Morstan and Adler

Twelve: Mary

MARY

Mary was anxiously waiting for her husband to return.

He walked in, rain dripping off him, looking like a drowned rat. But however she looked at him, he looked more like a lion to her.

"God, Mary," John muttered, plopping himself down on the couch.

Mary hurried over to him and peeled off his wet jacket. "How are you? Why didn't you get a cab home? Are you cold?"

"Yes, I'm bloody cold!" John snapped. He put his head in his hands, groaning.

"What happened? Did you find him?"

John looked up at her. "Oh, god, did I find him! I found more than just him..."

"What do you mean?"

John opened up the laptop that was lying on the table, turned it on, and found his blog. He pushed the laptop towards Mary. Mary surveyed the screen. "The Woman?" She knew what this was. She read it quickly - there wasn't much to read. "And?"

"Let me explain..."

John told her all about the case involving Irene - of course, Mary already knew already about that, but she pretended that she didn't.

"Oh," said Mary when he was done. She began scrolling through the comments:

Really, John, what's the point in this post? If you can't detail what happened in a case because of some ridiculous law thing then why bother?

Sherlock Holmes 12 March 11:32

It adds context. Gives people an idea about the real you.

John Watson 12 March 11:35

How does it? And why should people want to know the real me? What's the point?!

Sherlock Holmes 12 March 11:37

"Aw, look at the comments," Mary laughed. "Looks like he really did-"

"Like her," John finished. "God, he did. He still does."

"What do you mean?" asked Mary.

"She's... alive," John explained.

Mary feigned a look of surprise. She knew all this, but had to pretend that this was new information. "What do you mean alive? You said that Mycroft said she was beheaded by terrorists."

John nodded. He told her all about what had happened at the café.

Mary nodded and carried on exploring the website. She had an inkling that this "Anonymous" guy was Moriarty, but she didn't mention it to John.

"Are you OK?" Mary asked finally.

"No, Mary. No, god no. It's not just the fact that she's alive... I think that the world must have gone mad. I cannot get my head around-"

"Sherlock," Mary guessed, interrupting John.

Her husband nodded. She wanted to tell him so badly about how she knew Irene, but restrained herself.

"I don't know if I can take much more of any crap," John sighed.

Mary bit her lip. She couldn't put her husband under so much stress. It was partially her fault as well, what with the whole assassin business. She decided then and there that she needed to see Irene.

"I'm going to... urm, pop the the corner shop," Mary lied, getting up and walking out into the hallway.

"Why?" John asked, followin her.

"We're out of milk," she excused, then shrugged on her coat and left.

John trudged to the fridge. There was a full gallon of milk inside.