Work Text:
Mary was there that day.
She used to be just another nameless face stepping off the bus and onto the walk. She used to be just another unknowing bystander, passing life by.
Then the fall.
She was the first to understand. She was the first to take in the shocking red and the dark curls. She was the first to realize who the delirious man with the outstretched arm was, and why he should be kept away.
She was the one who separated him from those pale eyes, and steered him into the nearest café. She was the one who ordered him a cup of strong tea and held his saucer still until his fingers stopped shaking. She was the one who found a modest hotel room when he could only mumble about his empty flat, and she was the one who stayed with him as he sobbed hysterically into the pillow.
First, she was only a kind soul for him to hang on to and mourn with. She gradually became a close friend for him to confess to and reminiscence with. Finally, she turned into a warm heart for him to return to and fall in love with.
She saved his life. For that, John owed her his everything.
She saved his life. For that, Sherlock owed her his blogger.