Archive of Our Own ^beta

The worst thing about having a severe gunshot wound to the abdomen, dying, being revived, and then dying a second time in route to the hospital was the recovery time. Surgeries, infections, severe blood loss—Mary Watson's chart was as long as her arm.

Mary’s memory was hazy at best. She knew John and Sherlock were not on speaking terms at one point, that John was suffering from his own demons and more often than not it was Molly who had Rosie. John had visited her a few times. She could remember him crying, remembered him apologizing over and over, but then he stopped coming around.

And then Culverton happened? Mary would need to consult a timeline to be certain, but she was aware that all of the sudden John and Sherlock were visiting her together, and Sherlock definitely looked like he’d had the shit beaten out of him and was also recovering from drugs and John was definitely seeing a therapist that wasn’t Ella. Had it been weeks since the aquarium? Every time she would go to sleep, several days would pass before she would wake again, it seemed.

Then other surgeries happened. Another infection. Hospital transfers. Weeks and weeks staying in the hospital and missing all the adventures of her Baker Street Boys. By the middle of August though, Mary was finally cognizant. She was able to sit up in bed. She was able to hold Rosie. She was able to brush her teeth and kiss her husband and hold Sherlock and kiss Molly’s cheek for being there for her daughter when she couldn’t and her husband wouldn’t.

It was Molly’s silly little idea to celebrate Sherlock’s birthday in August. He thought it was the most ridiculous thing, considering his birthday was in January, but Molly knew Mary needed a celebration, plus Sherlock putting up a fuss over something so small was valuable entertainment. It seemed like her hospital stay was never ending and she was just cleared to eat solid food again, so Molly picked up a cake from Speedy’s and they all ate cake around Mary, laughing and enjoying life with Rosie getting passed around their little family.

Then Eurus happened.

Mary was in the middle of physical therapy, about ready to call it quits with tears building in her eyes when she received an odd text from John. “Missing your appointment today—sorry. See you soon!” John rarely made it to her physical therapy appointments due to work or Sherlock or Rosie. He arranged his schedule so he and Rosie could spend most evenings with her.

Radio silence for four days. Mary called everyone she knew, but no one had seen hide nor tail of John or Sherlock, and once again, Molly had Rosie. And thank God for that because—

“Mary, there’s been an explosion!”

Mrs. Hudson burst into Mary’s familiar hospital room, clutching Rosie to her chest. Mary raised her arms to get Rosie, and Mrs. Hudson collapsed in a chair beside the bed. “I was cleaning my flat and next thing I know, there’s a terrible explosion and Mycroft is running into my flat and ushering me out the door. Sherlock and John were hurt the most, but now I can’t get ahold of them, and it’s been hours! I picked Rosie up from the crèche because Molly is working a late shift and I already promised to—“

Before Mrs. Hudson could get carried away, Mary grabbed her hand tightly and pulled her closer to her. Rosie squirmed in Mary’s arms, but didn’t make much of a fuss after being jostled. “Something is wrong. I don’t know what, but I can feel it. You must help me, Mrs. Hudson. Can you do that?” she asked. If John and Sherlock kept her in the dark for four days and then someone destroyed Baker Street, there had to be something wrong.

Mrs. Hudson pressed her lips together and nodded her head. Of all the people Mary knew, Mrs. Hudson would be able to keep it together and help her when it seemed like no one else could. She helped her ex-husband run a drug cartel, she could help Mary with any task thrown at her.

Mary leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Someone is watching or listening. I don’t know who, but I aim to find out. Take Rosie to the Yard.” Mary pulled away from Mrs. Hudson and she saw her nod her head slightly. “Everything will be fine,” she began, trying to keep her voice cheery. “Have Greg Call Sarah,” she put as much emphasis on those last two words as she could, “See if she can take the sprog for a few and come back here and tell me everything you know. I should be awake for a little longer.”

Call Sarah was code for someone to grab a pre-packed back, hide Rosie, and get Mary off the grid. She and John thought it was best to have a plan in place in case anything ever happened again. Only she and John, plus Sherlock, Mycroft, and Lestrade knew about the plan. The rest of their friends needed to stay in the dark for their safety, especially Molly Hooper. She was Rosie’s main caretaker when John or Mary were incapacitated, and the Watson’s wanted to keep it that way.

Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Mary. Mary could see she had a lot to say, but they didn’t have time. “We can’t lose you again,” she said firmly, wrapping her arms around her and giving her a tight hug. “I don’t think the boys will survive it.”

Mary nodded her head. She couldn’t say anything else, couldn’t make any promises. She was already in pain from physical therapy. She wasn’t healthy, she wasn’t stable, couldn’t even walk from the bed to the toilet without assistance most of the time, but she would risk her life for her family.

Mrs. Hudson stood to leave, and Mary snuggled Rosie close, kissing the crown of her head, allowing a few tears to soak into her hair. “I love you,” she breathed before carefully handing her baby back to Mrs. Hudson. With a watery smile, Mary reminded her, “Call Sarah.”

—————

Breaking out of the hospital in her state was a lot easier than Mary was initially thinking. As soon as Mrs. Hudson left, Mary threw her legs over the side of the bed, shoved her slippers onto her feet, and heaved herself up. She wobbled and shook, but she could walk. It was never a time to praise the nurse and doctor shortages in London, but Mary was thankful for the shift change of one group of overworked and exhausted staff being exchanged for another, because it made it easy to knick someone’s badge and slip into a staff supply closet.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her on her feet as she stripped out of her hospital gown and into a pair of surgical scrubs. Her incisions were throbbing, but not bleeding, and that was the best she could hope for. There was a tiny sink and mirror in the back of the cupboard, and she washed her face, slapped her cheeks, then combed her fingers through her hair. She looked sick enough to pass as being just as overworked as her doctors and nurses who cared for her.

Taking as deep of a breath as she could, Mary squared her shoulders, putting on the armor she thought she was done with and slipped out of the closet unnoticed. Even with slippers on her feet, no one spared her a second glance as she snuck into the stairwell.

By the time she exited the hospital she was sweating through her scrubs and almost doubled over in pain. Her legs shook as she leaned against the building, trying to catch her breath and formulate a plan. Someone from Sherlock’s homeless network had to be close by, and they might even be able to slip her a few quid—

A sharp whistle tore Mary from her thoughts and she saw Greg Lestrade in his car, window rolled down. “Mrs. Hudson told me to Call Sarah!” he shouted, and Mary, despite her pain, ran to his car and threw herself inside. On the floor at her feet was a black duffle bag. Lestrade pointed at it and Mary tugged it into her lap as Lestrade sped off.

“The bag has a change of clothes, three hundred pounds, a phone, and a med kit John put together awhile back.” Mary went through the bag, taking note of everything that John had the forethought to pack. “I’m going to tell you everything I know, questions at the end, alright?” Lestrade asked, and Mary nodded her head. “Something happened a few days ago while John was in therapy. Don’t know what, he just told me to be on alert. Then there was an explosion at Baker Street this morning. Mycroft, John, and Sherlock were in the flat, all three are alive. Mrs. Hudson as well, obviously. Anthea told me that they’ve flown off to a high security facility to who the fuck knows where. She was in constant contact with Mycroft until they landed. She said that their phones are not receiving calls or transmitting any kind of data whatsoever, location, audio, nothing. She doesn’t know who this villain is in the high security prison—”

“Moriarty?”

“That’s what we need you for. You’ve got the skillset to figure all this shit out. I don’t know if you’ll need to go to this facility or somewhere else, so hold onto that money. I can get you more once we know.”

As Lestrade stopped at a light, Mary scrambled into the backseat and began undressing, throwing on the black trousers and jumper John packed for her. “Do you want to know Rosie’s location?”

As much as it pained her, Mary shook her head. “If for whatever reason I get caught, I don’t want her location tortured out of me.”

“Right.”

“We’ll just follow through with Call Sarah until someone comes home, whether it’s me, John, or Sherlock. And if we’re all dead, she’ll go to Molly.” Mary squeezed her eyes shut as she leaned forward and tugged on socks. “Fuck! I need trainers!”

“Your boots are in the boot.”

-----

Mary tossed four paracetamol in her mouth and chugged half a bottle of water that Lestrade handed her. Before climbing out of the car she lifted her shirt to check her incisions, noting that they were red and swollen, but no bleeding. “Wiggins is already upstairs, ready for whatever you need. He’ll probably have something a little stronger than paracetamol if you ask.”

“A shot of whiskey will do. Thank you, Greg,” Mary leaned forward and squeezed his shoulder. “Call Sarah is in effect until you get confirmation that Sherlock, John, and I are either dead or alive.” With that, she got out of the car and went straight to her home that she shared with John. She hadn’t been in it since the aquarium; she missed her home.

Standing at the door was Billy, and he smiled at her. “I’ve got all the technology set up at your kitchen table. Let’s get to work.”

Mary was in her element as she slid into her favorite seat at the table and looked through what Billy had pulled up. “Anthea don’t know much about what’s going on,” he began, leaning against the wall. “But she sent the login information for Mr. Holmes, the eldest’s, secured files and email. I just logged in; I didn’t read nothing.”

Mary scanned through document after document, file after file, email after email until her eyes were burning. A lot of it was diplomatic paperwork that Mycroft had been working on, but not a single name stood out to her. Nothing seemed important.

Until she saw the word Sherrinford.

“Fucking Sherrinford?” Mary gasped, a hand over her mouth. She only heard the CIA whisper about the fortress. Only the most dangerous individuals were sent there, and it couldn’t hold that many people to begin with. “How did Mycroft get involved with someone there?” She picked up her burner phone and called the only person who might know the answer.

“Who is in Sherrinford?” Mary asked before the other person could greet her. There was silence on the end for several seconds, and Mary could hear breathing. “Anthea?”

“I don’t know who she is or their relation, but a woman by the name of Eurus Holmes. I’m not to know this, but Mycroft had a meeting with Moriarty and they discussed this woman. That’s all I know.”

“Thank you.”

Mary hung up and placed the phone on the table. Then she cracked her knuckles and began typing. It had been awhile since she needed to hack a security system, but it was one of the better skills in her pocket. Sherrinford was the most secure facility that she knew of, and its existence wouldn’t even appear in a google search. She knew that Mycroft had to have a direct link to their CCTV as both a member of the British Government and whatever his relationship is with this Holmes woman. Wife? Sister? Cousin? Aunt?

The entire Holmes family was brilliant. Mary wouldn’t be surprised if one of them ended up being a big bad villain.

It took some time, but Mary hacked into the CCTV, and the very first thing she saw caused such a visceral reaction, she shouted in horror.

Her John, her sweet, dangerous John, had a gun in his hand and another man was kneeling at his feet. Sherlock and Mycroft were standing on either side of him, both looking sick. She scrambled to put on headphones and heard John say, “I know you’re scared, but you should be very proud.” Then the lights were flashing red and Moriarty appeared.

Everything happened quickly after that. John didn’t pull the trigger, the man grabbed the gun, killed himself, and then a woman appeared. Was this Eurus? Who else could it be?

“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault,” Mary breathed as the woman spoke to John about his moral code. Mary already knew the woman blindfolded in the space with Eurus was going to die.

And she did.

“Fuck!” Mary shouted as she saw John react. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

It was an experiment. A game. What have her boys had to do before this?

Mary minimized that footage, still watching as a door opened and her boys walked through it. She enlarged the video of Eurus; she was sitting in front of a computer and a camera, but she wasn’t speaking and yet she could still hear her voice. Was she showing them prerecorded messages?

Eurus picked up a mobile phone and made a call. “Are you at her home?” Mary frowned and snapped her fingers at Billy. She pulled one earphone away from her ear and whispered,

“Have you searched the flat?”

“Yes. Detective Inspector Lestrade and I searched it thoroughly.”

“Does she have the baby?” Mary’s eyes snapped back to the computer. There was only one baby. Her baby. Her Rosie. Mary felt her heart jump into her throat. “She doesn’t? That’s unfortunate. My brothers and Doctor Watson will get to Dr. Hooper’s task soon. When you see her put her phone down, bullet between the eyes, understand?”

Mary jumped up. Sherrinford was too far away. There was nothing she could do for her boys, but she could do something for Molly. “Billy, you have to stay here and watch this footage. It’s live. It’s horrific. But you cannot stop watching, do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Yes.”

“The minute you notice something, call Lestrade, do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I am going to Molly’s. Pull up the CCTV footage of her home. Someone is there to kill her. Call me if you see them. Once I’m at her home, just text, okay?”

“Understood.” Billy reached for Mary’s burner phone, using it to text his phone so he could have her number.

Mary took off at a run to her bedroom, ignoring the excruciating pain that started in her abdomen and bloomed throughout her body. Adrenaline would soon take over and she wouldn’t feel a thing. She dove into her closet and opened the safe that held her gun, ammunition, silencer, and knives. She had two thigh holsters and she quickly strapped them on and then took the gun and loaded it with ammunition, the knife, and the silencer. Once she had all the weapons she needed, she slammed the safe shut, locked it, and sprinted out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

She took a glance into the kitchen to see Billy at the computer, a hand over his mouth but eyes glued to the screen. She turned around and opened the door, hearing Billy call out, “My car’s out front, running for you Miss! Phone is on the seat!” Then she left her home, closing and locking the door behind her.

She wasted no time getting to Billy’s car and sliding into the driver’s seat. She didn’t need her neighbors to see her dressed as if she was going to war.

Speeding to Molly’s, all Mary could think about was the woman who had become so important to her in such a short amount of time. If whoever was at her home laid even a single hair on Molly’s head, Mary was going to slaughter them.

The phone buzzed on the seat beside her and she picked it up. Unlisted number calling. “Hello?”

“A bloke dressed in dark jeans and a white t-shirt just picked the lock at Doctor Hooper’s flat.”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!” Mary shouted, slamming her fists on the steering wheel. She was driving as fast as she could, but she was still at least seven minutes away from Molly’s.

“They are still at the…at the game? Fuck me--sorry Miss--they’re still at the game with a couple of blokes dangling outside over the ocean. They’ve just started. I think you’ve got a little bit more time.”

“Thanks Billy.”

Mary drove with her foot on the pedal, blaring her horn the whole way. She would lay off the horn once she got closer to Molly’s—no use alerting whoever was trying to access her flat that someone was on the way. Thankfully people were either choosing to stay off the road or out of her way, because she only almost got in an accident twice as she finally turned onto Molly’s street ten minutes later.

She parked the car illegally and knew that it was going to get a ticket, if not towed, but if Mycroft Holmes survived whatever was happening, he would take care of it. As she got out of the car, she wobbled on her feet and had to catch her balance against the door. She winced and lifted her jumper. Two of her incisions were bleeding through their bandages. A wave of dizziness swept through her but she took a shuddering breath.

She had a job to do. She was trained to excel in these types of situations.

As she made her way to Molly’s flat, her phone buzzed again with another call. “I can’t speak—”

“They’ve got Doctor Hooper on a three minute timer! Her apartment is rigged to explode!”

“Fucking shit. Okay. Okay.” Mary took a deep breath. “I’m here Billy. You can’t call me again. Only text.”

“Good luck Miss.”

Mary ended the call and slid the phone into her pocket before she went to the front door of the flat. There was no other way in but through the front, and in her state, she couldn’t climb up to a window. She was already feeling weak in the knees and her hands were beginning to tremble. Very carefully, she turned the knob on the door and pushed it open. Molly lived in the flat upstairs and from the front door she could see straight up.

No one was there, but her flat door was wide open. That meant someone was inside, and Molly hadn’t noticed yet. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins as Mary climbed the stairs two at a time and scrambled inside the flat. She could hear Molly speaking in the kitchen, could hear tears in her voice. She tried to block it out, even though it was difficult to hear Molly sound like that. Her eyes scanned the area, searching for the intruder, and that’s when she noticed the door to her lavatory was closed.

Unless Molly or a guest was using the loo, the door stayed open because Toby’s litter was in there.

The idiot who came to kill Molly couldn’t have picked a worse spot to hide. Since they left the flat door wide open, Mary was able to hide behind it and she had a perfect view of the loo.

“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making fun of me?” Mary squeezed her eyes shut. The pain was so obvious in her voice. What has Molly Hooper ever done to anyone to deserve this much pain? “…it’s true Sherlock. It’s always been true.” Mary heard a creak and her eyes snapped open and she saw a man just as Billy described open the door to her lavatory. She automatically reached for her gun, cursing in her head for not putting the silencer on first. Her hands were shaking. If she missed the first shot, she would be dead.

They both would be.

Her grip tightened on the gun as the phone began vibrating with message after message after message, but it was too late, she couldn’t check it now.

“I love you.” Then the clatter of a phone being dropped on a hard surface.

The man immediately stepped out of the loo and began making his way to Molly’s kitchen. Mary took a deep breath and stepped out of her hiding space. Her whole body was trembling, and she raised the gun as she stepped forward, trying to steady her hands. The man already had his gun raised and pointed into the kitchen.

Before he could even put his finger on the trigger, Mary began firing, emptying her clip into his chest and head. She didn’t even look at him as she ran into the kitchen where Molly was standing with both hands clasped over her mouth. Mary stepped over the man’s lifeless body and stepped around the island until she could touch Molly’s wrist. “We need to go.” Molly’s eyes were wide and she seemed to be in shock. Mary didn’t waste any time in grabbing Molly’s phone and pulling her to the door.

By the time they got to Billy’s car, Mary could hardly stand. But Molly was shaking and it was definitely shock settling in, so Mary did her best getting onto the driver’s side and starting the car.

Mary pulled her phone from her pocket and saw the messages from Billy.

“Molly’s not answering the phone the timer started!”

“Get her to answer the phone”

“She’s not answering fast enough.”

“NO BOMBS. IT WAS A TRICK.”

“She wanted to hurt Sherlock by hurting Molly.”

“Are you alive?”

“The CCTV is not working for the street.”

“Mary?”

“MARY?”

Mary fumbled with the phone, managing to call Billy. “Christ! You made it! Is Molly alive? I couldn’t see. Right at the end of the phone call, the CCTV turned off.”

Mary looked at Molly. “We’re alive.” Molly was shaking as she turned to Molly. “How are the boys?”

“It’s…it’s not good.”

“Keep watching, Billy. I saved Molly. I can’t do much more.” She pressed her free hand against her stomach, could feel the blood seeping through the bandage and into her jumper. “If my boys live,” Mary’s vision began to tunnel, and she slouched sideways towards Molly. “Tell them I saved her.” She could feel Molly taking the phone from her hands, and that was the last thing she remembered.

-----

It felt like cold water was rushing through her veins when Mary’s eyes snapped open. She saw a kind looking woman standing over her, and she smiled so brightly at Mary, it was blinding. “Rosie?” Mary croaked, almost sitting up. What felt like fire spread out from her abdomen and she dropped to the bed. She couldn’t remember where she was or why she was there. The disorientation was nauseating. Did she just deliver Rosie via cesarean section? Was that why she felt sick? She tried reaching for her stomach, but a pair of hands held them down. Her heart started to race and the woman put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mrs. Watson. You’re just waking up. When you’re all the way awake, we’ll bring in your family and we’ll explain everything that happened. You’re okay, you’re okay,” she kept repeating soothingly.

It put Mary right back to sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, it wasn’t as frightening. The lights in the room were dim, and she blinked repeatedly, her body slowly waking up. It took a few moments for her ears to register the sound of steady beeping, and even longer for her brain to recognize that it was her heart. Slowly, she began to remember all that transpired leading up to her being back in the hospital. She looked at her hands and saw wires and an IV and a monitor on her finger. Then she looked to her left and was startled to see another bed in the room. But more disconcerting were the two occupants of the bed.

Doctor John Watson, her husband, curled tightly around Molly Hooper. She blinked and squinted at them for a moment. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had feelings for the pathologist?

Other than Sherlock Holmes, obviously, who Mary noticed when she turned her head to the right. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes on her. Mary tried to smile, but she was so tired she wasn’t sure if she managed it. But Sherlock leaned forward anyway, a smile on his face, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I thought I was going to lose her, and then I thought I saved her, then Eurus…she wanted me to suffer, vivisection…so I thought she killed her anyway. She could observe me after we finally won her game. What proof did I have otherwise? But you saved her.” Mary felt his tears dripping onto her forehead.

“Well,” Mary said, clearing her throat. “I’d do anything for my Molly.” She looked at Molly again, tucked so closely against John. “I love her,” she said simply, and she heard Sherlock take a shuddering breath. How could she not love Molly, a woman so selfless, so kind, so strong? “And I love John,” and very slowly, she lifted her hand until it rested against the back of his neck. “And I love you.”

“I-I would like to kiss you,” Sherlock began, “but I don’t remember when I last cleaned my teeth. And maybe John should get the opportunity to do it first?”

“Maybe,” Mary said was a soft giggle. Sherlock pressed his forehead against hers and took another deep breath. They stayed that way for several long moments, before Sherlock pressed a final kiss to her forehead and moved back to his seat.

“You’re coming home tomorrow,” he said, taking her hand. “You’ve spent long enough in this hospital. We’ve arranged for at home care.” Mary watched as he rubbed his finger over where her engagement and wedding rings were supposed to be. John pried them off her fingers when they put her in the ambulance after the aquarium; he didn’t want anything to happen to them. “Janine will come around in the evening with Rosie. Lestrade cancelled the Call Sarah after he confirmed that we were all alive.”

“Janine had Rosie? Thank God. I didn’t want to know who had her, just in case…”

“Yes. Call Sarah happened perfectly. Mrs. Hudson called Lestrade, and he came right here with one of the bags. You and John were brilliant, by the way. Absolutely brilliant,” Sherlock said in awe. “I’m thankful for it, because the baby who matters the most...” He trailed off, his eyes going blank for the briefest of moments. Mary gave his hand a squeeze and he refocused. “You saved Molly.” They both turned to look at her, just watching her breathe.

After a few moments, Mary yawned, her jaw cracking as she stretched. “You’ll have to tell me all about what happened when we go home. Even the things that I should remember, but I probably won’t.”

Sherlock only seemed to focus on one word. “We?”

“If Baker Street is gone, you’ll need a place to stay until it’s put back together.”

“Of course.”

“And all four of us can definitely fit in the bed, even with my medical equipment...”

“Four?” An actual squeak left Sherlock’s mouth, and Mary laughed.

“Obviously. The four of us,” and Mary indicated her husband curled around their pathologist, Sherlock, and then herself, “have some talking to do. And maybe some cuddling. And I believe, with doctor’s permission, some light kissing until I am back on my feet.” Sherlock just blinked at her as he leaned back in his seat. Mary had a feeling she may have broken his brain, but that wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him in the last twenty-four hours.

“The four of us…” he breathed, his eyes leaving her hand to look at John and Molly, fast asleep and oblivious to it all. “Can that…will that work? John won’t—”

“John loves you,” Mary said firmly. “I love you. Molly loves you. You love Molly. You love John. And I think you love me?” Sherlock nodded his head enthusiastically. “Then the only option is for it to work.” She yawned again and pulled on his hand. “Now I’ve done a lot today like escaping from a hospital, hacking into a secure network, shooting an assassin to death, bleeding out, and I’m tired and would appreciate a cuddle. Please?”

Sherlock hesitated for only a moment, and then he very carefully climbed into the already narrow bed beside Mary. Mary had to rearrange his arms so they could be comfortable, but soon she was drifting off to sleep, knowing her family was safe.