And then there was three; a Sherlock Fanfiction

Twenty-eight

John Watson rubbed his eyes, fighting to keep them open. He sat in the corner of the hospital room, next to the window, struggling to stay awake. He was in desperate need for a coffee, but Mary still hadn't come back from her trip to the cafe almost a half an hour ago.

He and Mary had been at the hospital for hours, waiting for Sherlock to gain conciseness long enough for them to have a proper conversation with him. John knew he got shot, but this was just ridiculous, there was no way the man needed this much sleep.

After 15 more minutes, John had finally had enough. He stood up grumpily and pushed past the hospital bed.

"I don't care if she's pregnant, there's no way it should take this long," he grumbled, flinging the door out of his way and stomping out into the hallway, marching towards the elevator so he could go to the hospital cafeteria.

After pushing the lift button three times, the doors finally slid open. John stumbled into the empty shaft and pressed the 1st floor button, waiting impatiently for the doors to close.

He closed his eyes as the lift descended slowly, leaning against the wall. For some unknown reason, John couldn't stop thinking about that day Sherlock faked his death. It tore him up, when John thought Sherlock was dead. It was a grief that he couldn't even put into words. When John found Sherlock shot in Magnussne's flat, he felt that wave of grief and terror again, and he couldn't help but believe that he was going to have to go to another funeral for Sherlock Holmes. Of course he now knew that Sherlock would be okay, but he couldn't shake that feeling of dread.

John was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, alerting him that he'd reached the first floor. Pushing the bad thoughts out of his head for now, John exited the lift, turning to go to the cafe.

He walked through the lobby, searching for his wife, when he finally spotted her by the entrance to the hospital cafeteria. He started to stomp grumpily over to her when he stopped in his tracks.

Mary had her back to him, leaning forward slightly. She seemed to be in deep conversation with someone, but John couldn't tell who from his position. He still didn't move, keeping his eyes on Mary's back, contemplating interrupting what seemed to be a very intense conversation. Finally his wife shifted to the side slightly, and John recognized with whom she was speaking.

Lilly Harper.

John was flooded with emotion. First, he felt excited. Then, as the events of that day came back to him, he felt anger. Not just anger, boiling rage. How dare she show up now? Pretending to care about Sherlock. John refused to let her stress Sherlock even more, he couldn't let her speak to him. Sherlock had to get better. This was for his own good.

"Mary," John called to his wife, stomping up towards her. His eyes were locked on the startled ones of Lilly. He put a protective arm around Mary as he reached them, glaring at Lilly.

"John..." Mary started, unsure of what to say to him.

Lilly didn't speak, lowering her eyes. John couldn't help but feel a sudden sharp pang of pity when he saw her up close. She'd lost weight since he last saw her, and he could see the bags underneath her eyes even through her makeup. Her long hair had been chopped so that it barely grazed her shoulders. He attempted to push memories of his childhood playing with Lilly out of his mind, reminding himself that she was lying, ruthless, and, at one time, the second hand to Moriarty. John could not forget, or forgive, her lies and actions, and he knew that he couldn't let her interfere with Sherlock's recovery.

"How dare you show your face here," John spat acidly, "how dare you come here like nothing happened. You lied to me. You lied to Sherlock."

Lilly still avoided eye contact with John, somberly staring at the floor. Mary grabbed John's wrist, looking absolutely pissed at her husband.

"John," she said through gritted teeth, "I need to speak with you for a moment. Alone." She assured Lilly that they would be back in a few minutes before dragging John away to an empty corner in the lobby.

Once they were out of earshot from Lilly, Mary began in a harsh whisper, "John Watson can't you get over yourself for one minute and forgive her?"

John looked at her surprised. "What?"

"She was only trying to help Sherlock, and you, might I add. Lilly was doing what she thought was best by reporting back to Mycroft,"

"But she lied-"

"I don't care if she lied John.Can't you see the poor girl is going through hell right now? You've been Lilly's best friend since childhood, John, so why don't you start acting like it? She needs you. She needs Sherlock."

John didn't say anything. Looking less angry, but Mary could tell that he was still holding back.

"You hate her for working with Moriarty, but that was years before she came to Baker Street. He hurt her just as much as he did with you and Sherlock. You need to stop using the fact that she was involved with him to convince yourself that she's a bad guy, she's your friend."

_________________________
Hey all. Been a minute, huh? Not sure if anyone is still reading but I came across this today and thought, what the hell. This is the last draft I had written before my apparent hiatus. 

I started this years ago, by now I graduated high school, started college, and have been living in the real world instead of through wattpad. 

However, this coronavirus lockdown has me thinking, maybe I should finish this up. I am a bit rusty, and I honestly don't know how much I remember about the story this was supposed to become, but I'll do my best. Thank you for all the love and serious patience. 

As always, I am open to any and all ideas anyone might have about the book. 

M