Sherlock Fanfic: The Secret Keeper (JWP 2015 #26)
Title: The Secret Keeper
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG13, OC outsider POV, Sign of Three.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 590
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #26: The One You Were Expecting. This stumped me so hard because I've only done this a few years and wasn't expecting anything. In the end I went with an OC outsider POV.
Summary: After all we'd been through, I wouldn't miss her wedding, even though she wasn't using any of the names I knew.
The Secret Keeper
Mary is her name now. She looks good, glowing. Watching her in the reflection off a glassed-in portrait on the wall, I sip at the glass of passable red while the accountant next to me drones on about estate something something. Nothing I'll ever need to know.
Of course she's seen and seen me, though I wasn't in the receiving line or anywhere readily visible in the church. Her gaze had swept the room as the hors d'ouvers were served, not stopping to look at me, but dragging slightly as she glanced past me table. Seen, acknowledged, non-threat, stand down of vigilance. It was as close to a warm hug as people like us could manage.
I knew she'd spot me once I got in her line of sight if not before. She was always good. I'd picked the same ensemble as I'd used when we did the San Moritz job. San Moritz had been one of those rare jobs where no one had to die and no blood was spilled. A job where the goal was ending a war instead of starting one. A happy job; the kind that didn't add to any darkness to the stain you felt accumulating on your soul. I liked to think in the slowing of Mary's gaze that there was a glint of appreciation for the subtlety of the choice.
The man - or rather men - beside her were acceptable. Not that I had any say. They would have an interesting life together, for however long they had it. Much as she seemed to be settled and apart from the life, I couldn't believe she'd be able to stay completely away for long. No one ever did.
I knew who she was and where she was now, I'd known for months really. She'd said something before she dropped out of the business that informed me she'd be going, and it would be messy. She wasn't sloppy enough to let that slip without intending to. I never called her on it, and she left, and it was very messy. I never said that I'd known she was going, even after the questioning grew pointed and sharp. She'd gotten away from it, and that was all I needed to know.
I didn't know for certain she'd gotten away alive until I checked my drop messages in Salzburg a few months ago and found a postcard from Hawaii, with a rambling note in flawless German about the blue of the sky and sea around the beautiful islands, but how she missed home. She's in Britain. I'd destroyed the card.
I never set out to find her, only kept an eye out and found a report of a man being pulled from a bonfire, and the edge of her silhouette caught in the frame of the accompanying photo of a more singed version of the man sitting beside her now.
Now, she was Mary. Blonde suited her. Settled suited her. Mary suited her. I kept my attention focused on the man sitting next to me going on about tax law and only watched her and her new spouse whispering to each other over their profiteroles at the blurred sides of my vision. The sun caught her pale hair, incandescent.
She'd be fine. She'd gotten out. I still had things to do. It was time to remove my shadow from her bright day.
As the glass clinked to call attention to the Best Man, I made excuses and stood, weaving through the tables and out the door.
-.-.-
(that's all)
Note: Yes, the person left just before things got interesting, but that's how life goes sometimes.
JWP Index
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Alternate Postings: AO3
Rating/Content: PG13, OC outsider POV, Sign of Three.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 590
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #26: The One You Were Expecting. This stumped me so hard because I've only done this a few years and wasn't expecting anything. In the end I went with an OC outsider POV.
Summary: After all we'd been through, I wouldn't miss her wedding, even though she wasn't using any of the names I knew.
The Secret Keeper
Mary is her name now. She looks good, glowing. Watching her in the reflection off a glassed-in portrait on the wall, I sip at the glass of passable red while the accountant next to me drones on about estate something something. Nothing I'll ever need to know.
Of course she's seen and seen me, though I wasn't in the receiving line or anywhere readily visible in the church. Her gaze had swept the room as the hors d'ouvers were served, not stopping to look at me, but dragging slightly as she glanced past me table. Seen, acknowledged, non-threat, stand down of vigilance. It was as close to a warm hug as people like us could manage.
I knew she'd spot me once I got in her line of sight if not before. She was always good. I'd picked the same ensemble as I'd used when we did the San Moritz job. San Moritz had been one of those rare jobs where no one had to die and no blood was spilled. A job where the goal was ending a war instead of starting one. A happy job; the kind that didn't add to any darkness to the stain you felt accumulating on your soul. I liked to think in the slowing of Mary's gaze that there was a glint of appreciation for the subtlety of the choice.
The man - or rather men - beside her were acceptable. Not that I had any say. They would have an interesting life together, for however long they had it. Much as she seemed to be settled and apart from the life, I couldn't believe she'd be able to stay completely away for long. No one ever did.
I knew who she was and where she was now, I'd known for months really. She'd said something before she dropped out of the business that informed me she'd be going, and it would be messy. She wasn't sloppy enough to let that slip without intending to. I never called her on it, and she left, and it was very messy. I never said that I'd known she was going, even after the questioning grew pointed and sharp. She'd gotten away from it, and that was all I needed to know.
I didn't know for certain she'd gotten away alive until I checked my drop messages in Salzburg a few months ago and found a postcard from Hawaii, with a rambling note in flawless German about the blue of the sky and sea around the beautiful islands, but how she missed home. She's in Britain. I'd destroyed the card.
I never set out to find her, only kept an eye out and found a report of a man being pulled from a bonfire, and the edge of her silhouette caught in the frame of the accompanying photo of a more singed version of the man sitting beside her now.
Now, she was Mary. Blonde suited her. Settled suited her. Mary suited her. I kept my attention focused on the man sitting next to me going on about tax law and only watched her and her new spouse whispering to each other over their profiteroles at the blurred sides of my vision. The sun caught her pale hair, incandescent.
She'd be fine. She'd gotten out. I still had things to do. It was time to remove my shadow from her bright day.
As the glass clinked to call attention to the Best Man, I made excuses and stood, weaving through the tables and out the door.
-.-.-
(that's all)
Note: Yes, the person left just before things got interesting, but that's how life goes sometimes.
JWP Index