Home again, Mary sits at the kitchen table and folds a sheet of paper back and forth, back and forth like a fan. She takes out her kitchen sheers and cuts the paper, the sharp edge of the scissors ripping into the white sheet as she forms the shape of a person. The waste pieces fall onto the surface of the table like confetti which she sweeps up with her hand and throws away.

She stares at the human shape.

One alone.

That's what the best undercover agents are like. They alone know who they really are. Not even the person who hires them knows their identity. That was what Mary thought that she was. Moriarty knew, but he's dead.

She unfolds another revealing two dolls joined hand in hand.

Magnussen sent her those letters meaning there were two who knew, Mary and CAM.

She unfolds another one.

But the USB stick with the word A.G.R.A. on it changes things. Someone else gave that stick to Magnussen. Someone sold him the information. Who? Not Moriarty.

She unfolds another doll.

Now Sherlock knows. Sherlock who is in hospital hopefully dying, but if he doesn't die then he will tell….

Mary unfolds another doll and just stares at it. Then she folds two back under again.

'No, That won't happen. Sherlock is dead. There's no way that he could have survived.' She pulls out her phone and replays the message that John sent her.

"Mary...Sherlock has been shot. He's in critical condition. I'm at the hospital now. It doesn't look good. I think he might...Mary, I need you. Come as soon as you can…."

John had asked her to come, so that's what she'll do. A good wife stands beside her husband in adversity. Sherlock won't survive. She'll make sure of that. Then as for the others….

She crumples the dolls in her hand throwing them all into the waste bin. Then she takes her keys in hand and rushes out to meet John at the hospital.

.

She finds John by the stairs.

"Mary."

"Hey!"

"He's only bloody woken up. He's pulled through!"

"Really? Seriously?" She says raising her eyelids in an attempt to look happy instead of shocked.

"You, Mrs Watson, are in big trouble."

Oh God! "Really, why?"

"His first word when he woke up...Mary." John furrows his brow, puzzled. Mary feels the floor dropping beneath her feet. She laughs nervously and hugs him.

John is radiating joy. He leads her to the darkened room where Sherlock is recovering. She can tell that he's been camped there all night. His chair is pulled up close by the bedside. She would bet money that he has been holding Sherlock's hand.

She frowns.

"What?" John whispers.

"Oh, just ... he's not awake."

"No. He's still recovering from the drugs that they gave him during surgery, but he's just about to wake up. I saw his eyes flutter a few moments ago."

"Did he say anything?"

"Other than your name? No." John laughs. "Who knows, maybe he has a crush on you."

Mary laughs too covering her mouth with her hand to lessen the noise. She glances over at Sherlock. His eyes are fluttering as if he is about to wake. John hasn't noticed yet.

"Oh John, I didn't get a chance to get anything before I came over. Do you think that you could grab me a cup of coffee? I'll stay with Sherlock."

John glances over at Sherlock, obviously loathe to leave him. "Alright," he says. "I'll be right back."

"Don't worry, John. I'll be right here with him."

John hesitates a second, and then leaves.

When he is gone, Mary rushes over to Sherlock's bed and stares into his face. Someone has turned on a fan. The light from the window shines through the blades casting shadows that cut across his face. Sherlock is waking up. Perhaps the sound of John's voice woke him. It doesn't matter. What matters now is that the chain doesn't get any longer.

Sherlock takes in a deep breath and his eyes open half way.

"You don't tell him," Mary says towering over him. "You don't tell John."

His eyes flutter again so she calls his name in that singsong way that she knows will always get his attention, "Sherlock! You don't tell John!"

She leans forward looking straight into his eyes as she talks to him.

"Look at me, and tell me you're not going to tell him."

She stares into his eyes all green in the dim light, and sees his distress. He's afraid, and she can't risk it.

Being a nurse has taught her many things. She knows, for example, that as little as twenty to fifty milliliters of air in the line is enough to cause a fatal air embolism. She reaches out for the intravenous drip.

The door pushes open, and John enters then with two cups of coffee.

"Hey, Mary. What are you doing?"

"Just straightening his line. It looked a bit tangled."

"Oh, did he wake up while I was gone?"

"No, no. He's just been sleeping."

"Well, It looked for a second as if he might." John hands her a cup.

"So, John, are you coming to work now that he is stable?"

"No, of course not. I can't leave Sherlock now. Call them for me, will you?"

"Okay. I...I think I'll go do that now. Call me later and tell me how he's doing, okay? So glad he's doing well." Mary heads for the door.

"But you just got here," John says putting down his cup and grabbing her arm.

She freezes. Her face growing pale. Perhaps he knows. Perhaps he's figured it out. But John just pulls her close and kisses her. She smiles at him and then leaves the room.

The smile falls from her face as soon as she turns away. She can't kill Sherlock, not with John at his side. She closes her eyes. When did everything become so complicated?

When Sherlock wakes, he's sure to tell John, and his brother, and his friends. The chain of paper dolls will grow and grow. But not yet. Now there are only three besides herself who know. Someone told Magnussen. She has to find out who, before Sherlock wakes enough to talk to John.