Sherlock - The Game Is On!

His Last Vow- Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Third POV

In the sitting room of the Holmes cottage, Mary looks up from her book when John speaks: "So, are you okay?"

"Oh! Are we doing conversation today? It really is Christmas." She states sarcastically. John reaches into the pocket of his trousers and takes out something. He shows her what he's holding. Its the pen drive. "Now?" John nods and tilts the drive round to look at the letters on it. "Seriously? Months of silence and we're gonna do this now?" She nods towards the drive.

There was a moment of silence before Mary spoke up: "So, have you read it?" John looks down at the pen drive, repeatedly turning it around in his fingers, the key ring attachment rattling noisily, then he clasps his fist around it and looks at her while gesturing to the floor in front of him. "Would you come here a moment?"

"No. Tell me. Have you?"

"Just..." John sighs exasperatedly. "Come here." He reins back his temper. Mary grimaces unhappily, then unwraps the blanket from around her stomach and legs and starts to stand up, holding one hand to her abdomen. John steps towards her to help her up. "No, I'm fine." Wincing, she gets to her feet as John steps back again.

She walks across the room and John turns to one side. Mary stops in front of him and lowers her eyes. When John speaks, his voice is little more than a whisper and his throat is tight: "I've thought long and hard about what I want to say to you." He draws in a long breath through his nose as she raises her eyes to him. "These are prepared words, Mary." He lowers his head for a moment, grimacing slightly and pulling in another slightly shaky breath before glancing up at her. "I've chosen these words with care."

"Okay." Mary's anxiety begins to build. Clearing his throat, he looks to her again. "The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future... Are my privilege." Mary's face starts to crumple, a little and tears begin to form in her eyes. "It's all I have to say. It's all I need to know." Whilst she gazes at him tearfully, John looks to the drive before turning to the fireplace and drops the object to the burning logs.

Mary quietly starts to cry as she looks at the drive on top of the fire. John clears his throat again as he turns back to her. "No, I didn't read it." She looks at him, the first tears starting to roll down her face. "You don't even know my name." She sobs. "Is 'Mary Watson' good enough for you?"

"Yes! Oh my God, yes."

"Then it's good enough for me, too." Giving her a small smile they step inwards together and hug each other as tight as possible. "All this does not mean that I'm not still basically pissed off with you."

"I know, I know." She sniffles. "I am very pissed off, and it will come out now and then."

"I know, I know, I know." They pull back far enough to be able to look into each other's eyes. "You can mow the sodding lawn from now on." He spoke in a softer tone. "I do mow the lawn."

"No, I do it loads."

"You really don't." She disagrees. "I choose the baby's name."

"Not a chance."

"Okay." They clasp at each other again. After a few moments, they begin to sway side to side. "So you realise that, er, Sherlock got us out here to see his mum and dad for a reason?"

"His lovely mum and dad. A fine example of married life. I get that." John agrees. Over his shoulder, Mary holds the fingers of one hand to her forehead, frowning and looking a little unwell. "That's the thing with Sherlock, it's always the unexpected." Mary starts to slump in his grasp. "Oi."

He frowns round to the side of her head, unaware. "Oi." She slumps more, moaning softly as her arms drop from around him. He takes her weight and moves her back so he can see her face. Her eyes are closed. "Mary? Jesus Christ. Mary?" He hauls her back towards a nearby armchair. "Sit down." He lowers his wife into the armchair. She is now unconscious. He takes hold of her face. "Mary, can you hear me?"