Rising from bed for the second time, Mary feels much, much better. John rolls over and kisses her before going to take a shower. Relaxed and happy, Mary pulls out her phone to read the famous blog of Dr. John H. Watson. She'd known about it for ages but had never got around to reading it. With Sherlock Holmes back in town, that seems like a dangerous oversight. Sitting on the bed, her toes curling into the sheets, she begins to read. It's gripping stuff. Not Shakespeare, but it's interesting and funny. She playfully chides him about it as he grooms himself at the sink, covering his face with shaving cream as he prepares to shave. She stares.

"What are you doing?"

"Having a wash," John says sheepishly.

"You're shaving it off."

"You hate it."

"Sherlock hates it."

"Apparently everyone hates it!"

"Oooh," She says unable to keep herself from smiling. She's never seen this John. He's nervous, bouncy, almost shy. He's becoming the John from the blog. The John who believes in Sherlock and follows his advice. Sherlock didn't like how the mustache looked, so he's shaving it off. It is too rich!

She grins at him asking, "Are you gonna see him again?"

"No, I'm going to work."

"Oh, and after work are you gonna see him again?"

John turns away Without answering.

"God, I had six months of bristly kisses for me, and then His Nibbs turns up and ..."

"I don't SHAVE for Sherlock Holmes!"

"Ah, you should put that on a T-shirt."

"Shut-up," he says in a tender voice.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll marry you."

Mary's smile widens. She's so happy she must be glowing.

She smiles as they drive to work together, and throughout the day as she sends him clients at the clinic. Even the incredibly irritating Mrs Reeves, the hypochondriac, fails to faze her. Mary in love is invincible.

John, on the other hand, is a nervous wreck. Every minute he seems to get more and more distracted. He spends his time between patients staring at the clock and at his phone. He searches for Sherlock behind locked doors and in the lobby expecting him to suddenly show up at the surgery. He even goes so far as to accuse a patient of being Sherlock in disguise!

He sits at his desk after the clinic closes chewing on his thumb. She leans over, kisses him, and says, "Go visit him."

"No," he replies with a short shake of his head.

"You need to work it out, today, before you attack any more patients."

John turns to stare at her, and she gives him a stern look until he bows his head.

"Good!" she says, "I know that it will all be fine in the end. I have to run a few errands before dinner. You don't mind if I take the car, do you?"

"Yes, fine. I'll be fine" John says distractedly.

"Wonderful. You go patch things up with Sherlock, and I'll see you at home this evening. Okay love?"

"Okay."

"Good. See you then." She gives him one last kiss before going out of the door. That will surly keep him busy long enough for her to buy a black cat suit. For some reason, her old one is getting a little tight.

Later as she is leaving the department store after purchasing black leather gloves and a knit cap, she receives a text.

Save souls now!

John or James Watson?

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more is Less?

She stares at it, then she looks around nervously before stepping back into the shadowy shelter of a doorway to read it more carefully.

It's obviously a code. John ...Watson. That is the important part, so the words in the middle don't matter. It's a skip code. Every third word, it seems, but who is sending her messages in code?

Save John Watson? … but what does the rest mean? Does the punctuation start the count again, or is it all one sentence?

Now.

John is in danger!

She calls him, but there is no answer. She hangs up and calls again as she runs to the car. She thought that she would get the message before CAM acted. Now there's no time. But she doesn't know what the message means? She needs help, fast? But who can help her decipher the message and find John now?

Of course. Who better than the world famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.

She pulls out into traffic and rushes to his Baker street flat. The landlady tries to stop her as she enters but she runs up the stairs finding Sherlock eating on the landing. She shoves her phone in front of him reading out the code. It takes him a minute, but once he realizes that John is in danger he transforms. Dropping his food as if it is of no consequence, he springs down the stairs. He strides out into the street fearlessly stopping a moving motorcycle with the force of his will alone. Then they are off.

Sherlock on a mission is indefatigable! They ride across London on a borrowed bike, ignoring traffic laws as they rush to find John. Mary spares a moment to think of the startled couple who are currently having tea in Mrs Hudson's living room as they wonder why they thought that it was a good idea to give a stranger the keys to their bike. But how could they not? Sherlock on a mission is a god! Mary finally gets an inkling of what it must have been like to live with him. The force he shows, the determination. This must be the reason that John talks about him in hushed tones, his voice at times shaking with awe. With a clear goal before him, Sherlock Holmes is unstoppable.

She grabs his waist tighter as he turns and drives the bike down a flight of stairs. Her fear that she was being watched is confirmed when her texts address Sherlock by name. Someone is watching them. Someone saw that she was happy and decided to take that happiness from her. She leans into Sherlock as they round a sharp corner and closes her eyes. She wishes as hard as she can that Sherlock is as much of a wonder as John claims that he is. She needs John. She can't lose him now.

The person texting enjoys taunting them. That more than anything suggests that it must be the sadistic CAM. This is a test, a trap to ferret out her real feelings, and she is failing. What had John said about fire and priorities? She's revealing too much of herself in this chase, but she can't just let him die. She WON'T let John die!

Sherlock is clearly in accord with her. He realizes a moment before she does that John is inside the fire. Dropping the bike he runs, thrusting his hands into the flames, to pull John out. She leans over his body afraid that they're too late.

"John!"

He has a bloody gash on his head, and his lungs must be filled with smoke.

"John!" she calls again.

Sherlock is calling his name too. He kneels beside her cradling John's face in his hands as he calls. John opens his eyes, and finally, finally takes a breath. She sighs bending down to check his vital signs as Sherlock pulls out his phone to call an ambulance, his other hand reaching out to feel John's heart.

The crowd is muttering. Mary looks up searching for those who did this, focusing on each face, but the people are milling about now, talking in shocked voices, pulling out their phones to take a picture of the man on the ground, bonfire forgotten.

She rides with John in the ambulance while Sherlock follows behind on the motorcycle. He hovers beside her in the waiting room until the news comes that John is alright. He has a slight concussion, but he will be fine.

She lets out a sigh of relief, and sends Sherlock home. They are keeping John overnight for observation and that couple must certainly be wondering about their bike by now.

She sits beside John listening as he recounts his story. She asks him details, how many men, how were they dressed. She needs to understand her foe. CAM was watching her, and now he knew the truth. He wouldn't go for John again, not yet. He would let her stew while he figured out what he wanted from her. She had two choices.

One was to get out as fast as she could. Make a clean break, disappear. Then CAM would have nothing on her. But there might be a second assassin. Leaving John is no guarantee of his safety. Moriarty was thorough, and his traps were legend. She should know, she is one of them.

The other option is to get them before they got her. She would keep John close. A hostage is only useful while he's alive. Then she would kill Charles Augustus Magnussen. It is, after all, just another job.