John's left hand had started trembling. The tremors passed into his arm, then over took his entire body. Sherlock Hadn't left. Thank God, he hadn't left. He took the few steps required to bring him up behind the detective and placed his hand on his shoulder. His fingers convulsed as he gathered his breath to speak. "Thank you for making the right decision."
A brittle laugh escape Sherlock even as he tried to climb to his feet. John was so naive. Didn't he understand? Couldn't he see? The detective's mind was limping along, desperately in need of something to make it whir efficiently.
For her part, Mary was both relieved and disappointed. She knew that John would have been devastated if Sherlock had left. She gave a shudder, God alone knew what would have become of Sherlock. It was a situation she didn't want to contemplate.
The disappointment was something else she didn't want to contemplate. It seemed to validate the cold part of herself that she was trying to eliminate, the part of herself that had allowed her to shoot Sherlock, the part that John hated.
On top of all that, she knew she was a bit of a chameleon and that she could fake emotions far better than Sherlock could. The detective knew that as well. She only hoped that he could tell when her emotions were not being faked. Especially now that she had come to care for him. He probably did know, because he understood that she genuinely loved John.
Mary gave herself a shake and forced herself to move forward. She wrapped her arms around Sherlock, who had stood, trying to reassure him. "It was the right choice, though I know you don't believe it."
Sherlock stood there for a moment, frustrated and confused. He had to shove those feelings aside. Head lowered, he spoke to the floor. "John, you need to fetch your SIG. I know you keep it loaded, but keep it on your person at all times." He looked up as he turned to face Mary. Their eyes locked and held for a moment, then she nodded, understanding his unspoken words.
Knowing her husband would be angry, but willing to face that anger to help protect him, she went to their bedroom. Mary went awkwardly to her knees, and reached under the bed. She felt around until her hand closed on the handle of a black bag and she drew it out. It was heavy, but, even pregnant, she had no trouble lifting it.
By the time Mary had returned to the living room, John had sat in his favourite chair. Sherlock had returned to pacing, though far less energetically than normal. She sat the bag on the coffee table and was about to open it when she hesitated. She took a deep breath and braced herself. "John, you're not going to be happy with me." She laughed. "Actually, you're going to be quite angry, but please, don't yell at me. Not now. When we come out the other side of this, you can yell all you like."
John leaned forward, dropping his face to his hands. He knew he was being watched by both Mary and Sherlock, but didn't really care. He needed a break, a few days of peace with no disasters, no gut wrenching revelations, and above all, no deceptions.
Mary opened to bag and started unloading its contents. There were three handguns, a shotgun and three high powered rifles. There was also a wealth of ammunition.
John stared at the pile of weapons, feeling resigned. He barely noticed when Sherlock's phone rang and he stepped into the kitchen to answer it. "Is this it? Is there anything else that I should know?" John wasn't angry that his wife had the guns, that would have been hypocritical, he was angry that she had hidden them from him.
Mary stopped in the action of inserting a clip into one of the handguns. She was afraid to meet John's eyes. Resuming her inspection of the guns, she began talking. "I have a numbered account with quite a bit of money, nothing you would fill comfortable touching." She glanced up at her husband. "I've been trying to decide how to dispose of it." She picked up another gun. "It seems I don't want the money anymore."
John was about to reply, to say something, when Sherlock's raised voice sounded from the kitchen, "You're fucking useless, Mycroft!"