Mary watched John pacing in the hospital waiting room. The clickety-clack of his shoes echoed the pounding of her own heart, beating too fast and loud. She had watched John shatter when they were informed of Sherlock's near-death, so near as to have crossed over the boundary and then come back again. Now she was watching the agony of a man who was losino his best freind all over again.

"He'll make it, John," she had murmured soothingly to him, patting his hand. "He's so strong, he'll make it."

"He better," John said grimly. "Because I'll follow him if he doesn't."

"Oh, John," she said softly, in genuine anguish. "You really mean it, don't you?"

She didn't need his answer to confirm it. She had known the truth before he spoke it.

Mary Watson loved her husband. But did she love him enough?

Even when she was standing in Sherlock's room, she wasn't sure. "John would never make it without you. Can he make it without me?" she asked the wounded detective.

"No," Sherlock ramped out, looking at her in alarm.

"Now it was Magnussen. Next time, it will be someone else. There will always be someone after me," she said, her voice soft and rock-hard at the same time.

The detective looked at her middle, his gaze questioning.

"Yes, I'll have to break his heart. Will you back me up?"

"This isn't...fair...to...John." Sherlock mustered his remaining strength to make her understand.

"Better than putting him in danger. Better than having him irreversibly connected to me, which will only end in heartbreak. I should never have gotten involved."

She leaned over the detective and gently patted his cheek. "I like you, Sherlock. I'm sorry about the shooting. Look after John for me, will you?" she whispered, her voice breaking over her husband's name.

Then she left as quietly as she had come in.

John's reaction had been just as she had predicted, which didn't make it any easier for her to beat. He went from shocked silence, to denial, pleading with her to tell him she was lying. Then came the rage, the deep hurt of betrayal, the grief at having lost another relationship. Yet she would not take back what she had said. I'm sorry, John, but you aren't the father of my child.

She informed him that she would leave immediately. He begged her to reconsider, to try and work things out, and she stonily informed him that she wasn't in love with him anymore, and hadn't been for quite some time. When she had finished breaking his heart to bits, she left.

John would recover. He would have Sherlock to see to it. Not only had she saved him from her foes, but she had saved him from herself. She had betrayed him by shooting his best friend, and wasn't assured that she would never hurt someone he loved again. Some of her behaviors were too ingrained.

She would make some provisions for the future of her child. If she would meet the fate she expected to, John would be informed of the truth. He would then have the choice of taking his child back.

For now, she she had to shed the skin of Mary Watson and disappear into the vast crush of humanity. She would leave the man she so loved, because she loved him too much to stay.