[Mary was very glad to get such a quick letter in reply. And she couldn't help but giggle at John's 'not gay' statements. But everything for her these days is tempered with that dull ache from all she experienced in The Box. Mary actually waits until she hears back from Sherlock before sending her reply to John. John will probably notice that the paper is fresh, rather than reused.]
John,
I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the bread. If you ever have any requests for specific kinds, just let me know. It's the least I can do for the fresh meat and milk you provide.
I'm sorry for any anxiety I caused the two of you. This whole thing has been more than a little strange - probably for all of us. And I was still in shock of meeting you again that when I saw Sherlock, I didn't handle the situation as well as I should have.
I wish I could tell you with certainty how long things will be strange. But as a doctor, you well know that there is no certainty about it. So, I can only offer that I will do my best to leave the horrors of The Box in that place and not apply them to you and Sherlock.
I only ask for your patience if I react as I would there. Healing of this sort is a slow process, as I'm sure your aware.
[John actually returns his letter the same day before heading out to set up for the Bonfire Night festivities. There's another package of meat with it, some more boar... those things seem to be everywhere this month.]
Mary,
It could have gone better with Sherlock, yes. I'm not sure he'll tell you why it hurt him particularly, but please be aware that he's from both of our relative futures. It's not the happiest time, I'm given to understand, and he's had to go through a lot on top of that. You said The Box was worse than hell. Norfinbury was like that, too, I'm afraid.
[He doesn't want to outright tell her she's been killed in the future at home, but... it might well be possible to read between the lines. John's not nearly as subtle as Sherlock.]
I'll try to be as patient as I can, and I'll have to ask for your patience, as well. I'm not the easiest man to get on with, I know, and having someone who knows more about me than I do, doesn't really sit so well. I'll do my best to deal with that on my own, but I think it might help if we start fresh? Treat me like someone you've never met? I promise I'll do my best not to bore you if you've heard me tell any stories before or if you have to ask or answer some of the same questions you already have.
Best, John
P.S. You should think about coming to Bonfire Night tonight. If you don't, I'll see about leaving some of the treats from it for you. I asked Zephyr for some bonfire toffee.
[Mary doesn't mind the boar meat. It's just nice not to have to fend for every little thing on her own. Though she waits until bed to read the note. She had no plans to go to Bonfire Night - it brought up bad memories of John being in the Bonfire, not to mention all that had happened in The Box. The letter is accompanied by a sweetened bread with a squash akin to pumpkin that she found (OOC: Unless she was able to find actual pumpkin, still getting caught up on all the new things.)]
John,
I'm sorry I couldn't be at Bonfire Night. Given I'm still readjusting to being here after such a long time, I didn't think fireworks would be good for me. I spent the night baking, so I hope you enjoy this bread.
I was sad to read that what you and Sherlock endured was similar to my experience. I suppose that explains some of Sherlock's reaction to me as well.
[Mary is pretty good at reading between the lines, but she assumes Sherlock had somehow deduced that she had died in The Box and had told John as much. Or maybe he had told John something of her letter - even though he had said he wouldn't. The letter might have only confirmed his deductions and if that was the case, Mary can't fault Sherlock for sharing deductions.]
I know nothing of your time in Norfinbury, so at least from that point, you are new to me. I don't know how that might have changed you or even exactly what you last experienced back home. Though, I do ask that if I share the odd memory or experience of my past and your future that you don't dwell on it. While I certainly want to get to know you - this you - I don't have expectations that we are - compatible? - given all we've both been through.
I look forward to hearing your stories - those I know and new ones I haven't heard yet.
Sincerely,
Mary
Edited (html woe is me) 2017-11-06 16:38 (UTC)
11/7 - There is a pumpkin maze for the season that she can pull pumpkins from!
[With what happened on Bonfire Night, John thinks it might ultimately be better that Mary didn't come. He'd spent the next day ashamed of his lack of inhibitions and incredibly hung over... covered in bite marks from a certain victim. He has plasters over them, but he can feel them stinging in some sort of accusation as he writes his return letter. This isn't his wife. He barely even knows her. But he still somehow feels guilty having sex with another woman just after Mary's turned up.
Particularly in light of some of the miscommunications and trouble they've had.]
Mary,
Ta for the bread.
I can at least answer the last thing I remember at home. It was about a month after Sherlock's apparent death at the hands of a man named Moriarty. I'm not sure if we ever told you about him, but he was a very bad man. Sherlock brought him down, but it was at a very steep price. Sherlock's memories seem to put him four or five years beyond that point. They're from after I meet you and he's returned.
I'll be honest with you, some of the things he mentioned you did back home are a little troubling, but I'll try to set that aside here. Maybe you could tell me a little bit about first arriving in The Box? I gave you that first day in Norfinbury, but more than just the house I woke up in, I talked to what seemed like half the population on the network. They wanted to help me get sorted on where to go.
There was one bloke, in particular, I remember. His name was Steve Rogers... as in Captain America from the films.
Best, John
11/7 - evening (Mun is impatient haha - we can handwave as needed.)
[Mary would be touched by John's conscience. The letter tells her a lot. He is from early days of losing Sherlock. That is going to complicate things. Not that everything isn't complicated anyway. She has no idea how much or what details Sherlock has told John about her. So she's content to simply not reply to that part of the letter.]
John,
Thank you for letting me know your last memory from home. My last memory from home is from about two years after that: December 2014. It seems strange to share any more than that right now, I don't know if maybe it would mess things up if we ever get a chance to return home if I tell you too many details. Or maybe I've watched too many films.
Arriving in The Box. Well, the Technicians didn't waste their time with their torture. When we woke up, a group of us were in a haunted school that was sinking. When we finally escaped, we discovered ourselves to be in an crocodile infested swamp. It wasn't long before I ran into Sherlock and he later ran into you. Sherlock was his usual self and tried to force the two of us together right away - without even thinking about whether we knew each other already or not. Since you didn't know me, it made everything exceptionally awkward.
Sort of like now, I imagine. Well, maybe this isn't quite as awkward. I don't know.
It's funny that you met Captain America. I met Khan from Star Trek - he looked like he could be Sherlock's twin. When we finally killed one of the crocks, he ended up carrying the thing back to the house where Sherlock was staying. We then divided the creature up so we'd have some food. Everything was scarce in The Box: food, clothing, shelter, clean water. Everything had to be scavenged. Which made coming here interesting to me. While some things we need to hunt and gather here, it's not anywhere near as dire as it was there.
I still had some of the crock jerky I made. I've included a little for you to try. You can share some with Sherlock, if you like. Or toss it. I don't vouch for it's taste. When you're desperate for food, taste falls to a distant concern. I'm not sure I could go back to eating it, knowing that you're providing fresh meat to me on a frequent basis. But, well, maybe it will give you an idea of how things were there, given what I was willing to eat.
Sincerely,
Mary
[If John and/or Sherlock try the crock jerky, they will find it very salty with very little other taste. A bit like unflavoured catfish.]
I'll just leave the crocodile jerky for another night. Thank you, though. It sounds like The Box and Norfinbury were two different flavors of hell. And that does certainly sound more like the Sherlock we know and love.
Like a brother.
[The line is squeezed in between two paragraphs, like he re-read it and clearly thought better of the phrasing.]
He's not so good with patience. Or people. Or much of anything that doesn't involve a mystery. He does try, though. And he's been trying a lot harder for a while now. He wanted to move out for a while, thought it might make you feel safer. I more or less strong-armed him into not doing that. Just so you know he did try to do that for you. I just wouldn't let him. I don't much like my housemate running himself out of the house feeling guilty for something he never did, you know?
Khan from Star Trek is certainly something, though. Don't remember him looking like Sherlock in the films I've seen.
[He means the old Star Trek movies.]
Norfinbury had scarce supplies, as well, so the Meadous has been heaven by comparison on that front. It was a little frozen town in Alaska. We were the only things alive there, everything else has been killed off by radiation. There were these things called anomalies--sort of monster-like creatures that took on all different shapes, usually something that was personal, or some sort of conglomerate of different people all smashed together.
We couldn't eat those, though. Or fight them, really. As soon as they touched you, you'd go unconscious and they'd swallow you whole or drag you away. Your best bet was just to run, get inside a building, and bar the doors and windows until lockdown. That was a sort of curfew. Not sure if you had to deal with that. Bloody inconvenient. If you were trapped outside after lockdown, you'd freeze overnight. There were far too many deaths in far too many ways there.
That's part of what Sherlock's coming from. He'd just died when we turned up here, as well, so that was a bit much to take in.
[John had just died, as well, but he'll leave out mentioning that. Or the anomaly that looked like a woman he'd fallen in love with who'd killed him the first time.]
Our food situation wasn't quite as dire, maybe, just inconvenient. There were a few places that dispensed food. Junk stuff at the convenience store, cafeteria food at the elementary school. Supposedly there was a grocery store with proper food, but I never made it there. Too far out of the way for everything else.
Best, John
11/9 morning (hope this doesn't mess up the new thread too much, I can edit if it does)
[Given the conversation with Sherlock, it takes Mary a couple of days to write back.]
John,
I don't blame you for not wanting to try the jerky. But, I imagine that the places we experienced were two sides of the same coin.
There are four people that Sherlock is very good with: you, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, and me.
[The me was obviously more shakily written than the rest of the list, as if she wasn't sure if she should include herself or not.]
I'm glad you didn't let him move out. You two need each other. That's important and how it should be.
That first day we met here, you asked me who I was. I ask myself that question quite a bit. In fact, I was going through my closet here and I found a few scraps of paper that I wrote a few memories down. I can't call it a journal, since paper and writing utensils were scarce, but within a few weeks of returning from my death, that was a question I started to ask myself often.
I still don't have a good answer to it. But, I hope you and Sherlock will help me to find it.
[John's reply is simple, but it comes from a place of honesty.]
I'm sure I can speak for Sherlock when I say we will do everything in our power to do so, Mary. You're his friend, and I look forward to maybe being your friend, as well.
[Given what had happened the night before, John's assurances mean more to Mary that she can express in a letter. It takes her some time to reply and she has to stay herself from running next door to hug him.]
Dear John,
I am so grateful that you are giving me this chance. I hope we can become friends as well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
11/5
John,
I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the bread. If you ever have any requests for specific kinds, just let me know. It's the least I can do for the fresh meat and milk you provide.
I'm sorry for any anxiety I caused the two of you. This whole thing has been more than a little strange - probably for all of us. And I was still in shock of meeting you again that when I saw Sherlock, I didn't handle the situation as well as I should have.
I wish I could tell you with certainty how long things will be strange. But as a doctor, you well know that there is no certainty about it. So, I can only offer that I will do my best to leave the horrors of The Box in that place and not apply them to you and Sherlock.
I only ask for your patience if I react as I would there. Healing of this sort is a slow process, as I'm sure your aware.
Sincerely,
Mary
11/5
Mary,
It could have gone better with Sherlock, yes. I'm not sure he'll tell you why it hurt him particularly, but please be aware that he's from both of our relative futures. It's not the happiest time, I'm given to understand, and he's had to go through a lot on top of that. You said The Box was worse than hell. Norfinbury was like that, too, I'm afraid.
[He doesn't want to outright tell her she's been killed in the future at home, but... it might well be possible to read between the lines. John's not nearly as subtle as Sherlock.]
I'll try to be as patient as I can, and I'll have to ask for your patience, as well. I'm not the easiest man to get on with, I know, and having someone who knows more about me than I do, doesn't really sit so well. I'll do my best to deal with that on my own, but I think it might help if we start fresh? Treat me like someone you've never met? I promise I'll do my best not to bore you if you've heard me tell any stories before or if you have to ask or answer some of the same questions you already have.
Best,
John
P.S. You should think about coming to Bonfire Night tonight. If you don't, I'll see about leaving some of the treats from it for you. I asked Zephyr for some bonfire toffee.
11/6 - Morning
John,
I'm sorry I couldn't be at Bonfire Night. Given I'm still readjusting to being here after such a long time, I didn't think fireworks would be good for me. I spent the night baking, so I hope you enjoy this bread.
I was sad to read that what you and Sherlock endured was similar to my experience. I suppose that explains some of Sherlock's reaction to me as well.
[Mary is pretty good at reading between the lines, but she assumes Sherlock had somehow deduced that she had died in The Box and had told John as much. Or maybe he had told John something of her letter - even though he had said he wouldn't. The letter might have only confirmed his deductions and if that was the case, Mary can't fault Sherlock for sharing deductions.]
I know nothing of your time in Norfinbury, so at least from that point, you are new to me. I don't know how that might have changed you or even exactly what you last experienced back home. Though, I do ask that if I share the odd memory or experience of my past and your future that you don't dwell on it. While I certainly want to get to know you - this you - I don't have expectations that we are - compatible? - given all we've both been through.
I look forward to hearing your stories - those I know and new ones I haven't heard yet.
Sincerely,
Mary
11/7 - There is a pumpkin maze for the season that she can pull pumpkins from!
Particularly in light of some of the miscommunications and trouble they've had.]
Mary,
Ta for the bread.
I can at least answer the last thing I remember at home. It was about a month after Sherlock's apparent death at the hands of a man named Moriarty. I'm not sure if we ever told you about him, but he was a very bad man. Sherlock brought him down, but it was at a very steep price. Sherlock's memories seem to put him four or five years beyond that point. They're from after I meet you and he's returned.
I'll be honest with you, some of the things he mentioned you did back home are a little troubling, but I'll try to set that aside here. Maybe you could tell me a little bit about first arriving in The Box? I gave you that first day in Norfinbury, but more than just the house I woke up in, I talked to what seemed like half the population on the network. They wanted to help me get sorted on where to go.
There was one bloke, in particular, I remember. His name was Steve Rogers... as in Captain America from the films.
Best,
John
11/7 - evening (Mun is impatient haha - we can handwave as needed.)
John,
Thank you for letting me know your last memory from home. My last memory from home is from about two years after that: December 2014. It seems strange to share any more than that right now, I don't know if maybe it would mess things up if we ever get a chance to return home if I tell you too many details. Or maybe I've watched too many films.
Arriving in The Box. Well, the Technicians didn't waste their time with their torture. When we woke up, a group of us were in a haunted school that was sinking. When we finally escaped, we discovered ourselves to be in an crocodile infested swamp. It wasn't long before I ran into Sherlock and he later ran into you. Sherlock was his usual self and tried to force the two of us together right away - without even thinking about whether we knew each other already or not. Since you didn't know me, it made everything exceptionally awkward.
Sort of like now, I imagine. Well, maybe this isn't quite as awkward. I don't know.
It's funny that you met Captain America. I met Khan from Star Trek - he looked like he could be Sherlock's twin. When we finally killed one of the crocks, he ended up carrying the thing back to the house where Sherlock was staying. We then divided the creature up so we'd have some food. Everything was scarce in The Box: food, clothing, shelter, clean water. Everything had to be scavenged. Which made coming here interesting to me. While some things we need to hunt and gather here, it's not anywhere near as dire as it was there.
I still had some of the crock jerky I made. I've included a little for you to try. You can share some with Sherlock, if you like. Or toss it. I don't vouch for it's taste. When you're desperate for food, taste falls to a distant concern. I'm not sure I could go back to eating it, knowing that you're providing fresh meat to me on a frequent basis. But, well, maybe it will give you an idea of how things were there, given what I was willing to eat.
Sincerely,
Mary
[If John and/or Sherlock try the crock jerky, they will find it very salty with very little other taste. A bit like unflavoured catfish.]
11/7 - evening
I'll just leave the crocodile jerky for another night. Thank you, though. It sounds like The Box and Norfinbury were two different flavors of hell. And that does certainly sound more like the Sherlock we know and love.
Like a brother.
[The line is squeezed in between two paragraphs, like he re-read it and clearly thought better of the phrasing.]
He's not so good with patience. Or people. Or much of anything that doesn't involve a mystery. He does try, though. And he's been trying a lot harder for a while now. He wanted to move out for a while, thought it might make you feel safer. I more or less strong-armed him into not doing that. Just so you know he did try to do that for you. I just wouldn't let him. I don't much like my housemate running himself out of the house feeling guilty for something he never did, you know?
Khan from Star Trek is certainly something, though. Don't remember him looking like Sherlock in the films I've seen.
[He means the old Star Trek movies.]
Norfinbury had scarce supplies, as well, so the Meadous has been heaven by comparison on that front. It was a little frozen town in Alaska. We were the only things alive there, everything else has been killed off by radiation. There were these things called anomalies--sort of monster-like creatures that took on all different shapes, usually something that was personal, or some sort of conglomerate of different people all smashed together.
We couldn't eat those, though. Or fight them, really. As soon as they touched you, you'd go unconscious and they'd swallow you whole or drag you away. Your best bet was just to run, get inside a building, and bar the doors and windows until lockdown. That was a sort of curfew. Not sure if you had to deal with that. Bloody inconvenient. If you were trapped outside after lockdown, you'd freeze overnight. There were far too many deaths in far too many ways there.
That's part of what Sherlock's coming from. He'd just died when we turned up here, as well, so that was a bit much to take in.
[John had just died, as well, but he'll leave out mentioning that. Or the anomaly that looked like a woman he'd fallen in love with who'd killed him the first time.]
Our food situation wasn't quite as dire, maybe, just inconvenient. There were a few places that dispensed food. Junk stuff at the convenience store, cafeteria food at the elementary school. Supposedly there was a grocery store with proper food, but I never made it there. Too far out of the way for everything else.
Best,
John
11/9 morning (hope this doesn't mess up the new thread too much, I can edit if it does)
John,
I don't blame you for not wanting to try the jerky. But, I imagine that the places we experienced were two sides of the same coin.
There are four people that Sherlock is very good with: you, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, and me.
[The me was obviously more shakily written than the rest of the list, as if she wasn't sure if she should include herself or not.]
I'm glad you didn't let him move out. You two need each other. That's important and how it should be.
That first day we met here, you asked me who I was. I ask myself that question quite a bit. In fact, I was going through my closet here and I found a few scraps of paper that I wrote a few memories down. I can't call it a journal, since paper and writing utensils were scarce, but within a few weeks of returning from my death, that was a question I started to ask myself often.
I still don't have a good answer to it. But, I hope you and Sherlock will help me to find it.
Always,
Mary
11/9 - I don't think it should!
I'm sure I can speak for Sherlock when I say we will do everything in our power to do so, Mary. You're his friend, and I look forward to maybe being your friend, as well.
Best,
John
11/9 - late evening
Dear John,
I am so grateful that you are giving me this chance. I hope we can become friends as well.
Always,
Mary