greeted.

"Greg." John said nodding.

"You seem to be missing one? Where is that lovely bride of yours?" Lestrade asked.

"Lying down." Sherlock said. "She tires easily these days. The baby has dropped and making it hard for her to move."

"Soon then?"

"Soon what?" Sherlock asked looking up.

"Soon the baby will be born?"

"Yes." Sherlock said waving a dismissive hand. "Now about the case."

Sherlock was gone have the night looking at lab results. When he finally came back, Mari was sleeping on the bed, curled on her side. He smiled looking at her. She had gained weight and her ankles that he could clearly see, were swollen.

He quickly got ready for bed and crawled in behind her. She murmured in her sleep and shifted, but did not roll over. He gently caressed her belly and she groaned a little. The baby was moving, he could feel her, but Mari did not wake. Sherlock smiled and fell asleep listening to the rain that was against the window pane that had started as he came into the B and B.

ZzZ

Marion sat as she drank her water. Her doctor had told her to drink as much as she could to stay hydrated and she was doing that, though she had to go to the washroom a lot. She sat looking at files before her that Sherlock had given her to study. She was looking at the pottery sherds that they had found in the dirt with the boys. Old. Very old.

She blinked trying to concentrate. Her heart was beating faster than normal. She took a breath. That was odd. She took another drink of water and looked. The words seemed to move a little on the page. That was impossible!

She blinked. She lifted her phone. Sherlock. I don't feel well.

A moment later. Contractions? SH

She shook her head. No, my blood pressure is up. I am going to walk around the abbey. Let my mind settle.

It is raining. Are you sure? SH

Positive.

She put on her coat and walked outside into the cold wet dark. She walked around the abbey and listened to Vespers. She then walked back to the B and B. She was thirsty. She opened a water bottle and drank half of it. She sighed. She didn't feel better, in fact she felt worse.

What the hell was going on?

She drank more water and blinked. She was so thirsty and yet…

ZzZ

Sherlock came to the B and B late after helping the police search for and find another boy that had been taken. This one still lived, but the murderer was nowhere to be found. Sherlock entered the room and found it dark. He smiled. Perhaps she already slept. He removed his coat, scarf, and suit jacket. He set them on the chair and then cocked his head trying to make her out in the low light.

He touched the wall leaning against it to remove his shoes. He then blinked. The wall was wet. He cocked his head. He shifted and flicked on the light. He looked at his fingers.

Blood!

Fresh and still sticky.

He gasped and looked about the room. "Marion!" He barked.

He then froze hearing her voice. Her voice, with an odd high pitch to it. Like a child only hauntingly beautiful. "The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again…"

He walked around the bed and his eyes widened in horror. She sat with a bloody knife in her hand, her arm oozed blood from several cuts she had made. She held the knife and dropped it to her side, holding it. Blood, crimson, bloomed from her side.

"Oops." She said looking down and then she began to laugh. It was not the laugh of humor, it was the laugh of someone not in their right mind.

He dropped beside her. "Mari! What the hell is going on?"

"Oh there you are…" She grinned at him. Blood stained her mouth as though she had been licking her own blood.

"Mari…stop!"

He reached for the knife and she hissed at him and he lifted his hand back. "All right. All right… easy, sweetheart."

Her eyes looked at him, blood shot, eyes narrowed to pin points. The look was that of desperation and madness as though she were at war with herself. She then looked at him. "Help me!" She begged.

"I will, but first I need you to…" He reached and pressed a hand to her arm. "What have you done?" He asked looking at the blood stained carpet.

"I'm killing the spiders." She said her voice eerie, ethereal, like nothing he had heard from her before, but he had heard the tone before. That of someone on a trip of a narcotic and this one was powerful enough to be causing her to be delusional. As he watched she drove the knife down into her thigh. "See. Got him." She smiled insanely at him.

He reached a hand up and cupped her face. "Mari! You are drugged, what happened? Who did this?" He asked. He took her arms and shook her. "Marion! Snap out of it!" He knew her pregnancy was likely making the effects worse for her.

She snarled and broke free his fingers leaving bruises on her tender flesh as she moved to her feet, with a cat like grace that belayed her condition. He watched her. Had he been this insane when he had tripped? He had no idea. He moved toward her a little and she slashed at him.

"Get back!" She slashed and caught him. She cut him, in a thin line along his chest as he jumped back from her. It stung, but was hardly lethal. She crouched watching him. She looked utterly mad, her hair in disarray, her forearm, thigh, and side bleeding.

Sherlock dropped into a similar pose. He was going to have disarm her and get her seen. Her heart rate was elevated by how she was breathing. Her forearm was oozing in a way that could only be if she nicked a vein. She, however, was too high to feel pain at the moment. She looked like a rabid dog as she glared at him. She wiped a hand over her brow, leaving a streak.

"Marion. I need to get you to hospital. You aren't well."

"No! No!" She hissed dropping to her knees. She was out of breath, panting.

"Marion?"

"Get away from me! Don't touch me! This is all your fault!"

"What?" He asked spreading his hands.

She gestured at her belly. She snapped something he did not hear. She couldn't breathe as the blood pumped in her ears. "Make it stop!"

"What?"

"Everything?!" She shrieked at him. "Get it out! Get it out!" She barked lifting the blade over herself.

His eyes widened. "Mari! NO!" He knew her intention. He leapt forward, knocking the blade away and grabbing her wrists. Her lifeblood made her arms slick and she managed to free herself one of her arms. She boxed his ears. He grimaced and then pushed against her wrist, hard, causing her to yelp in pain as he twisted. The knife clattered away.

She struggled and moved to the side knocking over things. She fought like a woman with a demon in her. He needed to end this for all three of them. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She had been drugged with some sort of stimulant that made her have the aggression of a stag. He had never seen anyone fight so hard.

"I want it out!" She sobbed.

He grabbed her, pinning her. "Mari, this isn't you! Snap out of it!" He barked at her. He slapped her, hard on her face. She looked back as though she didn't feel it, though her face started to bruise where a palm print was forming.

He shifted, holding her around her neck. She gasped as he pressed her arteries. He clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. She struggled for less than thirty seconds in his sleeper hold before she whimpered and fell against him.

He took a breath and eased her to the floor. He checked her pulse. She was alive and her heart rate was still alarmingly fast, but she was no longer a threat to herself or others. He quickly ripped the sheet and bound her hurts to stem the blood flow. He took a deep breath, wincing as it caught the cut on his chest.

He sighed and lifted his phone. He called Lestrade and an ambulance to come. He then called John.

John pushed open the door. He spotted Sherlock knelt by the inert form of Marion, his hand pressed to her forearm over a binding. "What in God's name happened?" John asked seeing blood all over. The walls, Marion, and Sherlock all had blood.

"She was drugged. She wasn't herself John. She was cutting herself. She tried to stab the baby!" He said looking up at his friend in confusion. "Even at my worst I never tripped that bad." He said looking at his wife.

John knelt and pressed his fingers to her neck. "She lives…just knocked out."

"I had to knock her out. For her own good. It was like she was possessed, John." He blinked and sighed.

"Is all this blood hers?"

"Yes…" Sherlock said.

John looked at him. "You are wounded too."

"It is nothing." Sherlock waved him off. "She slashed at me. She didn't do any real damage." He said.

"Why was she trying to stab you and the baby?"

"God only knows. Narcotic trips make you see thinks that aren't there." Sherlock said.

"And you know about it, do you."

"Yes." Sherlock hissed. "A life time ago."

"What drug then?"

"I need a blood test. Then to see what how it got into her system, we have eaten everything the same…" He looked up as medics came to the room followed by police.

"Holy mother of God." The shorter in a suit said.

John lifted a hand. "She is alive. She needs to get to a hospital and detoxing. She has been drugged."

"Yes some sort of stimulant." Sherlock said looking about the room.

"Who are you?" The man asked John.

"Dr. John Watson."

"Sergeant Loch."

"Pleasure."

"Alright and who is she?"

"My wife." Sherlock said as the medics lifted her onto a gurney and strapped her down. "She has been heavily drugged. I am not sure how, but…"

One of the medics leaned close to the Sergeant and spoke. Loch nodded as Sherlock moved to follow. "Stop right there."

"I need to go with my wife. The baby…the drugs could have harmed her…"

"And how did she get them?" Loch asked folding his arms.

"I have no idea."

"Any history of drug use?"

"Are you kidding?" John asked. "She won't even take a headache tablet."

"Excuse me." Sherlock said.

"No. I am bringing you to the station. The medics said there were marks of violence on her. Bruises, cuts, and older cuts." He looked at Sherlock. "She get too loud so you thought you would knock her about a bit…"

Sherlock looked at him. "Pardon?"

"You heard me."

John stepped forward. "Sherlock isn't that kind of man. He had to knock her out, but that is all."

"Then what are all the cuts on her from?"

"Self harm." Sherlock said.

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?" Loch asked.

"One that might listen." Sherlock said.

"Put your hands behind you."

"Why?"

"Because I am holding you on an inquiry." Loch said. He locked the cuffs on Sherlock's wrists as he stood not resisting. "My old man liked to knock my mom around. I do not like men who beat the holy hell out of their wives."

"The cuts she did herself. The knife is somewhere." Sherlock looked up. "John. Call Mycroft!"

"Seriously?" John said. He could not believe Sherlock was willingly contacting his brother for help. They had a tedious relationship and Marion was the lynch pin. If nothing more at least he could see to her welfare.

"I need him." Sherlock said as he was walked out of the room.

John nodded and moved out and moved to the ambulance. "I am going."

"They arrest her husband then?"

"For now." John said as Sherlock was put into a police car. He took a breath and then pulled out his phone as he looked at Mari. "Is the baby all right?"

"We can't tell, but it will be stressed if she is higher than a kite." The medic said.

John sighed and texted. Mycroft, Sherlock has been arrested for spousal abuse. Mari was drugged. She is in serious condition in Shrewsbury hospital. Come quick! John Watson

He sighed looking at Mari whose body looked like she had been covered head to toe in blood. "Oh Mari…what happened to you?"

He looked down as his phone chimed. I will be there within two hours. Mycroft Holmes.

ZzZ

John stood outside the hospital room and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Marion had been in surgery for a more than two hours. They had brought her back. They baby was being closely monitored. So far it lived and was only a little stressed. It has survived and its mother was detoxing. They had given Mari a sedative to keep her out while her body detoxed the chemical from her.

She had been poisoned by an amphetamine derivative that had hit her harder because she had been pregnant. Thankfully, the baby did not seem to be suffering the effects other than a faster heart rate, but it too was settling. However, if it looked in distress, the doctors would do a crash c-section to get her out. At 36 weeks approximately, she would be small, but could live in this day and age. Everyone hoped this would not be the case.

"Marion. Is she all right?" A male voice came into John's thoughts.

"Mycroft." John said turning.

"Well?"

"She is detoxing from amphetamines."

"Poisoned then."

"Looks like it, but Sherlock is being called an abuser. She is cut pretty bad and the bruises from him trying to control her while on her trip are pretty damning."

"The cuts?"

"She was cutting herself. Apparently she has done that before. I have seen her arms. Cut pretty bad on her forearm."

"Yes. Self-harm. She did it due to her attack. She only does it now when extremely stressed."

"She still does it?"

"Of course. Like my brother and nicotine, she has her old habits." Mycroft said.

"It was close Mycroft. She could have died."

"Then we need to find what happened and clear my brother so he can solve this case."

"Yes."

"I will catch up. I am going to the station to talk to Sherlock. Lestrade is there too. We should be able to get this sorted. Women complicate things don't they…"

John merely nodded as Mycroft walked down the hall.

ZzZ

Mycroft walked into the police station. He leaned on his umbrella as he looked about and spotted Lestrade talking to several other police.

"DI Lestrade." Mycroft smiled.

"Mycroft." Lestrade said. He nodded moving them away from the other officers.

"What has happened?"

"They want to charge him with attempted murder and assault."

"Surely, you can't believe that."

"The pictures I have seen are pretty damning."

"Sherlock loves her. He would not lay a finger on her."

"The hand on her face is about the size of his."

"He had to knock her out for the safety of his baby and her." Mycroft said. He sighed. "I would have done the same thing."

Lestrade sighed. "All right. Let's see what he has to say."

Mycroft stood looking into the room as Loch sat at a table looking at Sherlock who was sitting still. Lestrade folded his arms as Sherlock eyed Loch.

"Do you really think I would harm my wife? I took her in, married her. She is an orphan."

"She has bruises on her body. Old and new."

"I hate to say this, but she is a bit of a klutz with her belly so far out in front of her." Sherlock said.

"And the cuts on her arms."

"Self harm? Yes. She does it when she is stressed. Like I put on nicotine patches."

"There are some there that are years old." Loch said. "You haven't been married that long."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He then looked at Loch. "She suffered a brutal attack at sixteen."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And she couldn't cope so she cut herself to deal with the pain." Sherlock said.

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is the truth."

"They said there were cuts on her thighs also."

"Again. She hated herself after her attack."

"Did you know her then?"

"No, but we have talked at length about it." Sherlock said.

"And what happened?"

"It is not your concern." Sherlock said.

Mycroft looked at Lestrade. "Do we really need to bring this up?" He asked.

Lestrade eyed him. "You know what happened."

"Yes." Mycroft said.

"Tell me." Lestrade said.

"She was kidnapped, held in a dark room, raped by at least six men for a month. Do you really need to know more?" Mycroft asked.

"Jesus…" Lestrade muttered.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I don't know how she was drugged. We have been eating and drinking the same…" He then looked to the side. A small bottle of water sat there for him. "Except…" He blinked and lifted the bottle. "The water…"

"What?" Loch asked.

"She was drinking bottled water. I need those bottles from the hotel."

Mycroft looked at Lestrade as they stood outside. Lestrade nodded. "On it." He said moving.

Mycroft then moved and stepped into the room. "This interview is over."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Mycroft Holmes. My brother hasn't done anything criminal, or at least nothing you can prove." Mycroft looked at his phone as it buzzed. "We have other matters to attend to."

Sherlock lifted his shackled hands. "If you don't mind."

Loch hissed and then freed him. "I am going to be watching."

Sherlock rose. "Thank you." He said nodding to his brother. "What is going on?" Sherlock asked as Mycroft ushered him out.

"Marion is waking up." Mycroft said holding up his phone showing the text from John.

ZzZ

John stood outside the door. "They won't let me in because I am not family." He said nodding to the doctors with Mari. "She has been fighting, crying out for you Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded and walked into the room with Mycroft on his heels. He looked at the pale battered form of his wife. She looked like hell and it mostly was self inflicted. "Marion." He said softly as he came to her bedside.

"Who the hell are you?" The doctor asked.

"Her husband." Sherlock said not taking his eyes off Mari.

"And you?" The doctor asked.

"His brother." Mycroft said.

Marion looked up at Sherlock and tears came to her eyes. "Sherlock…I am so….so sorry….I…"She whimpered. She moved her arm. "Everything hurts…why does everything hurt? I…" she stopped and then gasped. "Oh…" She lifted her arm and looked at the wraps on it. "I did this…didn't I…"

Sherlock touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You remember don't you?" He said. "You were high as hell, but you remember. That look. You couldn't stop yourself…"

"I couldn't stop. I…I hurt you." She said touching his chest.

"No." He smiled a little. "Just a scratch."

"I feel horrible." She blinked and looked around. "The room is spinning."

"Close your eyes." Mycroft said.

"What?" She asked.

He lifted a hand and covered her eyes. "It will keep you from becoming ill. Just rest."

"Mycroft. What are you doing here?"

"Helping my brother." He sighed. "And helping you dear sister."

"What is going on?" She asked.

Sherlock smiled and caressed her hair softly. "Never you mind. You need to rest. The baby needs to stay in there a little longer." He said pressing a hand to her belly.

He then turned and walked from the room. "I need to look at the bottles."

"Bottles?" John asked.

"Yes, John. What is the one thing she has been doing that we have not been?"

"Drinking…from water bottles."

ZzZ

"These are all we can find." Lestrade said setting them on a table.

"Do you have a drug test kit?" Sherlock asked.

"No, but I can get one." Lestrade said.

Sherlock nodded as he looked at the bottles.

"So poisoned then?" John asked looking at the bottles.

"In a way, yes." Sherlock said. "Amphetamines would do that." He looked at the bottles. "The question is why?"

"Clearly to get at you." Mycroft said.

"Obviously." Sherlock said.

Lestrade entered the room and Sherlock opened a bottle and poured some of the liquid in. He then pressed the strip into it. He waited a few moments and then lifted the tab out. A thin rose line was there.

"Positive." He murmured.

Mycroft shook his head. "Now we know how and why, but who remains a mystery." He said.

Sherlock looked at the bottle and then John tipped one. "The lids…" He said.

"What?" John asked.

"I need the lids!"

John and Lestrade took the lids off. There were twenty lids there. "H-O-E-J-H-B-E-E-G-G-D-M-R-D-A-S-S-M-L-E." Sherlock said. "Not all the letters are here."

"Missing four." Mycroft said. "Twenty-four pack."

Sherlock nodded as he looked at the letters before him. He blinked and folded his hands as the letters flashed in front of his eyes. He blinked.

Mycroft, John, and Lestrade sat watching. It only took an hour before Sherlock moved the letters about.

D

Holmes

Has

Bee

Dr-gge

JM

Mycroft gasped. "Dr. Holmes has been drugged. JM."

John blinked. "But there are letters missing."

"Exactly four." Sherlock said.

"J-M?" John blinked.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me…" John said.

"James Moriarty." Sherlock hissed.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock. "He has overstepped his bounds this time." He took a breath. "We need to put a security detail on you for Mari's sake and…"

"No." Sherlock said looking at the words.

"No? Dear brother, he nearly murdered your wife and unborn child." Mycroft said.

"No. He was not meaning her to have as much as she did." He blinked. "He wants me to suffer."

"And her death wouldn't do that?" John asked.

"Not in the way you are thinking." Sherlock said.

Lestrade sighed. "This is all well and good, but they are still going to try to charge you with assault on your wife."

"She will tell them off." Sherlock said.

"What?"

"She remembers." Mycroft said.

Lestrade blinked. "Really?"

ZzZ

The court was held. Sherlock offered a defense for himself that was cool, calculating, and explanatory, but prosecuting attorney didn't want to let him go just yet.

"The marks on her body. There are old and new cuts as well as bruises. Clear signs of abuse. This is clearly fact."

"No it is only one explanation of the facts shown." Sherlock said.

"There are others?"

"Yes."

"Elaborate."

"I do not see how my wife's past is relevant to this." Sherlock said.

The judge looked at Sherlock. "Answer the question, Mr. Holmes."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I will not mention that horror." Sherlock said.

"Then unless there is any other witnesses who can be brought you will be going to jail." The judge said. "Despite your reputation, I would gladly see you rot there for what I have seen you did to her."

"I didn't do it." Sherlock said coldly. "My wife did it to herself. It is called self harm."

"Why on earth would she harm herself?" The judge asked.

Sherlock took a deep breath, but then a voice spoke. "Because was I was drugged."

The judge's eyes lifted to Mari seated in a wheelchair, an IV pole above her, dripping liquid. She looked pale and rather frail looking as Mycroft and Lestrade stood behind her. Lestrade then pushed her forward.

"Mari." Sherlock said. "You shouldn't be here." He said.

"Oh shut it." She hissed as she levered herself up, revealing her very pregnant body. He blinked and Mycroft lifted his hands from behind her. Sherlock rolled his eyes. She had come here on her own.

"Who are you, madam?" the judge asked.

"The woman in question, I am Dr. Marion Holmes." She said wobbling a little. John was there and held her.

"What are you doing?" He asked her.

"Saving him." She said softly.

"Jesus. You are still weak…" John said propping her up as she stood weakly, leaning against him.

She looked at the judge. "I was drugged. My husband tried to keep me from cutting myself and harming our baby. I could not stop myself. When he had no other choice he rendered me unconscious."

"The marks on your body. There are many over time."

"I bruise easily. I am a bit of a klutz." She smiled a little.

"But the cuts…" The judge pressed.

"Are not your concern." She said. "However, he did not do it." She said nodding at her husband.

The judge hissed. "Well with this testimony we have no choice to let you go, Mr. Holmes."

Mari smiled a little and then looked at John. "I…think I need to go back to…" She slumped against him.

He caught her to him. "Marion. Christ!" He hissed and pressed her into the chair. He pressed his fingers to her neck. "We need to get her back to hospital." John said looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft nodded and walked out to where an ambulance was waiting.

"A woman fainted?" A medic asked.

"Yes." Mycroft said. "She is there."

They laid her on the gurney and then drove to the hospital. Sherlock appeared. "Well now that is over, we can go see to arresting the priest."

"What?" Lestrade said. "Your wife is very ill and you are still working the case?"

"She will be well taken care of and there is very little I can do." Sherlock said. "Come on. The priest is the only one with connections to all the boys."

Lestrade looked at him and shook his head. "You are serious. Your wife could die and you want to solve this cold case."

Mycroft hissed. "He has a point brother mine. You should see to your wife."

Sherlock looked at him. "She is unconscious and is still suffering from the drug. I would be in the way. Allow the doctors to do their work and I will do mine."

Lestrade shook his head. "All right then. Have it your way."

ZzZ

Marion woke. She was in a hospital bed. She looked about. John was napping in a chair by the window. Mycroft was asleep nearby. She blinked and her eyes focused on Sherlock above her. He smiled a little.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. He was holding her hand. She sighed and pressed a hand to her head. "How long have I been here?"

"Nearly three days. I was starting to worry." He smiled leaning against the bars. He touched her hair. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." She said. "I feel frankly uneasy." She sighed. "How is the case going?"

"You need to eat soon." He smiled a little. "We caught the murderer. It was the priest. He would befriend the choir boys. Seems a bit scandalous even for this time period. Will be interesting to see how Rome take it."

"Indeed." She looked at her hands. "And you solved my case too."

"You were easy. Drugged. It was a message."

"A message?"

"Yes. Telling me no one I care for is safe." He sighed. "Rather boring actually."

"They could have shot me. Maybe that would have made an impression."

He blinked. "That would have definitely got me to prison." He said. "They already tried to get me on a domestic gone wrong."

"Which was not the case." She looked at him. "How in the hell did you ever stand being on drugs?"

"I never used Amphetamines." He said. "Heroin and Cocaine. Sure when I was bored at college."

"If you ever start that again…"

"Relax, I have other things to occupy me now." He smirked. "Domestic Sherlock Holmes. God Help me." He then shook his head. "Why did you make them bring you to court?"

"I wasn't about to let you go to jail for something you didn't do." She said.

"But you were still ill and fighting the effects."

"Is that concern, Mr. Holmes?"

"Don't let on." He said looking over at the two sleeping.

She smiled a little. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He touched her cheek. She winced a little. "I am sorry I did that." He said.

"You did what you needed to."

"But it looks bad."

"Doesn't hurt as much as it looks like it should, I am sure."

"I brought this hell on you. I'm sorry."

"Sherlock Holmes. Do not start apologizing for who and what you are."

"But you could have died. Moriarty wants me to suffer. If he can get to you he can…"

"Hush." She said lifting a hand to his face. "I am safe as long as you are free and crime solving."

He made a face. "Perhaps."

"Ha, you do care."

"Of course I care Marion. I have always…" She pressed a finger to his lips.

"Take me home." She said.

"Soon, sweetheart." He said. "We need to make sure you are safe to travel."

She nodded and sighed. She looked down at his hand pressed to her belly. She looked up at him and he smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair.

There was stirring to the side of them. John sat up. "Oh look who's awake."

Marion smiled as her husband straightened. "Hello John."

"Ah, good to see you awake sister dear." Mycroft said behind him. "We were concerned."

"Love you too, Myc."

"Myc?" He blinked.

"That is what your mother calls you."

"Just how much time have you been spending with Mummy?" Mycroft asked arching an eyebrow.

"Enough to know you two rather well. Tell why you never have mentioned your brother before…"

"Seriously? You are doing this now?" Sherlock said. "You are in hospital and you are now asking us about our brother?"

"Yep." She said. "I just had a near death experience and perhaps it is the drugs talking, but I am actually quite curious why you never mentioned him and why your mother has tears from it."

"Brother?" John said. "What brother?"

"Indeed." Marion said as both Holmes boys suddenly became very quite. She took a deep breath. "Is someone going to go see about seeing to my release or are we going to continue this?"

"On it!" Mycroft said.

"I need to smoke." Sherlock hissed.

"No!" Marion hissed.

Both of them froze and turned to look at her. "Sherlock see to my release. Mycroft. Start talking." She said sitting up. "Or must I have tea again to find out what I want to know."

Mycroft lifted his hands. "All right. All right." He walked back to her. "What do you want to know, dear sister?"

"Everything." She pressed her bed button up and looked at him "Start talking." She said lowly.