Sally Donovan faced down obstructions and cut through webs of outright lies until she successfully arrived at her current location. Now she waited patiently in the sparsely furnished antechamber while the dark-haired woman with the professional, yet lethal, demeanor knocked on her boss's door on Sally's behalf.

"Yes, Anthea, what do you want?" Mycroft Holmes' voice sounded both exhausted and enraged.

Anthea entered the room, leaving the door ajar. "Sir, there is a Sergeant Sally Donovan here to see you from the Met."

Sally overheard a truly Holmesian sigh. "I really don't have time right for this right now."

"But, sir…"

"Did you not return her calls following my explicit directions to make her go away?" Mycroft's diction was becoming more clipped as his frustration was getting the best of him.

Anthea was standing where could Sally see her, and the sergeant was impressed by her confident body language in the face of Mycroft's anger. "Of course, I returned her calls following your instructions to the letter."

"Then she has wasted a trip." Then Mycroft asked. "How did she find me in any case?"

Anthea smirked. "She is a detective, sir."

Sally imagined Mycroft's eyes performing a dismissive eye-roll at Anthea's insolence. "I have nothing to add to the official investigation into my brother's shooting."

"But, Mr. Holmes…"

"Send her away!" Mycroft's voice had risen to a shout. Sally would have been able to hear him clearly even if the door had been completely closed.

Anthea pushed once more. "Mr. Holmes, if you would grant me the courtesy of allowing me to explain why I announced her presence against your expressed wishes, it would be greatly appreciated."

Sally held her breath. Mycroft's response to his assistant would reveal a lot about his character. She heard the man exhale deeply, and then he said wearily, "Please accept my apologies. I'm not at my best today."

"Completely understood, sir." Sally was gladdened to hear the warmth in Anthea's voice. The prickliness of Sherlock's personality was shared by Mycroft, as was his apparent ability to inspire loyalty in the people close to him.

"Well, then, if you have forgiven my rudeness, I'm listening."

Despite the seriousness of the message she was about to give, Anthea seemed amused. She cast a quick glance towards Sally before saying, "Sergeant Donovan says that she has some information on, and I quote, 'the woman who goes by the name of Mary Watson née Morstan'."

There was a pause, then Mycroft spoke. "Exactly those words?"

"I did say 'quote', sir." Anthea smiled towards Mycroft.

"You are dangerously close to insubordination today." A hint of fondness crept into Mycroft's tone.

"Just as you prefer, sir. Shall I let Sergeant Donovan in?"

"Yes, please. And some tea?"

"Of course."

Anthea walked back into the antechamber, but raised a hand to halt Sally's movement towards the office. "I know Mr. Holmes shares many abrasive qualities with his younger brother, whom he loves dearly. However, he is in pain today. I will put a stop to your audience in the most unpleasant of ways if you cause him more."

Sally appreciated her forthrightness and instinctively liked Anthea. She nodded. "Understood."

Anthea indicated that Sally should follow her into the office. "Sergeant Donovan, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft rose from behind his desk and met Sally to shake her hand. He waved towards the chair in front of his desk. "Please have a seat, Sergeant Donovan."

"Thank you." After Sally sat down, she said, "I'm sorry about what happened to Sherlock."

Mycroft settled back into his chair. "I've been under the impression that you are not a fan of my brother."

"I don't need to be a fan to wish this hadn't happened to him."

Mycroft inclined his head in acknowledgment of Sally's words, but did not speak.

Sally continued. "I spoke to him briefly in the hospital earlier."

"Did you?"

"I interrupted a discussion between him and Mrs. Watson. I also turned his morphine drip back down to a less lethal dosage once she left."

Mycroft startled almost imperceptibly, but Sally had been observing him closely and did not miss it. To cover his distress, Mycroft grabbed a pen on his desk. She waited for it to snap under the pressure.

"Thank you for looking after him."

"I don't pretend to be his best friend, but I don't want him dead either."

Mycroft tilted his head and looked Sally directly in the eyes. "Why don't you like Mary Watson?"

The question surprised Sally, but she took it seriously. She was a detective, and her personal feelings did not play a role in how she treated her suspects. On the other hand, Mary should not have ever been under suspicion, given her role in John's life. So what had tipped Sally off? Finally, she answered, "She's manipulative."

"How so?"

Sally did not owe the man across from her any answers, but she decided to humor him. "The very first time I met her, at a crime scene, she tried to manipulate me to get John away from Sherlock. She claimed that John did not really want to be there, but was trying not to hurt Sherlock's feelings. I don't like someone who tries to play me, especially when I'm on the job. Made me feel something was off about her."

Sally hesitated, thinking about how to phrase her next words. Mycroft impatiently prompted, "Go on."

"It felt like Mary had compiled a portfolio about me. Sally Donovan, hater of Sherlock Holmes. Push these buttons to trigger desired response. Like she had an agenda."

"How did you figure that out when the rest of us did not?"

Sally settled back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "She was acting on old intel. My feelings about Sherlock before he fell, not after I witnessed his return and how much he's changed."

"So why didn't Sherlock notice?"

"He was also acting on old intel… That she had what it would take to make John happy, not having seen who John was without Sherlock."

"And what finally solidified your conviction that Mary Watson isn't what she seems?" Mycroft's eyes narrowed, but Sally did not flinch under his scrutiny

"When I arrived at Sherlock's hospital room, she was alone with him. She kept saying that Sherlock shouldn't tell John something, using a threatening tone of voice. And yeah, the elevated morphine drip, which Sherlock confirmed she adjusted, was just the final piece."

"Hmm… It's not like her to be so sloppy."

Wait, what? "You mean you knew who she was and you still let John marry her?" Sally was appalled. This was completely unexpected.

"The woman you know as Mary Watson is well-known in the international community to be a quite capable assassin. She's a freelancer and has long been left on her own in case she might be needed for a government's use when they cannot go through official channels. However, a few years ago she dropped off the map, and we had reason to believe she was either dead or no longer active."

"Well, you were wrong."

"Obviously. But at least this way, we knew exactly where she was."

Sally did not attempt to hide her anger. "How could you risk John that way?"

"I was hoping it would keep him away from Sherlock." Mycroft did not wilt under Sally's furious gaze.

"How could you do that to the two of them?"

Mycroft placed his palms flat on the desk before him and leaned towards Sally. "You have no idea, none, of what my brother went through in his time away. And it all happened because of his feelings for John Watson. And when Sherlock came back, with delusions of a happy reunion, John stayed with that woman. He still married that woman. Do not try to tell me that they have been good for each other."

"But they have been. John was withering away without Sherlock, the few times I saw him during those years. I know Lestrade considered a suicide watch for some time. And Sherlock? You've seen how much more compassionate he's become. Any changes John wrought in Sherlock have only been for the better."

Sally observed the silent man across from her. Much like his brother, he dressed to create an impression. In this case, his grey three-piece suit with its subtle pinstripe expressed wealth and ease in his position. He wore a ring on his right hand, but displayed no family photos or anything else indicating a personal life of his own. Perhaps the man before her knew love and loss and only wanted to protect his emotionally fragile little brother.

Sally's suspicions were justified when Mycroft reclined back in his chair and sighed. "I know. I just wish John did not have the power to hurt him so much."

"Right now I'm more worried about how much Mary has hurt Sherlock. John is the only one who can help him heal." Sally took a deep breath and then voiced one of her biggest concerns. "With your brother's history and his latest apparent relapse, the reliance on pain medication…"

Mycroft cut her off. "Trust me, I already have doctors working up a plan."

"It won't work if John isn't one of those doctors."

Mycroft stared steadily at Sally. "It is quite possible that John Watson has never been more in danger in his entire life."

"Agreed."

"Because of Mary Watson's past, you'll need to pass a security clearance check in order to be involved in this investigation."

Sally rolled her eyes. "Please, your assistant probably drafted an entire file on me as soon as I left my first message for you."

"She is rather thorough." Mycroft noted approvingly, though Sally could not tell if his approval was aimed at her or Anthea. "I hope that I can count on your cooperation to help bring this matter to its appropriate resolution."

Anthea entered the room with a tray. As tea for three people was laid out on the desk, Sally wanted to make herself completely clear. "I have no regrets about the role I played leading up to your brother's disappearance. I saw inconsistencies in that kidnapping case, and I pursued them. Turns out the inconsistencies were planted by Moriarty, but they did exist. I'm a damned fine cop, and Sherlock's disregard for the rules jeopardizes our ability to make our cases stick, you know? I owe him no apologies, and we'll never be best friends. But what's happening to him and John now? That I will do anything in my power to help fix."

Mycroft glanced up at Anthea, who nodded at him. She then took a seat by the side of the desk and stirred milk into her tea. Both looked towards Sally. With his elbows on desk and chin on steepled fingers, Mycroft said, "Let's do this, shall we?"

Sally smiled.