An early birthday present for TearStainedAshes. This is ever so slightly crackish in some places but I was laughing too hard to rewrite the those parts so that they're serious. You'll see that I started this out as a very serious fic and as time went on I started to slip into insanity. I don't know what happened. And I'm sorry. Forgive me. Like wtf happened?


Mary was watching John, studying him carefully. She needed to know whether today was a good day.

Since her betrayal of John had been revealed, their relationship had been like a ship stuck on jagged rocks, half sunk and broken. There were a few good days of course. Days where they pretended that they were a normal couple, where they laughed and things were ok. Their daughter was due soon. There was every reason to be happy, except that wasn't the case. The good days were becoming fewer in number and living under the same roof as the man she had deceived was becoming steadily more painful.

When the bad days hit, they were catastrophic. They usually started with an awkward breakfast, John's head buried in a newspaper, his hands shaking ever so subtly, but enough to warn Mary that a volcano was about to erupt out of the man she had married. He never hit her, of course. But the words that usually escaped him were just as damaging as any physical violence he could ever dish out.

This morning there was a thick silence, John clearly refusing to speak to her, because even he hated it when he said things he regretted later.

Right now the silent treatment was the least of her worries though, as was John's trembling g hands. Right now she was solely focussed on the way John kept on shifting in his seat, how he was checking his phone every five minutes, and then there was his almost beaten expression.

John's forehead was creased in that way that told Mary he was in deep thought about something. She had a feeling about what-or rather who- he was thinking about. At the end of the day John thought about little else.

"You're worried about Sherlock, aren't you?" She kicked herself internally, knowing that engaging in conversation with John, whilst a black cloud was hovering over him, was stepping into very dangerous territory indeed.

There was a loud rustle as John slammed the paper he'd been furiously staring at down onto the kitchen table. The look in his eyes was smouldering and Mary felt a twinge in her stomach. Their daughter was becoming agitated at even the thought of her daddy yelling. Mary closed her eyes and took a steady breath, trying to calm herself down for their baby's sake.

"Of course I'm worried."

John's voice was soft and surprisingly feathery light. So much so, she dared to open her eyes. She waited patiently for John to continue.

"Do you have any idea what day it is today?" He held up his hand when she went to answer. "That was rhetorical question. Of course you know what day it is. It's valentine's day. Sherlock…he's alone…he's… ." The panic on John's face was as clear as day.

She swallowed and nodded and after a few moments she said, "You really love him, don't you?"

John's face, if possible, showed an even bigger war of panic and anxiety. Because emotions were hard for him to say out loud, and Mary knew that, so she waited patiently for him to say something, anything. The minutes ticked by and the tension became unbearable. Then, all of a sudden, John stood to his feet. He wandered over to the kitchen sink turned his back on Mary. Her heart sank. John was so distant sometimes, understandable of course, but sometimes it was just too much to bear. She hadn't meant to fall in love with John Watson. Getting married and falling pregnant hadn't been in her plan. But it had happened, there was no turning back, so John's coldness towards her was heartbreaking.

"It's not easy, you know?" John rasped out at last, his voice just above a whisper. "I love you Mary, I really do. I would do anything for you, but I am at constant war with myself. Because you weren't the first to creep into my bloody heart, understand that."

Mary knew. From the moment she'd met John Sherlock was all the broken man had been able to talk about. She'd helped him, had picked up the pieces. She had started a whole new life with him, a whole new chapter, but that didn't change anything. John was hopelessly in love with Sherlock Holmes. There was no question about it. She nodded patiently and waited for John to continue.

"There are two people that have changed my life completely. There's you, of course. You threw quite a spanner into the works… "

Mary felt tears pricking at her eyes. She was a burden to John. That's all she was now. John's words flowed over her after that. She could barely bring herself to listen, her heart already crushed. Though, she knew she had no right to feel that way. She was the one who had lied, now she was paying the consequences for it. Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. How long had she been out of it? Clearly a while, because John's face was frightened and full of concern.

"Hey." John said softly. "You scared me for a bit there." When Mary opened her mouth to reply to him, she was startled to hear a sob escape her. John pulled her into a tight hug and she froze. It was the most physical affection he'd given her in months. "I am sorry, you know? I keep blaming you for everything, but it's not your fault. Well, not always anyway."

"It is my fault though, isn't it?" Mary whispered in a mousey quiet voice. "I'm the psychopath who lied to you. I had no right to fall in love with you. You're wonderful, John. The kindest soul I've ever encountered. You deserve so much more than me. "

John's hands moved to cup her face, his thumbs rubbing away the tears that were cascading down her cheeks. "Listen to me. You are not a psychopath. You just made some wrong decisions. That doesn't make you a bad person. You're still the woman I fell in love with. Remember that, even on days where I'm basically just a grumpy old man."

Mary felt a bubbling sensation deep in her chest and soon she was laughing, a huge grin pulling across her petite features. John was smiling too. It was that beautiful innocent smile that melted her insides and sent her knees weak. Mary was glad that she was sat down, otherwise she was certain she would collapse onto the floor. Their daughter pressed her little hand against Mary's stomach, as if reaching out to her mummy and her daddy.

"She's being quite active today." Mary rubbed her stomach affectionately. "She's been twisting and turning all morning. She seems to be calming down now, though she's still worried about her uncle Sherlock. Aren't you sweetheart?"

"Her uncle Sherlock?" John chuckled.

"Don't tell Sherlock he's called that. You know how he is with children, plus it'll only go to his head."

"Oh, I don't know. He got along with Archie swimmingly."

"Mmm." John hummed but said nothing else. He was back to looking worried again.

"It's ok that you love him, you know. There are no rules about the amount of people you can love in a lifetime, and I'm certainly not going stand between you. You shouldn't have to choose between us. It shouldn't be like that." She held a finger to his lips. "Yes, believe me, I know. You're not gay. That doesn't change the fact that you love Sherlock, does it?"

John shook his head. "No, it doesn't, but I am a married man. What you're implying is just…wrong."

Mary bit her lip and looked straight into the eyes she couldn't help but love. "You know, I used to know this couple. They were nice and they had the perfect marriage, but they always said that there was a hole in their lives, like a missing piece in the puzzle. Then they met this gorgeous man. They both liked him. Really liked him. So, they made him a proposition, and they never looked back."

John frowned. "I don't understand."

Mary chuckled to herself and shook her head in amusement. "You really must get that on a T-shirt."

"Mary," John sighed wearily. "Please, please, just tell me what you're getting at."

"What I'm getting at, my love, is that we both care about Sherlock deeply and it's Valentine's day. A day to show loved ones how much they mean to you, a day for new beginnings, and confessions."

"What do you- oh." And that was it. There was the sudden look of realisation dawning on John's face. About time to. "You mean- today?"

"Yes."

"And when you said that we both care about Sherlock, you mean that, you know, um-"

Mary grinned. Her husband was adorably confused, his brow scrunched up, and his nose wrinkled. "Yes." She whispered.

"Right. Um. Ok." John had by now turned a dark crimson colour, a hot flush of embarrassment crawling down his face and neck. He began to walk away and for a moment Mary's heart dropped in her chest. Perhaps her suggestion didn't sit too well with John.

"Where are you going?"

" We, Mrs Watson, have some shopping to do."

Mary stood up with a soft grunt, standing becoming an increasingly more difficult task as her due date neared. She swung on her coat and smiled to herself. Somehow, things felt like they were finally going to be OK. The baby girl sitting in her womb gave a joyful kick, as though agreeing with her mother's thoughts.


"He's Sherlock. He hates flowers, can't stand chocolates, and finds cards boring and idiotic." John frowned as he walked along the isle of Valentines gifts. "What on Earth do we get him?"

"Perhaps we're looking in all of the wrong places, Love." Mary pointed out, humming in thought. What to get the great detective indeed.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, this is Sherlock we're talking about. Maybe we should look at the stuffed toys? He's practically a child when it comes to mentality."

John thought about it and nodded. It wasn't like it could hurt to have a look.

As it turned out Mary had been right to look in the children's section, as there, sitting alone on one of the shelves, as though it had been made specifically for Sherlock, was a skull plushie. He picked it up and grinned. It was perfect.

"We have to get him a card." Mary bargained. "Even if he does think they're dull. It's Valentine's day. Plus, it'll be easier to tell him exactly how you feel if you can write it down first."

John froze, panicked. Mary was certain her husband had stopped breathing, if the colour he'd gone was anything to go by. "Hey," She placed a hand on the small of his back and pecked him on the lips. "It's going to be ok."

"You can't possibly know how he'll react, Mary. Sherlock Holmes doesn't do relationships. Remember Janine? And have I ever told you about Irene?"

"Calm down. He might not do relationships, with ordinary people. But to him, we aren't ordinary. He killed a man so that we would both be safe. If that isn't love, then I don't know what is."

John shuddered at the memory of Sherlock killing Magnussen. "Don't remind me. He risked everything for us, almost got exiled too."

"I know, but that's all over now. Well, apart from the possible return of Moriarty. But that's pretty much normal for you guys and so far there's been no sign of him. My point is, Sherlock did risk everything for us, so don't you think it's about time we show just how much we appreciate him?"

John exhaled and closed his eyes, nodding. "You're right, as always."

Mary kissed John again, this time holding it till she felt her husband relaxing. "I know I'm right. Trust me."

"Always." John slid his hand into Mary's and gave it a tight squeeze. "Now, come on. Off to buy the cheesiest card we can find."


John was nervous.

Mary was biting back peals of laughter.

Sherlock was merely staring at them in bewilderment as John held out the little plushie skull and the Valentines card.

" They're for you." John cleared his throat awkwardly and scuffed his foot against the floor, looking anywhere but the detectives piercing eyes.

" Obviously."

Sherlock took the plushie skull and stared at it closely. His face was unreadable for a moment. Mary could see the gears in Sherlock's brilliant mind turning. Then there was the promise of a smile, his lips twitching and flickering upwards. "I think I'll name him Billy the second. Mrs Hudson took my real skull from me. Said it wasn't right that I was back to talking to it again." He paused before flickering his eyes over Mary and John. "Thank you. I like him."

John rolled his eyes but smiled up at Sherlock. "You're welcome. Um, aren't you going to open up the card?"

Sherlock took the card from John and frowned. "Why are you giving me a card. It's not Christmas, nor is it my birthday, besides I hate cards-"

"Just," John interrupted Sherlock. "Open it."

Sherlock sniffed the envelope the card was in and licked the paper, trying to deduce what was inside. After a few minutes he gave up and began to tear at the paper. He blinked when he saw what the card said on the outside.

' I want to BEE with you'

"Um…" He was truly dumbfounded. "Thank you?"

"It's a Valentine's day, Sherlock. It's from both of us. There's writing on the inside. It should explain everything."

Sherlock very delicately opened the card. His eyes flittered across John and Mary's handwriting. It was amusing to watch. Sherlock's face was flashing with a myriad of emotions. And then it went blank.

"Uh, John, sweetheart, I think we may have broken him."

" Wait a few hours he'll come around." John sighed. "He's just stuck in that bloody mind palace of his."

And so they waited. And waited. And waited. Till…

"So…you mean…I'm your…Valentine?"

John and Mary turned to each other and smiled knowingly. Then, in a very Sherlock- like voice, simultaneously they said, "Obviously."


"Ow! John, am I supposed to be bending this much? I don't think it's natural."

"Shut up, Sherlock. This whole thing is easier for you, seeing as you're so much longer than me." John grunted, trying not to lose his footing. His chest was pushed up against Sherlock's, his limbs entangled with the detective's lithe body.

"Now, now, John. Size really doesn't matter."

"Mary!"

Mary smirked as she watched her boys. "Right foot, yellow."

John shifted his foot to the side a little, then, with a soft cry came tumbling down onto Sherlock. "Oof!"

Sherlock patted him on the back and laughed. "Never mind, John. Twister isn't everybody's game. Perhaps we should play something else."

John grumbled something about being too old for silly games.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine then. Let's play an adult game."


Of course Mary couldn't drink, something she was slightly envious of. But seeing her boys drunk through sober eyes was a sight worth seeing. They were complete lightweights.

"JAWN, LOOK AT ME! I'M A BIRD, I'M A PLANE, I'M SUPERMAN!"

" Superman?" John was giggling, rolling on the floor in stiches.

Sherlock jumped off the sofa. He had a sheet tucked into the back of his shirt, trailing after him like a cape. He knelt down besides John and beckoned Mary closer, looking between them with glassy eyes. "Maybe, if you're very lucky, I can be /your/ superman."

Even Mary flushed at the sound of those words.

Suddenly there was a loud bang. Sherlock rushed to protect both John and Mary. Silence filled the room. A deadly silence. Because the man standing in the doorway simply shouldn't be standing at all.

"Jim-" Sherlock began, though his drunken state prevented his brain from forming any other words. Luckily he didn't need to speak. The Irish man spoke for him.

"The Moriparty don't start till Jim walks in!"


"So, no master plan? No trying to kill me?"

Jim giggled. "Not today."

BANG!

"God, what is it now?" Mary jumped and turned to see who had entered 221B now. It was Mycroft. A very red in the face Mycroft.

"THERE IS A NATIONAL CAKE EMERGENCY! IT IS THE UPMOST IMPORTANCE THAT I – JIM?!"

"Hello, nice of you to join us, iceman. "

John groaned and ran a hand down his face. "What had started out as a relatively normal day had turned out to be one of the most insane experiences of his life. Jim Moriarty back from the dead? Mycroft having a cake emergency? Sherlock giving him a lapdance. Oh, right. Invisibleblade probably forgot to mention that bit.

"Actually," Jim stated with an evil grin. "She's forgotten a lot of things. Such as saying happy birthday to Tearstainedashes. Yes, hello Amanda! Miss me?"

Mary didn't want to mention the fact that her waters had broken. Jim noticed it. "You know I'm not really a plumber, don't you? I can't fix boilers. "

"That's not the boiler-" Mary panted, clutching her stomach. "It's me."

John leapt to his feet, shoving Sherlock off of his lap, his drunken legs wobbling beneath him. "You mean?"

"Yes."

"The baby is coming! Oh god what do we do?!"

Sherlock fainted. Mycroft's national cake emergency was suddenly located somewhere else. Jim left the flat singing "staying alive." InvisibleBlade was sent to a mental asylum. The end.