(Jared's POV)
The distinctive crescent moon shape of the perfume bottle dissolves into a view of the real Moon, half full in the night sky. Mary is walking along a road towards Leinster Gardens. It is an expensive-looking area, with a long terrace of four-storey white-plastered Edwardian buildings lining the road. A homeless person is squatting with his back to the wall at the corner of the road. He has the hood of his jacket pulled over his head, a blanket wrapped around him, and a white plastic tub is on the ground in front of him.
"Spare any change, love?" A homeless man asked, hoarsely, as Mary walked past.
"No." Mary said, not stopping.
"Oh, come on, love. Don't be like all the rest." The homeless man said, hoarsely.
Mary stops, turning back to him, then takes a handful of loose change from her coat pocket, bends down and drops the coins into the tub. Before she can fully straighten up or withdraw her hand, he takes hold of her wrist and looks up at her. It's Bill Wiggins.
"Rule One of looking for Sherlock 'olmes …" Bill said, in his normal voice, before putting a phone and a headset into Mary's hand. "... 'e finds you."
Bill stands, picking up his tub.
"You're working for Sherlock now." Mary said.
"Keeps me off the streets, dunnit?" Bill asked.
"Well ... no." Mary said, shrugging at Bill.
The phone in Mary's hand starts to ring. As she puts the headset into her ear, Bill turns and walks away. She answers the phone.
"Sherlock? Where are you and Jared?" Mary asked, walking along the road.
"Can't you see us?" I asked, over the phone.
"Well, what am I looking for?"
"The lie – the lie of Leinster Gardens – hidden in plain sight." Sherlock said, his voice over the phone.
"It's like a Trap Street, but it isn't one. There's a Trap Street full of aliens somewhere in London living peacefully. It is run by a friend of mine." I said, over the phone. "I'll get to know her someday. Ashildr. I can't wait to meet her someday."
Stepping a few feet into the road so that she can get a better view of the tall houses, Mary continues along the road while looking at the house fronts. There is nobody else in the street and no cars are driving along it.
"Jared won't meet that friend for a while." Sherlock said, over the phone. "Hardly anyone notices. People live here for years and never see it, but if you are what I think you are, it'll take you less than a minute." Mary continues to walk slowly along the road as Sherlock continues to talk over the phone. "The houses, Mary. Look at the houses."
"How did the both of you know I'd come here?" Mary asked.
"My foreknowledge. I used my vortex manipulator to get around." I said, my voice over the phone.
"And I knew you'd talk to the people no-one else would bother with." Sherlock said, over the phone.
"I thought I was being clever." Mary said, laughing briefly.
"You're always clever, Mary. We were relying on that. I planted the information for you to find." Sherlock said, over the phone.
"And for my information, I based it off of places I loved back home. I visited them with my family." I said, over the phone. "Wasn't that hard. You had to decide between my stomping ground or Sherlock's. Clever girl. You went with Sherlock's."
Mary slows down, looking at a couple of adjoining houses in the middle of the terrace.
"Ohh." Mary said, her voice sounding impressed.
Mary stops and turns to face the two houses which have caught her attention. Although there is no light shining from any of the windows, unlike the others on either side, the houses otherwise look similar to the rest of the terrace.
"Thirty seconds to go." I said, over the phone.
"What am I looking at?" Mary asked.
"No door knobs, no letter box …" Sherlock said, over the phone.
Mary looks towards the two front doors to confirm this, then raises her eyes to the windows in which the glass is opaque.
"... painted windows. Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens …" Sherlock said, over the phone, pausing and sighing gently. "... the empty houses." I looked up at the rooftops of the buildings, as Sherlock continued talking into the phone. "They were demolished years ago to make way for the London Underground, a vent for the old steam trains."
I closed my eyes to imagine the top of the houses and reveals that behind their front walls there is nothing else of the buildings. The houses on either side are complete but these two have only the front wall remaining, and underneath the houses runs a train line along which a Tube train now passes by.
"Only the very front section of the house remains. It's just a façade." Sherlock said, over the phone, drawing in a breath. "Remind you of anyone, Mary? A façade."
At that moment, I opened my eyes, and loaded up a picture that is projected onto the front of the two houses. Three storeys high, stretching from the first floor to the third, it is a photograph of Mary. The picture, obviously taken on her wedding day, is a head shot only and shows her wearing her headdress with the white veil surrounding her head as she smiles happily at the camera. Mary turns and looks behind her, trying to see where the picture is being projected from.
"Sorry. Next to reading stories involving Danni Fielding, known as the Time Child. Well, I loved reading the stories that have Morgan Spencer. She's a Reality Traveler." I said, over the phone. "Both stories have a touch of drama."
Mary turns back and looks at her image on the houses.
"Do come in. It's a little cramped." Sherlock said, over the phone.
"Sherlock? Do you own this place?" Mary asked, starting to walk towards the houses.
"Mmm. I won it in a card game with the Clarence House Cannibal." Sherlock said, over the phone, and one of the two adjacent front doors is slightly ajar and there is light behind it while Mary walks towards that door. "Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately I had a …" He draws in a breath. "... straight flush."
Mary pushes open the door and looks inside. On the wall inside the door is an empty socket for a large electric plug and beside it is a fuse box.
"Quite a gambler, that woman." Sherlock said, over the phone.
Mary walks inside. All that remains of the house is a long narrow corridor running along the front of the house. She looks back behind her for a moment and then focuses on the corridor. It is lit at her end, and at the other end a bright light shines towards her, obscuring her view of the far end, but she can just about see a shape sitting on a chair in the shadows under the light. She stares at the shape and draws in a breath.
"What do you want, Sherlock and Jared?" Mary asked.
On the other end of the corridor, looking towards Mary over the shoulder of the figures sitting there and facing her. Water trickles from the ceiling beside it. There is the thin clear tube of a medical drip hanging beside the figure.
"Mary Morstan was stillborn in October 1972. Her gravestone is in Chiswick Cemetery where – five years ago – you acquired her name and date of birth and thereafter her identity." Sherlock said, over the phone, and Mary starts walking slowly along the corridor. "That's why you don't have 'friends' from before that date."
(Open POV)
FLASHBACK…
Sherlock is standing in the living room of 221B looking at his wedding plans on the wall behind the sofa.
"Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin." Sherlock said, turning to where Mary is sitting at the dining table.
"Ah, orphan's lot. Friends – that's all I have. " Mary said, smiling.
Present…
Mary continues to walk slowly along the corridor.
"It's an old enough technique, known to the kinds of people who can recognise a skip-code on sight …" Sherlock said, over the phone.
FLASHBACK…
Mary on the first floor landing at 221, showing Sherlock and Jared the text message she has received, "At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip-code."
Sherlock and Jared look closely at Mary.
Present…
Mary is still walking towards the seated figures she can now see a little better. Although the faces are still obscured in shadow, she can see that one of the people is sitting in a wheelchair. The medical drip is on a stand behind the chair and the recognisable shape of the morphine dispenser can be seen attached to the stand.
"... have extraordinarily retentive memories who remember things as good as Jared …" Sherlock said, over the phone.
FLASHBACK…
At the wedding venue, Sherlock stands partway up the staircase with the tips of his fingers against his temples and his eyes screwed closed.
"How can you not remember which room? You remember everything." John said.
"I have to delete something!" Sherlock said, irritably.
Mary runs around the corner and pelts up the stairs in between Sherlock and John, holding up her skirt with one hand to stop herself tripping over it.
"Room 207. Come along, Watsons!" Jared said, running ahead of Sherlock, John, and Mary. "Can't believe I remembered that."
Present…
Mary stopped about halfway along the corridor, "You were very slow."
"How good a shot are you?" Sherlock asked, over the phone.
Mary reaches inside her coat, pulls out her pistol and cocks it, holding it down by her side, "How badly do you want to find out?"
"If I die here, my body will be found in a building with your face projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard could get somewhere with that. Even if you kill Jared, he can come back to life and tell Scotland Yard himself." Sherlock said, over the phone while Mary nodded her agreement, still looking towards the shadowed figure at the end of the corridor. She can see one side of the popped coat collar protruding out of the shadows. "We want to know how good you are." He spoke softly, encouragingly. "Go on. Show us. The doctor's wife must be a little bit bored by now."
Shifting her pistol in her grip, Mary looks down and reaches into her shoulder bag and takes out a fifty pence coin. Balancing it on her thumb and forefinger, she looks up to gauge the height of the ceiling, then flicks the coin high into the air, raises the gun and fires at it. The ejected shell pings off the wall in front of her and she turns and lowers her head to avoid the coin as it falls down to the floor. She turns to look at the shadowed figure.
Behind her a shadow appears on the wall as someone walks through the open front door. The shadow is instantly recognisable as Sherlock's with its curly hair and popped collar, and now he lowers his phone from his ear and switches it off while he walks towards her.
"May we see?" Sherlock asked.
Mary peers towards the shadowy figures sitting at the end of the corridor, then lowers her head and turns to Sherlock, laughing quietly.
"It's a dummy." Mary said, taking the headset from her ear. "I suppose it was a fairly obvious trick."
Mary walks a few paces forward, puts her foot against the coin and sends it sliding across the floor towards him. Sherlock puts his foot onto it to stop it. He looks at her as she continues her slow walk towards him, then he bends down and picks up the coin. When he straightens up and speaks, his voice is tight with pain.
"And yet, over a distance of six feet. You didn't make the kill shot. I've played enough Splatoon to know if someone would fail one." Jared said, coming into view, while Sherlock holds the coin up to show the hole shot through it. "I also hung out with Torchwood to know how to handle a gun, Mary."
Sherlock looks like hell – shaky on his feet, sweating and breathing heavily as he continues talking.
"It was enough to hospitalise me; not enough to kill me. That wasn't a miss." Sherlock said, smiling slightly. "That was surgery." Mary meets Sherlock and Jared's gaze for a moment, then lowers her eyes. "We'll take the case."
"What case?" Mary asked, looking at Sherlock again.
"We'll take your case, Mary." Jared said, a little angrily. "I've been wanting to say that for the last nine hundred years. Why didn't you come to us in the first place?"
"Because John can't ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever – and, Sherlock, Jared, I will never let that happen." Mary said, while Sherlock and Jared turn as if to walk away and she takes a step towards them. "Please …" Sherlock and Jared turn back to her. "... understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening."
"I'm sorry." Jared said, turning away. "I'm so sorry."
Sherlock walks to the fuse box and puts his hand onto one of the switches before he and Jared look back towards Mary.
"Not that obvious a trick." Sherlock said, flicking the switch and all the lights came on.
Behind Mary, at the far end of the corridor there is slight movement. Even though she has not seen it, her face fills with dread as if she has already realised the truth.
Lowering her eyes and letting out a breath, she turns to look along the corridor to where the figure at the end can now be seen clearly. She gasps. Her husband is sitting in the wheelchair, looking back at her with no expression in his eyes. His hair is ruffled to make it look bigger and he is wearing a black jacket with the collar popped. Slowly he stands up and begins to stroke his hair back down.
"Now talk, and sort it out. Do it quickly." Sherlock said, softly.
John takes hold of his coat and pulls it wide, shaking the collar down before settling it back onto his shoulders. Mary lets out an anguished sigh as he slowly starts to walk towards her and then stops several feet away.
(Jared's POV)
DAY TIME…
A church choir can be heard singing the Christmas carol, 'Hark, the Herald Angels Sing'. From the quality of the sound, it appears that the music is coming from a radio.
Outside a red-walled cottage…
Sherlock and Mycroft's father come out of the door wearing grey trousers, a white checked shirt, a grey cardigan and a bright red bowtie. He goes over to a nearby pile of small wooden logs and picks up two of them before going back inside. Mycroft's voice can be heard. It has a rather despairing tone to it.
Kitchen…
"Oh, dear God, it's only two o'clock. It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now." Mycroft said, in despair.
I was looking out the window of the cottage and turned my back to see the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate in my hand. Mycroft – wearing a shirt and tie and a sleeveless waistcoat – is sitting at the side of a large table in the middle of the kitchen rubbing one hand wearily over his brow. Christmas lights – wrapped around green foliage – are strung along the bottom of the window we are looking through and another set of lights is wrapped over the curtain rail above a window on the opposite side of the kitchen. The latter lights then progress to where they drape over the top of a picture on the wall beside the window and then dangle down haphazardly towards the floor. On the kitchen table is some crockery, including a large plate with red paper serviettes and some cutlery on it, another plate with mince pies on it, a small iced and decorated Christmas cake, and various other items.
"You know what British Christmases have that American ones don't." I said, dropping some more Christmas crackers onto a pile of them lying in a wicker basket on the table. "Christmas crackers! I love the jokes in them."
"Of course you do." Sherlock said, wearing his usual dark suit and a very dark grey shirt, is sitting in an armchair near the table. "Especially the knock knock ones."
"How can it only be two o'clock? I'm in agony." Mycroft said, in the same despairing tone.
Sherlock is looking at the front page of The Guardian which bears the headline 'Lord Smallwood suicide' and the straplines 'Shamed peer takes own life" and '63-year-old dies following letters scandal'.
"Mikey, is this your laptop?" Mrs Holmes asked, standing at the end of the table, she points down to a silver-grey laptop on the table, half-obscured by a chopping board on top of it which has several whole peeled potatoes and the peelings on it.
"On which depends the security of the free world, yes …" Mycroft said, smiling rather sarcastically up at his mother. "... and you've got potatoes on it."
"As long as they're mashed potatoes, Mrs Holmes." I said, while Sherlock glanced at his mother and brother.
"I'll see if I can make mash for you, Jared, dear." Mrs Holmes said, as she looked over at Mycroft. "Well, Mikey, you shouldn't leave it lying around if it's so important."
Mrs Holmes reaches to pick up the basket of crackers but puts it down again when Mycroft speaks while gesturing around the kitchen.
"Why are we doing this? We never do this." Mycroft said, looking a little exasperated and his mother leans on the table.
"We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital and we are all very happy." Mrs Holmes said, as Mycroft looks up at her with an extremely insincere smile.
"Am I happy too? I haven't checked."
"Behave, Mike." Mrs Holmes said, picking up the basket.
"'Mycroft' is the name you gave me, I can't believe you support the nickname Jared gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end." Mycroft said.
Bill Wiggins walks over and holds out a glass of punch with pieces of fruit floating in it, "Mrs Holmes?"
Mrs Holmes looks round and takes the glass from Bill.
"Oh! Thank you, dear." Mrs Holmes said, looking up at Bill. "Not absolutely sure why you're here."
Mrs Holmes drinks from the glass.
"I invited him." Sherlock said.
"I'm his protégé, Mrs 'olmes. When 'e dies, I get all his stuff, an' 'is job." Bill said, and Mrs Holmes looked at him, a little startled.
"No." Sherlock said, precisely, still reading the paper.
"Oh. Well, I help out a bit." Bill said.
"Closer."
I walked over to the Holmes family away from the window, with my cup of hot chocolate. Mycroft and Mrs Holmes look up at Bill.
"If 'e does get murdered or something …" Bill said.
"Bill…" I said, while Mycroft and his mother look appalled. "Shut up."
"Jared's right." Sherlock said, still looking at his newspaper. "Probably stop talking now."
"Okay." Bill said.
"Lovely when you bring your friends round!" Mycroft said, looking at Sherlock.
"Stop it, you." Mrs Holmes said, putting her glass down. "Somebody's put a bullet in my boy …" She walks towards Sherlock with the basket of crackers but then turns back to look at Mycroft. "... and if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous." She apparently sees something on a nearby work surface. "Ah. This was for Mary." Mrs Holmes walks away with whatever it is. "I'll be back in a minute. Come on Jared, dear."
"Right." I said, walking away behind Mrs Holmes. "Got it."
Sherlock, who had folded his hands in front of his mouth, now lowers his left hand and looks at his watch. A mental image of a stopwatch appears above his hand, starting a countdown from 7 minutes and 37 seconds. He refolds his hands.
In the sitting room of the cottage, which also has random Christmas decorations around it, Mr Holmes goes across to the open door of the wood-burning fireplace and puts the two pieces of wood into the lit fire.
Mrs Holmes comes in with me, "Ah, Mary."
Carrying a mug, Mrs Holmes takes it across to where Mary is sitting in an armchair facing the fire.
"I got you some chocolate." I said, taking out a box of Cadbury Snowman Selection Pack out of my sling bag and placed it on Mary's lap. "Here you go."
"Blimey." Mary said, while she has a blanket over her stomach and legs and is flicking through the pages of a book, before proceeding to look down at the box of chocolate. "Thank you, Jared."
"There you are." Mrs Holmes said, handing the mug to Mary, who smiles as she takes it and drinks from it. "Cup of tea. And Jared gave you that box of sweets. Now, if Father starts making little humming noises, just give him a little poke. That usually does it."
Mary giggles and Mrs Holmes and I chuckle. Mr Holmes has straightened up from the fire, dusting off his hands, and has turned to face them while putting his hands in his pockets. He has a pair of glasses on a chain around his neck. It seems that he has taken up his wife's suggestion of wearing them on a chain – 'like Larry Grayson'. He smiles at Mary as Mrs Holmes turns to look at him. Mary holds up the book to show the front cover. The book is called 'The Dynamics of Combustion' and its author is M. L. Holmes.
"Did you write this?" Mary asked, looking at Mrs Holmes.
"Oh, that silly old thing. You mustn't read that. Mathematics must seem terribly fatuous now!" Mrs Holmes said, turning to her husband, who is now gazing into space and humming quietly to himself, before walking towards him. "Now, no humming, you!" She pats his backside affectionately. Mary, taking another drink of her tea, smiles fondly at her as she leaves the room and closes the door.
Mr Holmes smiles at Mary and I, "Complete flake, my wife, but happens to be a genius."
"She was a mathematician?" Mary asked.
"Gave it all up for children." Mr Holmes said, as Mary smiles and sips from her mug again. "I could never bear to argue with her. I'm something of a moron myself. But she's …" He glances away briefly, then looks back to Mary and I and leans closer to her, smiling. "... unbelievably hot!"
"Oh my God. You're the sane one, aren't you?!" Mary exclaimed, giggling.
"Aren't you?!" Mr Holmes exclaimed, raising his eyebrows at Mary.
"Between me and Mary, I'm more sane than she is." I said, and Mary lowered her eyes, trying to keep her smile steady, and then she drank again. "At least I play video games and travel. Along with eating anything sweet or fast food."
"That is true." Mary said, while the door to the sitting room opens and John comes in, glancing briefly at her and I and then looking across to Mr Holmes, who turns to him.
"Oh." John said, as Mary looks down nervously at her book and flips it open to a random page. "Sorry. I-I just, er …"
Mary keeps her head down, flicking through the book's pages. John glances towards her again.
"Oh. Er-er, do you two need a moment?" Mr Holmes asked, starting to walk towards the door, looking at John. "And do you want Jared to be the buffer between you two?"
"If you don't mind." John said.
Mr Holmes stops and looks towards Mary, who briefly raises her head and gives it a tiny shake before looking down again.
"No, of course not. I'll-I'll go and see if I can help with…" Mr Holmes said, continuing towards the door. "…something or another."
"Good luck." I said, while Mr Holmes goes out, closing the door behind him.
John and I watch him go, then the army doctor runs his hand under his nose and turns towards Mary. She looks down at her book for a few more moments, then raises her head and briefly watches as he slowly walks across the room to stand in front of the fire, facing her. Again she glances briefly towards him before turning her attention back to the book on her lap. I walked towards the door and placed my ear near the door.
Outside the closed door…
Sherlock has walked over and has taken his coat from the pegs on the wall nearby. Standing at the door, his father looks at him and points back towards the sitting room.
"Those two. They all right?" Mr Holmes asked.
"Well, you know – they've had their ups and downs. As long as Jared is there, he can help those two mend their relationship." Sherlock said, putting on his coat, glancing towards the door, then goes through another nearby door.
Narrow corridor in the house in Leinster Gardens…
Mary and John are still standing facing each other several feet apart. Now Sherlock turns away behind Mary.
"Baker Street. Now." Sherlock said, quietly.
"Let's go, you two." I said, while Sherlock and I walked away but Mary continues to stare at her husband, her face anguished.
After a moment John walks forward, his eyes fixed on Mary and his teeth slightly bared. He keeps going and walks past her. She draws in a sharp breath, apparently fighting off tears.
221B Baker Street…
Later, John opens the door of the living room at 221B and walks in, sighing quietly. Mary follows him more slowly up the stairs, with Sherlock behind her. John takes off his jacket and drops it onto the dining table. Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen but now hurries towards him worriedly.
"John." Mrs Hudson said, as Mary walks through the door, Sherlock slowly following up the stairs with his head lowered and bracing himself on the bannister and I follow Sherlock up the stairs, wearing my sling bag. "Mary!"
Mary gives Mrs Hudson a small smile and walks towards the fireplace while John stands by the dining table with his hands on his hips. Sherlock hobbles to the doorway and stops there, bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the open door. I walked up the stairs to the doorway and grabbed Sherlock's arm to stop him from falling.
"Oh, Sherlock! Oh, good gracious, you look terrible." Mrs Hudson said, looking shocked.
"Mrs Hudson, Sherlock needs morphine. His personal supply ran out. There sound be some in the kitchen." I said, sadly.
"I don't have any morphine!" Mrs Hudson yelled.
"Then what exactly is the point of you?" Sherlock asked, angrily.
Mrs Hudson presses her lips together for a moment, then looks round at Sherlock, John, Mary, and I, "What is going on?"
"Bloody good question." John said, scoffing.
"The Watsons are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I hope, because we've got work to do." Sherlock said, looking at John.
"Oh, I have a better question." John said, pacing towards Mary, looking angrily into her face. "Is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"
At the door, Sherlock's eyes lift upwards as if he's thinking.
"Yes." Sherlock said, after a moment.
Mary and I give a tiny nod of agreement, with the former assassin pursing her lips.
"Good that we've settled that. Anyway, we …" Sherlock said.
"SHUT UP!" John yelled, turning towards Sherlock furiously.
Mrs Hudson jumps at the loudness of John's cry and puts one hand to her mouth, "Oh!"
"And stay shut up, because this is not funny." John said, looking at Sherlock at a more normal volume, giving him an angry humourless smile. "Not this time."
"I didn't say it was funny." Sherlock said.
John turns his head to look at Mary.
"You." John said, turning to face Mary, and when he speaks, his voice and his face are full of barely-controlled anger and he frequently breathes heavily throughout his next words. "What have I ever done ... hmm? ... my whole life ... to deserve you?"
"Everything." Sherlock said, now leaning against the right-hand door post.
"Sherlock, I've told you …" John said, in the same tone as he turns to face Sherlock, before walking towards him. "... shut up. Jared knows how to shut up, unlike you."
"Oh, I mean it, seriously. Everything – everything you've ever done is what you did." Sherlock said, quietly.
"Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine." John said, very softly and dangerously.
"You were a doctor who went to war." Sherlock said, still softly.
John's eyes are fixed on Sherlock and he is breathing rapidly and deeply.
"You're a man who couldn't stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie." Sherlock said, a little louder but still quieter than I'm used to hearing him speak. "One of your best friends is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high." He pauses for a moment. "That's me, by the way." Sherlock raises his left hand and waves at him. "Hello." He points towards me. "And your other best friend is a journalist that sees all of time and space with a madman in a box. He also goes to a fairytale world to hang out with fairy tales and have adventures." Sherlock points towards Mrs Hudson. "Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel."
"It was my husband's cartel. I was just typing." Mrs Hudson said.
"And exotic dancing." Sherlock said, looking at Mrs Hudson.
"Sherlock Holmes, if you've been YouTube-ing …"
"John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle." Sherlock said, louder, talking over Mrs Hudson. "You're abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people like Jared is…" His voice becomes quieter again. "... so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you've fallen in love with conforms to that pattern?"
"For me, I fell in love with a woman that also conforms to this pattern." I said, while grabbing the handle of my sling bag. "Her name is Clara Oswald and she's a teacher. I love her and she's going to meet a man called Danny Pink soon. And it is going to break my heart."
John grimaces briefly and then, with his eyes still fixed on Sherlock as I walk over to Sherlock to stand next to the consulting detective, he points towards his wife at the other side of the room.
"But she wasn't supposed to be like that." John said, his voice full of tears. "Mary wasn't supposed to be like that." Mrs Hudson looks across to Mary in shock and the former assassin lowers her head, causing John to look at Sherlock and I, pointing again across the room, his voice a little stronger. "Why is she like that?"
Sherlock looks away towards me for several seconds and then turns to look directly into John's eyes, "Because you chose her, John."
"Like how I chose Clara." I said, while John stares back at Sherlock and I, his face unreadable. "I chose Clara knowing the consequences of her having Danny Pink. And well, her being heartbroken after Danny dies."
Sherlock and I hold our gaze. Finally John turns away, speaking conversationally.
"Why is everything …" John said, walking towards the dining table, holding up a questioning hand and shrugging. "... always …" His voice raises to a loud shout. "... MY FAULT?!"
John furiously kicks the small table beside Sherlock's chair across the floor. Mrs Hudson jumps and flails. Even Sherlock and I jump a little, but Mary remains still.
"Oh, the neighbours!" Mrs Hudson said, hurries away.
John turns to face Mary again, breathing heavily.
"John, listen." Sherlock said, still in a quiet voice. "Be calm and answer us." He spoke slowly, precisely. "What is she?"
"My lying wife?" John asked, his gaze fixed on Mary, though he blinks repeatedly.
"Nope. What is she?" I asked, still clutching the handle of my sling bag tightly.
"And the woman who's carrying my child who has lied to me since the day I met her?" John asked, still looking at Mary.
Mary gazes back at John.
"No. Not in this flat; not in this room. Right here, right now, what is she?" Sherlock asked.
John has a small fixed humourless smile on his face as his eyes remain locked on his wife. His head is low on his neck and he looks murderous. After a long moment he sniffs deeply and harshly.
"Okay." John said, turning briefly towards Sherlock and then back to Mary and the army doctor looked over his shoulder towards Sherlock. "Your way." He looks at Mary for another second, then half-turns to Sherlock and I. "Always your way, Sherlock. And Jared, I can't believe you're doing Sherlock's way. You were supposed to be doing things your own way."
"I'm sorry, John. I wished I could have done things my way." I said, as Sherlock and I lower our heads and look away. "But I have to do things Sherlock's way. This has to happen. This needs to happen."
"Okay. If your foreknowledge says this needs to happen, then it needs to happen." John said, turning, clearing his throat, then picking up one of the dining chairs and putting it down facing the two armchairs and the fireplace and he looked at Mary. "Sit."
"Why?" Mary asked.
"Because that's where they sit." John said, in a tight, angry whisper, leaning towards her while pointing down to the dining chair, straightening up, still speaking in the same tight voice but a little louder. "... the people who come in here with their stories. Th-the clients – that's all you are now, Mary. You're a client. This is where you sit and talk …" He gestures towards the armchairs. "... and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not."
Sniffing, John walks over to his chair and sits down, clearing his throat and adjusting the cushion behind his back. After a moment, Sherlock walks forward and crosses the room. Pausing briefly in front of Mary to meet her eyes and give her a tiny nod, he turns and sits down in his own chair. Mary watches him as he sits, then looks across to John, who has slumped back into his chair and is not meeting her eyes, then she slowly walks in between them and turns round to sit down on the dining chair, putting her shoulder bag onto the floor beside her.
"I'm sorry, Mary." I said, walking over to the couch and sat there, not wanting to look at Mary's face, knowing that this is going to be a long night. "I truly am."
"I know." Mary said, adjusting her coat around her, dusts off the tops of her legs, tugs the lower part of her trousers down a little on both legs, then turns her head to John as he looks back at her.
THE PRESENT…
In the sitting room of the Holmes' cottage, Mary looks up from her book when John speaks.
"So, are you okay?" John asked.
"Oh! Are we doing conversation today? It really is Christmas!" Mary said, rather sarcastically.
John reaches into the pocket of his trousers and takes out something. He shows her what he's holding. It is a large silver-coloured pen drive with a circular link at one end for attaching it to a key ring. Written in black felt-tip pen on one side are the initials 'A.G.R.A'. The writing is somewhat faded. Mary closes the book and lets out a brief exasperated sound.
"Now?" Mary asked, as John nods and tilts the drive round to look at the letters on it. "Seriously? Months of silence and we're gonna do this …" She nods towards the drive. "... now?"
John lowers the drive to his side, slowly rolling it round in his fingers. I am still sipping on my hot chocolate, knowing what to expect later on during Christmas.
221B IN THE PAST…
Sitting on the dining chair in front of Sherlock and John, as I am sitting on the couch behind the former assassin, Mary puts what looks like the same pen drive onto the table at the side of John's chair, then withdraws her hand. Sherlock, his face in a grimace as if he is in pain, zooms in on the drive and the letters written on the side of it, although they appear much darker than they will be in the future.
"'A.G.R.A.' What's that?" Sherlock asked.
Mary looks from Sherlock to John and clears her throat, "Er ... my initials."
John grimaces and looks away. Sherlock looks down, then glances towards him.
"Everything about who I was is on there." Mary said, looking directly at John. "If you love me, don't read it in front of me."
"Why?" John asked, lifting the hand nearest to the table in a shrug.
"Because you won't love me when you've finished …" Mary said, apparently trying to hold back tears as John held her gaze. "... and I don't want to see that happen."
Mary looks down. With a loud sigh John snatches the drive from the table, looks briefly across to Sherlock and then shoves the drive into his left trouser pocket. Sniffing, he pulls himself into a higher sitting position on his chair.
Mary looks across to Sherlock, "Sherlock? How much d'you know already? I already know Jared knows everything about me due to his foreknowledge."
"By your skill set, you are…" Sherlock said, still speaking more quietly than I'm used to. "…or were – an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. You're on the run from something; you've used your skills to disappear; …" John shakes his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "... Magnussen knows your secret, which is why you were going to kill him; and I assume you befriended Janine …" He grimaces, shifting uncomfortably on his chair. "... in order to get close to him."
"Oh – you can talk!" Mary said, angrily.
"That's pretty much the gist of it so far. I can't go any further because it's spoilers." I said, while John smiled at Mary.
"Ohhh. Look at you three." John said, not raising his hands from the arms of his chair, he points his index fingers at Sherlock, Mary, and I. "Sherlock, Jared, one of you should have got married to Mary."
Mary turns to look at John, and Sherlock and I blink a couple of times, "The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life."
"So you were just gonna kill him." John said, scoffing.
"People like Magnussen should be killed. That's why there are people like me." Mary said, frowning.
"Perfect! So that's what you were? An assassin?" John asked, lifting his left hand and gently punching the arm of the chair and he looked towards Sherlock and I. "How could I not see that?"
John turns back towards Mary.
"You did see that." Mary said, and John's humourless and slightly murderous smile is back on his face, causing the former assassin to pause for a moment. "... and you married me." She pauses again, then tilts her head towards Sherlock and I. "Because they're right." Sherlock looks down a little, unusually not looking pleased about being correct, and she spoke softly, to John. "It's what you like. And what you like, John, it's very similar to what Jared likes. Hence why you two got along so easily."
John looks back at Mary stony-faced. She holds his gaze for a moment, then lowers her eyes.
"So ... Mary …" Sherlock said, grimacing again. "... any documents that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want …" He grimaces yet again, his voice tight as if with physical pain. "... extracted and returned."
"Why would the both of you help me?" Mary asked, looking between Sherlock and I.
"Because ... you saved my life."
"And because you trusted me enough to not spill the beans and tell them too early. Until it's time and when you are ready." I said, letting out a sigh. "I kept on reassuring you, Mary. This past year. Because to be honest with you, I'm terrified of Jim Moriarty and I trust you. I wanted to give you the chance, Mary. I know the person you would become after meeting John Hamish Watson."
"I know." Mary said, showing me a small smile. "And thank you for giving me the chance and trusting me."
"Don't mention it." I said, happily.
"Sor-sorry, what?" John asked.
"When I happened on you and Magnussen …" Sherlock said, looking at Mary, before taking a couple of noisy, strained breaths, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair. "... you had a problem." I looked down across the floor of the living room towards the door. "More specifically, you had a witness."
Near the door, Sherlock's familiar shadow drifts across the floor.
(Open POV)
Magnussen's private penthouse flat…
In the past, Sherlock looks carefully through the gap in the door to Magnusson's penthouse living room and sees Magnussen kneeling on the floor with his head lowered and his hands raised while the black-clad assassin points a pistol at him.
"What do you do now?" Magnussen asked, as a voiceover.
The scene fast-forwards to Mary standing facing Sherlock, pointing her pistol at him while, behind her, Magnussen is reaching to his left where his phone is lying on the floor.
"Kill us both?" Magnussen asked, as a voiceover.
Mary pulls the trigger and in slow-motion the bullet flies out of the end of the gun.
"The solution, of course, was simple. Kill us both and leave." Sherlock said, as a voiceover.
In this version of events, Mary wasn't aiming at Sherlock's chest and the bullet went straight into the centre of his forehead. His eyes close and his mouth flies open and he starts to fall backwards. Before he even reaches the floor, Mary rapidly turns towards Magnussen, who is still straightening up at the sound of the shot. She shoots him in the head. In slow-motion, both he and Sherlock fall to the floor.
221B in the present…
"However, sentiment got the better of you." Sherlock said.
Magnusson's flat…
In the past, the preceding scene goes into reverse and Magnussen lifts off the floor and back onto his knees, the bullet goes back into the gun and Mary reverse-turns towards Sherlock, who is still on his feet.
"One precisely-calculated shot to incapacitate me …" Sherlock said, as a voiceover.
Mary fires at him and Sherlock – this time shot in the chest – starts to fall backwards.
"... in the hope that it would buy you more time to negotiate my silence." Sherlock said, as a voiceover.
Before Sherlock hits the floor, Mary is already turning towards Magnussen.
221B…
In the present, Jared is squeezing the strap of his sling bag.
"Of course, you couldn't shoot Magnussen." Sherlock said, looking towards John and I. "On the night that the three of us broke into the building, your own husband would become a suspect, so …"
Magnusson's flat…
In the past, Mary viciously lashes the end of her pistol across Magnusson's face. His glasses fly off his face and in ultra-slow motion he starts to fall.
221B…
"... you calculated …" Sherlock said, now taking a painful breath every few words. "…that Magnussen ... would use the fact of your involvement rather than sharing the information with the police ... as is his M.O."
Magnusson's flat…
In the past, Mary walks in slow motion towards the open door of Magnusson's flat.
(Jared's POV)
221B…
"... and then you left the way you came." Sherlock said.
"I could have interfered, but then it would have been more difficult for Mary to get herself out of that one." I said, when Mary's gaze is lowered but now she raises it to Sherlock and I. "Hence why Sherlock asked me to stay with John and Janine downstairs."
John is looking towards Sherlock and I with a grim expression on his face, then turns his eyes towards his wife.
"Have I missed anything?" Sherlock asked, looking at Mary.
"How did she save your life?" John asked.
"She phoned the ambulance."
"I phoned the ambulance." John said.
"She phoned first." I said, frowning. "I knew she would phone first, John. That's why you didn't see me take out my phone."
(Open POV)
Magnusson's flat…
In the past, Mary viciously lashes the end of her pistol across Magnusson's face and then immediately bends to pick up his phone from the floor. Even as she straightens up, there is three beeps as she types on it, not even looking at it. The number comes up on her screen in red:
999 EMERGENCY
"Emergency. Which service do you require?" The operator asked, over the phone.
Approaching sirens can be heard.
(Jared's POV)
221B…
Sherlock, John, Mary, and I are still there in the present.
"You and Jared didn't find me for another five minutes. Left to the two of you, I would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is …" Sherlock said, looking at John and I.
"Quicker than one in the United States." I said, while Sherlock lifts his left hand and looks at his watch as the clatter of feet can be heard on the stairs. "It would take nine minutes. But in London, it's…"
Two paramedics ran into the room.
"Did somebody call an ambulance?" A paramedic asked.
John stands up, looking at them in confusion.
"... eight minutes." Sherlock said, breathing heavily and with his left hand still raised in front of him, he looks towards the paramedics. "Did you bring any morphine? I asked on the phone."
"We were told there was a shooting." A paramedic said, looking puzzled.
"There was, last week …" Sherlock said, now holding his left wrist with his right hand, his fingers on his pulse point and he takes a sharp breath. "... but I believe I'm bleeding internally and my pulse is very erratic." He puts his hands on the arms of the chair and starts to push himself upwards. "You may need to restart my heart on the way."
Sherlock's voice jolts on the word 'heart' and his knees buckle. John, Mary, and I hurry forward and the three of us take hold of an upper arm to support him. John and I are on Sherlock's left while Mary is on Sherlock's right. The paramedics ran towards us.
"Come on, Sherlock. Come on, Sherlock." John said, as Sherlock groans and grabs at him, clinging to his shoulder.
Mary and I stepped back out of the way of the paramedics.
"John? Jared?" Sherlock asked, and the paramedics put their bags down on the floor near him and took hold of him, supporting his weight, but he ignored them and stared intensely at John and I. "John, Jared…Magnussen is all that matters now."
"I know. He's scary." I said, squeezing the strap of my sling bag. "Moriaty's terrifying."
"And John, you can trust Mary. She saved my life." Sherlock said, looking at John.
"She shot you." John said, quietly.
Sherlock pulls a face, half-nodding his agreement.
"Er, mixed messages, I grant you." Sherlock said, grimacing, crying out in pain, and started to fall.
John and the paramedics start to lower Sherlock to the floor.
"Sherlock? Sherlock." John said, looking at the paramedics. "All right, take him." Sherlock cries out again and the army doctor releases him, watching the paramedics. "Got him?"
They lay Sherlock down as he groans and whimpers. John and I straighten and look down in concern as one of the paramedics gets out an oxygen mask. While they continue working, John looks across to Mary, breathing heavily and with his teeth slightly bared.