Chapter Text
A week later:
Martha Hudson was putting away the last of the week’s grocery shopping when she heard the door. Grumbling at the stiffness in her hip she shuffled out into the hall and opened it to reveal Greg Lestrade.
"Oh hello dear! Go on up, I think they're both in."
The inspector thanked her and she decided to join him, it had been suspiciously quiet in 221b since that dreadful business at the swimming pool. The shooting at walls, all the arguments, clients- the previous sounds that all too often reached her ears were strangely lacking.
"Yoohoo boys!" She cried as they reached the upstairs flat, hoping the pair hadn't got themselves killed. Martha wouldn't be surprised with all the dangerous stuff they got up to- Then again, remembering her youth she couldn't really talk.
However, as they opened the door a sight lay in front of them that stopped her and the DI dead in their tracks.
Oh my lord! Martha thought to herself. She'd always suspected but to see the evidence right in front of her eyes was something else.
Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson were curled up together fast asleep on the sofa, stark naked with a blanket only just protecting their modesty. The blond lay sprawled over the top of the detective, arms wrapping round him protectively.
She suspected that soon Mrs Turner wouldn’t be the only landlady with ‘married ones’.
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Six months later:
Mary smiled as she took the detective's lunch to his hospital room, where he'd been a patient for three days since getting injured during a case. John had been his doctor of course and had been driving everyone crazy the last few days with how worried he was, refusing to leave his fiancé’s side (much to their managers irritation).
As of now they were curled together on Sherlock's bed, despite the fact that the doctor had been provided with a chair. Neither man was asleep, but they seemed to be softly murmuring things to each other the way only couples do, their faces mere inches apart and their arms pulling each other close. One of John's thumbs stroked repeatedly across Sherlock's cheek.
Despite the fact that the moment was in no way sexual, it seemed so intimate to Mary that she felt almost guilty to be witnessing it. Clearing her throat she announced her presence and set down the tray.
"Ta very much Mary." John smiled, but his eyes never left Sherlocks; pale blue gazing at navy.
Ever since the blond had rung her with the news six months ago, the receptionist had been overjoyed for them both; anyone could see how much they loved each other. It had been a pain to have to attend her mother's dinner parties (which were all thinly disguised attempts to set her up) alone again, but it was worth it to see her friend come in every day so happy.
The next time she passed Sherlock's room during her duties the men were sitting up with Sherlock's tray between them, and the doctor appeared to be trying to get the brunette to eat. Mary was glad, the man had hardy touched food. As the brunette finished eating a sandwich and was rewarded with a snog, the receptionist walked away again, once more feeling like she was intruding.
They were oddly perfect for each other.