"Damage Control" by GhyllWyne

Missing scene from HLV where Mary Watson begins to realize the consequences of her actions.

She had panicked. There was no other way to describe it. For the first time in her career (lovely euphemism, that) she had totally lost control, and now she stood an excellent chance of losing everything.

What had she missed? What the *hell* had she missed?

*Damn you, Sherlock. What were you trying to do? How in hell did you get into his office?*

And he'd brought John along, no surprise there. He must have been confident of getting out again undetected. He'd probably still thought Magnusson would be out. She had learned otherwise, but clearly Sherlock had not. He had expected the office to be empty so he could do whatever it was he had planned.

She took the next turn far too quickly and the rear tyres skidded briefly. That pulled her attention back to the road. She needed to find a place to park the car she'd stolen a few hours ago, not get herself pulled over for speeding, for Christ's sake.

There was an alley up ahead on the right, near enough to home so that she could walk it in a few minutes. She pulled in and parked, keeping her head down as she walked back to the street. CCTV cameras were everywhere these days. Head down in the dark was the best disguise.

She had waited outside long enough to see them rush Sherlock to the ambulance with John running alongside. Even at a distance of thirty meters, she could read John's fear, and it made her wonder if her failures extended to missing her aim as well. She'd meant to take him down, not kill him.

There was no possibility that John would be at home, but she took the precaution of entering through the back, just in case. Her track record for anticipating events so far tonight was abysmal.

She knew perfectly well how unpredictable Sherlock Holmes could be. Finding him in Magnusson's office should not have come as such a shock, and it should most certainly not have caused her to make such a horribly bad choice in response. If she had been able to think clearly, she would have recognized him as an ally. He'd never have let John know she was there. Breaking John Watson's heart was the last thing Sherlock would let anyone do. Not even her. Especially not her. He would have dealt with her privately. They'd have found a way to accomplish their mutual goals of stopping Magnusson, and protecting John from finding out what kind of woman he had married. She knew that. God, she knew that. Why had she shot him?

For all her calm exterior (If you take one more step, Sherlock, I swear, I will kill you), her mind had been spinning out of control. (John's here John's here John's here), and when Sherlock had looked at her with such trust (No, Mrs. Watson, you won't), it had all come crashing down on her. She had turned a bad situation into a catastrophe.

And why wasn't John calling her? They should have reached the hospital twenty minutes ago. John would be frantic with worry, and he would need to talk to her. He thought she was asleep in their bed, and he would want that mental image to keep him grounded while he waited for word on his friend.

Unless the waiting was already over. Unless she had killed his best friend, and there was nothing she could do to help him now.

Or Sherlock was conscious, and he had already told John who shot him.

Please, God, no. You have no reason to help me, but please. Help John. Please don't let this happen.

The phone rang, and she answered it, too quickly and far too alertly, she realized a moment too late.

"Mary?"

She tried to cover her mistake by yawning into the receiver. "John? What's wrong?

"Sherlock's been shot."

Careful now. Weigh every word. "Oh, my God, John! Are you all right? What happened?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, but Mary..." She heard him take a shaky breath. "Mary, it's very bad. We nearly lost him in the ambulance."

"Where are you? I'm coming down there. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and-"

He cut her off, and his voice sounded almost normal. "No, don't come down. It's going to be a long wait, and there's nothing you can do here. I just...I just needed to hear your voice."

His breathing was slowing down. He sounded calmer. "All right, John. I'll stay home. You take care of him, and take care of yourself. Call me the moment you have word."

"I will. I promise."

She replaced the receiver, then stood quietly for a long moment, gathering herself. He didn't know. Sherlock hadn't told him, or couldn't. Either way, she had time to think. Time to control the damage.

End of part 1

Author's notes - This is the first of several vignettes that will be posted in the next few days centering on Mary Watson's role in HLV. Feedback inspires the muse, so please be generous. -GW