Connection. Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty One. Twenty Two. Twenty Three. Twenty Four. Twenty Five. Twenty Six. Twenty Seven. Twenty Eight. Twenty Nine.
Sherlock x reader
An American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.
Word Count: 4343
Your name: submit What is this?
John sat on the couch in his living room bouncing Rosie on his leg. He looked over at Mary with a smile as she brushed her fingers over his hand, she stopped on his wedding ring and he glanced down at it.
“I’m so sorry, John.”
But the voice was wrong, it didn’t belong to Mary. Rosie evaporated like smoke then the room melted away until there was just Mary, standing beside him with that smile. It’s time to wake up.
John pushed off a soft surface and his back hit something solid. The back of a chair. He glanced around feeling the usual deep ache in his chest as he gathered his bearings. His gaze settled on y/n sitting up in her hospital bed, “what?”
Her hand brushed over his hand then her middle finger smoothed over his ring, “I wasn’t really all here before… and when…” her gaze flicked up to his, “I’m so sorry.”
He cleared his throat making doubly sure he wouldn’t sound at all worried about the dry rasp that wasn’t quite yet her voice. “What would you have anything to be sorry about?” He dropped his gaze and forced a laugh, “I’m used to taking care of him by now. I forced him to get some sleep. He was even harder than you were.” His smile faltered when he looked back up, the tear slipping down her cheek and the pain on her face that had nothing to do with her own injuries.
“I’m sorry I… I missed…” She paused and licked her dry lips with a wince, “I wasn’t here… for you. I’m… ”
John gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he lifted the water cup from the table and brought it to her lips tipping just enough for the straw to fall toward her. She sipped and grimaced. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Take it easy.” He glanced at the marks hinting at the damage that used to mar her neck and another hot lash of anger blazed in his chest. She took a few more sips, every one looking easier than the last even though a few more tears coursed down her cheeks. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be here… not then. I…” He could almost feel his fist slamming into Sherlock’s face and he looked away clenching his jaw. “I never want you to see me like that.” He cleared his throat again, “and definitely not Will.”
She squeezed his hand and he looked up at her, the tears in her eyes still building and falling. “I know who you are, John. We all get a little… lost sometimes.”
“So lost you beat the living hell out of your best friend?” John clenched his jaw and backed away, “I’m sorry. I…” His words trailed off and he tried to swallow away the thickness in his throat. He glanced up and saw the confusion bloom into some kind of comprehension. She was very protective of her boys and he used to be one of them but he had a feeling after she found out what happened before he saved Sherlock she might not feel the same.
He dropped his head and let go of her hand already knowing he should leave but as he leaned back, she grabbed his wrist and held him in place. He forced his gaze to meet hers because he deserved every nasty word and awful look she had to give.