I.
16 August 2014
3:54AM Light rain.
II.
Ah! Here it is.
Mary Morstan daughter of Simon and Anna Morstan, died 10 October 1972. If Mary Watson is not Mary Morstan, then who is she?
Who would have a reason to take the name and identity of a dead British Child?
Someone who wanted to pretend to be a British Citizen. Who wanted to blend in with the masses of individuals who belong here, because she doesn't belong here.
Who has the skill set to steal an identity and to keep up the deception so well that it fools not only Sherlock Holmes but myself as well? No amateur, surely. An intelligence operative. Not current. No current intelligence protocols would necessitate marrying someone like John Watson.
Who then is behind all this?
III.
Primary suspect - James Moriarty. evidence- Money, Motive, Resources, Demented sense of humor. However, he is confirmed dead. (Dispatch team to verify remains). Secondary suspect - Mary Morstan herself. Freelance agent. Marries as cover to avoid dangerous past (search databases. Rogue agents. Skill set suggests CIA, former KGB training. Deep cover operative, Assassin). Third suspect...
IV.
"This is Mycroft Holmes. Status / Location - Mary Watson."
"One moment sir."
Mycroft taps his finger impatiently against the desk. Perhaps he should have asked status of his brother instead.
"Sir, she's at her residence."
"Is Dr Watson with her?"
"No sir. He's at the hospital."
"Have my car sent around at once."
"Yes sir."
He pushes a button on his phone. And listens for the ring. It rings again. "Hello ...sir?"
"Agnes, sorry to call so early but I'll need your services at the office. We have a number of protocols to set up. I am on route to check on my brother. I will need a task force ready to be deployed in one hour."
"Yes sir, one hour. We'll be ready."
"Good. So glad that I can count on you."
"Sir."
Mycroft hangs up the phone and starts walking toward the door. Then he pauses and turns to the picture of the Queen. There is a tiny switch on the base of the frame. He pushes it and the portrait slides aside to reveal a safe. He punches in a thirty-two character code, and the door opens. Reaching past the false papers in the safe, he pushes his thumb against the secondary lock, and the entire wall panel swings in to reveal a hidden room. He glances at the small desk, monitor screens, and computer, and then walks to a shelf and pulls open a drawer. Inside are a number of small items, gold-plated and monogrammed. He picks up a narrow gold writing pen and places it into his pocket before leaving the room and reengaging the lock.
II.
I trust my staff for my own safety, but best to be prepared for any eventuality. If she should threaten my brother in any way, a click of this pen and she will be injected with a small pellet of poison. She'll know what it is as soon as she feels it. No assassin worth her salt would be ignorant of the the murder of Georgi Markov in 1978. This poison, however is much faster acting although just as fatal. A bit Bond I know, but such things do have their uses.
IV.
He sets a guard and slips into Sherlock's room. John is dozing in the armchair. At the sound of the door closing he opens his eyes and sits up.
"Mycroft?"
"John, has he become conscious yet?"
"He slips in and out. It may take several hours before he's able to talk coherently about who shot him."
"I see. I...I would like to talk to him for a moment in private if you don't mind."
John glanced at Mycroft with soft eyes. "Of course. I'll go get some tea, stretch my legs for a bit,"
"Thank you," Mycroft said with a nod. John nodded back, and closed the door behind him. As soon as he'd gone, Mycroft's face became hard. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and leaned over to whisper in Sherlock's ear.
"Sherlock, Sherlock do you hear me?"
"Dear God, Mycroft, do you have to lean so close? You're spitting in my ear."
Mycroft sat back in his chair, a thin smile on his lips. "Brother dear, so good to see you awake."
"It was Mary, as I'm sure you've figured out by now."
"Mary Morstan died a stillborn infant. She was buried in Chiswick cemetery in October 1972."
"She warned me not to tell John."
"And have you?"
"Not yet. Not in a way that he understands."
"She won't let you reveal her identity. She'll kill you before you're well enough to talk."
"She might not. She might believe that I'll keep my word."
"Why on Earth would you think that? She shot you."
"In the heart. She could have shot me in the head."
"So."
"She had a choice. She could have killed me instantly, but she did not. Her shot missed my heart. She didn't kill me then, and she won't kill me now."
"We can't take that chance."
"I agree. I've got to get out of here. In the hospital I'm a sitting duck."
"I can transfer you to a military facility. Keep you safe."
"What about John? If I disappear there is nothing to keep her from killing him."
"We can capture him. Take him away too. Send him word about his wife."
"You can't just send him a note to say that his wife is an assassin. He'll never believe it. No, I have to be the one to tell him. "
"Sherlock, we are talking about someone who has tried to kill you once and failed. My first priority is your protection."
"She won't do anything while John is in the room. In the morning, I'll send him on an errand to get Lestrade. I'll get out before anyone notices."
"Might I remind you that you are still in critical condition. Trying to move will kill you as readily as that bullet did."
"I won't risk John getting hurt. Either you can help me do this, or I'll climb out of the window on my own."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"You know that I will do this with you or without you."
"Fine. A nurse will check on you at ten forty three. Get John to go while she's still in the room. She'll be gone by ten fifty. Shift change is at eleven. The next nurse won't arrive until eleven thirty five. That gives us a forty five minute window to safely remove you from the hospital, and with the shift change, no one will notice the extra personnel moving about. Will that be acceptable?"
"Yes, but we can't have any suggestion that you know about her. I think I will leave the window open just to confuse them. John always did have an elevated view of my abilities."
"We needn't go to such trouble, Sherlock. We can just make Mrs Watson... disappear."
"And if we fail? Then we will have a rogue agent on the run. One who has deceived all of us for months. No, she mustn't know that you suspect. Let me do this my way, Mycroft."
"All right, but there is more to this than simply one rogue agent, and I plan to find out what it is. The three of you are currently under my best surveillance."
"Take hers away, Mycroft. John and I are fine, but none on her. She'll know. Promise. Promise me."
"I think I hear footsteps."
Sherlock grabbed his hand and lowered his voice. "If she suspects anything, John will die. Promise me that you'll call your agents off."
"I promise, now sleep. He's here."
There was a gentle knock on the door and John walked in to find Mycroft leaning over Sherlock's bed holding his hand. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, quite all right. I'm done. Thank you again for staying with my brother. I must be going now."
"Mycroft, you will catch this killer, won't you?"
Mycroft glanced at the bed, the limp figure of his brother laid out upon it. His lips turned down.
"You can be assured that the one who did this will come to justice one way or another."
As he walked down the hall, Mycroft glanced at the exits. He could get Sherlock out of this hospital unseen in less than nine minutes fifty-two seconds. So, despite his misgivings, he would help him escape because he didn't doubt that if Sherlock stayed here he would be dead within the week.
Sherlock believed that Mrs Watson didn't shoot him in the head because of concern for him. Sentiment. It was indeed sentiment, but of a different sort. If she truly did love her husband, how could she not see Sherlock as the rival he most certainly was? She shot him in the heart because that was the part of him that offended her. The part of Sherlock that metaphorically loved John Watson. Sherlock loved John and so she shot out his heart. The message could not be more clearly stated.
So he would do what Sherlock asked, but promise or no, Mary Watson was now on the top of his domestic surveillance list, and as long as she was alive, she would likely stay there.