Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this segment published. I didn't expect this one to fight me like it did. :)
Summary: Where exactly did Sherlock get the drugs he took on the plane if he spent the week prior in custody\solitary confinement? He would have needed a confidant. Set on Christmas Day and just before Sherlock's plane leaves at the end of HLV.
He should have known. He should have deduced this when he discovered Magnussen's glasses were just ordinary spectacles...
Sherlock stands transfixed, staring into the empty cupboard that should have housed the stairs leading to Appledore's vaults. He's underestimated Magnussen's cunning to disastrous result. He risked the unlikely possibility of an outcome like this, even created a contingency plan for it, and made sure John brought his gun. But he certainly didn't expect everything to go so spectacularly wrong.
He fully intends to honor the vow he made to John and Mary. All that's important now is keeping his friend safe. And it's still possible. But there's a detail to handle first. He just needs a few seconds alone.
"Let's go outside. They'll be here soon. I can't wait to see you both arrested." Magnussen says in his disgustingly smug manner as he heads towards the terrace. In a state of confused shock, John follows, giving Sherlock the precious seconds he needs.
As soon as the other two men are out of sight, Sherlock pulls his phone from his pocket, sends Bill Wiggins a quick text, slips the phone back into his coat and joins them outside.
It would be easy to blame Mary's ill-timed presence in Magnussen's office all those months prior, but the truth is he's equally culpable. Between the two of them, he and Mary have managed to botch this whole case.
It's not exactly the reconciliation Mary hoped for, but at least she and John are talking now. Even if all they've discussed in the past week is the baby and Sherlock, it's something.
John has been consumed with worry for his friend. The meeting they're now headed for may alleviate some of John's immediate concerns, but Mary fears for the worst. Sherlock will leave and she'll be left to pick up the broken pieces once again. At least the baby's arrival will help.
John is silent as the car Mycroft sent for them makes its way to their destination. Mary fights the urge to touch the small package hidden in her coat pocket. John would never forgive her if he knew what she's planning to do. But she couldn't forgive herself if she doesn't do it.
It's ironic that Sherlock entrusted this task to her, as if she's finishing what she started all those months ago in Magnussen's office. One moment of panic, and the ultimate outcome is unavoidable. But she won't send Sherlock off to war unarmed. She knows better than most that every war has it's suicide missions. And make no mistake, it is war where he's going. She just hopes John doesn't realize any of that yet... She hopes Sherlock knows better than to tell him.
She slides her eyes closed and remembers opening the "Christmas gift" Bill Wiggins delivered from Sherlock a few minutes after the drugged tea wore off. Inside the wrapping was a small aluminum tube, like the ones cigars are sold in, and a note with her name on it.
She can still picture the message written in Sherlock's distinctive print. She could almost hear the words rumbling in her ear in his baritone as she read it, committing it to memory before casting it into the fire next to the remains of the flash drive.
Mary,
Bring this with you when you see me next. You'll know why and what it means from the contents. Look after John for me.
-Sherlock
The person Mary is now, the person she's become since meeting John Watson, wanted to throw the entire package into the fireplace after opening it. It contained only a pre-filled syringe and another piece of paper detailing the chemical cocktail within.
Instead, she hid it inside her handbag and tried for the first few days to simply ignore it, push it off as the desperate act of an addict trying to ensure his next fix. However, it's obvious from the list of the syringe's contents that's not the case. There's no doubt it's an overdose. Enough to be fatal, even for a frequent user.
Learning of Sherlock's impending exile helped cement the purpose of the package and what he's asked of her. The person she had been before, the assassin, knows it's insurance, his version of a cyanide capsule. She's fairly certain he's being sent to die while doing his duty for Queen and country. If he's lucky, he'll get a well-placed bullet. If not... Death by drug overdose is preferable to slow torture without any hope of extraction.
The person Mary is now, the one whom Sherlock sacrificed himself to free from Magnussen's clammy grip, the one he's bequeathed John Watson to, knows she owes Sherlock this much.
The car pulls into a private airstrip. She can see Sherlock and Mycroft waiting beside a small jet, watching the car approach. The sight confirms all her assumptions.
She puts on a brave face and steps from the car. Best to get on about things and have done with it. She walks straight up to Sherlock and gives him a warm embrace.
"You will look after him for me, won't you?" He asks.
"Don't worry, I'll keep him in trouble."
She feels like Judas as she leans in to kiss his cheek, feels his fingers brush lightly against her coat pocket. This is the task she's been given, it would only make things worse if she balked now.
"That's my girl." He says and with a quick sleight of hand, transfers the contents of her pocket to his own.
Oh God, what has she just done? She's suddenly overwhelmed with remorse. She steps back as John approaches, miserably clasping his hand while she gets her emotions in check. She tells herself it's just her pregnancy hormones playing havoc. She tells herself this is the way it has to be.
As Sherlock and John say their goodbyes, she moves to stand silently next to Mycroft, slipping her hand into her now empty coat pocket. It would be easy to blame Sherlock's ill-timed arrival in Magnussen's office all those months prior, but she knows she's equally culpable. Between the two of them, she and Sherlock have managed to botch this whole case.