A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 66: The Lie of Leinster Gardens

Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

***

Mary hurried into the hospital lobby the next morning. "Hey," She breathed as she met her husband at the top of the stairs.

"He's only bloody woken up!" John said, relieved. "He's pulled through,"

"Really?" Mary asked, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Oh, you, Mrs. Watson," John accused, pointing a finger at her, "You're in big trouble,"

Mary frowned. "Why?"

"His first word when he woke up: Mary,"

Mary let out a light laugh. "Ahh,"

John pulled Mary in for a tight and happy hug. His face was full of relief while Mary's grew serious.

"You don't tell him," Mary softly said to a half-conscious Sherlock. "You don't tell John,"

She slowly walked towards him, her image still fuzzy in his eyes. "Look at me- and tell me you're not gonna tell him,"

*

Sherlock sat in his hospital bed. His room was full of vases of flowers.

"They're not all from me," Magnussen said from the doorway. "Those struggling carnations are from Scotland Yard," He walked further into the room, closing the door behind him. "And the single rose is from 'W'. The black wreath is from Pentonville. I'm not sure the intents was entirely kind," Magnussen proceeded to sit down in the chair on the right of Sherlock. "Having shot you, the woman you know as Mary Watson left without killing me. Which is odd, considering that was the reason she came," He stood back up and bent down, bringing his face very close to Sherlock's. "I didn't pass her identity to the police. Information like that is just too malleable to be shared. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as Magnussen headed for the door.

"Same could go for your precious fiancée," Magnussen added before leaving the hospital room.

*

"I'm buying a cottage," Janine announced as she rifled through newspapers at the end of the hospital bed. "I made a lot of money out of you, Mister. Nothing hits the spot like revenge for profit,"

Sherlock lifted one of the papers to look at it. "You didn't give these stories to Magnussen, did you?"

"God, no- one of his rivals. He was spittin',"

Sherlock snorted and smiled a bit.

Janine looked angrily at him. "Sherlock Holmes, you are a back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard,"

"And you..." Sherlock said, raising the bed so that he was in sitting up. "...as it turns out, are a grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry tabloid whore,"

"So we're good then?" Janine asked, slightly smiling.

"Yeah, of course," He shrugged. "Where's the cottage?"

"Sussex Downs,"

"Hmm, nice. Might retire there once all this is all over,"

"It's gorgeous. There are beehives, but I'm getting rid of those,"

Sherlock winced in pain as he tried to push himself higher on the bed.

"Aw, hurts, does it?" Janine asked in a mocking tone. "Probably wanna restart your morphine. I might have fiddled with the taps,"