Prompt: John/Mary. Your headcanon for the "James" slip up. (This refers to an incident in one of ACD's original stories where Mary Morstan calls John Watson "James.")

In their own way they love each other. It's not the wild passionate love that youth lingers upon, but rather a love born out of weariness. Of loneliness. Of loss. It's not what either of them had dreamed of, had wanted when the light still shone bright in their eyes, but there's genuine affection there and as the saying goes, something is better than nothing.

They're happy, for the most part. But John has unguarded moments when, in a fit of happiness or nostalgia or anger, he slips up, and the whole day goes to hell. On those days he'll ring Lestrade or Stamford and get pissed, coming home completely sloshed and begging forgiveness.

Mary hates those days. She hates them with every fiber of her being. She hates Scotland Yard, hates the Queen, and most of all she hates Sherlock Holmes; wants to salt and burn his bones, and cast them into the Thames.

But she loves John and so she forgives him, as much as she is able, because they both know he's not the only one in this marriage playing second fiddle.

On the nights he's out with the lads the house is quiet and she allows herself to wonder What if? What if? Such a powerful little sentence. Inevitably that moment of weakness takes her to the closet and, reaching into a box secreted in the back, she pulls out her old engagement ring. She slides the ring John gave her off her finger and replaces it with the old, tarnished engagement ring she told him she's sold years ago.

She loved James more than life itself and there's nothing in the world that can fill the hole he left. She supposes it makes her a terrible person when, as she and John both hurdle towards orgasm, she calls out "James!" instead of "John!"

Then again, he's called out "Sherlock!" more than once himself.

But Sherlock Holmes is dead, and so is James Bishop, and no amount of wishing will bring them back. Because she knows John would leave her in a heartbeat if the Consulting Detective ever came back, just like she'd leave him if James walked through their front door.

But if there is one thing Mary is certain of, it's that the dead don't rise.