So this fic is set around the end of Season 3 and incorporates what happened in the Christmas Special and I really, really hope you guys enjoy it. The idea at the heart of this story has been swilling around in my head for a while and I have to thank Lilsherlockian1975 for her patient encouragement and support in making me keep going with this fic.

One little thing though - I want to make it clear that whilst this fic looks into Mary's motives and back story and questions whether she meant to kill Sherlock when she shot him I am in no way a Mary hater and this fic will not be a Mary hate fic. I just wanted to be clear on that.

Hold on tight because it's a long and bumpy ride but hopefully a lot of fun too!

Chapter 1

Sherlock had lied to John and the potential repercussions and the guilt were eating him up. It was a sign of how much he respected John that this decision was causing him so much angst. This kind of secret had never given him pause for thought before, including when he had faked his own death.

He let his hand rub over his face as he remembered just how upset and angry John had been about THAT deception. He'd almost broken his nose and he HAD split his lip.

The trouble was there was no other way around it. Sherlock had gone over and over all the possible permutations in his head and it all came down to one answer; John couldn't know, at least not yet.

What is it they say; keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Well that was exactly what he was doing. And it wasn't just for his sake; it was for John's and for John's baby. He had to find a solution to this problem and he would but he needed help. He'd been working this problem round in his own head for too long. He needed some outside perspective on it, which was more than the skull on his mantelpiece could offer.

He thought through all his options knowing they were already painfully limited. Mrs Hudson hadn't even entered into the equation and Lestrade was out as he would feel obliged to arrest her for shooting him.

That just left Mycroft or Molly.

His natural instinct was with Mycroft but when he went to make the call he found himself hesitating. This case involved more than just himself. It involved John and John's feelings, and emotions were an area that neither Mycroft nor himself were particularly experienced in. So that just left Molly.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It had been a while since he had last seen Molly. He remembered back to when he had woken up in his hospital bed a week after being re-admitted following the showdown with Mary to find that Molly had visited him during the night and fallen asleep.

Her head had been lying on his hand, which she was still holding in hers. He could feel her damp tears drying on his skin.

He'd looked down at her peaceful expression and wondered why he didn't feel repulsed by her overt display of affection. He had no doubts that she hadn't meant to fall asleep and he'd found himself trying to work out how many times she had probably visited him before and why she was choosing to do it whilst he was unlikely to be conscious.

It hadn't been a hard deduction for him to make; even with all the morphine running through his veins dulling both his brain as well as his nervous system. She was visiting him at night because she didn't want to talk to him... but she still cared. She still needed to see that he was alive and recovering. She didn't want to talk to him because she was still angry about him taking drugs and she was no doubt hurt about his "affair" with Janine.

He may no longer use her feelings for him as a manipulation tool but that didn't mean they had diminished or that he was any less aware of them.

Molly Hooper loved him. He had no idea why she did, he certainly didn't deserve it. She was a far better person than he would ever be. When he had realised that she was engaged, he had hoped she had found someone who would love her as she deserved to be loved, treat her as she deserved to be treated but it had quickly become apparent that Tom was an idiot and Molly would never have been able to marry an idiot. I wouldn't have let her he thought to himself...and then frowned. Would he really have intervened to that extent in Molly's life? The answer came quickly and emphatically. Yes, yes he would have. He cared too much for her to see her unhappy in love.

He thought back again to that night in the hospital, recalling how she had shifted in her sleep; licking her lips and rubbing her cheek against his hand before sighing happily. He had found himself holding his breath, not wanting to wake her. He hadn't wanted to lose this contact with her. Instead he'd found himself lifting his other hand and reaching over, needing to see if her hair felt as soft as it looked. But before he'd been able to touch it she had opened her eyes, blinking once or twice before focusing on his face.

When she had seen that he was awake she had sat bolt upright in her chair, her hand going to her mouth to check she hadn't done anything as embarrassing as dribbling on him.

He had wanted to say something to her but he hadn't been quite sure what but before he could formulate anything she had glanced at her watch and pushed to her feet. 'I..err..I'm glad you're doing OK, Sherlock. I should go though, my shift starts soon. I...well, goodbye.'

She had been out of the door and gone even as her name had fallen from his lips and his hand had reached for her.

It hadn't been a conscious decision on his half not to see her after that. It had been all but taken out of his hands. A couple of days later and he was well enough to be released albeit under supervision and even though his preference would have been Baker St with John, his brother and parents had decided differently. So instead he had been forced to go to his parent's cottage where his mother could fuss over him to her heart's content.

It had been there that he had really thought through the problem of Mary Watson.

He had been forced to expose her to John; not that he'd ever felt encouraged to keep it from him. She was dangerous and whilst she hadn't shot to kill outright she also hadn't shot to not kill him.

He'd told John, in her presence, that she had definitely not meant to kill him but at best she'd not cared either way, it had been barely fifty/fifty, not even a fighting chance at survival. It was only his own reactions based on his conversations with Molly and Mycroft in his mind palace that had saved his life...not Mary Morstan.

He needed to keep her on-side, to keep her close. Was Mary his enemy? She certainly hadn't shown herself to be his friend. Friends don't shoot each other, even Sherlock knew that and his social and interpersonal skills were terrible.

So he'd sat in an old chair, in his parent's conservatory, with a rug over his legs to keep him warm and he'd thought and thought and worried. There was something there...something he was missing but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. She was a mass of contradictions and he was struggling to know what was real and what was a lie.

He'd also watched John, on his regular visits. He had often had a cheerful smile on his face but Sherlock knew it was a mask; he could see the sad, scared soul beneath. He had been genuinely happy with Mary and completely and utterly in love. She was carrying his child, his first born and the separation from her was slowly sucking his joy for life right out of him; it made Sherlock sad to see it.

So he'd encouraged John to think about reconciling with Mary. He'd lied about her part in his shooting and he'd lied about the things he'd found out about her past, downplaying it, making it less serious. He'd called her an enforcer, a spy but not a cold-bloodied assassin. It was important for Sherlock to keep her 'in the fold' so he could work out what her end goal was. Why she had inserted herself into John's life? And she had. Whilst he was sure she loved John he was also just as sure that their meeting and their relationship was no coincidence. He didn't believe in coincidence. But who was she working for and was she still working for them? She loved John now so did that mean she was on their side now or not?

He felt his face scrunch up as he thought about John and Mary's love for each other. He would never understand other people's obsession with love and sex. It was all so puerile and distracting. How much more could the human race have achieved if it hadn't spent so much time chasing the opposite sex, or even the same sex in some cases? Though even he could see the irony in his argument; the human race would have died out without sex.

The only thing which gave him pause for thought was watching his own parents and their innate, all-consuming love for each other.

His mother had willingly given up a potentially brilliant career in order to settle down and raise a family with a quite ordinary man, and he in his turn had been devoted to her.

Both Mycroft and himself had been loved but they had also felt very much on the outside of this love affair and maybe being on the outside and looking in was what had made the two brothers so reluctant to be consumed by love themselves. They didn't want to lose themselves to its force. But he had to admit that their companionship was something he had missed. They had each other; for conversation, for company and no doubt for sex.

Since he had returned from his mission, rooting out Moriary's web he had been unable to fully resume his companionship with John because of Mary. She was always between them now. At first it hadn't seemed too bad because he liked her; she was good for John and she seemed to understand their friendship and need for each other. But now...his trust in her was gone. Wiped out in a split second decision and the pull of a trigger and he didn't know if they could ever fully get their friendship back.

John had proved reluctant at first but it hadn't taken long for the vision of returning to that happy place in time to work its magic and change John's mind. So Mary had been invited for Christmas Day. His mother had been more than happy to play match maker for the untwined lovers though Sherlock knew she would never have had Mary under her roof if she had known it was she who had shot her youngest son.

He had also spent his recovery time plotting against Charles Magnussen. Again Mary was the lynch pin to this and as long as Magnussen had evidence of her past he could exert undue influence over John and likewise himself. His plans though, had only worked in part.

John had reconciled with Mary and Sherlock knew that Mary believed he and John had forgiven her. She was exactly where he needed her to be.

The ploy with Magnussen, however, was a complete bust. He always missed something and this time it was humiliating and put them in a hugely dangerous position. Magnussen's knowledge was all in his head; there never was and never had been a vault.

The outcome had been another bullet; this time fatal but this time fired by Sherlock.

The risk had paid off eventually but not without serious repercussions and consequences for himself. The next week was to be a living nightmare.

So I'm aware that it's a lot of back ground and scene setting but first chapter in...what do you think?