I was supposed to die first I wasn't supposed to be left without him It's not supposed to be like this My best friend John Watson is dead ~Sherlock Holmes


8. 8

"Sherlock!" He was jerked awake by Marys screaming.

"What is it?" He yawned, struggling to get untangled from his blankets.


Sherlock got out of the blankets just in time for paramedics to race up the stairs. They ran to his room and returned with Reign on a gurney and rushed out again. Mary walked out of the room with tears in her eyes. "What is going on?" Sherlock asked assessing the situation.

"Reign won't wake up!"

"You mean she's dead?"

"No she's breathing and her heart is beating but she won't wake up."

"A coma?"

"I don't know!" Mary shouted through her tears. "Let's go!"

They sat in the hospital room, staring down at the once lively child, now hooked up to machines to keep her breathing. Her heart monitor was slow and steady, and her chest rose and fell with hesitation. They waited for any sign from a doctor, any words of advice or sympathy.

Mary held onto her daughter hand while she hid her face in Sherlocks shoulder. "I wanted to have a family again." She cried. "I wanted us to be happy."

"I'm sorry Mary." Was all Sherlock could say as his eyes refused to advert from his goddaughter.

"Mrs Watson, Mr Holmes." A tall doctor entered and nodded politely. "I'm here to discuss possibilities for your daughter." He sat down in a chair at the edge of the bed. He was upset sherlock could tell but his voice was lively as his job entitled him to stay optimistic and positive. "What would you like to see done?"

"I want her happy" Mary sobbed.

"We have a few options, first option is we keep her hooked up as look as possible and hope she awakes." He paused. "Second we can attempt surgery on the tumor but it is likely it will kill her." He paused again. "And lastly we can unhook her and let fate run it's course.

Mary looked at Sherlock, who simply nodded, encouraging her to trust her gut. "Attempt the surgery" she sighed.

"We will begin immediately, if you two would please wait out in the waiting room that would be wonderful. We will try our best Mrs Watson."

They waited all night for news. Until a stout nurse entered the dimly lit room. "I'm sorry mrs Watson, we tried out best."


Shelrock watched as the tiny casket was laid beside her fathers. The second person who meant something in his life was gone, and he broke down again in a flood of tears. He held Mary who was unable to control herself and started screaming at everyone who had attended the funeral, especially Harry.

"You've never been there for him until his fucking death! You ignore us and now you're back for Reigns death?"

"Mary." Harry slurred.

"John was right you are nothing but a filthy drunk!"

"Mary." Sherlock pulled her away "it's not worth it"

"Leave me alone Sherlock!" She screamed, "just go home and leave me alone!"

Sherlock listened and left the newly placed grave and walked back to his flat. He pulled down Johns skull and placed it on the chair. "How is Reign? Is she safe? Healthy? Happy?" He cried. "I guess I couldn't take care of either of you!"

Sherlocks phone rang causing him to jump form his seat. "What?" He answered without seeing who it was.

"Hey it's me" Anderson sighed.

"I can tell"

"I'm moving out I think, I'm sorry Sherlock but you've gone crazy." He hung up the phone, leaving Sherlock alone.

All that was left in the flat was him and mrs Hudson, he knew she was kind hearted but he also knew she would need the money to remain living here, money sherlock didn't have much of. He looked his phone and dreaded his decision. He held the phone up and slowly dialed the numbers, each number he sunk deeper and deeper into despair.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft answered on a concerned voice.

"I need a place to stay."

"I'll send a car." Mycroft hung up and Sherlock went to pack. He couldn't bring everything and he knew it. He grabbed a backpack from under his bed and threw in Johns skull, a few books, and a simple change if clothes. He but his coat and scarf on and continued to shove as much as he could into the old tattered bag then he waited on the front step of 221B until a black car pulled up.

He climbed in the back beside Anthea. He was silent and stared out the tinted windows. "The other one talked more." Anthea smiled as she typed in her phone.

"Oh" Sherlock sighed, remembering how years ago John had told him about his encounter with Mycroft. "How is he?" Anthea looked up in confusion as Sherlock pointed to her phone. "Your boyfriend."

"I don't have one." She smiled.


"You are just like your brother." She laughed.

"Only smarter. How is he in bed?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh it's obvious Anthea." Sherlock focused back on the window. "His mood changed immensely after you to shag."

"I'm not fooling around with Mycroft." She blushed.

"No, I suppose it's not fooling around when you're engaged." He noticed the silver band on her left ring finger.

"I'm not engaged." She winced, trying to hide something.

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not"

"Yes you-"

"William Shelrock Scott Holmes!" Mycroft shouted from Antheas phone. "Stop being a child.

Shelrock grabbed the phone and held it close to his mouth and whispered. "Why didn't you tell me brother mine?"

"I have nothing to tell" Mycroft responded in a soft collected voice.

"You are engaged." Sherlock felt a smile creep onto his face.

"Am not"

"Are to"

"No, Sherlock I am not."

"How was it last night?" Sherlock smirked.


Sherlock laughed and handed the phone back to Anthea who took it off speaker and spoke softly into it. Sherlock watched the street go by. He knew his life had been changing since John left, but he never thought he would have to love with his brother again. Even if this was just temporary. Him and Mycroft had a difficult childhood, they hadn't gotten alone well, there was a large age gap after all, but for a few years Mycroft was excited about his new brother, but that excitement quickly faded into distance. They didn't hate each other, it was far from hate, they simply loved each other too much to show it.

After Sherlock had taken an interest in drugs as a teenager, Mycroft had disowned him. They had gone years without contact and Sherlock would simply lay on the couch, for hours, even days in end, with his eyes glazed over and distant. Mycroft had hated seeing him this way, seeing him fall victim to dangerous things.

Since Sherlock had gone onto solving crimes as an alternative to getting high, Mycroft had slowly been letting himself get close to his brother again. Although he feared constantly about him falling back into old habits or getting hurt.

They arrived at Mycroft's house which was quite large. He was waiting outside with his arms crossed. Anthea walked up and stood beside him, her face no longer buried in her phone. Sherlock grabbed his bag and hopped out of the car. "Mycroft" he nodded.

"Come in" Mycrift sighed and led the way.

"If she's simply a personal assistant why doesn't she go home? I had my little experiment with one if them as well" Sherlock smiled at them.

"She's a live in." Mycroft spoke monotonously. "More money but it's worth it."

"You pay her to live with you?" Sherlock asked more to himself. "Interesting."

Mycroft led him through the house, quickly announcing each room until they arrived at the back of the house, the room was small but Sherlock liked it. It was stacked to the ceiling with books, there was a single person bed and a desk in the corner. He threw the bag on the bed and sat down himself.

"You can stay as long as you want." Mycroft looked down at his brother. "I don't mind"

"I do" Sherlock leaned back and closed his eyes. "Leave."

Sherlock laid on the mattress until his bladder got the best of him. He hadn't known the time, nor did he remember the direction. He stumbled for a moment trying to regain balance after hours of being frozen in bed. He walked through the hall until he found the loo. As he went he heard a moaning from the room adjacent. "Mycroft!" It was a female scream.

Sherlock let his curiosity run as he attempted to open the door to Mycroft's bedroom, it was unlocked. He opened the door slowly as Mycroft and Anthea struggled to cover themselves up with a thin black sheet. "Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted with anger.

"I knew it." Sherlock smirked.

Mycroft struggled to catch his breath as he held Anthea. He glared at Sherlock, pure anger in his eyes. "Get out!"

"Oh carry on." Sherlock laughed and made his way back down the hall. He smirked, happy to know his assumption had been correct. He climbed back into the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"That was uncalled for" Mycroft entered the room,he crossed his arms and scoulded his brother.

"Just shows I know what I talk about" Sherlock laughed.

"Since Johns been gone you are going mad Sherlock"

"No I'm not I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're not"

"I miss him." Sherlock sighed and sat up so Mycroft had more room.

"I know" with hesitation Mycroft wrapped his arm around his brother an hugged him as he sobbed in his chest.

Sherlocks life began strictly scheduled, forced to life of of Mycroft's schedule, up at six to eat, off to work by seven, finished by seven that night, dinner at eight, and the rest of the night was free. Sherlock had been used to working at odd hours of the night and every now and then he would sneak out just for fresh air.

It was becoming dark and Sherlock waited for food. He had been on a case but his brother made him eat. He held Johns skull and fiddled it between his hands. He was alone in Mycrofts study. There was a warm fire to his right, the only light in the room. He watched as the fire danced off of Johns dull white skull, he found it strangely beautiful. He was nearly hypnotized by it.

"Sherlock?" He was greeted by a familiar voice.

"John?" Sherlock jumped from his seat and surveyed the room. It was empty. He sat back down in disappointment. Was he simply imagining it. His mind raced with any other voices he could've mistaken for his friend. But none came to mind. He wanted bad to go back to 221B, but until he had a flat mate, he couldn't.

Shelrock made his way to the dinning hall. Anthea and Mycroft sat hand in hand and across from them was Mary. Sherlock couldn't help himself as he ran up to her and scooped her into his arms. "Mary!" He shouted in excitement.

"Sherlock" she hugged him as he held her like a babe.

"I missed you!" He forgot the presence of his brother. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there" she smiled as he set her down. "But I was drawn back here, I stopped by Baker Street first, mrs Hudson said you are welcome back whenever."

"I can get you two a ride as soon as you need one." Mycroft chimed in, anxious to get rid of his brother and get back to his love life.

"Now would be wonderful." He smirked. "Let me get my stuff." He ran off leaving the three of them in the dinning room.

"Thank you." Mycroft sighed.

"I came as soon as you called, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Thought he would realize sooner." Mycroft coughed. "About missing out on life."

"I'll fix him up." Mary smiled.

"Thank you." Anthea was very greatful. "He is a psychopath."

"High functioning sociopath, shall we go?" Sherlock held his bag under his arm, the same one he had arrived with months ago.

"Of course." Mary held out her hand and Sherlock gladly took it.

In the car Mary attempted to keep a conversation going. "What have you been up to?"

"Cases" Sherlock spoke without taking his eyes off hers. "talking to my skull, the usual."

"Mycroft said you talked to it more than usual." Mary bit her lower lip.

"Not anymore." He sighed.

"Did you leave it?"

"No it's in my bag, but now I have you."

"I will be gone a lot Sherlock, I have a lot of work to do."

"I know" he nodded. "At least now I know you're safe."

"Don't worry about me Sherlock"

"Too late."

"I shot you." She reminded him.

"Out of kindness." He smiled, slightly confused by his own words.

"No, out of fear." She sighed "instinct, anger, anything but kindness."

"I already know Mary, and I'm alive, everything happened out fine."

"More or less" they arrived at their destination and climbed out of the black car that raced off as soon as they got off the street.

"I don't know about that." Sherlock wanted badly to reach over and grab Mary's hand. "Mind if I do a quick experiment?" He set down his bag.



"Sure I-"

Before she could finish her sentence Sherlock swung her over his knee and kissed her, dipping her body back and letting her hair fall out of place. He supported her with his arms and knee and kissed her passionately. She flung her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair, gently playing with the curls. As Sherlock pulled her back up she pulled him by his coat and kissed him again. Sherlock could feel his face blush red, his last, romance, if you could even call it that, had been Janine, and he had felt no personal or physical attachment to her, Irene, the woman, however he had enjoyed her company and her intellect. But the way he felt with Marys lips against his was something he had never felt before.

They continued to kiss outside of 221B, the darkness surrounding him. Sherlock, sensing Mary was cold I bottomed his coat and pulled her closer to him in order to wrap it around them both. Mary wrapped her arms around Sherlock waist and his her face in his chest. After their moment together they entered the flat.

"Sherlock!" Hudson screamed in pleasure.

"Mrs Hudson, good to see I was missed." He smirked.

"Oh and Mary is back!" She hugged them both. "Now behave" she laughed and ran back into her kitchen.

"Come on." Mary grabbed Sherlocks hand and led him upstairs. She passed the living room and headed straight for the bedroom. Sherlock set down his bag as Mary jumped onto the bed. "Come on." She laughed again.

"Mary." Sherlock smiled. He knew what she wanted but he was unsure if he wanted it as well.

"What's wrong?" She pouted her lips. "Don't want me?"

"I do" he admited. "Just not now." He slipped off his shoes, coat, and scarf. He wiggled out of his pants and into a baggy pair of sweats. He took off his dark purple shirt button by button until it fell of his arms. Digging through his wardrobe he found his blue robe and slid it on over his bare chest, tying it loose however so it fell slightly off.

"Now I want it worse." Mary laughed. "Please Sherlock."

"I don't know." He walked to the window. He felt guilty about his urges. He wanted badly, so badly, to crawl into bed and have fun with Mary. But he respected her, and he respected John, dead or not he knew it would be wrong to have sex with his wife. Sherlock flicked off the light and crawled into his bed, dragging the blankets over his head. In slight disappointment Mary covered herself up as well. Sherlock, feeling bad for not giving into her wants rolled over to face her and rested his arm over her body. They fell asleep cuddling like a couple in love.

Sherlock awoke to an empty bed and had to focus for a minute to remember if he was at Mycrofts or his place. After his realization he stumbled out of the room, his hair a ball of messy curls that stuck up and out in odd locations. Mary sat at the table reading through the news. "Good morning" she smiled. Sherlock simply waved as he was still waking up. He grabbed the cup of coffee mrs Hudson had set out for him and drank the burning liquid. "I have to get going." Mary kissed his forehead. "I'll be home later." She rushed out the door but not before blowing him a kiss.

Sherlock picked up the paper Mary had been reading from and began to flip through it.

"Sherlock" Johns voice rang through the flat.

"Not real." Sherlock smacked his head.

"What do you mean not real?"

Shelrock looked up to see John sitting on the stool beside him. "John!?" He jumped back and shouted.

"Nope" John shook his head. After a moment of Sherlocks wide eye stare he spoke again. "That was sarcasm. Of course it's me?"

"But you-" Sherlock reached out, expecting his hand to go through Johns chest, but instead it rested above his heart. "-died"

"I'm here Sherlock."


"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth" John quoted Sherlock from years ago.

"I haven't eliminated the impossible yet"

"I'm here Sherlock."

"No you aren't." He stood up and walked over to the skull.

"Granted you're the only one who can see me." John followed him. "And hear me"

"So you are imaginary."

"Maybe" John sat in his chair.

"Sherlock!" Molly's voice screamed from down the stairs. As skin as it was heard Johns image faded.

"Somebody better be dead!" Sherlock shouted, annoyed her presence had frightened away John.

"Lestrade has been shot!"

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