After returning home from his old flat, John was sitting at his desk and blogging. Mary stood by the door frame, arms crossed and looking with a straight face at her husband. Once the doctor finally looked up at his wife, she unfolded her arms and took a few steps closer to him.
"Where did you go last night and why didn't you come home?" She asked.
"Case...with...Sherlock." John spoke, pausing occasionally since he had turned his attention to what he was typing.
"Oh, and you stayed over?"
"Mhmm..."
"You never told me anything. I was worried about you, John."
"I'm a grown man, Mary. I was an army doctor, I'm perfectly fine in situations."
"We need to talk."
"Aren't we already talking?" John pointed out and shut his laptop after he finished posting.
Mary didn't chuckle. Her eyes shone darkly in a sad sort-of way, "I need to tell you something."
"Okay. Shoot."
"It's about something on that flash drive from a while ago and something I did."
"The one about your actual background and who you really are?"
"Yes. Remember how I told you that you wouldn't love me anymore after viewing it?"
"Okay...and where is this coming from?"
"Please listen, guilt has been tearing at me forever and I can't lie to you because it has to do with Sherlock. I'm just afraid of what will happen when I do tell you."
"Well, the way to start would to not inform me whatsoever about something you did that's making you guilty and you're unsure whether or not you want to tell me."
"John, this isn't funny. I am actually afraid of what you will do after I tell you this."
"Why? I wouldn't be that cruel unless it was something absolutely ridiculously impossible like wh-"
"I shot him."
John fell silent for a few moments, "Pardon?"
"I shot and hospitalized him. It wasn't on accident. He protected you from the whole truth to keep both of us happy."
"Huh..."
"What?"
"It makes sense now."
"What does?"
"The first thing Sherlock said was your name when he woke up in the hospital bed. That was because you were the one that shot him."
"Yes, John, and I'm deeply sorry about it. I completely regr-"
"You nearly killed him! It was a miracle for the doctors that he stayed alive! His heart stopped, Mary!"
"I know."
"Of course you know! You were trained and you almost killed my best friend!"
Mary's eyes brimmed with tears beginning to run down her cheeks. She hated herself. She had almost caused Sherlock to actually die and she knew how that would affect John. He had suffered so much from it before, even grew a mustache. She thought of herself as a monster for being so horrifically terrible for what she had done. It was worse than anything possibly found on that burnt flash drive to John. Mary turned around and left the room, leaving John to deal with the news on his own in case he got too angry.
But he didn't. He chuckled at his foolishness, not believing that he hadn't connected the dots of Mary being the one who shot Sherlock. He even told the detective that Mary used that perfume and later learned that she was an impeccable shot. Her name being Sherlock's first word in the hospital was just icing on the cake for him, another last piece of evidence that should've told him exactly who shot his best friend.
The best friend who shot someone in order to save him and different time because they flicked his face. The same one who helped him get over his limp and the depression from the war. The one who stayed to tell his story, even after getting punched in the face three times in one night. The friend who John killed a serial killer cabbie for and risked dying by grabbing onto their enemy while a bomb was strapped to him. They went through so much together, and anything painful came from one of them caring for the other in some way. Even if it felt like torture that lasted for two years.
John said goodnight to his young son and sat in the dimly-lit living room to think about his wife's recent news. She was right about one thing though- it was hard for John to try to think of loving her after her confession. The doctor thought of how it would impact their relationship and cause a distance between them. He didn't want to have Daniel be alone with only his mother, but how could he stay with someone who he found hard to look in the eyes? He made a small plan to isolate himself from Mary and, hopefully, he could find somewhere to stay so he wouldn't need to face her.
The doctor fell asleep on the couch and rested until the early morning, at the time which he was accustomed to rising at for work. He left his home early to get a few extra hours of work or possibly get out early to see about carrying out a bit of his plan. The house had been silent and the streets were less traffic-filled due to the fact that it was the early morning.
>>>>
Moriarty scrolled through his messages, checking off who repaid him and who owed him what. He was in his usual attire, a sharp-looking suit, as he sat atop a bed with his phone in hand. One of his clients had just sent him a mildly appalling message about John and Mary's situation.
The criminal's eyebrows raised in surprise and he sent a new text to Molly, who hadn't fulfilled her duties to him. He would need more information on Sherlock in order to have his plan work better. It involved John and used to have Mary, before her confession, along with Mycroft, Molly, and Irene Adler. He would need each person to either supply him with information or to get to someone else who would be protective of them. It was a similar mind-set to the late Charles Augustus Magnussen's about using different people to get what they want from others. The procedure for action was ready, all that needed to happen was for him to begin carrying it out- starting with getting Molly's (almost) daily information report on her favorite detective.
