[what do I do when I run out of space? Is this too narrow to read easily? So...we are almost at the end. Just a few chapters left. Yes, it ends in Johnlock, and there's a whole bunch of Three Garridebs references in here and reinterpreted text from it in this and the next chapter, so reading that might make this more entertaining! My apologies if I am villainizing Mary a bit, I have to give John a reason to finally leave]
He walked through the front door to find that Mary had already put Bess to sleep, and was sitting at the table with her gun at the ready.
"Did you think I would come back armed?"
Mary glanced sideways as she searched for words. "I didn't know what he might say. What he would make you think about me. That my feelings for you were all a sham. That I was sent to kill you. That Bess isn't yours." Mary's eyes drifted towards the gun on the table. "He'd say anything to keep you. And you'd believe it. I needed to be prepared."
"Prepared to shoot me." John didn't even sound surprised. He wasn't, really. "If I had been there when you tried to kill Sherlock, you would not have got out of the room alive. Now, Mary, what did you want to say?" She had nothing to say for herself; she only sat and scowled. John's eyes fell upon a litter of half-eaten jars of puréed food and baby bottles, rolls of paper towels and, neatly arranged upon the small table, a number of neat little bundles of notes worth perhaps hundreds each.
"They're fit to pass anywhere. Help yourself. Call it a deal and let me leave."
"I don't do things like that, 'Mrs Watson'," he said with undisguised contempt. "You want to make a deal? Keep the money. Give me Bess." John kept his eyes on the weapon. "I'm sure there are boltholes for you throughout this whole country. Got to imagine the number goes down to next to nothing when you've got a child in tow. You shot many, many men, haven't you?"
"Yes." Her face was a cold mask. It was a simple statement of fact. "Though you should know he advanced on me," she added, just as plainly.
"Armed?"
Mary turned away, and John just caught a passing glimpse of a frown. She turned back to face him with a smile now and promptly changed the subject. "If I had killed Magnussen, I would have had a medal the size of a soup plate. Could anyone wonder why I wanted to get him?" Her face darkened again. "And can you wonder that, when I knew this crazy, queer ex-something of yours was never quitting you, I had to do the best I could to manage him. Maybe it would have been wiser if I had put him away." She paused as if considering this option after the fact. Tilting her head as if balancing her decision. "It would have been easy enough, but ..." She blinked her lashes in flirtation. "Maybe I'm really just a sweet, soft-hearted woman that can't be killing people unless the other guy has a gun also."
John would have laughed. There was certainly an element of comedy. He managed to keep it reined in to just a raising of eyebrows and a slow nodding of his head.
"Not buying that, are you?" She opted for something a bit closer to the truth. "He would have disarmed me. You would have found out all about me." She looked right at him, a desperate plea in her eyes for any kind of understanding John could muster. "What choice did I have?"
"I found out anyway. I stayed. Anyway. And if you were going to shoot someone, you shot the wrong person."
She smiled and fell back on arrogance. She was good. One of the very best. "I think, as far as my clientele was concerned, I'd have done a great service killing either of them; they’d have given me that medal. It's too bad you'd have taken a less favourable view." Her smile quickly faded as she began to defend herself. "What have I done wrong, anyhow? I haven't killed him. Where do you get me?"
"Only attempted murder, so far as I can see, but that's not my job. They take that at the next stage, and they'll want your sweet self. Please give NSY a call, Mary. It won't be entirely unexpected."
FILL 15/? "Three" (Threesome fail)
He walked through the front door to find that Mary had already put Bess to sleep, and was sitting at the table with her gun at the ready.
"Did you think I would come back armed?"
Mary glanced sideways as she searched for words. "I didn't know what he might say. What he would make you think about me. That my feelings for you were all a sham. That I was sent to kill you. That Bess isn't yours." Mary's eyes drifted towards the gun on the table. "He'd say anything to keep you. And you'd believe it. I needed to be prepared."
"Prepared to shoot me." John didn't even sound surprised. He wasn't, really. "If I had been there when you tried to kill Sherlock, you would not have got out of the room alive. Now, Mary, what did you want to say?" She had nothing to say for herself; she only sat and scowled. John's eyes fell upon a litter of half-eaten jars of puréed food and baby bottles, rolls of paper towels and, neatly arranged upon the small table, a number of neat little bundles of notes worth perhaps hundreds each.
"They're fit to pass anywhere. Help yourself. Call it a deal and let me leave."
"I don't do things like that, 'Mrs Watson'," he said with undisguised contempt. "You want to make a deal? Keep the money. Give me Bess." John kept his eyes on the weapon. "I'm sure there are boltholes for you throughout this whole country. Got to imagine the number goes down to next to nothing when you've got a child in tow. You shot many, many men, haven't you?"
"Yes." Her face was a cold mask. It was a simple statement of fact. "Though you should know he advanced on me," she added, just as plainly.
"Armed?"
Mary turned away, and John just caught a passing glimpse of a frown. She turned back to face him with a smile now and promptly changed the subject. "If I had killed Magnussen, I would have had a medal the size of a soup plate. Could anyone wonder why I wanted to get him?" Her face darkened again. "And can you wonder that, when I knew this crazy, queer ex-something of yours was never quitting you, I had to do the best I could to manage him. Maybe it would have been wiser if I had put him away." She paused as if considering this option after the fact. Tilting her head as if balancing her decision. "It would have been easy enough, but ..." She blinked her lashes in flirtation. "Maybe I'm really just a sweet, soft-hearted woman that can't be killing people unless the other guy has a gun also."
John would have laughed. There was certainly an element of comedy. He managed to keep it reined in to just a raising of eyebrows and a slow nodding of his head.
"Not buying that, are you?" She opted for something a bit closer to the truth. "He would have disarmed me. You would have found out all about me." She looked right at him, a desperate plea in her eyes for any kind of understanding John could muster. "What choice did I have?"
"I found out anyway. I stayed. Anyway. And if you were going to shoot someone, you shot the wrong person."
She smiled and fell back on arrogance. She was good. One of the very best. "I think, as far as my clientele was concerned, I'd have done a great service killing either of them; they’d have given me that medal. It's too bad you'd have taken a less favourable view." Her smile quickly faded as she began to defend herself. "What have I done wrong, anyhow? I haven't killed him. Where do you get me?"
"Only attempted murder, so far as I can see, but that's not my job. They take that at the next stage, and they'll want your sweet self. Please give NSY a call, Mary. It won't be entirely unexpected."