Like a Fairytale

The Wrath of an Angry Woman

Sherlock was walking down the street, his hand settling very nicely in John's. They didn't seem to have a care in the world, who saw them and who didn't, they were obviously on their way to the park, the direction they were going. John was leaning close to him, his head on Sherlock's shoulder as they walked, love sick and happy for the first time in a while. Sherlock had an air of freedom to him; as if this were a whole different city and they were totally different people. They crossed the street and entered through the gates, but for some reason the park was near empty, and it seemed to be in the middle of spring, when all of the flowers were blooming.
"Lovely day." John decided, twisting his hand in Sherlock's so that their fingers interlocked.
"Yes, yes it is." Sherlock decided, looking around and taking a deep breath of the flowery aroma hanging in the air.
"Not as lovely as you though." John laughed; pausing to plant a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek, warming him to the bone and making his heart do an awkward flip in his chest.
"Oh don't say that." Sherlock muttered, blushing a little bit but smiling all the same.
"I'll say it as many times as I want to. You're the loveliest thing I've seen in all my life; you put the universe to shame." John giggled.
"Don't believe him Freak, he says that to everyone apparently." said a cold voice behind him. Both of them turned in their tracks, John pulling Sherlock close to him as if protectively. Mary Morstan, looking livid, was standing with her arms crossed in the path behind them, her bleached hair shining in the sunlight.
"Mary!" John exclaimed, as if they hadn't talked to each other in a while. Sherlock edged closer to John, knowing that if Mary had a grudge it would be against John probably, and he wouldn't let his boyfriend get hurt.
"Hello John and John's freak. Got him on a leash I see?" She snapped to John, making him stutter a response.
"Never mind that, I didn't come to talk to you, in fact I'm dying to talk to Sherlock." Mary stepped closer, and the pair stepped away, not knowing what her intentions were, but her arms were still crossed, like she was trying to hide something. Then, out of nowhere, she lunged out, and plunged a silver dagger right into Sherlock's stomach. "Or maybe he's dying to talk to me." she corrected. The last thing Sherlock remembered was falling into John's struggling arms, gasping for breath as he coughed up a sea of scarlet.  

Sherlock woke up in an instant, sweat pouring off of his forehead, clutching his stomach, which he could've sworn had just been pierced with Mary's blind rage. Was this what would become of their relationships, crazy ex-girlfriends and death? No, of course not, real life wasn't as morbid as whatever Sherlock could dream up, he was safe, for now. Mary would be a bit lethal, but not murderous right? Sherlock wondered what she was doing at, he rolled over in bed, 12:58 in the morning. Was the deal done, was John a single Pringle, ready to mingle with the Freak? Was she sitting in a pile of tears, tissues making a barricade around her? Well, he supposed he'd find out in the morning, but now wasn't the time to linger on thoughts like that, he felt bad or course, but the very fact that John would do all this for him was enough to make him feel better. He managed to get a few hours of sleep in before the sun came poking out of the horizon. This was the signal to go through the regular routine, but there was a skip to his step and a dance like motion to everything he did, he was simply floating on clouds right about now. John was probably free, free at last, what if he asked him out today, tomorrow, any day would work, but the chances now that it would actually happen were soaring. Sherlock's stomach twisted in sheer excitement, the idea that someone as perfect as John would even look at him, and even go so far as kiss him, was a miracle itself. But imagining them, sitting in a dark movie theater and snuggling up over top of the armrest, that was enough to put him into cardiac arrest. Sherlock made sure he looked picture perfect once again, just in case, every last curl counted now, and he through his over his shoulder and headed out the door, closing it and greeting this cheesy new day with a cheesy smile. Sherlock walked all the way to school, enjoying the cool breeze flowing over him and the nice sound of distant geese flying overhead for the winter. By time he got there it wasn't too difficult to see that something was going on in the school, there were packs of girls everywhere, all looking as if they had suffered a loss. Sherlock walked in the doors, at first thinking someone actually had died, like Mary had taken her own advice and hung herself. But the boys weren't looking all as damaged, and Sherlock knew half of them had shines double the size of Sherlock's for John, all dedicated to Mary of course, and would suffer breakdowns. In fact, most of the guys looked genuinely happy, they probably thought it was a lost cause, just like Sherlock had, but even an inseparable bond had been severed, and they should probably be thanking Sherlock for that. He saw John's group, but they were swarming around John himself, so all Sherlock could see was the top of his blonde hair around Anderson, Greg, Mike, and various other football players that would happily bash Sherlock's head into the lockers. Sherlock opened up his locker quickly, stuffing his lunch and all into it and closing it once more, hiking his bag up onto his shoulder and heading off to English. While he walked there he saw all types of odd people, seeming like their emotions were entirely composed of the status of John and Mary's relationships, but the gender differences were mirror images. The guys were passing around cologne while the girls were passing around tissues; it was just the weirdest thing Sherlock had ever seen. He had almost made it out of the main hallway; he had picked up his speed because Anderson had caught him trying to look through the pack at John, when something, with the speed of a lone missile, shoved him up into the cold metal lockers. His bag dropped and he immediately tried to shield his face, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. When the shock finally wore off Sherlock saw Mary Morstan, her usually attractive face filled with angry blotches and wearing a scowl that would probably make Mycroft flinch.
"This is your fault!" she shrieked, holding Sherlock roughly by the neck with her elbow. Sherlock struggled to breathe, shaking his head in denial, trying to pry her off of him, but she was a lot stronger than she looked.
"I'm...sorry!" he managed. Mary almost laughed, her white teeth now looking more like fangs. The whole hallway had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene. Some cheered, others looked horrified, but no one stepped in.
"This is all your fault, he can't bear to be with me because you had to go kissing your way through life didn't you? I know what happened, I was there, and you are a despicable human being!" Mary shrieked, and with that she made it seem like she was going to walk away, her grip loosening, Sherlock's heart trying to run away to John, but she landed a punch right square in his face, banging the back of his head into the locker and he crumpled into darkness.