Author's note: This story begins before the events of my story, A Holmes Family Christmas in Sussex, and concludes soon after A New Year's Eve Party for Two.
Even if you have not read those stories, I hope you can enjoy this as a stand-alone one with my theory on the history of Mycroft and Mary.
Late October 2018
Mycroft was feeling rather pleased with himself. For months he had been negotiating with the UBS, a prominent Swiss Bank, to see that the funds of a certain former assassin were made available to her surviving husband and daughter.
Here, finally, was the letter that informed Mycroft that his efforts had been successful and that all that remained was for the surviving spouse, a man in the name of John Watson, to provide his signature on certain documents and to show other means of identification to have the funds released to him.
Soon, Mycroft would inform John of his new financial status and tell him truthfully that this was done to repay a debt. Shortly before Sherlock had married Dr. Molly Hooper, at his stag night in fact, information had come to light that John had been the one responsible for fatally shooting the cabbie who had tempted Sherlock with taking a poisonous pill. John had barely known Sherlock at the time, yet he had undoubtedly saved Sherlock's life by his actions, just because Sherlock was bored and could not resist a challenge, even one that could lead to his own death. John had made a significant contribution to positive changes in Sherlock over the years, even as Molly had also done.
But there was another secret reason for Mycroft to have gone to the trouble of securing John's financial future with the funds Mary had earned as a member of a top, freelance team of assassins known as A.G.R.A. who had been used on several occasions by the British Government under Mycroft's directions. Simply put, he owed it to Mary.
Very few people were aware of the long-standing association between Mycroft and Mary. Anthea, his loyal personal assistant, was probably the only one who knew the full extent of it, and he had no intention of revealing it unless it became necessary. Mycroft's wife of two months, Elizabeth, was also aware that he had known Mary as a member of A.G.R.A., but even she was not privy to the fact that he had had an active involvement with her after the events of Tbilisi. There was always the possibility that Sherlock might at some point ask questions, but he had been rather occupied with his wife and now his young daughter, Victoria, for well over a year now. Sherlock too was aware of Mycroft's association with A.G.R.A. In fact, he had known it since before Mary's death, but everything that had occurred since then had obviously served to drive that information out of his mind or at least relegate it to back-burner status, so perhaps the topic of Mary would not come up again. If it did, however, Mycroft was prepared to tell his brother the truth.
Mycroft leaned back in the chair of his office, folded his arms and closed his eyes, recalling a certain rather desperate phone call that had occurred almost eight years earlier, just after things in Tbilisi had taken an unexpected and deadly turn.
"Mr. Holmes, I have Gypsy on the line for you," Anthea's voice informed him, when he picked up the telephone in his office to answer her call.
Mycroft's eyes widened. Gypsy was the codename for Rosamund, the only female member of the A.G.R.A. team. Two days earlier, he had assumed the entire team had been killed or otherwise detained by the terrorists when they had somehow been betrayed and the plan to rescue the hostages had failed. The resulting loss of life to all the hostages had been catastrophic, and Mycroft was still trying to field questions on what had happened, questions for which he could find no answers.
"Put her through," he said crisply into the receiver.
"Please, Mr. Holmes, you have to help me," came the woman's desperate voice a few moments later. "I'm the only one left. I managed to escape and I don't know what to do now."
He could hear her natural Scottish brogue coming into her speech. That was something Rosamund had perfected over the years, an impeccable British accent, and to hear her true accent manifesting itself meant she was indeed under great stress. "Calm down, Gypsy," (he was careful to use only her code name, one could never be sure who might be listening), "Obviously you know things cannot return to the way they were in light of what has happened. I will make arrangements and furnish you with the details on how to obtain the documentation necessary to fly to London. After your debriefing here, I shall meet with you and we can discuss your future options."
He heard the deep sigh of relief from her end. "Thank you so much. I just didn't know where else to turn."
"Tell me how I may contact you, and as soon as I have arranged things, I shall be in touch."
Once she informed him of where she could be reached and disconnected the call, he immediately set to work, procuring passage for her to London and arranging for a false passport to be delivered to her temporary address using one of his government contacts in Tbilisi who could be trusted.
Several days later, Mycroft met with the former assassin. There was no question of her ever returning to her previous profession at this point. Because of the devastating results from the botched Tblilisi extraction, he had already decided that freelance operatives would no longer be used for government endorsed extractions or other such sensitive matters. This meant that Rosamund would require a new identity.
Mycroft procured a new identity for the woman, and she became Mary Morstan, who had been still born in October1972. This date was actually very close to the real birth date of Rosamund, which was rather fortuitous. Documents were prepared, a new birth certificate listing deceased parents, and other legal forms that created a new persona for the former assassin.
Before becoming an operative, Rosamund had trained first to be a nurse, and Mycroft was able to find her new employment in that field. He allowed her to live her new life without interference until after Sherlock had been forced to fake his death and leave London thanks to James Moriarty.
Two months after Sherlock's supposed death, Mycroft decided it was time to solicit the services of Mary Morstan once again, this time on a personal matter.
Mycroft felt an obligation to look after John, Sherlock's best friend, who believed Sherlock to be dead. He had quietly monitored John who was not doing well, according to his therapist, Ella. Ella happened to be a close family friend of Mycroft's parents. Although she obviously could disclose nothing about her sessions with John, discreet enquiries showed that John was not coping well. Sherlock had, after all, been John's only close friend.
John had been a good influence on Sherlock over the past two years, and Mycroft felt he should do something more for the former army doctor, so he came up with a rather clever idea.
Mycroft knew that Mary was living a relatively peaceful life in obscurity, with no funds from her former profession being available because of her identity change. He placed a call.
"How would you like a job, a better-paying one?" he enquired of her when she answered the telephone.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. I'm happy with my life as it is and I don't want to go back to my former profession," she replied apologetically.
"Ah, Miss Morstan, you misunderstand me. This would be a different job, a personal favour for me, as it were, and I would be the one paying you. I would purchase you a flat and your own car if that would provide you with further incentive to accept this offer."
"What kind of offer?" She sounded intrigued.
"There is a vacancy at a certain clinic in London, and I would like you to fill the position of receptionist. I would also like you to keep an eye on a man named John Watson, perhaps befriend him."
"I will not be a spy for you, Mr. Holmes," she said crisply, and he heard a note of steel in her voice which pleased him. He had always liked the fact that this woman had a spine.
"Forgive me if I gave you the wrong impression. I do not wish you to spy on him, I wish you merely to look out for him, take care of him. He needs a friend."
Her voice sounded rather suspicious. "Why?"
"I assume you have seen the reports a couple months ago about the suicide of my brother, Sherlock?"
"I don't really follow the news these days, but I did hear about that from one of my colleagues. A detective, wasn't he? There was quite a lot of debate at work over whether he was a fraud or not. He was your brother?"
"Yes." Mycroft's voice was curt.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she responded sympathetically, but Mycroft brushed off the condolences. After all, he knew Sherlock was not really dead.
"Yes, yes, thank you. John Watson was my brother's best friend, his only close friend really. I feel a certain sense of responsibility for the man who helped my brother over the past two years to become a better man himself." He supposed Mary would consider him rather cold-hearted to have been so casually dismissive regarding his brother's death, but he didn't have time to show false sentiment.
"And if I refuse your request?" Her voice was cautious.
"That is of course your prerogative," he answered. "However, I think my terms are quite generous. I should like you to remain employed at the clinic at least for one year so I can ascertain that John Watson is successfully moving on with his life. If you can be on friendly terms with him, help him to recover from his grief, I should be most grateful. As I said, I am willing to purchase a flat for you and your own vehicle as well if you agree to my terms. So, what do you say, Miss Morstan? Do we have a deal?"
He waited for her answer patiently, confident that she was an intelligent woman who would decide in his favour. Surprisingly, though, she did not say yes. Instead she asked, "Do you have a photo of him that I can see? Information about him?"
He smiled. Once again he was reminded that this was no average woman. Of course she would want to know what she was getting in to before she made a commitment. "Come to my office to see me tomorrow at two o'clock, and I will furnish you with all the information you could wish to have on John Watson."
He provided her with the address and instructions to present herself at the SIS building and ask for Anthea. His personal assistant would come to escort her personally to Mycroft's underground office.
The following day, Mary arrived on schedule, and Mycroft gave her the promised information on Dr. John Watson, from his history in the army and discharge after being wounded to his association with a certain consulting detective named Sherlock Holmes.
Mary looked at the picture Mycroft had provided along with the information. "He looks and sounds like a good man," she remarked, tracing her finger lightly over the photograph.
Mycroft's lips twisted slightly. "Most assuredly he is. On the day we met, I attempted to offer him compensation in return for keeping an eye on my brother and reporting back to me. He didn't even know my brother yet and still refused."
Mary lifted her eyes from where she had been studying the photograph closely and gave a short laugh. "And now you are basically asking me to do the same thing to him?"
"Dr. Watson was not aware I was trying to look out for my brother. I admit I did not really approach him as someone who had my brother's best interests at heart. In fact, I may have inferred that we were arch enemies rather than reveal we were brothers."
Mary gave him an amused look. "Why am I not surprised to hear that, Mr. Holmes?"
Mycroft folded his arms in front of his chest and watched as Mary looked through the file properly.
Finally she looked up. "He seems to have had a rather rough time of it, hasn't he? First getting severely injured in Afghanistan and invalided home, hardly any family to speak of with a sister he barely spends time with and parents who died several years ago. Now he has lost his best friend. I think I'd like to get to know him."
Mycroft leaned forward slightly, trying to suppress a rather smug smile and only partially succeeding. "Does that mean you'll take the job?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, I'll take the job."
The arrangement worked well for quite some time. Mary would send regular reports to Mycroft about John's progress. She had befriended him and he had begun to open up to her about Sherlock.
A year passed, and Mary became less forthcoming on things. Mycroft suspected that her friendship with John had developed into something more.
Then, shortly before Mycroft had to venture into the dangerous waters of Serbia in order to extract his brother from what had become a potentially deadly situation, Mary confessed that John was moving in with her. They had indeed developed a romantic attachment, and it was serious between them. It was actually rather a relief to Mycroft to be made aware of this. He no longer needed to feel responsible for John Watson's welfare.
After Sherlock's successful return and the news of John and Mary's engagement, Mycroft was a little surprised to receive an invitation to their wedding. He suspected it was because Sherlock was acting as best man. He did not think Mary would have ever found it necessary to reveal that she had a previous association with him. Of course, not being someone who felt comfortable with sentiment, he had declined the invite, although he supposed it might have been interesting to see how well his brother handled the task of doing a best man speech.
Mycroft withdrew from his reflections and opened his eyes, uncrossed his arms and folded up the letter. He hoped that John would not ask any uncomfortable questions about why he had helped him when he went to give the man the news of his unexpected inheritance. With a bit of luck, his explanation about repaying a debt would be enough. John was not a suspicious man by nature, so he felt fairly certain all would be well. John certainly did not need to know the extent of Mycroft's true association with his late wife.
That association between Mycroft and Mary would probably have remained a secret if not for the fact that one of her fellow A.G.R.A. members had turned up alive and Sherlock had demanded his brother's assistance, at which time Mycroft had been forced to reveal he had indeed known Mary from her past life as an assassin. But Sherlock had not pressed him further, and he was still not aware of the fact that Mycroft had been the one to help Mary when she had tried to escape London because of Ajay's pursuit.
No indeed, that information would never come to light unless Sherlock started asking awkward questions. Once again, Mycroft found himself lost in his memories those more recent events that had begun with another frantic phone call from Mary, who had obviously committed his private number to memory.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Holmes, but it seems it's my turn to request your help again," came Mary's voice on the other end of the telephone.
Mycroft frowned. "Why should you need my help again? You're happily married to John Watson and have a baby. Surely life has been kind to you?"
A deep sigh came from the other end. "Apparently my past is catching up to me. I had a very strange text from Sherlock a little while ago. He wishes to meet with me tonight and he asked me about A.G.R.A. I don't know why he's asking, and I'm worried. Will you help me get out of London for a while?"
"Don't you have an infant to care for?" he asked, a little surprised.
"John can take care of her for now. I need to keep them safe. If there's a target on my back, I need to keep it away from my husband and daughter. Please, I'm begging you..."
Mycroft stroked his chin thoughtfully. "No need to beg. I shall help you, but I shall need time to procure false documents and a fake passport for you. If you would like to pretend to be American, I know someone who could have a special passport ready for you within days, then send it to a neutral location for you to pick up. We have special agents all over Europe, it is just a matter of where you would like me to send the passport once it is ready. Do you have a location in mind?"
"Not yet. Once I am out of the country, I will call you to let you know where I will be going."
"Very well. In the meantime I assume you still have the passport you used in order to leave Tbilisi, unless you destroyed it once you changed your identity?"
"I kept it - just in case," she responded.
Such a clever woman, thought Mycroft approvingly. "Excellent.. At the very least you can use that to leave the country initially and I will wait on your call after that."
"Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Holmes. You're a lifesaver!" she exclaimed in a very relieved voice.
"Quite possibly," responded Mycroft rather smugly.
Once the conversation had ended, he set the wheels in motion. The following day her received a call from Mary to say she had decided on Norway as her next temporary destination. Two days after that a passport was waiting in a secret place in Norway for her to pick up. Her new name was Gabrielle Ashdown; place of birth, California USA.
In the meantime, Sherlock had come by to ask him about A.G.R.A. and demand more information. Mary had been clever indeed to suspect that someone was after her. Of course, Mycroft pretended ignorance of the whole affair.
Later, Mycroft regretted that despite all he had done to help Mary, the end result had been her death. He recalled the words he had used in conversation with Sherlock when he had been asking questions about Mary and A.G.R.A. "But remember this, brother mine - agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age. They get retired in a pretty permanent sort of way." For once, he was not happy to have been proven right.
Again, Mycroft snapped out of his reverie, this time as a knock sounded on the door.
Without waiting for a response, the door opened, and Mycroft knew who it was. Only his wife would presume to enter without invitation.
"Are you ready to go, dear?" she questioned. "We have dinner reservations at seven."
Mycroft shuffled the papers together on his desk. He would speak to John tomorrow. "I was just looking over some documents, but I'm ready to leave."
He stood and walked towards Elizabeth, then held out his arm to her. He might not be unduly sentimental, but he was a gentleman, after all.
She took his proffered arm, and they left the building together for their dinner date. Work was no longer always Mycroft's first concern as it had been in the past. He had definitely mellowed in that regard, and he knew it was in large part due to his brother and sister-in-law who had proved once and for all that caring was an advantage after all.
Author's note: I started thinking about writing this story in the middle of last year when I was wondering about the timing of Mary meeting John, and the way Mycroft was aware of Mary's background. I was also wondering how she was able to escape London during TST. She needed to have an ally, and I thought - who better than Mycroft?
Anyway, as I explained in my first a/n, I decided to time this story on either side of my Another Holmes Family Christmas in Sussex story, where I revealed that Mycroft was able to get Mary's money from her time as a freelance operative (another thing that was never addressed in the show which offered a rich opportunity for a story that would enable John to have a little more financial security). If you would like further context on that, please visit (or re-visit) that story.
For now, though, are you intrigued? Does this seem believable to you? Do you have your own head canon for Mary?
I've been really excited to publish this theory, so I hope to hear from lots of people with their own thoughts on the Mycroft and Mary connection! Has anyone else read any theories about this? I must confess, I don't read a lot as I am too busy writing, but I have never come across anyone trying to explain these interesting issues.