Nicotine

A Man Torn Four Ways

John scanned the file, page after page of despicable truths. His eyes pricked with tears of anger and hurt. He didn't want to know, he wanted to stop reading but he knew too much to stop.

Mary was a bad, bad person. It was undeniable.

Assassinations. Murders. An agent turned bad, an assassin turned freelance.

John took a deep breath. 

I read it. -JW

No answer.

Sherlock?  -JW

No answer.

Why didn't you tell me? -JW

Because you were adequately happy with everything. -SH

Happy with what I thought I had, Sherlock!  -JW

It was what everyone thought you had. -SH

Not you, and presumably not Mycroft. -JW

Mycroft knows everything- he doesn't count. -SH

I am not doing this right now. -JW

A few minutes passed before John's curiosity overtook his frustration with Sherlock.

So you're in Spain because of her death then?  -JW

Assassination. -SH

Yes. It said she'd been assassinated. By who? It just says unidentified persons of Spanish origin. -JW

Someone like her makes enemies. My theory is she was recognised on your honeymoon and followed back to the UK. -SH

John put his head in his hand and drew a sharp breath. He exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. He didn't know how he felt about Mary anymore. His marriage, his honeymoon. Part of him loved her and wanted her back more than anything, and part of him hated her for her past and her lies. A third part hated Sherlock for thrusting this upon him so insensitively, and a forth clung to him as the only one he loved left. His family destroyed and his friend abroad, John was a man with a heart torn four ways.

He let a small sob escape his lips. He had lost so much. His shoulders caved in around him and he wept shamelessly, alone and alone and alone.

She was a bad person John, but for all the right reasons. -SH

He read the text.

Oh, so the sociopath can understand human emotions. Well, there's a surprise! Shame he doesn't have any himself.

John threw the file in the bin.

"SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THAT!" He yelled (to Sherlock in theory, but in reality to no one but himself).

John sat back down- shaking with rage and hurt. His phone buzzed against the table.

Hey mate, how are you getting on? Haven't seen you in a while. -Greg

Let's go to the pub. Tonight. -JW

Sounds like a bad day. No problem, I have an answer. Beer. -Greg

Doctors orders. See you at eight at the usual?  -JW

Could you stretch to 8.15? -Greg

Whatever suits. -JW

See you then. -Greg

He switched his phone off. Now there could be no Sherlock, therefore no Mary. No confusion of thoughts and feelings. John sighed.

A temporary solution to a long term problem.