The cab drops Mary off at the corner and she walks her lonely way to the door of her flat. She is coming home alone.
It is no surprise that John decided to stay the night at the hospital. It is also no surprise that she is not welcome to stay with him. Sherlock is in serious condition, but he isn't expected to die, and the look that John gives her before she leaves suggests that if he does die, she will not long outlive him.
The look on John's face, threatening, dark, and dangerous wasn't one that she had ever expected to see directed at her. That isn't the John Watson that she knows, the quirky, sad man with a horrid mustache and a shy smile. It certainly wasn't the John at her wedding, strong and happy, and so, so loving. This was the angry man who had twisted her arms painfully behind her back in that hotel room on their honeymoon. The man who would kill with a grin. How could she know a man so well, and yet not really know him at all? Then again, what right did she have to think such a thing.
She unlocks the door and walks in, only to freeze as she notices that the lights are on. Clutching her hand around the gun in her pocket, she enters the flat slowly, turning the corner to see a Middle aged man in a three piece suit sitting on her couch.
"Hello Mrs Watson," he says. "I'm Mycroft Holmes. I thought that it was about time that we met."
Two men come from behind the door and grab her arms. She pulls forward in an attempt to get away from them, only to stop when a gun is pressed to the side of her head by a brunette in high-heels.
They search her clothes, removing her pistol and her wrist knife as well as her keys. Then they step away from her, but she notices that the woman never puts away her gun.
"Please, Mrs Watson, have a seat. It is, afterall, your home."
Mary strides into the center of her living room staying well back from the man on the couch and distancing herself from the hawk-eyed woman in heels as she says, "I prefer to stand, if you don't mind."
"Of course I don't mind. I would offer you refreshment, but as this is your home, It would seem ungenerous."
"Yes, I see that you have the power to reach me here in my own home. I get that. Now can you go on with whatever it is you came here to say."
"You are direct. Good. That will make things easier. You shot my brother, Sherlock."
"Yes," she says. No need to lie. If he means to kill her, he will kill her. There is nothing that she can do to avoid it at this point.
"You meant to kill him."
"Yes."
"You sought him out today with the intention of killing him so that he would not inform your husband of your… shall we call it... your colorful past."
"Yes."
"But Sherlock got to him first, and he now knows who you are and what you are."
"He knows what I am, yes. You seem to have all of the answers already. What is it you want with me?"
"I could have you killed."
"Obviously."
"But it would probably cause distress to your husband and thus might adversely affect my brother's recovery."
"So, you aren't going to kill me?"
"I said that it might affect his health adversely. Your going free might affect his health adversely as well since you seem hellbent on destroying him."
"I don't want to hurt Sherlock."
"You could have fooled me," Mycroft said, his false smile turning into a much more honest frown. "You see, we are faced with a dilemma. My brother has placed himself in harm's way and drawn the attention of someone whose interest in you is something that we both would rather avoid."
"Magnussen."
"Yes, Charles Augustus Magnussen. Do not think that he will simply dismiss this attempt on his life. That is not his way. Magnussen is a spiteful, petty man. It will not take him long to plot his revenge, and when he does, then my intrusion of your house will be the least of your worries."
"Then I'll leave."
"I wouldn't suggest that. First of all, Magnussen's reach is international. Don't think that he won't be able to find your little villa in the Greek Islands, or that hotel in Paris you like to frequent. He has influence over the Swiss bankers that administer your hidden bank accounts, and knows the names and phone numbers of the relatives of the underworld bosses you were sent to eliminate. You would not last a month. If you are lucky they might give you a quick death. But considering the people who hate you, and the method you used to kill a certain politician we both know, I wouldn't bet on it."
"What is it you want? Because you wouldn't have come here if you didn't want something."
"It is so good to talk to someone who puts her head before her heart for a change."
"So, tell me. What do you want?"
"Your child."
"Excuse me? You can't just buy a child like that. I thought that you were supposed to be the British Government. Trading in human lives…!"
"Please calm yourself, Mrs Watson. You misunderstand me. I mean to let you continue with your life, to let you stay here with your husband and raise your child in the land of your choosing. The child is, afterall, a British citizen. We will protect you and your family from those that Magnussen might send against you and use our influence to prevent him from retaliating. You can have a normal life. The life that you always wanted. The life you've dreamed of."
"What's the cost?"
"Nothing that you will be opposed to. First, you must stop all attempts to harm my brother. Any movement in that direction and you will be eliminated immediately."
"Yes, alright. I agree to that."
"Second. You will make no attempts to leave this country, or even London without my express permission for the move. We will be watching you, and protection entails a certain loss of liberties."
"Yes. And the rest of it."
"And you will protect the person of John Watson whenever he will let you, as his continued health is of importance to my brother's state of mind."
"Alright. I would do this anyway. What else?"
"Being a nurse is a noble profession, but it is a waste of your skills. You will also, from time to time, work in an unofficial capacity for the British Government doing jobs that we need done, but cannot openly do ourselves."
"You want me become an assassin again? You want me to kill for you!"
"Please don't try to pretend that you are affronted by this suggestion. The gun that my men removed from your possession is hardly a child's toy. And I am certain that if the bullets were examined, they would match those used in a crime that is, at this time, still on the books as unsolved. Magnussen might sell the information of your identity to others, but if the wife of Sherlock Holmes' best friend was known to have shot him, the attempted murder case would be...perhaps even bigger than the Moriarty trial. My brother has become quite famous. I think that there would be very few people in England or around the world for that matter, who would not hear about the case. Think of who might come for you then."
"Alright. What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing. Simply go on with life as you would normally. Go to work. Prepare for your child. Reconcile with your husband, if possible. When we need you, we will contact you." Mycroft Holmes rises to his feet and heads for the door.
Suddenly, Mary remembers that he's just threatened her child. A fierce protectiveness overcomes her and she holds her belly as she calls out after him. "You can't have my child!"
Mycroft Holmes stops in his tracks, then he turns to face her. "Mrs Watson, let me make myself clear. I don't care at all about the life of you or your child. In my mind it would be a much neater world if both of you were to quietly disappear, and if I could be certain to do it in a way that would never be found out, I wouldn't hesitate. But I care very deeply for the health and well being of my brother, and as misguided as his words were, he has said that he will protect the life of you and your child, and for the time being, so will I. But if I hear any hint that you plan to do him or John Watson harm, any harm at all, I will not hesitate. Do we have an understanding, Mrs Watson?"
"Yes, I understand you perfectly."
"Good. You'll excuse me if I don't stay for tea. Good Evening, Mrs Watson."
He walks out of the house followed by his security men and the woman in heels who never once lowers her gun. Mary stands still for a minute breathing heavily, the shock of her encounter only now coming to her. Then the kettle whistle blows.
Mary finds her best china laid out on a tray. There is milk, sugar and even lemons, none of which she bought. She wonders for a moment if the tea is poisoned. Then she fills the pot and lets it brew before making herself a cup.
She and her child will be protected. It is actually very good news. Odd and unlikely as it the situation is, it is the best outcome that she could have hoped for. Even so, she seems to have become the mother in the fairy tale, Rapunzel. Having been caught by the evil witch she must give up her child. How long will he allow her to spend with the baby, she wonders. How long before he sends her off on a mission from which she will never return. No need to worry about that now. If he wants the child, at least that means that the tea is safe. She takes a sip and smiles. It is, as expected, excellent.
