2. In Sherlock's shadow
So I’m married. To an assassin. And Sherlock was right. Again. Damn it, it infuriates me. Why does he always have to be bloody right? All I ever wanted was a normal life, not that being partners to Sherlock Holmes would ever constitute as a normal life. In fact I don’t even know why the word ‘normal’ is still in my vocabulary. But like Sherlock says “remembering is everything”. Easy for him to say with his ‘Mind Palace’.
I don’t know how he does it. I’ve tried to create one for myself. Sherlock said that I need to focus, create a library in my mind with all the information in each book that I can just take off the shelf and turn the page to find it when I need it. It’s not that simple, creating a world of information.
I have had this world in my head that I zone out to every time Sherlock starts talking. He does that a lot now. It’s frequently increased over the past few months. He’s been quite on edge. Mycroft paid us a visit threatening to give Sherlock a drugs test. Admittedly after that scare in the drugs den, we still keep an eye on him. I still occasionally bring up the incident of how he acquired the nickname ‘Shezza’. He says I’m the only one to find that amusing. Both I, Mycroft and Molly Hooper disagree. Although Sherlock only needs to bring up on of the many times he has saved my life or a time I have done something three times as embarrassing and he has a hold on me. I’ll always be in his shadow. Nobody knows the name John Watson unless it’s accompanied by the name Sherlock Holmes. But now I’ve got my beautiful wife, Mary.
Honestly , I know I said I didn't care about her past life because I still love her, but frankly, wouldn't you be bothered just a little if you knew you were married to someone who used to be an assassin? And all you know and have ever known about them is a lie. I don’t even know her real name. I nearly let my feelings slip when Sherlock, Mary and I were visiting a street art gallery. Mary was talking with a man who had created a lot of the artwork, paintings so intricate, they resembled photos. You could never tell they were paintings unless you looked close enough. Fascinating. Mary took an interest in one which was of a couple standing together at the alter except the bride was in black. I nearly made a snide comment. Nearly. I didn't. I didn't say how it showed that the bride was 'unclean' because I love Mary too much for that. Clean slate, that's what I promised. And so we walked away in silence.
I can never let on these feelings; she’s done everything to make things seem like normal and to make this work I have to try twice as hard. All these years dealing with Sherlock has given me the capacity to deal with the impossible. After letting me believe he was dead for two years then deciding to reappear the night I'm proposing isn't the easiest thing I have had to deal with. Although, I did enjoy clocking him one; I always wanted to do that. And then on my wedding day, he notices my wife’s pregnancy before I do. How does that even happen? I'm a Doctor for crying out loud! But that’s always the way isn't it? Sherlock is always one step ahead of me, even in my own marriage. He even knew the vague truth about Mary before I did. And he was the one to reveal it. Let it be known, that I will never admit I am jealous of Sherlock Holmes; I’ll always be in Sherlock’s shadow. So I decided it was my turn to disappear.