A/N: This is the sequel to Far From Over. If you haven't read it you might want to first. It was my first story so please be gentle. There's a lot I would change. There are some things I wrote for that first story I really like and there are some things that make me cringe, but as that is the past I shall now move on.

Now saying that here's why I am publishing this:

This has been sitting on my desktop since August. I was reading through my writing file and came across it. I have over 7000 words written so I thought I'd throw it out there and see what happens. I think I didn't pursue it because my writing took a different direction, but there some great lines in this first chapter that I'd hate to see disappear. Also I like my Mary and she is feeling neglected.

First bit is some background information to help catch you up from the first story. So here goes.

Don't own. That pleasure belongs to BBC, Doyle, Gatiss and Moffatt.

The story takes place the January after the events in Far From Over.

Kill All Assassins

Chapter 1. Like a Bad Penny

Mrs. Hudson was visiting Mrs. Turner. It was the first time since Christmas they'd had a chance to have a proper sit down. After both were supplied with a cup of tea and some of Martha's homemade biscuits, Mrs. Turner asked Mrs. Hudson how things were going with all the carrying on at 221B Baker Street, with people being dead and coming back to life and a mysterious woman from foreign parts showing up. Mrs. Hudson said don't be ridiculous Mary wasn't all that foreign. She was Canadian after all and that was almost as good as being British, but with an accent.

Poor Mrs. Turner really did not get a word in edgewise after that.

Mrs. Hudson started telling Mrs. Turner all about everything, because they really hadn't had time for a proper chat and she had to start all the way back to four months ago when her doorbell had rung and there standing at the back door were both her boys. Mrs. Hudson had not been terribly worried about John for the six months previous because she had believed him to be living in Canada with a friend. She hadn't heard from him, but it was okay because she had hoped that he might be happy and it was good for him to get away from all the sadness here in London. And besides did she know anyone who keeps in touch with former landladies? She had almost fainted when she had seen who was with him. She had been terribly upset and angry with him, Lord knows there was no one on earth who could make her as angry as Sherlock Holmes. Coming back to life like that. He'd be the death of her if he kept up with his silliness and nonsense. After explaining how and why Sherlock had faked his own death and how John had found him again or Sherlock had found John and explaining all that they had been up to, although they had left out a good deal, even she could see that. She had forgiven them both for lying to her, because they were, after all was said and sifted her boys. And then the next day John had brought around the friend from Canada and the friend had turned out to be a lovely young woman by the name of Mary, well that was even better.

And now John and Sherlock were back to all that detective business and there had been some dangerous cases, they both looked so much better and more settled. John and Mary must be having a few ups and downs. When they had come back to London and all three of them living in the flat, she was sure Mary and Sherlock must not have got along very much, although she really didn't hear fighting between those two. It was mostly John and Sherlock that ever got into a row. Anyone could see that Mary was a quiet person, just like herself and probably didn't condone with all this violence and up all hours of the night business. Did Mrs. Turner know that Mary taught martial arts? She was quite good apparently, but she liked working with the little ones. You know now that she had a job, it would only be a matter of time before Mary ended up moving. And with John out all hours following after Sherlock and working shifts at the surgery, well he was just going to make himself sick and she sincerely hoped that those two young people, John and Mary that is and not John and Sherlock, although there was a time, well she surely hoped that John was going to settle down with that Mary girl because anyone could see they were just right for each other. But of course that would leave Sherlock without anyone and that did worry her because really John seemed to be the only one who could keep him in line and make him behave halfway decent.

And then Mrs. Hudson had to leave to go get something on for tea because look at the time. Who would have thought the afternoon could have gone by so fast. The next time she saw Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Turner would have to let her know everything that was new with her married ones, but there simply wasn't time right now.

After Mrs. Hudson left, Mrs. Turner had to go and have a lie down, because she felt a headache coming on.

oOo

Next Morning

Sherlock Holmes was sitting at the table in the front room at 221B Baker Street reading the newspaper. He had actually been reading several, as there was a small pile on the floor beside his chair. He was dressed in his usually attire of designer trousers, form fitting shirt, and expensive leather shoes. The addition of a housecoat made it appear as if he were taking breakfast at a grand manor rather than a Bohemian style flat in central London. He'd been sitting there for 20 minutes precisely, when he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs from the bedroom above.

His best friend, colleague and flatmate, John Watson came into the room, whistling. Sherlock noted there was a rather jaunty air about him. He narrowed his eyes as he rather quickly deduced the reason for John's demeanor.

Sherlock turned back to the paper he was reading. He drawled out in a bored tone, "Last night and this morning. Well done. Didn't think you had it in you. You are getting older. I'm sure Mary's happy you can…"

"Stop right there. Keep it in your head," John said firmly, but with out rancor or breaking stride as he went into the kitchen to make some toast and coffee.

Mary came down a few minutes later, as she was wrapping a green and blue bead necklace around her right wrist. She took one look at Sherlock as he opened his mouth and said "One word and I'll hide your microscope for a week." He closed his mouth with an audible snap. She walked into the kitchen to give John a hand. She would hide his microscope too. She'd done it the last time he had commented on their relationship. She'd hid it so well, John had been forced to intervene. A manic and annoyed Sherlock was not conducive for a peaceful existence. John decided that Mary had been right when she had described her relationship with Sherlock as that of siblings. She'd actually said that she regarded Sherlock as an annoying, older brother. The way they treated each other was certainly similar to the way he and Harry got on, at least the way they got on when they were teenagers. He'd hoped that Mary would be the mature one in their relationship, but he'd discovered somewhat to his dismay and occasionally to his sense of humour, that she gave as good as she got.

Sherlock said nothing about Mary's comment, but there may have been a slight smirk playing about his lips.

Mary came back into the room a few minutes later holding two mugs and balancing a plate with toast on top of one. She set the mugs down on the table and removed the plate from the top of the mug. She then reached over and set a mug in front of Sherlock before sitting across the table from him. Sherlock didn't say anything, he just continued reading his paper.

Mary took a sip from her mug and looked pointedly at Sherlock. When he still continued to read in silence she spoke up.

"The words you're searching for are 'thank you'."

Sherlock folded the edge of the paper down glanced at her, down at the mug and back at Mary.

He paused, "Thank you," in the same bored tone. He continued to read as if there had been no interruption.

"Your welcome," she said pleasantly as she reached down and pulled a paper off of the floor.

John came in at that moment with a mug and two plates of toast, one of which was balanced on his arm, like a waiter. He also set everything down before he placed a plate beside Sherlock's right elbow.

Mary pointedly cleared her throat.

Without looking this time, the words, "Thank you, John," came out of his mouth in a slightly less bored tone than he had used with Mary.

John smiled, "You're welcome," having witnessed a similar turn of events almost every morning since Mary had been living with them. It was really very nice to have back up once in a while.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, quietly munching, sipping and ruffling pages. Mary glanced at her watch.

"Car will be here soon."

Sherlock glanced up from his paper, narrowed his eyes and took a closer look at Mary. Normally he didn't bother.

Black dress trousers

White blouse, with lace collar

Black cashmere cardigan

The earrings John gave her for Christmas

Gold necklace, gift from her father for 16th birthday

Not her usual casual attire

He threw down the newspaper in a bit of a snit.

"Mycroft," he hrumped.

"He said he had something he wished to speak with me about. He arranged a meeting for this morning. I am hoping he's not going to try to offer me a job again. It's a bit tedious having to turn him down all the time."

"It's rather nice that he doesn't kidnap you," said John a tad wistfully.

Mary just smiled at him. Mycroft, for all his faults, had old world manners. In some things he was a gentleman when it came to how he treated of women. Not that he'd always given her that consideration.

Sherlock huffed and muttered something under his breath as he snapped his paper.

"I'm not planning on joining the dark side," she addressed Sherlock.

John chuckled quietly.

Sherlock looked up at Mary, confusion evident on his face. She wished she had her camera.

"Ah," he finally said "cultural reference."

"Star Wars," quipped John looking up from the sports section.

"That inane space movie you forced me to watch."

John smirked, "I thought what Mary said was funny. Imagine Mycroft as the Emperor."

"You realize that means you and Sherlock are with the Rebel Alliance, you know."

"What does that make you?" he asked

"Oh, you know," she said. "I'll be the former assassin who everyone thinks is working for the Empire, but turns out to be a rebel spy."

"I love you," he said.

She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling, before returning to her paper. "I'm actually more into Star Trek. Can't wait for the new movie in the spring. The guy who's playing the villain is hot." John choked on his coffee. She ignored him.

She glanced up at Sherlock. "You know, if you ever got those emotions under control you'd make a good Spock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes not at all interested in getting caught up in any more asinine and childish comments. His emotions were always perfectly in control.

He did however say, "I'm so glad I do not waste my time and clutter my brain with useless movie trivia."

"Could be worse," she said as she raised her coffee mug to take a sip. "I could inundate you with Canadian trivia, you know hockey scores, types of beer, national symbols. I have lots of that," she glanced out the window and put her mug down. "Oops. Gotta scoot." She smiled at John, leaned over and gave him a very deep kiss.

"I'll see you later? After your shift?" she asked.

"Hmmm, yeah I think so. As long as nothing comes up," he said with a nod in Sherlock's direction. "Call me later? Let me know how you get on?" A thin line of worry creased his forehead. He was wondering what on earth Mycroft could possibly want from her. In the past it hadn't necessarily been good for her health. Mary and Mycroft did not have the best of relationships. She lifted up her hand and gently rubbed the crease, as she tried to take the worry away.

"I'll be fine," she said reassuringly. "I'm not working today. I'm going to spend some time with Mrs. Hudson, afterwards."

She grabbed her purse and put her coat on as she headed out the door, whistling The Imperial March from Star Wars as she left.

John, feeling slightly less anxious, chuckled quietly, as he picked up the dishes off the table and took them into the kitchen. He came out soon after.

"Well I'm off to the surgery. Should be home by five."

"Hmmm? Yes," said Sherlock, not really listening.

oOo

As Mary came out of 221, a sleek black car was waiting for her. The driver got out and came around to open the door for her. She climbed in and sat back against the soft, warm leather. Even though she had been joking with John and Sherlock, she was pensive and wondered what Mycroft could possibly want from her. He seemed to have finally accepted that she was not interested in working for him. She didn't entirely trust him given the events of last year.

She stayed deep in thought for most of the ride, only to come back to her surroundings as they pulled up to the building where Mycroft Holmes' had his public office.

The receptionist at the front desk directed her and she arrived at his office. His personal secretary offered to take her coat from her and showed her to a chair. The secretary informed via the phone on her desk that Ms. Morstan had arrived. Mary waited quietly, trying not to jiggle her leg, something she sometimes did when she was nervous.

The door to Mycroft's office opened.

"Ah, Ms. Morstan, so lovely to see you again," he ushered her in. He asked his secretary to bring in tea for the two of them and directed her to a chair, not in front of his desk but off to the side where there was a small grouping of two chairs and a coffee table in front of a fire. He joined her by taking the other chair.

They made small talk, discussing the occupants of 221B without going into details. He asked her how she was settling and was she enjoying her life in London. She knew he was trying to make her more at ease before he got to the point, but she found that it was actually making her intuition kick in and she was becoming tense. This was no ordinary meeting.

The secretary came in with a tray, which she set on the table between the two of them. Mycroft offered to pour the tea and handed her a cup, clear, 1 sugar.

She accepted with thanks and quietly sipped her tea wondering when Mycroft was going to get to the point.

He sat looking at her with steepled fingers, before he slowly reached over and pulled a manila folder off of the table.

She set her cup down and took the folder from him. Inside was a photograph, taken from CCTV footage enlarged, of a man in his early thirties, dark hair, handsome, of Western European descent.

She looked carefully at the photo and felt the colour drain from her face. She glanced back at Mycroft.

"When and where?" she asked, pleased that her voice was steady.

"Two days ago, near Queen's Gate and Prince Consort Road. Outside the Bulgarian Embassy in fact, although we have no way of knowing if that is why he was there. We were able to track his movements for about a half an hour before and after the time stamp on the camera and then he disappears. We have not picked him up on any cameras since. I have discreetly sent his photograph around to various law enforcement agencies with the understanding that he is to be regarded as highly dangerous."

Mary looked up from the picture, although she had a hard time drawing her eyes away from it.

"But how is that possible? He's been dead for almost six years," her voice shook a little.

Mycroft frowned and there was actually a hint of worry in his eyes. "That we do not know."

To say she was not reassured would be an understatement.

oOo

After Mary left he asked for Anthea to come in. She entered, Blackberry in hand.

"I would like you to personally continue to oversee the distribution of security around my brother and Dr. Watson, Ms. Morstan, Detective Inspector Lestrade and I think we shall add Mrs. Hudson as well while we are at it. Check to make sure everything is in place and then you are to follow Mary personally."

Anthea looked at him. For the first time in all the years she had worked for him he was assigning her to someone other than himself. He must be far more worried than he appeared.

He wasn't finished speaking. "They are not to know that I am this concerned."

She nodded and left to make her preparations. He sat back in the chair by the fire. He hadn't felt like this since the day his baby brother had to leave and go off into the world to hunt monsters.