"Look, I know you can predict things weeks in advance to wind me up, but you can't know that."
On Christmas Day, he asked the woman he loved if the name Mary Watson was good enough for her. He had decided the problems of Mary Watson's future would be his privilege to bear. It had been a heartfelt vow, albeit an unfilled one in the end. Rosamund Mary would have always cast a shadow over their life together. Magnussen had threatened to expose her unless they danced for him; Ajay had wanted to kill her for her perceived betrayal; Norbury had wanted to eliminate AGRA to achieve a quiet life. There would have always been ghosts chasing after the woman who abandoned her identity and became his wife. Wetting his lips, he gazes up at Mary Watson. Framed in the doorway, she looks beautiful.
"Mary saved your life because she wanted to. She liked you, Sherlock. From the start, she was bloody besotted with you. She kept on at me, asking me when I was going to see you again. I was so angry at you and she..." His voice catches and he clears his throat, "... she knew! She knew just how much you meant to me. Who knows, I might've done the same thing if she'd been the one to call the babysitter instead."
He looks away from the mirage of his wife and at Sherlock's trembling hands. His own fingers twitch as he thinks about reaching out and offering him some little comfort by steadying them. But he decides not to and an exasperated Mary in the doorway berates him.
"You couldn't have known what would happen to Victor either. You were just a little kid with a best mate, like every other six-year-old in the country."
no subject
On Christmas Day, he asked the woman he loved if the name Mary Watson was good enough for her. He had decided the problems of Mary Watson's future would be his privilege to bear. It had been a heartfelt vow, albeit an unfilled one in the end. Rosamund Mary would have always cast a shadow over their life together. Magnussen had threatened to expose her unless they danced for him; Ajay had wanted to kill her for her perceived betrayal; Norbury had wanted to eliminate AGRA to achieve a quiet life. There would have always been ghosts chasing after the woman who abandoned her identity and became his wife. Wetting his lips, he gazes up at Mary Watson. Framed in the doorway, she looks beautiful.
"Mary saved your life because she wanted to. She liked you, Sherlock. From the start, she was bloody besotted with you. She kept on at me, asking me when I was going to see you again. I was so angry at you and she..." His voice catches and he clears his throat, "... she knew! She knew just how much you meant to me. Who knows, I might've done the same thing if she'd been the one to call the babysitter instead."
He looks away from the mirage of his wife and at Sherlock's trembling hands. His own fingers twitch as he thinks about reaching out and offering him some little comfort by steadying them. But he decides not to and an exasperated Mary in the doorway berates him.
"You couldn't have known what would happen to Victor either. You were just a little kid with a best mate, like every other six-year-old in the country."