Who did you kill (4/4)
The Epilogue.
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Author's Note:
As you probably noticed, this fic is my version of so-called "fix-it" fic, or, as I like to call it, "Mary's redemption" fic. I am going to pretend that His Last Vow actually went like this and not the stupid way it did.
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The front door creaked open - the hinges really could use some Vaseline - and then John’s voice echoed through the hallway, calling out:
“Mary?”
Sherlock didn’t move where he stood in the kitchen, staring out of the window, as he answered softly: “There’s no-one here.”
“Mary?! Ma- oh.” John stopped dead in the kitchen door frame. “Sherlock? What are you doing here? Where’s my wife? Where’s my...” he drew in a deep breath, “...pregnant wife?”
“She left.”
John opened his mouth for another meaningless question and then the seriousness of Sherlock’s expression finally registered with him. He looked around, clenched his fist, driving the fingernails into his skin as if the pain could wake him from a bad dream, but the words weren’t coming. Sherlock waited.
“How?” John managed to ask at last.
I exorcised her demon and she decided never to give chance for another to grow within her. She left to keep you safe.
There were things, Sherlock knew, John would never understand. So he settled for: “There’s a lot you didn’t know about your Mary, John. About who she was before.”
John laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Well, you obviously know all about that! Then tell me! Tell me, Sherlock, and pray you have a good reason why you couldn’t tell me before!”
Sherlock looked out of the window. “There wasn’t a reason to tell you. She was an assassin, ex-CIA and freelance since then, but she quit that life five years ago. She was the Mary you learned to love by the time she met you. She didn’t pose a threat to you.”
John stumbled into the kitchen and slumped onto one chair, as if the weight of the world settled on his shoulders.
“Then why is she gone? Was she afraid I would... reject her, once I found out?”
“Would you forgive her?” Sherlock maintained his distance from John carefully, but the failed to hide the curiosity in his voice.
John rested his head on his forearms. He spoke more to the table surface than to Sherlock when he sighed: “I... I suppose I would. She was carrying my child, for God’s sake.”
“That’s what she thought,” Sherlock murmured to himself. John didn’t seem to hear that. After a long moment, Sherlock looked back and found John ostentatively waiting for the rest of the story.
“When I was... abroad,” they averted each other’s eyes at the word, “she was blackmailed by a man named Charles Augustus Magnussen into becoming your friend, eventually your lover. Magnussen keeps profiles on almost every important person. He knew your type and what kind of personality you’d be most likely to fall for. He wanted her to become your pressure point, which in extension would give him considerable power over me.”
John gasped. “You’re telling me... that my marriage...”
“It’s not the end of the story, John,” Sherlock barked out, focused on not getting side-tracked. “Mary obeyed out of fear for her life, and set the trap on you, but in the end, she made one mistake. She fell in love.”
John was very quiet for a long while, and when he finally spoke, it sounded like he wanted to laugh but the joke was simply too poor.
“Mistake. Of course. Sentiment...”
“Chemical defect, found on the losing side,” Sherlock quoted. “And the best nutrient substance for demons,” he added, as an afterthought.
John looked around, trying to imagine a woman sitting at the kitchen table, tearing herself to shreds with the despair over loving the man she’s supposed to destroy, looking towards the day she’d have to betray the man she loves.
“She left to go undercover once more. She’s probably after Magnussen, or trying for a deal with CIA once again, or simply eliminating her enemies so she could come back to you, this time with nothing breathing down her neck.
“It’s probably a suicide mission. Her enemies are too many, and she’s pregnant. I’m sorry, John.” Sherlock really sounded sorry, and that somehow was the worst part.
“So that’s it? Why do you - why do people always have to leave me behind without me having a bloody word in-”
“She loves you, John.” The words rang through the kitchen, dragging the echo of their unspoken siblings behind them. John met Sherlock’s eyes and wished he didn’t see the defeat in them.
“What do I do, Sherlock?”
Sherlock shrugged. “She’s out of my reach, now. But we could go after Magnussen, together.” His voice held a promise of vengeance.
“If there’s a way to bring him down, I’ll find it.”
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.
.
Author's Note:
As you probably noticed, this fic is my version of so-called "fix-it" fic, or, as I like to call it, "Mary's redemption" fic. I am going to pretend that His Last Vow actually went like this and not the stupid way it did.
.
.
The front door creaked open - the hinges really could use some Vaseline - and then John’s voice echoed through the hallway, calling out:
“Mary?”
Sherlock didn’t move where he stood in the kitchen, staring out of the window, as he answered softly: “There’s no-one here.”
“Mary?! Ma- oh.” John stopped dead in the kitchen door frame. “Sherlock? What are you doing here? Where’s my wife? Where’s my...” he drew in a deep breath, “...pregnant wife?”
“She left.”
John opened his mouth for another meaningless question and then the seriousness of Sherlock’s expression finally registered with him. He looked around, clenched his fist, driving the fingernails into his skin as if the pain could wake him from a bad dream, but the words weren’t coming. Sherlock waited.
“How?” John managed to ask at last.
I exorcised her demon and she decided never to give chance for another to grow within her. She left to keep you safe.
There were things, Sherlock knew, John would never understand. So he settled for: “There’s a lot you didn’t know about your Mary, John. About who she was before.”
John laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Well, you obviously know all about that! Then tell me! Tell me, Sherlock, and pray you have a good reason why you couldn’t tell me before!”
Sherlock looked out of the window. “There wasn’t a reason to tell you. She was an assassin, ex-CIA and freelance since then, but she quit that life five years ago. She was the Mary you learned to love by the time she met you. She didn’t pose a threat to you.”
John stumbled into the kitchen and slumped onto one chair, as if the weight of the world settled on his shoulders.
“Then why is she gone? Was she afraid I would... reject her, once I found out?”
“Would you forgive her?” Sherlock maintained his distance from John carefully, but the failed to hide the curiosity in his voice.
John rested his head on his forearms. He spoke more to the table surface than to Sherlock when he sighed: “I... I suppose I would. She was carrying my child, for God’s sake.”
“That’s what she thought,” Sherlock murmured to himself. John didn’t seem to hear that. After a long moment, Sherlock looked back and found John ostentatively waiting for the rest of the story.
“When I was... abroad,” they averted each other’s eyes at the word, “she was blackmailed by a man named Charles Augustus Magnussen into becoming your friend, eventually your lover. Magnussen keeps profiles on almost every important person. He knew your type and what kind of personality you’d be most likely to fall for. He wanted her to become your pressure point, which in extension would give him considerable power over me.”
John gasped. “You’re telling me... that my marriage...”
“It’s not the end of the story, John,” Sherlock barked out, focused on not getting side-tracked. “Mary obeyed out of fear for her life, and set the trap on you, but in the end, she made one mistake. She fell in love.”
John was very quiet for a long while, and when he finally spoke, it sounded like he wanted to laugh but the joke was simply too poor.
“Mistake. Of course. Sentiment...”
“Chemical defect, found on the losing side,” Sherlock quoted. “And the best nutrient substance for demons,” he added, as an afterthought.
John looked around, trying to imagine a woman sitting at the kitchen table, tearing herself to shreds with the despair over loving the man she’s supposed to destroy, looking towards the day she’d have to betray the man she loves.
“She left to go undercover once more. She’s probably after Magnussen, or trying for a deal with CIA once again, or simply eliminating her enemies so she could come back to you, this time with nothing breathing down her neck.
“It’s probably a suicide mission. Her enemies are too many, and she’s pregnant. I’m sorry, John.” Sherlock really sounded sorry, and that somehow was the worst part.
“So that’s it? Why do you - why do people always have to leave me behind without me having a bloody word in-”
“She loves you, John.” The words rang through the kitchen, dragging the echo of their unspoken siblings behind them. John met Sherlock’s eyes and wished he didn’t see the defeat in them.
“What do I do, Sherlock?”
Sherlock shrugged. “She’s out of my reach, now. But we could go after Magnussen, together.” His voice held a promise of vengeance.
“If there’s a way to bring him down, I’ll find it.”