Mary woke up and turned her alarm off exactly .24 seconds before her 4 A.M. alarm went off. She slipped both feet into her slippers and walked to slide the balcony glass doors open. Though she took notice of Johns absence she didn't acknowledge it. She assumed John was sleeping on the couch; he always did that when he wanted to be alone.
She splashed her face with water a couple times and then looked up at her reflection in the mirror. She missed having long blonde hair to braid back over one shoulder. She missed not having to wear contacts - and the compliments she always received on her glowing emerald green eyes. She missed not having to force smiles. Mary missed her own name.
She splashed her face with water one more time. To dwell on such trivial things, especially ones she couldn't change was a complete waste of time. After all she was already three minutes behind schedule.
Later as she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel she heard a disco music blaring from her phone. Mary broke into a sprint, summersaulted over the bed, and grabbed the phone before it could finish the second ring.
"Hello?" She answered in her most polite voice.
"No need to be polite dear. I know how you're really feeling," The voice on the other end said. "I need you at the warehouse at 4:45.
Mary frowned. "But sir-"
"But nothing. Be here in less than fifteen minutes," The voice commanded on the other end of the phone.
Mary's face hardened. "Yes, sir," She said shortly before turning her phone off.
She walked into the closet and pushed back all the clothes to reveal a black leather jumpsuit hanging in the back. She slipped her legs in and zipped the suit up in the front. Mary turned around examining herself in the mirror. She might need to lose a little weight around the legs and waist.
Mary returned to the closet searching for her gloves and boots. She already knew her jacket was hanging outside. She slapped her gloves on and laced up her black combat boots. Then she flipped on the hood of her jacket and strode out the door.
As she walked out she passed John's office and saw his body sprawled over the old Afghan blanket drool dribbling down the side of his face. Her steps faltered. The last time John slept without her… well it had been years. She assumed he would be here but she half hoped he wouldn't. Mary just wanted John to trust her. But a part of her knew that all of John would never truly be hers. A part of Mary was always with her job, and a part of John always with Sherlock. Despite this, it still hurt when John proposed 6 months after Sherlock left him. It didn't feel real. John's desperation seeped through his essence but her love for him compelled her to say yes.
She slipped of her boots and padded quietly over to John sitting beside him. Mary caressed his face lovingly, hoping to god what Moriarty wanted wouldn't hurt John. She got back up again grabbing a pistol from the drawer. After she put both shoes on she slipped it into her right boot. She raided more of her hiding places for a few weapons in case Moriarty tried to pull any tricks and left. Mary stepped out on the doorstep and froze breathing in the city air. And then she was gone.
Mary parked her care in the driveway of an abandoned warehouse not 5 minutes from her house. When she reached the door she knocked three times. When she didn't receive an answer she searched around in case Moriarty had hidden the key as a test. After a good 15 minutes Mary tried looking under the rug. The key glistened in the moonlight. I can't believe that dickface hid it under a motherfucking rug.
Mary let herself in. Despite the building's outward appearances, the inside was gorgeous. She took her boots off carefully placing next to the welcome mat, dropping the key on a hook by the door. She could hear someone, possibly Moriarty playing Chopin upstairs. When she was almost certain no one else was downstairs she walked into the room on her right. Giant mahogany book shelves rose almost 12 feet, books lining the walls at every corner.
She circled the room eyeing the books. They were categorized alphabetically within each topic. Moriarty had everything to a simple Dr. Seuss children's book to Freud's flawless guide to murder. When she had made her way all the way around the room she returned to an enormous foyer. a 72" flat screen tv sat lazily on the wall above a just-lit crackling fireplace. Someone was here.
Mary ignored the signs and walked into the next room over. The kitchen… it was every woman's dream. Granite countertops, 10 stove burners, and two ovens stacked on top of each other featuring 5 racks each, Not to mention it had plenty of space, an island in the middle, and it was connected to the dining room.
She left the kitchen to examine the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the maroon ceiling. As she passed a spiral stairs and an entry leading back to the foyer. Wow. Mary thought. Each time he called her to a new place, and each time she answered obediently like a slave. She found that with each passing mission the abandoned warehouses, and crumbling restaurants got more and more elegant but it had been a while since her last mission.
"Do you like what I've done with the place, Mary?" A high nasally voice echoed throughout the room. Without turning around Mary knew it was him. She could hear it in the slight pitter patter of his best leather shoes as he sauntered down the stairs.
"You're supposed to be dead." Mary spat. "Why'd you call me now?"
The voice snickered. "You really thought I was dead, did you. Then again, Sherlock did too, I suppose.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary retorted, "I'm a Level II assassin, one of the highest levels possible for a woman. I'm just as capable as that son of a bitch."
"Ahhhh," He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Pent up rage for your husbands secret lover."
Mary gritted her teeth. "He's not John's secret lover. He left years ago and hasn't returned."
The man grinned and stood up. We walked slowly to the other side of the room and opened a drawer. He pulled out a manilla folder and walked back towards Mary. "Thats not what security footage from Boar's Head told me last night.
"I-" Mary stuttered. "I don't understand. Sherlock hasn't been seen for years."
"Correction. Since yesterday."
"But how?" She inquired.
"I'm Moriarty. I see everything."
"Fine." Mary crossed her legs. "Then why am I here?"
Moriarty beckoned Mary to the kitchen. He was a polished man. A nice black suit cloaked his tall thin frame and his gold rolex ticked away on his wrist. His black hair was slicked back, and his face was slightly more than flat, as if someone had pushed it in. His eyes were always darting back and forth, almost unnoticeable, noticing everything. He pulled out two mugs from the mahogany cupboard and filled them both with coffee.
Turning back to Mary he held one of the cups out and asked, "Have a cup?"
"No thanks, I ate breakfast already," she lied. "And I don't want anything you've touched. It's probably poisoned." She added after some consideration.
He cackled. "Fair enough, but do keep in mind I could have you dead in a heartbeat. Take the cup."
She pretended to take a sip. "I still don't know why I'm here."
"Well you see-" He started as he walked to sit at the bar. "Sit." He motioned for Mary to sit in the seat next to him. "I brought you here because of Sherlock."
Dear God if I must kill him take me first. She prayed. "It always seems to be him doesn't it." She tried to appear nonchalant.
"Of course! There's not too many out there like us you know Mary. The others, they don't see the world the same way we do. You and me, we're ruthless businessmen who get the job done. But when things get boring we need to find something else! That's why I have Sherlock. But that'll end soon enough." He grinned widely.
"I don't understand," she said attempting to keep a straight face. Don't let him see the sadness. They can never know. "Why now? He can't do anything to you. He seems to have become an alcoholic. Why not let him alone?"
"Mary, Mary," he chuckled. "That's exactly the problem, don't you see? He didn't figure it out. He just sits there in his own sad little drunk world. Too infatuated with John I suppose but now it's time to wake him up Mary! Awaken the sleeping little beast."
She ignored his comment about John. Instead she directed another question at him. "If I kill him… what do you gain? He'll be dead, and from what you've said it sounds like you want him alive."
Moriarty stood up and strode over to the window. "You just don't get it do you. You're not actually going to kill him. No, no, he's too smart fro you, you'll get yourself killed. Besides John would probably come to his aid one last time." He turned to grin widely at her oblivious to Mary's wounded pride. "Now, any more questions? You've got to get going, I can't wait around with you much longer."
"Yes, sir." Mary nodded tightly swallowing the lump in her throat. "I understand."
"Good soldier!" He laughed, taunting her.
Mary snorted in disgust.
He crossed the room in two strides so that he towered over her. "I'll ignore that this time. Even if you are the perfect person, a trained killer, I can still kill you. You're replaceable. Now get out while you have the chance. And don't let me see you again until your mission is complete.
Mary nodded tightly, turning towards the door. She ignored his laughs and set her cup in the dish washer. When she turned again Moriarty was gone so she let herself out. It was as if no time had passed. She waited on the doorstep for a moment and stared at the trees. The wind felt nice in her hair.
But she didn't have time to enjoy such petty things like the weather. She had a mission to complete.
"Forget Sherlock. He's just prey." She whispered to herself as she walked to her car. He's just prey. Not human, just prey, just prey, just prey. She chanted to herself in her head as he got into her car and drove away.