Claire-de-la-Lune.

Just after he had gotten the correct name of the perfume he had smelled he looked up in wonder. He only remembered the smell he deemed important or if the wearer was familiar. Otherwise they are immediately deleted because they seemed unimportant to him. He was too lost in thought that he had not noticed that he had said the name out loud. Suddenly John's voice replied from where he was looking after Janine.

'Mary wears it'

Of course! Mary Watson, John's wife wears it! That's why he remembers it. But that doesn't make any sense. It can be someone else with the same perfume brand. 'No not Mary' he stated. 'Somebody else'

That is when he heard some noise from above. He looked above for a moment and then without another thought he hurried upstairs trying to make minimum noise.

'Sherlock!' John whispered loudly in hopes of stopping him, but Sherlock's already off, running across the room to the stairwell and hurrying upwards, pausing for a moment to look up the stairs before quickly continuing on.

John really did not know what he really was supposed to do. He didn't even know what he was going there. Then he glanced at the still form of Janine. The whole day was a huge question mark for him. He started his day by going to a drug den to find his neighbor also to found Sherlock undercover (that's what he says) by the name of 'Sheeza' (Sheeza? Really?). And then there was Mycroft and a drug bust and Janine. He never thought that Sherlock would be able to be in a relation. It was of utmost surprise for him. Then after that there was Sherlock talking madly about a criminal Magnussen who's house they were burglaring . Then after all that BIG turn of his HUGE Question mark, there was a final touch to the dot: the fact that Sherlock was NOT capable of love and Janine was just a key for his entry to Magnussen's house. What a day! And top of all that there was a bad feeling about something. Or someone. He just hoped that Sherlock was ok. To make complete sure, he followed Sherlock quietly to wherever he had run off to.

Up in what must be Magnussen's private penthouse flat, Sherlock walks softly along the carpeted hall towards where he can hear Magnussen talking quietly and sounding very anxious and almost tearful.

'What-what-what would your husband think, eh?… He ... your lovely husband, upright, honorable...'

Sherlock moved forward and peeped through the gap between the doors. He saw Magnussen on his knees with his hands behind his head and cowering.

'... so English. What-what would he say to you now?' Magnussen continued to mumble.

Standing in front of him, someone dressed all in black and wearing black gloves pulls back the pistol and silencer pointing at Magnussen and cocks the gun before pointing its end at him again. He cowers, whimpering and momentarily lapsing into Danish.

'Nej, nej!'

Sherlock slowly and carefully pushes the door open.

'You're-you're doing this to protect him from the truth ... but is this protection he would want?'

Sherlock moves into the room and walks a few steps to stand behind the person holding the gun at Magnussen.

'Additionally, if you're going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume, lady Smallwood.' Sherlock added.

Magnussen looked surprised. 'Sorry, who?'

The look of confusion on Magnussen's face confused him. Had he got it wrong? No that was not possible. There was less probability that he would get it wrong.

'That's not Lady Smallwood, Mr. Holmes'

That's when the women turned and Sherlock got the shock of his life – he wasn't that easy to get surprised. Standing before him, now pointing the gun at him was Mary Elisabeth Morstan. Or rather Watson. He was right when he found out the wearer of the perfume. At that moment all his deductions about the women, all that he had found about her came rushing into his mind and they all blended into one word. LIAR.

"Is John with you?" Mary enquired

Still in his shock he mumbled "hmmmm?"

"Is John with you?" Mary asked more firmly.

He nodded "He's down stairs" Mary nodded her head.

Magnussen slowly spoke "Now what? Are you going to kill the both of us?"

Still not moving her gun away from Sherlock she turned her head back and gave Magnussen a dangerous smile and turned towards Sherlock.

"Mary, whatever he's got on you, let me help." Sherlock tried to understand her and started to step towards her.

"Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you." Mary replied in a somewhat exasperated way.

Sherlock slowly smiled "No, you won't Mrs. Watson" he smiled at Mary and looked at her "You won't".

Just then he started taking a step towards Mary, he felt that everything went in slow motion. He saw Mary's finger twitching to pull the trigger and felt a short, strong body tacking his own and a loud gunshot.

John had managed to reach the stairs without making any noise. He slowly pulled his gun from his pocket and started making his way towards he could hear some mumbling. He was sure that Sherlock would be there. Slowly he moved and he hid behind the door and slowly peeped. He could see a fully black clothed figure standing with a gun pointing towards Magnussen who was on the round and Sherlock himself stand in front of the door, not have announced his presence yet. He had guessed that the black dressed woman would be lady Smallwood but when John saw the figure her body towards Sherlock he felt his mouth dry. That was not possible. How could it be his wife?. His wife who had no family or any other close relatives other than him, his sweet wife who had a normal job at the clinic, his sweet, innocent wife. What would such a big criminal like Magnussen have against his wife?

He did not register anything Sherlock and Mary were talking about. He did not even announce his presence even when Sherlock confirmed that he was downstairs. He was just too shocked to act or speak. Then suddenly he remembered why he came up in the first place: to check if Sherlock was ok.

That's when he saw it. He had spent 10 years in the army and he knew when a gun was going to set off. The last thing that registered in his mind before he tackled Sherlock and felt the piercing pain of the bullet tearing through his chest was that, that the person who pulled the trigger was his wife and that the bullet was only aimed at Sherlock.

He felt a tear slide through his cheek and everything went black.