A Study in Resistance- A Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter Twelve

You guy's had better enjoy this while you can, I'm running out of ideas fast. Maybe while I'm lying awake in bed tonight something will come to me...

~Sec

“Oh God…”

“So I’m assuming you did something. Come on Sherlock, how did you make her bleed out?” John asked, too shocked and depressed to think straight.

“Me? So it’s still my fault is it?”

“Yes it’s still your bloody fault! God, somehow-somehow you did this!”

“I loved Mary too John!”

“Not like I do!”

“You’re right, I wasn’t too keen on a baby but I would never do anything that would kill Mary! And I would never cause her to have a miscarriage, I wouldn’t do that to her and I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Yeah well based off of the time you convinced me you were dead for two years I don’t really trust that there is anything you wouldn’t put me through.”

“There was a sniper aiming at your head!”

“That’s not what you told me! You said that ‘Moriarty had to be stopped’!”

“He did.”

“From shooting me in the head?”

“You and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade!”

“Good lord you don’t tell me anything anymore do you?”

“I thought it might put you in danger!”

“Bull shit!”

By this time people were staring at the two of them fighting like an old married couple. John shook his head and walked out the door. Sherlock heard a car starting in the parking lot.

“Was that Mary Watson’s husband?” asked the lady behind the main desk.

“That was John, yes,” Sherlock said, looking up at her.

“Dammit! I wish he hadn’t left he’s got so much paperwork!” Sherlock smiled, she was obviously new to the job.

“I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you!” she seemed to relax a bit. Sherlock walked out the door and took a cab back to 221B. Mrs. Hudson was asleep when he arrived. Sherlock pulled out his phone to check the time, 3:15. He had slept two nights ago but apparently grief and arguing had drained his energy. Once again, Sherlock plopped down on his bed fully clothed. He didn’t even bother with taking his coat all the way off. Slowly sleep carried him away from Baker Street, away from the pain and sorrow, away from the people he loved dying, and away from reality.

When Sherlock awoke light was spilling in from his window. He looked at his phone, after mid-day. He had overslept big time. Feeling well rested, Sherlock stretched. His favorite purple shirt was crinkled from being slept in, he started to unbutton in, then decided he was going to have a shower. He walked to the bathroom with his shirt half unbuttoned and turned the water on. He finished unbuttoning his shirt in front of the mirror. He ran his fingers over the scar left by Mary’s bullet.

Mary…

Mary was dead. For some reason John seemed to think it was Sherlock’s fault. The two of them probably wouldn’t be speaking for a while. Somehow Sherlock had managed to lose his two closest friends in one night. Wonderful. Still studying his new scar, Sherlock decided that it was not something to be proud of. He shook his head and continued to undress, then stepped into the shower.

Sherlock walked out of the bathroom, drying his wavy mess of hair with a white towel. He quickly walked into the main room of the flat, now wearing a crisp white shirt. He sat down at the table with his laptop. Mrs. Hudson had left Sherlock’s morning tea by his armchair, but she generally brought early so it was probably cold. Sherlock checked his website, then his email. Nothing worth pursuing. He replied to a few cases that were solvable from the flat. Next he decided to check John’s blog.  John hadn’t typed up the blackmail case yet (what with the whole Mary ordeal). Sherlock read the latest post, but decided to spare John the sarcastic comments he usually left. Bored of the, Sherlock decided to Google himself. He decided to go to images.

The pictures from John’s blog came up first, but then came the fan art. There were some interesting pictures of the two of them standing side by side, back to back and-

“Who-hoo!” Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door frame, Sherlock slammed his laptop shut.

“What?”

“I brought you lunch! So… how’s Mary?”

“Mary, Mary, Mary. Everyone wants to know about Mary.”

“Come on Sherlock.”

“I mean people have been giving birth for millions of years!”

“Sherlock Holmes!”

“Mary didn’t make it!”

Mrs. Hudson’s jaw dropped, “What?”

“Apparently she bled out.”

“Sherlock Holmes if this is some kind of cruel experiment…”

“It’s not,” Sherlock said, getting a bit sad again.

“Is John okay? Are you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly.