A/N In my collaboration with Legendberry, we gave 'Anthea' some extra names for other characters to use. There's a certain unusual logic behind each and every one of them, so I decided to write up the thought processes behind them.
She was the one with no name. Well, people called her a lot of things (some more complimentary than others) but nobody knew her real name. Her parents were dead, her birth certificate had been replaced by the government, who destroyed all the old records, and she'd been given an alias.
Nobody in the government, except the man who'd thought it up, knew the alias. That's how thorough they'd been.
She got confused, sometimes, when she heard people shout out a name in the street. She always had a split-second panic: "was that one of mine…?" But then someone else would answer, and the uncertainty vanished without a trace.
Well, it vanished on the surface. Before she went to sleep every night, she chanted her name in her head, over and over, so she wouldn't forget.
Her past may have taken her family, and her career had taken her name, but she'd be damned before she forgot her own identity.
Although sometimes, for a moment, she struggled to remember which name was truly hers.
Anthea.
It was a strange name. It reminded her of that perfect housewife she's seen on TV a few years ago - all blond hair, bright smiles and false promises of domestic bliss. The first time she'd met John, she'd told him to call her Anthea because it reminded her not to let him get attached. Anthea was a name all about being stuck with someone, being someone's kept woman, being trapped in domestic routine. Anthea was everything she never wanted to become.
Eve.
A classic name, all right. The very first woman's name. She picked it for a few reasons. Firstly, she'd met Sherlock Holmes as the sun was setting, and evening was drawing in. That had sparked the idea. On reflection, it really was a good name for her - a codename for trouble, lost innocence, and temptation. Everything she thought she knew. Sherlock had probably guessed those associations the moment the word escaped her lips, but another reason the name worked was because she had forbidden knowledge - knowledge of good, evil, and political affairs hidden to almost everyone. Knowledge she shared with one man. The name suited her well.
Louise.
This one made her smile - she'd chosen it in a hurry, being introduced without any warning to a girl who worked in a morgue. Later, when she'd thought about it, she remembered an actress who played a cave-dwelling barbarian on a show she'd watched when she was a younger. That was nice; it combined her new tough-girl persona with the memory of her younger, naïve self. She enjoyed being Louise - the morgue girl was always kind and cheerful, and it rubbed off on her a bit. Sometimes her smiles were even genuine.
Raven.
The codename she used in Government circles. It had been her idea. The raven, traditionally an omen of bad luck, death, lost souls… But supposedly the preserver of the Kingdom of England, or what would probably be the UK now, in superstition. Not that she was particularly superstitious - she just liked the clash of ideas. The bird of war, or the protector of London - legend had it that a man whose name translated to Raven had his head buried in London as a talisman against invasion. She would rather protect the place by staying alive, but if dying was what it took, then so be it.
A few months ago, she'd overheard a group of kids talking about a powerful genius and his assistant, Raven. It sounded like they knew about her and Mycroft, and at first she'd panicked - what the hell had happened to the security around their existence if even children knew about them? Upon further listening, however, it became apparent that they were discussing fictional characters. She'd gone to the library and followed up on it, reading several books in the series just in case an ex-spy was trying to sneakily spread classified information, but thankfully it did seem to be mere coincidence. For one thing, she'd never used katanas.
Polly.
The alias. It did annoy her when people made parrot references, but on the whole it could have been much worse. It was at least uncommon enough to give her a sense of 'self' outside work while mundane enough to not stand out on forms and census data. Her neighbours called her Polly. At least they tried to talk to her every now and then.
Mycroft called her Raven most of the time, but if the conversation was personal, he'd use her alias instead. The first time he did, she asked him about it. He had sighed, looked at her with a sad smile, and told her that sometimes you had to be a person first - especially when you didn't want to be. Something about the way he said it made her think he knew what he was talking about, so she left it at that.
Secretly, she was glad he called her Polly sometimes. It was almost like having a friend.
Mary.
The worst possible name you could choose for someone like her, with practically no traces of youthful innocence left. Unfortunately, her mother had been rather optimistic and decided that the name would befit a good little girl. Mary wasn't sure that she counted as a good girl any more, but she argued against herself, saying that she and Mycroft were 'good guys' - a team on the side of justice. Even if sometimes they had to break the rules, they did so for the best of reasons.
She held fast to that belief, no matter what happened.
When she went to sleep, she didn't even dare whisper her own name out loud in case her house was bugged or someone overheard her. But in her head, she repeated it over and over again, because as long as she had her true name, she had her freedom.
My name is Mary Morstan. My name is Mary Morstan. My name is Mary Morstan…
So, what did you think? There are a fair few random references thrown in to this piece - why not review and see if you can find them all? Or, you know, you could always review for the sake of reviewing the work itself!
If you enjoyed this piece, why not check out some of my other stories? (Sorry, shameless self-advertising, I know. Still, you might enjoy them…)