Mary Watson is amazing. She tried to run to keep her family safe, she wasn’t risking Sherlock’s life for him trying to save her. She saved Sherlock’s life, because she knew he wouldn’t move. She looked at him and realised he wasn’t going to get out of the way, even though there was time. So she sacrificed her life instead. Because this would be the second time the love of her life lost his soulmate and this time it would be permanent. She knew it would destroy him. Mary fucking Watson tried her best. She did what she thought was the best option everytime, but she kept fucking up. Mary fucking Watson was selfless and selfish. Mary fucking Watson suspected her husband was cheating on her but didn’t blame him. Mary fucking Watson though her husband was perfect. Mary fucking Watson loved her family more than life itself. Mary fucking Watson was so completely and utterly human. And you can fucking eat a hat.
Stiles finally cracks. He’s had enough of this town and not enough of Derek. They’ve secretly, well as secretly as you can be with a bunch of weres around, carried on their long distance relationship for over a year now while Derek took his pack to mingle with others across the world. Now Stiles wants nothing more than to finally be with his Alpha-hubby-to-be and his pack, their pack, for as long as they both shall live.
Her weight in his arms feels both comforting and stifling at the same time, but he continues to rock her. He holds her close to his chest, her small head resting on his shoulders as he moves across the room, humming under his breath, the only light in the room, coming from the small nightlight.
Mary deserves some sleep, he had thought to himself when Rosie had started crying. Let her sleep.
“Go to sleep, Rosie,” John whispers, turning his head so he can kiss her dark hair. He pretends not to care. He pretends to know that her hair will become lighter. Eventually. He knows they’re rarely born blond. He wasn’t. It’ll become lighter.
“Rosie, love, just fall asleep. It’s alright. You’ve been fed, you’ve got your clean nappie, don’t you? Yes, you do. You just want some attention now, don’t you? A cuddle?” John huffs and Rosie wiggles a little in his arms. He tightens his hold a little. “You know, I’m used to this. Had a madman as a flatshare once. Up all hours, dragging me with him everywhere. And he loved the attention.” The words slip out before John can stop them. But it doesn’t matter, does it? No one can hear him. Mary’s asleep. And Rosie… Rosie is far too young to understand. She probably just likes the sound of his voice. “But I didn’t care. He is my best friend and I - ”
The words do stop this time and John is struggling not to cry out in frustration. He never said it. Never out loud anyway. He can’t. Every time he tries, his stomach clenches and his throat slams shut. He’s scared. John knows he is. He is fucking terrified and he has been for years.
Rosie sighs deeply as if she’s disappointed in him too and John rubs her back a little. “You know what I wanted to say, Rosie. Stop it. It doesn’t matter anymore. Please go to sleep.”