Making bail.
Mary listened, expression troubled though not necessarily surprised. John had taken a lot of criticism and insults over the past years and Mary knew how much effort it had taken him to shoulder through it. Apparently, John could manage only up to the point where abuse was happening to Sherlock right in front of him before his restraint gave out.
Mary nodded during the brief silence, digesting the information more than agreeing with anything. The fact that John had lost control was still unnerving, but it certainly made sense under these circumstances. Mary noticed the uneasiness in Sherlockâs expression, and when he next spoke, the shift to something resembling a small smile. Mary was struck with the importance of the situation at that moment.
Perhaps this was something that needed to happen. John needed to let out that pent up frustration, and though perhaps it sounded strange, maybe Sherlock needed to know that John still had his back in that way. Mary didnât approve of Johnâs actions, but the circumstances dulled the disappointment to something reluctant and more easily understood.Â
âI suppose, all things considered, there could have been worse reasons to be called down here to bail him out,â She said with a sigh and a subtle, understanding smile, finally untwisting her hands and stuffing them in her pockets. âThanks for letting me know whatâs going on. I guessâŠâ She hesitated just a little, uncertain if her words would be appreciated but then decided to continue with a tentative smile, âI guess things are slowly falling back into place for you two. From the stories John told me, this seems to be something that would have happened in the past.â
Sherlock smiled, and relaxed a little at Mary's hesitant acceptance of the situation. "Well, he's not been arrested for assault before. Wait, no." Sherlock paused briefly, fact-checking. "He's never been to jail for assault before." He nodded that time, technically correct.
"Before... I found healthier ways of dealing with it. With his stress, be it PTSD or otherwise. It wasn't perfect, but it helped him. Just, don't tell him I actively worked as his undercover therapist, will you?" He chuckled quietly, blushing slightly. "I don't think I'd ever live it down. We were just..." Sherlock paused, the smile falling away as a more serious air took over. "We were good for each other, I think. I know he was good for me." He let his gaze drop to the concrete beneath them, incidentally collecting data from the toes Mary's shoes.
His chest lurched at the memories the conversation with Mary had brought to the fore. Quickly he felt himself sinking, as if drowning in those memories, overtaken briefly by what it was, and all the potential of what it could have been (if only things were different). He shook himself out of it, walling up that portion of his life once more; this was not the time, the place, nor the company.
Sherlock looked back up at Mary, calm and confident as ever. "You should go inside. Paperwork in triplicate and all." He offered a smile; unemotive, purely gestural. "I should head home. It was good to see you again, Mary." Proffering his hand for her to shake, he realised how obviously quickly the conversation changed from the words she'd spoken, to the thoughts in his head. Probably rude, to leave so quickly after meeting again. Still, it was either leave or... reveal far too much. Not like he hadn't already.











