The series of phone calls to vendors, friends and relatives cancelling the Watson/Morstan wedding were awkward but thankfully short. Harry and John sat around her kitchen table with the guest list in front of them and for the first time, John noticed how few people Mary had invited.

John saved Mary's short list of guests for last. He wanted to ask her friends if they knew where she was, or if they had heard from her. John called his own friends and associates, Harry was in charge of calling their family.

"Hi Aunt Muriel. It's Harriet. Harriet. HARRIET, RAYMOND'S DAUGHTER. Yes, it has been a long time. I…" Harry held the phone far from her ear to have a buffer from their aunt's booming voice. She could barely distinguish the old lady from the television blaring in the background.

"Oh, no. I'm not married. No, I suppose you're right; I definitely have not met the right man yet." She rolled her eyes and John chuckled.

"Well the reason for my call is, unfortunately John's wedding has been – John. My brother – yes, the doctor. His wedding has been cancelled. Yes. Yes it is a shame." She drummed her thumb on the table impatiently waiting for the opportunity to gracefully end the call.

"Yes, dear. I will. Ok, bye-bye."

She swiped her finger across the screen, ending the call and dropped her forehead to the table top.

"Ye gods, how is she still alive? Isn't she over 1000 years old by now?"

John snorted. "Granny's youngest sister, she must be 80, 85 if she's a day."

Harry made a tick mark next to their aunt's name and groaned. John looked at the next name on the list; it was their father's brother.

"Uncle Richard. You called Muriel, I'll call him."

"Thanks. Where did those two go off to?" She looked around for Sherlock and Clara. John pointed to the back door.

"They're bonding – which I am honestly not sure is a good thing or not."

A conspiratorial smile crept across Harry's face. "Can I tell you a secret?"

John shrugged, "Of course."

"Clara started hormone treatments. We're going to try to have a baby."

John sat back in his chair, smiling wide. "Harry that is…wow. That's wonderful! Does that mean you two are, um…" He gestured to his left ring finger.

Harry waggled her hand meaning 'maybe'. "I'd do it in a heartbeat, if she'd have me."

"Well if she's going to be having a baby with you; that probably means she's in it for the long haul, Burton," he teased.

"Hey! What makes me Richard Burton?!"

xXx

"No, no…adagio, adagio! Do you even hear the music?" Sherlock scolded. He kept his violin perched underneath his chin as he waved his bow at Clara. She adjusted the strap of her sport bra and stretched her arms behind her back.

"Sherlock –" she grunted. "This was supposed to just be a bit of fun. Besides, you're playing it slower than it's written. It's supposed to be andante."

He scoffed. "I beg your pardon, I am most certainly not playing it incorrectly."

Clara crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Want to bet?"

"Winner buys dinner." He tucked his bow under his opposite arm and extended his hand for her to shake.

"You don't eat dinner," she laughed and shook his hand, sealing the deal.

"John eats enough for two. Which you will be doing soon as well, I imagine."

He kept shaking her hand while she stared at him wide-eyed. "How do you – Harry told John already?"

"No. Look at your puffy ankles in your pointe shoes - you're bloated. Your complexion is normally clear but you have makeup on covering a few spots on your forehead. And, you've been rubbing that same irritated spot on your abdomen, which I assume is the injection site. Your breasts are spilling over the top of your bra and you've been squeezing your eyes shut after every fouette turn, indicating that you either have a headache, or you're feeling dizzy even though you're spotting your head properly; both of which are also side effects of most commonly used fertility drugs."

Her jaw dropped and she raised her eyes to the clouds. "Why do you know these things?"

He smirked at her. "The same reason I know that the tempo of Bach's Violin Sonata number 2 is adagio."

"Oh, not that Brain Castle nonsense again."

"Mind Palace, thank you very much."

Clara walked to the patio table where she'd left her phone. She opened a browser tab and searched for the piece of music. She held it up triumphantly, showing him the search results.

"ANDANTE! What do you have to say for yourself, smartypants?"

He swiped the phone from her hand, read and handed it back to her, grumbling under his breath.

"Aww, don't be a sore loser – even a broken clock is right twice a day." She winked at him.

xXx

The search for Mary was fruitless and brief. There were 7 names and numbers of friends on her list and each one expressed their utmost surprise when John said that the wedding was cancelled and that Mary had left. Thankfully, none of them questioned him too much about the fight he fabricated as the reason for the split so he didn't have to improvise many details.

There were two names left; her best friend Janine and the pizzeria owner, Enzo Giorgio. Sherlock and Clara came back inside the house and continued to bicker playfully.

John dialed the number on the list and hoped Enzo would answer.

"Pronto."

"Hello, this is John Watson. Erm - Enzo?"

"No, Lorenzo non é qui. Sono Matteo. Chi é questo?"

"Erm…" John held his hand over the phone. "Sherlock, a little linguistic help?"

"What region of Italy?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I don't know which dialect to-"

"Just do your best, alright?" John sounded exasperated and handed Sherlock the phone.

"Ciao, mi chiamo Sherlock Holmes. Sono un amico di Mary Morstan."

"Chi? OH! Maria, si!"

"Si. Mary e John non si sposano, il matrimonio é cancellato."

"Quest' è una triste notizia…"

"Si, davvero. Allora, Mary ha chiamato Enzo? Lo sai?"

"Eh, no. Non lo so."

"Lei è in piedi di fronte a te?"

"Si."

"Per favore, dille che mi dispiace."

"Si, certo."

"Grazie. Arrivederla."

"Ciao ciao, Signore."

Matteo put the receiver back in the cradle. Mary was still standing in the doorway watching.

"Who was that?"

"The one with the nome pazzo." He drew a spiral in the air next to his temple with his finger.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes. 'E hasked me to tella you that he is esorry."

She took a deep breath. "Thanks for doing that. I'll only be here another day or so. I appreciate you letting me stay."

"Hov course we want to 'elp you. Only, are you sure you aren'a gonna tell 'im?"

Mary bit her lip and absentmindedly ran her palm across her abdomen. "I can't. It's too complicated. It would be different if I knew before I left but, I can't go back now."

xXx

"Janine, you're her best friend. You mean to tell me it's been five days and she didn't tell you she left me? I'm sorry but I find that impossible to believe." John tried not to shout into the phone but he couldn't shake the feeling that Janine was lying.

"Nah, I swear didn't know, John. What did you fight about? There musta been skin an' bones flyin' if she legged it."

He sighed. "Listen. If you hear from her, please send me a text or something. You don't have to tell me where she is. I just want to know that she's ok. That's all. She doesn't ever have to speak to me again if she doesn't want to."

He heard Janine clear her throat. "Fine. If she calls, I'll phone you."

"Thanks."

She ended the call and opened up a new text message.

John called looking for you. He sounds really concerned. Can't I just tell him I've spoken to you and you're fine?

Mary's response was simple and succinct:

Ok.

xXx

Mary tied her newly-coloured chocolate brown hair back into a ponytail and blinked hard against the dark contact lenses; they were irritating her eyes. Her knee bounced nervously as she sat at the bar with an Economy Flex ticket to Rome in her hand. Alitalia flight AZ 209 would transport her from Heathrow to Fiumicino airport and she would hide there until she decided what to do next. She knew she'd eventually have to return to England. She asked her friends not to speak to John and was confident that none of them would.

She looked up just in time to spot him walking towards her. She closed her eyes and exhaled, knowing there wouldn't be anywhere she could go to escape him. She downed what was left of her drink in one gulp. He stopped 15 paces in front of her and subtly indicated for her to follow him with a tilt of his balding head. She nodded and he turned away, walking towards the BA Executive Lounge; he waited for her at the door.

He flashed some kind of identification and told the woman at the door that Mary was with him and he'd only need a moment. They were both allowed to enter. Mary's stomach was in knots as she dragged her bag behind her but being in a public place made her slightly more comfortable – at least he wasn't going to kill her with hundreds of potential witnesses.

"Sit, please." He sounded gracious and motioned to an overstuffed recliner. She sat carefully and pushed the telescoping handle of her bag down all the way.

"How did you find me?" She folded her hands in her lap.

"I hardly need to dignify that question. I was asked to, so I did." He sat across from her and she nodded at him, understanding.

"I understand why you're leaving. I can't say that I blame you. My question is, after your associate was killed for making indirect contact, why ever did you chance it?"

She swallowed hard. He knew far more than she assumed he would.

"When Eamonn died, Jim designated me as his replacement to follow them. Then Jim was gone. I don't know why I continued to follow John. I never planned on making contact. Once I did -"

"You knew you'd made a mistake?" He patiently crossed one leg over the other.

She shook her head and looked away. "Not a mistake, really. I just – I wanted to know him. He loved Sherlock so deeply; I've never had that. I wanted to know what it was like."

"Rosemund –" he began to scold her.

"Mary, thank you." She snapped at him.

"Mary. How long did you think you could keep up the farce?"

"It wasn't a farce! It may have started that way but – I genuinely fell in love with him. I never lied. I was myself, I just omitted…certain inconvenient truths. Jim was the only one who knew my identity and he was dead; AGRA was disbanded. Nothing was ever going to lead back to me, he never would have known. I admit I got nervous once you brother reappeared but I thought I could handle it."

Mycroft uncrossed and re-crossed his long legs, shifting his weight slightly to the other side. He was silently contemplating. She looked to the clock on the wall over his shoulder, her flight wouldn't be boarding for at least another 45 minutes.

"Knowing what I am capable of doing if you should go back on your word, I need your assurance that you won't interfere in their lives again. My brother has been through enough. While I am indifferent on the subject of what becomes of John Watson, Sherlock is in love with him and therefore he falls under my protection. If you're going, stay gone."

"The last thing I want to do is hurt John, that's why I left. He'll never love me as much as he loves Sherlock. I thought what they had was just a fling. Once Sherlock was back and I realized the depth of John's feelings, I knew I would lose him eventually. They're already back together?" She only needed a cursory glance at Mycroft's face to know the answer; she smiled and nodded.

"So I know I'm doing the right thing. You won't hear from me again. I'll keep my distance." She stood and extended the handle of her bag to its full height. He didn't stop her from leaving but he waited at the gate and watched her board the plane, giving her a final wave as she entered the jetway.

xXx

Two weeks after he and Harry completed all of the calls cancelling the wedding, John paid off the remainder of Mary's lease on her flat and moved back in to 221b. He carried the last of his things that fit into the cab up the stairs and used his foot to close the door behind him. Looking around the flat cluttered with stacks of boxes he felt a bit overwhelmed. His clothes still on their hangers were draped over the arm chairs and the sofa. He put the box he was holding on the top of a stack by the door and shook his head. He didn't know where Sherlock was, but he clearly wasn't keen to help.

Exhaling, he grabbed a handful of hangers and hefted them over his shoulder, carrying them to the bedroom. He used his elbow to flick the light on and proceeded to the wardrobe. He forcefully nudged Sherlock's clothes to the side and hung his own on the bar. He turned to retrieve more clothing and found Sherlock laying on the bed wide awake and fully clothed with his hands folded on his stomach.

"Bored."

"Jesus fuck Sherlock, you scared the shit out of me." He jumped and pressed his back flat against the wardrobe doorjamb.

"Bored."

"You might not be so bored if you'd help me unpack." He put his hands on his hips.

"That doesn't sound remotely stimulating."

John rolled his eyes and went back out to the sitting room. He brought in two more arms full of clothing while Sherlock remained on the bed, not moving a muscle except to occasionally blink.

Finally, he slammed the wardrobe closed. "Damnit Sherlock, aren't you happy I'm home?"

Sherlock sat straight up and cocked his head. "How could you ask that? Of course I'm happy. I've wanted nothing more since the day I got back to London."

John tsked at him. "You have a funny way of showing it; sitting on your arse doing nothing while I dragged all my worldly belongings up the stairs and now I'm putting everything away by myself."

"What should I do?"

"How about help me?"

"Oh, did you want help?" He pushed himself off the bed, went into the sitting room and opened a box. He found some books and he quickly unpacked, putting them on the empty shelf alphabetically.

John watched him with his arms crossed. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock continued unloading the box of books and didn't look back at John when he spoke. "Helping."

John gave a frustrated groan and covered his face with his hands. "Now you're helping?"

Sherlock paused and turned to John, holding a dog-eared copy of Grey's Anatomy. "Don't you want me to?"

"I wanted you to help me an hour ago when I was hefting boxes up the stairs."

"Then why didn't you ask me? As you are wont to say, John, I am not a psychic. If you don't ask for my assistance, I can't be expected to know when you require it."

John opened his mouth to argue, but decided his energy would be better spent by continuing to unpack. With Sherlock finally contributing to the effort, many hands made light work and by nightfall, they were breaking down the last box to bring down to the bin.

John sat on the sofa exhausted. He folded his hands behind his head and looked around, satisfied. Sherlock lay down with his head in John's lap.

"Bored," he sighed heavily.

John chuckled and massaged his hand into the sea of dark brown curls on Sherlock's head. "What do you want to do?"

Sherlock grazed John's cheek with the back of his hand. "Monopoly?"

"What?"

"I like Monopoly." Sherlock shrugged. Without another word, he went to the cupboard and pulled out the game box.

"We've never played this together, I didn't know you liked it. This was always my favorite game." John smirked and pulled the coffee table closer as Sherlock opened the box and began setting it up.

"Well after the Cluedo incident, I thought it would be best to avoid playing board games with you for a while. Do you want to be the banker?" Sherlock held out the colorful strips of money and John accepted. He dealt out the opening sums for them both and arranged his money in descending order. Sherlock kept his money in a pile.

"I'm always the top hat," Sherlock said.

"Battleship." John pointed at himself with his thumb.

Sherlock put the two game pieces on the opening space and handed John the dice, letting him roll first. He rolled two.

"One, two." He tapped the metal battleship in the first two spaces and landed on Community Chest. He took the top card off the pile and read it outloud:

"Life insurance matures, collect £100." He took a yellow £100 note from the bank. He had rolled doubles so he went again. He rolled double threes and landed on Euston Road; he bought the property. He rolled again, got three and moved to Pall Mall, which he also purchased.

Sherlock bought The Angel, Islington for £100.

On his next turn, John bought Marylebone Station for £200 and Sherlock scoffed.

"Yes?" John said with a smirk.

"You're going to spend all of your money like a drunken sailor and I will win by default."

"Ok, Sherlock. Just play."

Over the next few rounds, John bought Leicester Square, Oxford and Bow Streets. Sherlock bought Marlborough Street, the Water and Electric utilities, Mayfair and Kings Cross Station. His buying streak was put on hold when he landed on Free Parking.

"This is the most useless spot on the board," he grumbled and dropped his top hat on the corner square.

"The House Rules Harry and I always played with put the Income Tax money and anything collected from the Chance cards there." He suggested they adopt the same rule.

"We will play the game exactly as the rules are written." Sherlock thrust the dice into John's palm.

"Whatever you say, Sir." John rolled his eyes, then he rolled an eight and bought Trafalgar Square.

Sherlock rolled two fours and landed on the Water Works utility. "I don't want it." He took the dice back in between his fingers.

"That's a shame, because you already own it," John chuckled.

"Oh. Right."

He rolled again and purchased Liverpool Street Station.

A few moves later, John had purchased Regent Street, Vine Street, and Piccadilly. Sherlock bought Pentonville Road, Coventry Street and Bond Street.

John passed Go, collected his £200 salary and landed on Community Chest.

"Advance to Go, Collect £200 salary," he smirked. He picked up his battleship piece and waved it all the way around the board with a long, sustained whistle before dropping it back down on Go.

Sherlock bought Old Kent Road and on his next move, he landed on the Electric Utility.

"I want it."

"You already own it," John said patiently.

John rolled a three and landed on the Electric Utility. Sherlock grinned and asked for £30. John pulled out one £20 note and one £10 note. Sherlock dropped them onto the pile of bills on the tabletop in front of him. He rolled a four on doubles and landed on Bow Street; paid John £14; then he landed on Trafalgar Square.

"20 quid. Pay up." John held his hand out.

Sherlock shuffled through the disorganized stack of coloured bills in front of him.

"Why don't you lay them out like I do?" John motioned to his neatly systematized piles of money arranged in ascending order.

"I know exactly how much money I have and in the exact denominations." Sherlock handed him two £10 notes.

Sherlock had to pay John for two of his next three moves. On a fourth move he landed on Marylebone Station, which he wanted to purchase. He shuffled through his money.

"I don't have enough here," he grumbled. "I'll mortgage Mayfair."

"Actually, I own that. £25 please," John winked.

A few moves later, Sherlock proposed a trade.

"I'll give you Bond Street for Euston Road." He held the green card out to John.

"Are you sure about that?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Obviously."

John shrugged and handed Sherlock the property he asked for. "You know that was a dumb trade, right?"

"Nonsense."

John rolled doubles on his next two turns and landed on Go to Jail. He failed to roll doubles on his next turn. Sherlock rolled a 9 and landed on Pall Mall.

"£10 please."

"You can't collect rent from jail, John."

"Damn, you're right."

A few minutes later when Sherlock landed on Bond Street, John chuckled.

"Regretting that trade yet?"

"Shut up." Sherlock pushed £28 at him.

The next time John landed on Community Chest, the card said to collect a £25 "Consulting Fee".

"Oh, the irony," he laughed.

Sherlock pulled a face, "That is not remotely ironic."

The game continued and they talked less. Sherlock was concentrating on the board as if it were as predictable as chess. When John landed on and purchased Fleet Street, he whistled the opening line to the Sondheim musical, Sweeney Todd.

"Must you?" Sherlock looked up, irritated.

"Yep. I must."

Two rounds later, Sherlock purchased Park Lane for £350.

"Sherlock, are you certain you want to do that?"

"Obviously. I now own the two most expensive properties on the board."

"But, we've been playing for," he checked his watch. "Two hours and neither of us have landed on that space yet." Sherlock waved him off.

On his very next turn, John rolled three and landed on Park Lane. Sherlock gave him a satisfied smirk.

"Not one word," John grimaced and handed over £50.

John landed on Community Chest on two of his next four moves; he inherited £100, and picked up a Get Out of Jail Free card.

Sherlock rolled seven and also landed on Community Chest. His jaw clenched when he read the card to himself. He pinched his fingers around his top hat and dropped it on the Jail space.

John rolled five and landed on Chance, finding a second Get Out of Jail Free card.

Sherlock held out his hand. John smirked and shook it.

"You're funny." Sherlock impatiently kept his hand held out, palm up. John, deciding to be an arse, placed both dice in his hand.

"I am obviously waiting for a Get Out of Jail card; why are you being thick about it?"

John cocked his head. "And why would I give that to you?"

"I'm in jail."

"So?"

"You have two." Sherlock crossed his arms.

"What will you trade me for it?"

Sherlock grit his teeth.

"I'll take…" John lifted his chin to look at the property cards laid out in front of Sherlock. "Liverpool Street Station or the Electric Utility."

Sherlock bent the corner of the Tube station card as he lifted it and handed it to John, who in turn gave him a Get Out of Jail Free card. He rolled a five and landed on Marylebone Station. John snorted a laugh.

"100 quid, please."

Sherlock rolled 10 on his next move and growled deep in his throat. John laughed out loud watching Sherlock tap the top hat the ten spaces to land on Fenchurch Station.

"100 quid again, please."

Community Chest awarded John with 200 pounds for a Bank Error. Sherlock landed back in jail. John waved the second Get Out of Jail Free card in the air.

"I'll give it to you for Kings Cross." They made the exchange.

A Chance card had John's battleship pass Go in order to advance to Trafalgar Square. Sherlock rolled five and landed back on Marylebone Station. John clapped a hand across his mouth to muffle his laugh.

"200 pounds, please."

Sherlock groaned. "I don't have 200 pounds. I have 173."

"Well, give me that and Coventry Street, we'll call it even. To show you I'm not a total prick, I'll even let you roll again."

Sherlock set his jaw and obliged.

John placed his newly acquired yellow property with the other two he already owned and grinned. "Before you roll again though, I'm going enhance my investment and build houses on Leicester Square, Coventry Street and Piccadilly."

He counted out the price of the houses and dropped the little plastic buildings on the game board.

"Proceed," he gestured to Sherlock with his open palm.

Sherlock rolled 12 and his eyes bugged out. He dropped his token next to the green house on Coventry Street.

"That'll be £110, please," John smirked. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and groaned.

"Oh, are you still out of money? That's alright. I'll take all of your lite blues – or you can concede that I am better at Monopoly than you are."

"You're not." Sherlock clenched a fist.

"Well, I'm the one sitting here with the most money, all four Tube stations and more properties. The evidence clearly indicates otherwise."

Sherlock tilted his neck to each side, stretching.

"Listen, you can stop the bleeding, you merely have to declare my superiority."

Sherlock exhaled a deep groan and spoke under his breath. "You're better than me."

"What was that?" John cupped his hand around his ear. "Louder, please."

"Don't push your luck." Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.

"You have to say 'I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes declare that John Watson's skill at Monopoly far exceeds my own.'"

"How about I suck you off instead?" Sherlock offered, taking John off-guard.

"Deal." He shook his head and his shoulders bobbed with a laugh. He leaned forward and kissed Sherlock on the mouth when the doorbell rang.

"That'll be Harry with my trunk." He kissed Sherlock's forehead and stood up, his knees cracked as he straightened his body. Neither of them had moved since sitting down to play the game. He went to the door and let her in.

Sherlock sat back on the sofs and observed the carnage, wondering how in the hell John managed to defeat him that badly. He had never waved a white flag over a board game in his life until that point.

Harry looked into the sitting room and laughed. "Oh god, Sherlock! Don't tell me you played Monopoly with John?"

"I did, actually." Sherlock moved to his armchair.

"And naturally, I gave him a beating."

Harry shook her head. "He's a Monopoly master, Sherlock. If you can't beat him, no one can." She pecked Sherlock softly on the cheek and he returned the show of affection.

"He won't beat me a second time." Sherlock put his fists under his chin and leaned forward, still looking at the board. "Because he won't ever challenge me to another go."

"I don't need to, I massacred you the first time. I can quit while I'm ahead," John said cheerily. He perched in the arm of Sherlock's chair and combed his fingers through his hair. He tugged the thick curls back gently and touched the tip of his tongue to the Cupid's bow of Sherlock's lips. Sherlock gently took hold of the back of John's neck and kissed him hard. He climbed into Sherlock's lap, not letting their lips part.

"Hey, hey, hey guys – get a room!" Harry laughed, returning from the kitchen with a glass of pop.

With his lips still pressed against Sherlock's, John began to laugh. He leaned back and wiped his mouth on his arm.

"And where is your better half tonight? I thought you were both coming?" John stood up and walked to the kitchen.

Harry frowned and slouched into John's chair. "She wasn't up to leaving the house."

John pulled two bottles of water from the fridge and walked back over to Sherlock, handed him one and perched on the arm of his chair.

"I'm sorry, sis. Can you try again?" John twisted the cap off and took a long drink. Harry nodded.

"We can. She wants to."

"But you don't?" Sherlock sat forward in his chair.

"Sherlock…" John used a warning tone but Harry waved him off.

"It's fine, Johnny. Honestly, I'm torn. I want her to have everything she wants and she really wants this. I wish there was more that I could do to support her. We were over the moon when the home test came back positive. It was exhilarating; we were screwing on every surface of the house – we were so fucking happy. She was looking at baby clothes online and we talked about names. When the doctor said it was a false positive…" She shook her head and threaded her fingers through her hair.

Sherlock cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

"It doesn't always work the first time but there's no reason to believe a second round won't work," John reassured her.

"I know. We know that. I'm worried about the toll it's taking on her. We'll do it as many times as she wants to."

John bit his lower lip. "Make sure you're taking care of yourself. The stress…you don't want to relapse. If you even think about taking a drink – you call me, understood?"

Harry nodded with a smile. "Thanks Johnny."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Can we get the trunk out of the boot? I want to get back to Clara."

Sherlock jumped from his seat and headed down the stairs. Harry looked over her shoulder and then back to John.

"What did I miss? Is he upset about something?"

John shook his head and walked to the door. "He isn't the best empath and he knows it. He cares, believe me, but he doesn't always know the right things to say. He avoids these awkward conversations so he won't say the wrong thing."

"That's very human of him." Harry gave him a weak smile.

"He's getting there." John winked and walked down to the car to help Sherlock with the trunk.