mxrstan:

so sorry for my absence  !   i’m a bit busy atm but i’ll return asap. i hope everyone’s doing well, stay safe  !   xx

               BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. and again, for the fifth time, it was only the answering machine responding to her call. with every failed attempt of hers to contact sherlock, her CONCERN grew. she hadn't heard of him at all ever since she had woken up from her thirty-six-hour-nap, and randomly visiting him was OUT OF QUESTION  ——   for the doctors and john, especially.              if it was about them, she was only ALLOWED to leave the bed to use the bathroom, as even sitting up straight caused her to be in a pain that could only be reduced by the meds running through her system. so, LEAVING the hospital seemed like leaving the planet  —  impossible. but mary elizabeth watson wouldn't be mary elizabeth watson if she let anyone tell her what to do. and after all, she was a NURSE, right ? she was going to be fine.               when she pushed the small button on her PHONE, a picture of john and little rosie, as well as the tiny clock popped up. 9.34 pm, a time that almost invited her for a little stroll in the evening. her decision had already been made without SECOND thoughts  —  and no one would have to know about it. she just had to check up on her friend, had to talk to him, had to make sure that he didn't BLAME himself for what had happened. she was alive, breathing, alright. and she needed to see if he was, too.               so, the blonde changed her clothes, put on a pair of COMFORTABLE shoes and slipped into her coat before leaving the room and eventually, the hospital, too. shortly after that, she already found herself sitting in a taxi that brought her straight to the old familiar BAKERSTREET. once she had arrived, she left the car and made her way to the door, using john's old key ( which she MIGHT HAVE taken when he wasn't looking ) to open it, to avoid capturing dear mrs hudson's attention.

            with one hand on the banister, the blonde SLOWLY climbed up the stairs, coming to a stop before the door. she decided that just entering the flat wouldn't be right, not even for a former ASSASSIN. and not even under those circumstances. so, she knocked firmly on the door, once, twice, and again, tightening the coat around her frame.                               "  sherlock  ——  ?  it's me.                                              please open the door.  " 

governmentofficial;

             eyebrows narrow in DISBELIEF upon seeing the file, fingertips wandering to pull it towards herself and take a look at it. without REMOVING her gaze from the document, she replies.  “  regardless of what i’m going to find in there, you should definitely get her a christmas present. she’s your MOTHER   ——   not a political offender, mycroft.  “  

mMMHHMM YES but a thing i wanna do: mary surviving being shot & after spending a few days in a bloody hospital bed, she decides to visit sherlock bc he feels guilty and won’t answer any calls !!

            filled with the SWEETEST christmas tunes and decorated with candles, twigs, baubles and anything else mary seemed to find appropriate, BAKERSTREET is almost perfectly prepared for the great evening. despite the warmth and LOVE radiating from the decorated flat, however, the tension between the watson’s is not a secret. 

            it’s obvious   ——   clearly visible, and of course, mary couldn’t blame her husband but that wouldn’t keep her from wishing for a bit of PEACE, at least on christmas. for christmas, even. and if it wasn’t for her, why not lay down their arms for their guests’ sake ? just for one night ?

            GREEN eyes examine the empty space above the chimney carefully before wandering across the room. easily, the blonde could’ve climbed onto a chair to hang up the beautiful FAIRY LIGHTS in her hands  ——  god knows that she’s done things that were more dangerous than decorating a flat. but for the safety of her unborn child and due to the immobility a pregnancy came with, mary chooses an option that seems both safer and easier: asking a person who’s TALLER than her.

          turning on her heels, the nurse rests a hand on her SWOLLEN belly, the other hand ( holding the fairy lights ) rising up slightly to prevent them from getting tangled up on the floor. eyes wander to find the perfect victim  ——  which appears to be the DETECTIVE, struggling with decorations for the tree. too tiny for a MAN’S hand ?

           “  greg ? ,  “ the hints of a smile find their way onto her pale red lips,  “  would you give me a hand here ?  i’ll give you one in return.  “

tag drop.