Disregard the Danger [BBC Sherlock - Johnlock, Warstan & Johnlockary]

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Mary heads to one of the seedier parts of London.

She considered going to the hospital, of course, but John needs time to cool off. And they won’t have news about Sherlock for several hours at least, if all goes well. (Of course all will go well. It has to.) So first, some black market shopping.

She obtains a throwaway laptop and a fresh flash drive. Things guaranteed not to have Mycroft tracking devices on them. She climbs to a rooftop, up above the watchful eyes of CCTV, and she creates a new A.G.R.A. stick. This one contains the truth -- a brief account, frantically typed, but real -- the one she absolutely isn’t allowed to tell John.

New A.G.R.A. stick in hand, she disposes of the burner equipment and heads to the hospital.

She finds John alone in a waiting room outside the operating theater. He looks up, sees her, and a jaw muscle flexes as he clenches his teeth.

“Get out,” he says quietly, not moving from his chair. Her small hope that he’d listen to Sherlock, that he’d trust her, vanishes.

“Is he -- have the doctors said --” She knows Sherlock is still in surgery. But she wants to know that he’s okay badly enough that she tries to ask the question anyway. John cuts her off.

“Leave. You’re not wanted here.”

“But Sherlock said I’m your --”

“Yes, you’re our client.” He nearly spits out the word. “But clients don’t get to wait for detectives at the hospital. Go away. He’ll contact you later. If he still wants to. If he can.”

She sighs, surrendering. But she has to find a way to swap the USB drive. She can see the outline of the other one, still in John’s pocket.

“Can I bring you anything?” She asks, biting her lip. “Fresh clothes?” If she can just take the old ones after he changes --

“You apparently didn’t hear me,” John says roughly. “I don’t want to see your face again. Go.”

She goes, trying to hold back tears but not even approaching success.

* * *

At home, she opens her own laptop. She accesses the camera network used by Mycroft and his agents, and she finds the feeds from the hospital. It’s not an approved use of her work privileges, but it’s not likely to get her in much trouble.

She watches a grainy feed of Sherlock in the operating room. It’s the most chilling deja vu imaginable.

She watches John, waiting. He sits, then paces. Later, Mrs. Hudson sits with him.

She desperately wants company, a friend to wait with. She reaches for her phone to text Janine, the muscle memory so strong that she’s opened her texting app and selected Janine from the contact list before she remembers. She feels a terrible twinge of guilt and discards the text.

She knows Anthea is still traveling and off the grid; she’s unlikely to be receiving texts. Mary texts her anyway. yt?

No answer.

She watches as Sherlock’s surgery finishes, a success. She feels dizzy with relief (and probably hunger -- she hasn’t eaten since before Sherlock disappeared from his first stint in the hospital, she realizes). She watches as John sits at his bedside. She curls up in bed and watches them both.

* * *

For several days, she does little except monitor them. She sleeps next to the laptop. She eats in front of the laptop. She takes it into the bathroom.