About two hours later

John drank the aspirin, wincing as his head continued to pound.

"How are you feeling?" Mrs. Hudson asked and John just hummed from his seat at her kitchen table, incapable of replying properly.

Mrs. Hudson sighed: "It's just like old times, having you back here. Thought I'd make your favourite, one last time."

She placed a full English breakfast in front of John kindly and John murmured: "Oh…"

He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal as he said: ""Don't sound so... final about it. I will be visiting, you know."

"Ooh, I've heard that one before!" Mrs. Hudson scoffed and John replied: "Mm, no, it's different now, though, isn't it? It's different to when we thought we'd lost him."

He lifted a piece of toast with baked beans to his mouth but paused.

"Well, marriage changes everything, John." Mrs. Hudson replied, oblivious to John's discomfort as he held the food before his mouth, lowering the fork slightly.

"Does it?" John asked absentmindedly as he tried not to hurl.

Mrs. Hudson was saying: "Yeah. You might not think it, but it does. It's a different phase in your life."

John placed his fork down, pushing the suddenly unappetizing plate a little away as Mrs. Hudson continued: "You meet new people 'cause you're a couple."

"Mmm." John replied and Mrs. Hudson sighed: "And then you just... let your old friends slip away."

"It won't be like that." John replied firmly and Mrs. Hudson sighed: "Well, I suppose it's different since Sherlock has Rose-Marie, too. But until he joins you in husband-hood-"

"Well, that might be a while away. It is Sherlock." John pointed out and there was a pause as the two sat and thought about that thought for a moment.

Mrs. Hudson then continued, picking up where she'd left off: "Well, if you've found the right one, the person that you click with, it's the best thing in the world."

"Well, I have. I know I have." John said firmly and with a happy shrug.

Mrs. Hudson sighed happily: "Oh, I'm sure. She's lovely! I like her as much as I like Rose-Marie!"

"Yeah. I think so, too." John murmured, before he looked at Mrs. Hudson curiously.

"What about you?" He asked and the elderly woman looked at him in surprise as she asked: "Me?"

"Did you think you'd found the right one when you married Mr Hudson?" John asked, and Mrs. Hudson laughed as she replied: "No. It was just a whirlwind thing for us. I knew it wouldn't work, but I just got sort of swept along."

"Right." John nodded, but Mrs. Hudson continued: "And then we moved to Florida. We had a fantastic time, but of course I didn't know what he was up to."

John cocked his head confused and Mrs. Hudson whispered: "The drugs."

"Drugs?" John repeated incredulously, before he winced as his migraine returned a little.

Mrs. Hudson carried on, not noticing: "He was running a... um," Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips in thought as she tried to think of the word. "Oh, what d'you call it? Um, a... cartel. Got in with a really bad crowd."

"Right." John said slowly, trying to think around the headache and Mrs. Hudson carried on: "And then I found out about all the other women."

John looked at her in surprise and sympathy.

"I didn't have a clue! So, when he was actually arrested for blowing someone's head off. It was quite a relief, to be honest."

John paused, not sure how to respond and he finally murmured: "Right."

Mrs. Hudson assured: "It was purely physical between me and Frank. We couldn't keep our hands off each other."

John made a face, his migraine returning but for a different reason now.

Mrs. Hudson went on: "And, um, there was one night-"

John raised a finger to stop her, and he asked quickly as he turned to listen upstairs.

"Hang on, is that Sherlock?" He asked and Mrs. Hudson asked, confused: "Is it?"

John lifted a finger to his lips and they heard low, heavy footsteps pattering about upstairs. "No, it's Sherlock."


A minute later

Sherlock P.O.V.

Sherlock sat clean and freshly dressed, reading a news article about Major Sholto titled: 'V.C. Hero- the unanswered questions: Why did my boy have to die?'

Marie sat beside him, leaning against his side as he worked at the desk. The two had reconciled after Sherlock had apologized to, and thanked Marie… and they'd spent the better part of an hour in the shower together. They both heard footsteps on the stairs, and Sherlock cleared his throat as he switched the screen, opening up to 'I Dated A '.

As John appeared in the doorway, Marie sent him a smile in greeting, which John returned with a small nod, and Sherlock piped up: "There are going to be others."

"Others?" John asked confused.

Marie smiled and kissed Sherlock's cheek as she got up. "I have to go, I promised Mary I'd help her with the final dress fittings today. Try not to burn the flat down and I'll see you two later?"

She directed the latter part to John, her eyes questioning. John nodded and Marie smiled, giving him a pat on the arm as she left.

John walked over to see what Sherlock was looking at and Sherlock elaborated: "Victims, women. Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house. This ghost, however, is willing to commute, look."

Sherlock nodded at the map sitting on the desk behind his laptop, upon which Marie had placed some tacks to mark various locations around London.

Sherlock closed his eyes and retreated into his mind palace. Sherlock walked into a parliamentary chamber filled with different women from the website. He walked slowly to the centre of the room, taking in all the women thoughtfully. "Mmm, not you."

He pointed at one woman who sat down.

"Not you." He continued, and each woman he pointed at sat down.

"Not you." He said to the final woman, who sat.

Sherlock turned around, walking over slowly to one of the women still standing.

"Hi." He greeted.

"Gail." The pretty Indian woman introduced. Sherlock turned and walked over to face a red-haired woman in the second row.

"Charlotte." She introduced.

Sherlock turned again, and the brunette woman said: "Robyn."

Sherlock turned to the final woman and the short blonde said: "Vicky."

The room emptied in his mind as Sherlock discarded all the facts about the other women, and he stood facing the four women as they all stood in a circle in the centre of the chamber.

"How did you meet?" He asked, and Gail replied: "Came up to me in a pub."

Charlotte shrugged: "Same gym as me."

"We just got chatting on the bus." Robyn said, and Vicky answered as she glanced Sherlock up and down: "Online."

"Name?" Sherlock inquired and Gail replied with a confused frown: "Told you."

Sherlock corrected: "His name."

"Oscar." Gail replied swiftly.

"Mike." Charlotte replied and Robyn shrugged: "Terry."

"Um, 'Love Monkey'." Vicky said, and Sherlock pulled a disgusted face, but he moved on.

"Your place?" He asked and all four women replied at once: "His place."

Sherlock looked around at each of them carefully before he asked: "Address?"

Each of them answered at once, but they were all different.

"Nothing happened." Gail added defensively. "It was just... very romantic."

She lowered her eyes, a soft smile on her face as she remembered the night. Sherlock ignored that as he murmured: "Four women in four nights. He must have something special." Sherlock prompted.

"He was very charming." Gail replied and Charlotte answered: "Innocent."

"He was sweet." Robyn sighed and Vicky began: "He had a lovely-"

"You okay?" John asked, suddenly appearing in the room beside Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked and he was outside of his mind palace, back in his flat and standing before six laptops, all opened on the coffee table. Each one had information about each woman pulled up and a chat dedicated to each woman open.

John continued obliviously as he looked down at the untouched breakfast beside the computers: "Let your food go cold. Mrs Hudson will play hell."

"Oh, not now, John." Sherlock sighed irritably.

John muttered: "Marie won't be happy either."

Sherlock chose to ignore that as he returned to his mind palace.

"Sorry about that." He said and Vicky continued: "He had a lovely manner."

Sherlock murmured thoughtfully: "Different names, different addresses."

An idea popped into his mind and he suggested to the women: "Describe him."

"Short blond hair." Gail replied.

"Dark hair. Long." Charlotte added thoughtfully, and Robyn replied promptly: "Ginger. I like gingers."

"Couldn't tell." Vicky replied with a shrug. Sherlock frowned and she explained: "He had a mask on."

Sherlock turned away, and began to rifle through the news on the fifth laptop, reading the obituaries sections. He realized: "He's stealing the identity of corpses, getting the names from the Obituary columns. All single men. He's using the dead man's flat under the assumption it'll be empty for a while."

Sherlock looked up in understanding: "Free love nest."

"I feel sick." Gail murmured and Robyn nodded as she winced: "It's gruesome."

"That's awful." Charlotte muttered with a disgusted frown, while Vicky smirked appreciatively: "Clever!"

"Bastard!" Tessa chimed in as she appeared suddenly.

Sherlock turned to the sixth laptop, and typed in: "Hello, Tessa."

Going back to his mind palace, he continued: "Meanwhile, back to business. No-one wants to use a dead man's home."

Vicky shrugged and Sherlock ignored that pointedly.

He continued: "At least not until it's been cleared. So, he disguises himself, steals the man's home, steals his identity."

"But only for one night." John suddenly chimed in, appearing beside Sherlock again.

"Then he's gone." John said wonderingly.

Sherlock explained: "He's not a ghost, John. He's a mayfly. He lives for a day. So."

Sherlock returned to the five women and John disappeared from his mind palace as Sherlock focused once more.

"What was it he was looking for?" Sherlock murmured.

"Job?" Sherlock tried and Gail replied: "Gardener."

"Cook." Charlotte answered and Tessa added: "Private nurse."

"I do security work." Robyn answered and Vicky replied: "Maid."

Sherlock hummed in thought, and then it hit him.

"Obvious. You all work for the same person!" He muttered triumphantly.

He looked through their personal information, scanning quickly, and then sighed.

"No, not the same employer. Damn." He groaned, before closing his eyes as he muttered: "Come on. We can do this."

He opened his eyes again and asked: "Ideal night out?"

"Clay pigeon shooting." Gail replied.

"Line dancing." Charlotte said.

Tessa shrugged: "Pictures?"

"Wine in front of the telly." Robyn replied smartly and Vicky said suggestively: "Dungeon."

Sherlock almost groaned as he cocked his head a little in disgust, before he focused back on the subject.

"Makeup?" He tried.

"Clarins."

"No. 7."

"Maybelline."

"Nothing special."

"Whatever's cheap."

'Yeah, looks like it.' Marie's voice suddenly piped up from behind Sherlock as she stared at Vicky with a wrinkled nose. Sherlock almost groaned- why was she outside of her wing again?- but he moved on.

"Perfume?" He asked.

"Chanel." "Chanel." "Chanel." "Chanel."

Sherlock looked at Vicky hopefully, and the woman shook her head as she said apologetically: "Estée Lauder."

Sherlock shook his head, disappointed.

"Ideal man?" He asked, turning to face forward and happened to meet eyes with Tessa.

"George Clooney." She murmured dreamily.

Marie laughed from behind him as Sherlock rolled his eyes and groaned: "Oh, no."

He turned to Gail who replied: "Home-loving."

"He'd have to like cuddling." Charlotte replied.

"Caring." Robyn said and Sherlock turned to the last woman, Vicky.

"Ten things." The woman listed. "One: someone who isn't competitive with other men."

Sherlock stared at the woman, frowning incredulously.

"Two: someone who isn't constantly trying to define himself by his masculinity…"

Sherlock stopped her right there. He sighed and then murmured thoughtfully: "There's a unifying factor. There has to be."

He frowned as he thought aloud: "None of you reported anything stolen."

He paused, and began to list: "Security guard, gardener, cook, maid, private nurse."

Sherlock realized: "He's romancing his way up a pecking order, somebody's pecking order. Come on, think."

He ordered himself but added quickly as an idea popped into his mind.

"Unless..." His lips curled a little and he turned back to the women.

"Do you have a secret you've never told anyone?" He asked and all five women replied immediately: "No."

Sherlock smirked and he said triumphantly: "Gotcha."

"What do you mean?" John asked, suddenly appearing again, but Sherlock didn't mind this time as he explained: "Everyone has secrets, and they all replied too quickly."

He smiled excitedly.

"Gotta go." Gail suddenly said abruptly.

Sherlock looked at her in surprise as she turned and walked away, and Charlotte added: "See ya."

"No." Sherlock protested as each woman left.

"Bye-bye." Robyn said as she turned.

"No, wait." Sherlock began, but Vicky interrupted: "Sorry, sexy. Some secrets have to stay secret."

The woman winked and turned away as well.

"Enjoy the wedding." Tessa said in farewell.

"Yeah…" Sherlock groaned as she left, too. He closed his eyes and he was back in the flat.

"Why? Why," he slammed the last laptop with Tessa's message shut in agitation, "would he date all of those women and not return their calls?"

"You're missing the obvious, mate." John commented and Sherlock turned to him quickly.

"Am I?" He asked, confused.

"He's a man." John told him.

Sherlock muttered as he shut all the laptops irritably: "But why would he change his identity?"

John shrugged as he pointed out: "Maybe he's married."

Sherlock paused as he shut the last laptop. He straightened slowly as he realized John's words could be true.

"Ohh." He breathed.


Three days later- the Present

"Married." Sherlock announced. "Obvious, really. Our mayfly man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity," John shook his head in exasperation, "and instead of endless nights in watching the telly or going to barbecues with awful dreadful boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field."

Marie rolled her eyes.

"He was..." Sherlock began, but trailed off as he saw Marie's minute head shakes and then he glanced around the room to see everyone looking a little disappointed and uncomfortable.

"On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the Room." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully. Mary and John snorted while Marie smiled, nodding at Sherlock to continue with the end of his speech.

Sherlock did as she suggested.

"However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me." Sherlock explained: "I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that's what made me special- quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: should any of you require the services of either of us," people leaned forward at that, curious as to what he had to say, "I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life."

Marie positively beamed as she saw the surprise on John's face. Sherlock continued: "Trust me on that, I should know. He's saved mine so many times, and in so many ways."

He turned to glance briefly at John who looked up at his friend with a grin. Sherlock lifted the phone as he said: "This blog is the story of two men and one woman, and their frankly ridiculous adventures."

People chuckled and Sherlock finished: "Of murder, mystery and mayhem. But from now on, there's a new story. A bigger adventure."

Sherlock gestured at the two beside him, and the happy couple grinned. Sherlock reached for his glass, lifting it as he declared: "Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding."

Everybody took their champagne glasses and stood as Sherlock toasted: "Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is…"

Sherlock suddenly broke off, and Marie was concerned to see the smile slip off his face as the wedding photographer took photos of the toast, the last of the pictures for the day. It was as though with each click of the shutter, Sherlock was moving further away from them as some realization hit him.

Marie was alarmed as Sherlock's grasp on the glass loosened and the champagne flute went into free-fall. Sherlock didn't notice as he went to his mind palace.


In Sherlock's mind palace

"What did you say?" He demanded as he stared at the image of Tessa, the woman still and preserved in the state they'd been right before they had all left.

"You said," Sherlock said slowly as he pointed at the woman, "'John Hamish Watson'. You said that."

He walked up to her as he almost accused: "You said, 'Hamish'."

Sherlock thought back to the night at the mayfly man's flat- or rather the dead man the mayfly man was impersonating's flat.

He'd cried, shaking off the landlord: "Whoa, whoa!"

Tessa had said to the landlord reassuringly: "This is a famous detective. It's Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson."

Sherlock demanded: "How did you know? How did you know his middle name?"

Sherlock turned away, facing back to the centre of the chamber as he frowned, trying to figure out what he'd missed. "He never tells anyone. He hates it."

He remembered when he'd walked in on John writing on his blog for the first time and seen the title.

"'John H. Watson'?" He'd asked and John had just replied shortly: "Yep."

That moment had sparked several attempts form Sherlock's side at guessing John's middle name.

"Henry?" Sherlock tried at breakfast one day and John just replied shortly: "Shut up."

"Humphrey?" Sherlock tried another day, pausing in the middle of a case. John replied again: "Shutup."

"Higgins?" Sherlock tried another day, calling to John as the man showered and John just replied flatly: "Go. Away."

Sherlock murmured with a deep frown: "Took him years to confide in me."

Sherlock remembered when John had come back home to find Sherlock leaning against the doorframe.

"That's my birth certificate." John sighed and Sherlock had replied with a smirk: "Yep."

Sherlock commented as he continued to walk back towards the centre of the room: "And Marie and The Woman. They knew."

He recalled the time in his flat, right before he'd broken the code for Adler, before he'd known about Marie's real identity, even her real name. He and Irene had been in a staring match, which John had broken by abruptly piping up: "Hamish. John Hamish Watson. Just if you were looking for baby names."

Sherlock continued slowly: "God knows where she is; and Marie never told anyone, why would she? John's middle name isn't important enough to tell Moriarty, and then she joined our side officially later that night."

He paused and turned around to face Tessa. "There's only one time that name's been made public."

He recalled John's annoyance as he'd demanded: "Does it have to be on the invitation?"

Marie had looked at him amused from where she'd been typing the wedding invitations as John gestured at the title: 'Dr. John Hamish Watson & Miss Mary Elizabeth Morstan.'

Mary had folded her arms as she pointed out: "It's your name. It's-"

"Funny" Sherlock said as Mary finished: "Traditional."

John had glared, but he'd been overruled and Mary had fought a smile while Marie smirked and had the invitations printed onto the thick, beautifully decorated cards.