Prompt from zanganito: Disease
"You know it won't be long now, John," Mary said softly, face drawn and gaunt against the pillow. She knew that this was one of the few periods of lucidity she'd had over the last few days, and she may not have another before the end. This was her last chance.
John nodded, throat too tight to speak. He tried for a reassuring smile, but Mary could see right through it.
She squeezed his hand. "Don't. I know I won't make it. I don't need you to be my doctor, or to tell me it will be alright. I need you to be my husband. Just be here with me."
John's smile this time was more watery than reassuring, but managed to last a few scant seconds longer. "Of course, Mary. I'll stay with you. Til death do us part."
Mary tried to smile back at him, but could already feel her strength slipping away, fog creeping into her mind just as exhaustion filled her body. Only half-conscious, thoughts already becoming confused and scattered, she managed to say, "Thank Sherlock for me, would you? For sharing you with me."
Her last thought before she faded away completely was to wonder why he was crying.