'Puttin on the Ritz' echoes through my brain as the three of us make an entrance in the Prague Opera House. You dear John are in the middle. Mary and I flank each side of you. We are proud of our prize. Up the stairs we go to our box seat, arm in arm, hand in hand. We settle in our seats waiting for the performance. The whole audience is a buzz with the unintelligible sounds of the conversations around us. I close my eyes and wait for the house lights to dim. I don't have long to anticipate. The lights flicker then go out. Darkness surrounds us. The orchestra tunes to an A. The curtain rises. The Opera begins.

The first chord of Mozart's Don Giovanni fills the house. I close my eyes in pleasure for music is the closest reconciliation between my mind palace and the temporal world. Mozart's music portrays Don Giovanni as the flawed evil character that he is. He is not a romantic figure. He is selfish. He is a rapist and a thief. He steals the joy from all those that surround him. Only his faithful servant sticks by him, attempting to dissuade him from the fall that is sure to overcome his master. My thoughts are consumed by the darkness in the D Minor chords of the Opera. Mozart brings me to despair. I am a fallen creature. Just as I shudder at the thought of giving in to the black thoughts that surround me, the house lights come back on. It is intermission.

You have fallen asleep on Mary's shoulder. You wipe a string of drool from the side of your face. You then clap and ask in a sleepy voice. "Is it over?"

Mary and I smirk at each other. "John, it's intermission. Why don't you go get a drink or something? Sherlock and I will join you in a moment."

You get up yawn, stretch and then you almost run from the box. You are like an errant puppy that has just escaped from its pen. I smile. You, John Watson are adorable. Mary watches your departure with fondness. A fondness that softens her features. In the semi-darkness of the house she looks like a girl. Once she is sure you are out of ear shot she turns to me.

"Sherlock, I need you to promise me something." She says as she clutches at my arm.

I am uneasy but I smile anyway. "Anything for you, Mary. What is it?" I ask as I watch the people below us. Some are talking. Some are stretching. Only a few sit in dazed shock from the power of Mozart's music.

"I want you to promise me that you will take care of John in case something happens to me." Her eyes search mine.

I shrug her off. "Nonsense, nothing is going to happen to you."

She holds my arm in a tight grip. "Sherlock, promise me. Promise me that you won't hurt him with your callus stunts. He would never survive another St. Bart's"

I swallow. Tears fill my eyes. As much as I felt the pain of your rejection and I grieved for my plight of unrequited love, I let you grieve. I cut you to the core. I blink back tears. "I promise, Mary. John will not fall. I would fight legions of angels to protect him."

Mary smiles. "Yes, Sherlock I believe you would. Now come on drama queen let's join John and get something to drink."

I look at Mary in wonder, for with a smile she has dispelled the dark foreshadowing that surrounds my heart. Dearest Mary, what would we ever do without you?

I go outside to have a cigarette. I watch you and Mary from the doorway. You both are so beautiful. Too beautiful. I fear my darkness will sully you both. Then the lights flicker. Intermission is over.