After talking to Mrs. Hudson for a moment and explaining that Sherlock was safe and at the hospital, Mary and John headed up the stairs of 221B. Once inside the flat and with the door safely closed John stomped angrily across the room.
"Why? Why do you have to be this way?" John shouted. Obviously exploding with the feelings he had been holding inside.
"John, I'm sorry but it's not completely my fault." Mary answered. Her voice came out soft, and surprisingly innocent.
"What do you mean it's not completely your fault? You're the lying one, the one who shot my best friend." John cringed at the last part.
"Yes John but you chose me. You can't help it. You've always been attracted to dangerous people and dangerous situations. Why do you think you fell in love with Sherlock? Fell in love with me? Have you even realized that your own landlady used to run a drug cartel? You can't help it, you chose these people because you can't stand the ordinary. You could barely stand living in the suburbs with me for a month. You need to be around the city, the crimes, the danger, it's who you are John. You can't completely be mad at me for this because you chose me." As she said the last few words Mary felt a pain shoot there her heart. She had ruined this man. She had fallen in love, gotten married, shot his best friend (no, lover?), and lied.
John stood silently for a few seconds just glaring across the room at Mary. Suddenly he moved, stomping a few steps and then kicking down a table and shouting,
"Why does it always have to be my fault?"
Mary cringed and backed away a few steps, staying silent and giving John some space.
"Okay Mary this is how we're going to do this." He walked across the room and pulled up a chair between his and Sherlock's chairs.
"We're doing it Sherlock's way", he said as he pointed down at the chair. "Always your way", he whispered to an invisible Sherlock. He then sat down in his chair, an army man taking over his facial expression and stature.
Mary crossed the room silently and sat down in the chair, resting her arms in her lap.
"What do you want to know first?" She asked.
"I don't know, just start talking." John wasn't quite sure how much he wanted to know about this women that he thought he knew everything about.
Mary only replied by reaching into her handbag and pulling out a flash drive, the initials A.G.R.A written across it in sharpie.
"What's this?" John said as he reached out and held the flash drive.
"A.G.R.A are the initials of my real name. Everything you need to know about me is on that flash drive. Just don't read it in front of me."
"Why not?" John asked in complete innocence.
"Because if you loved me before, you won't love me after you've read it."
John just nodded his head and slipped the USB in his pocket. Mary spoke up, her voice tinted with fear,
"I'm an intelligence agent. Although my accent is currently English, I can reassure you that it's not my actual accent."
"Oh great, that makes me feel so much better", John responded sarcastically. "So why exactly were you in Charles' office with a gun?"
"Charles is a dangerous man. He knows everything about everyone and he uses the information to ruin people, cities, and governments. People like Charles shouldn't be alive, people like Charles need to be killed."
"Oh great, you're a killer too." John nearly screamed out in frustration.
Mary just looked down silently, tears forming in her eyes.
"I think I'm going to head over to the hospital to visit Sherlock, it's probably best you went home. Don't bother calling, I'll contact you when I'm ready too." John stood up with his final words and gestured to the door.
Mary slowly stood up, looking John in the eyes. Her eyes searched the man in front of her but she was only met with his military glare. The tears in her eyes welled up even more as she turned to leave the flat. John held the door open,
"Goodbye Mary."
"Goodbye John."
Both their goodbyes meant more than just Mary leaving the flat. It was goodbye to all the lies that had been told, all the secrets that had been kept, and all the love that there had ever been between the two. As John closed the door he turned and pressed his back against it, sliding down to the floor. He rested his head on his knees and put his hands on his head. Why had he ever let this happen? What would he do now? The past two years of his life had been a lie and there was nothing he could do to fix what had been done. In that moment, as he felt the tears flow freely from his eyes, John realized how much he needed Sherlock. Sherlock was always there for him, always protected him, always made him smile, and most of all, always loved him. He needed Sherlock. And as he said goodbye to the lie he and Mary had been living, he said hello to the new life that he would live with Sherlock.