Trust in Sherlock: Book 2

Chapter 39-Third Person POV

The hospital lobby was silent, yet filled with people. Two couples, a family of three that seemed to be missing a member, two elderly women, and a group of four men-Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, and even Mycroft Holmes himself.

Having immediately heard of the fire, Mycroft had headed for the hospital before Maggie even arrived. There was no point in going to the scene, so he was simply one step ahead.

The government official stood, avoiding the germ-filled seats. His slight OCD tendencies were a good excuse, but only he and possibly Sherlock knew the truth. He didn't sit down, because he knew his nervousness would be shown through his shaking hands. The last thing he needed was to be seen as vulnerable.

Sherlock lay across multiple chairs, his hands folded over his mouth in a prayer position. Memories flooded his mind. He would have to delete the most painful ones if Maggie never woke up. He knew she wouldn't. Even if they did manage to revive her, the lack of oxygen to the brain would cause permanent and serious brain damage.

He knew she would rather die than lose her mind.

John sat in a chair farther away from the others, Lestrade two seats down. Nobody looked at each other, avoiding the fear they all knew they would see as well as hiding their own.

Nobody expected this.

Nobody except the writer of Maggie's story. That was set since the very beginning. Since Maggie spotted Sherlock in the window of his flat that one fateful snowy day. The writer knew. The bastard.

It had been three hours and everyone was on edge. They all knew there was no hope, yet here they sat, waiting for the news they all desperately did not want to hear.

"John? Sherlock?"

John looked up when he heard his wife's voice. Mary walked quickly towards John, for once her arms were free of Eva. She began to jog as John stood from his seat. Mary rushed into John's arms, tears streaking her face. "Oh, John." She whispered, her voice beginning to quiver.

John held Mary tight, his arms firmly secured around her in a loving embrace.

Sherlock watched from his laying position, a glint of jealousy in his eyes. He would never have that now and he knew it. Would it be worth it though? Being that vulnerable with a person. Having a weak spot for someone.

Oh wait, he already had that. Why else was he in Saint Bartholomew's hospital lobby, his insides turning to mush as the time ticked by?

He couldn't help but ache as the thought of that being over passed through his thoughts. Having those reactions and emotions towards someone was wonderfully destructive to one's mind and body. He supposed that no longer worrying about that could be a relief.

"Where's Eva?" John asked without pulling away from Mary.

Mary replied, "I left her with Mrs. Hudson. I hope that was okay."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I'm surprised Mrs. Hudson didn't come with you." John tried for a laugh, but it came out rather choked.

Mary sniffled. "She thought I was needed more than she was. She isn't one for hospitals, you know."

John nodded and released Mary from his grip. "That sounds like her." He commented, taking Mary's hand as if that would support him as his body shook with nerves.

Another hour passed and everybody was steadily growing more and more agitated. Mycroft had a stack of paperwork waiting for him at the office and that heavily weighed on his mind. He despised that paperwork was still gnawing on his mind while he waited for news on whether or not his close friend would survive or not. He felt disgusted in himself for that.