221B Baby struggles

The day before

Authors note:
Chapter 2! So, as I promised, this one is much longer than the previous chapter. I hope the next ones will turn out as long as this as well. Enjoy reading, and if you have any ideas/suggestions for the following chapters, please leave a comment! Me and my friend would love to make your ideas into a chapter :) • also, follow us both on instagram: @teamsherlock_ and @sherlocked777_ thanks for reading guys!
-@teamsherlock_
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John's POV

Urgh, I give up on sleeping...

I should probably try again or else I won't be able to work tomorrow.

Okay John, keep it together. I will just drink some tea and check up on George.

I slowly got out of his bed, careful on not waking up Sherlock who was fast asleep next to me. Sherlock kicked the blankets to the side still not knowing that I was missing. I smiled at the sleeping Sherlock for a second. He looked so peaceful and beautiful and.. wait.. what am I doing? I walked to the crib where I found a peacefully sleeping George as well. George was wearing an onesie which had writing saying "My daddy is a detective. What superpower does your daddy have?" Sherlock bought it as a baby shower present.

"John is that you?" I heard Sherlock's husky voice whispering from behind me. I turn around to see Sherlock supporting himself with his elbows. "Yes it's me Sherlock" I answered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up..
It's just.. I just can't sleep. I was going to get some tea after checking up on George." I explained. He nodded with understanding before lying back down. I walked into the kitchen brewing myself a cup of tea. Thoughts of Mary were flying through my head for days now. I leaned over the kitchen counter thinking about how I should have pressed on about why she was acting so differently these days.

"John please don't cry" a pair of strong arms wrapped around my chest pulling me into a hug. I recognized the scent, that sweet scent, Sherlock. I was confused before I noticed a tear dropping right next to my cup. I raise my hand to my eyes to feel that they were wet from tears.

"Sorry I was just thinking" I quickly wiped my tears before turning around to face Sherlock's worried face. Ever since I moved in with Sherlock, the only face I have seen him with is a face worrying about how I was holding up. Wrinkles were starting to take up his forehead and dark circle were appearing from how often I got up in the middle of the night. Sometimes I would wake up at the edge of a sidewalk about to take a step into the busy street but luckily Sherlock has been alert enough to steer me back into bed. He says it's my consciousness feeling guilty and.. then he stops there not wanting to say what my body is really trying to do.

"John, it's not your fault. I promise you. Mary would have wanted you to continue living happily. She would have been caught someday." He clamped his hand over his mouth as soon as he said the last sentence. I am surprised that Sherlock was able to somewhat control the stuff he says around me. He looked at me before muttering a 'sorry' and lowering his head.

"It's fine. Let's go back to sleep" I yawned. He agrees as we both head to sleep.

Later in bed, a lot of things were coming to my mind. I saw her, her face. Mary. She was all I could think of right now. Still questioning myself about her. Things would be so different now if I would have known. I notice I'm sinking into my thoughts again, so I decided to just go to sleep.

"Mary are you ready?" I cried out from the living room. We were going to a nice restaurant so she could rest and just have a great time. George was left with my parents until the next morning so he wouldn't have to move between houses when he was sleeping. After a few minutes of silence, I decided to go upstairs to see what was taking her so long.

"Mary are you here?" I called out. I spotted her crouched up into a ball in the chair, staring outside the window with a blank expression. I sighed. She has been doing this for weeks now and she always brushed it off whenever I asked her.

"Mary please just tell me what's bothering you." I plead. She jumped up and turned around with a gun a few inches away from my forehead. Mary dropped the gun after seeing me and started breaking down.

"I'm so sorry John. I didn't see you there" she apologized with a scared look on her face. I swallow nervously thinking about what would have happened if she pulled the trigger.

"I guess you don't want to go out tonight?" I asked her, looking at her pajamas. She nodded before taking a deep breath. "Alright then, I'll call the restaurant to say we're not coming." I left the room and called the restaurant to cancel our reservation and went to the store next to our place to buy us some soup. When I came home Mary was already in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table with a blanket wrapped around her body.

"Ah, you know me so well" Mary smiled when she smelt the hot bowl with cheese and broccoli soup in my hands. I handed her the soup and her favourite chicken sandwich before taking my dinner out as well.

After we finished eating, we both went upstairs to read a book. That night Mary got a text. She turned pale and jumped up running to the bathroom. She later returned saying that her friend was in trouble. I would have prefered an explenation, but it seemed very urgent. An hour later sent me a text saying that she would be spending the night, so I shrugged off the eerie feeling and went to bed.

I woke up the next day doing the regular routine I have. I went outside to get the newspaper. After that I made myself breakfast to eat while watching the news on the telly. Just the boring news, like always. But then something caught my eye.

Breaking News: Mary Watson was found dead in an alley near the famous detective's home, 221B Baker Street.

"Mary Watson was a 32 year old woman who was married to John Watson in the past year. John Watson is known as Sherlock Holmes's trustworthy assistant. Mrs. Watson was found beaten and shot multiple times." a female anchor reported with sad pitying eyes.

The remote slipped through my fingers as my knees buckled beneath me. One phrase kept repeating itself in my mind, "Mary Watson, my wife, my sweet caring wife, is dead." Noise in front of my flat increased as the hours went by.

"John Watson please say a word about your wife's death!"

"Is it true that you didn't know that this was going to happen?"

"Was your wife going to Sherlock Holmes for help?"

Reporters shouted all around me as I walked out of my flat. I dressed up into a black suit before going to meet someone for answers.