Sherlock sat in his thinking position in their flat as Marie silently tended to the bruises on his face.

He'd skimmed through the memory stick before lapsing into thought, and Marie had let him as she simply pressed ice and smoothed ointments onto his bruises. Sherlock vaguely noted that Marie seemed very unhappy about his decision, but as she stayed silent on the matter he didn't press it either, taking her silence as a grudging agreement.

As Marie finished, he stood up, picking up the memory stick he'd been fiddling with as he went, when Marie finally touched his arm. He looked at her instantly, his attention trained on her as she looked up at him seriously.

"Sherlock, be careful with this one." Marie warned him softly. "AGRA was infamous, back in their day. Jim even considered hiring them at one point, they were that good."

Sherlock nodded slowly, but he noted: "You're not just worried about my safety."

Marie stiffened in surprise that Sherlock had noticed, and his lips twitched in a sheepish smile. Finally, he'd managed to surprise her, though the trick had been simple. Her eyes had been filled with an uncertainty quite unlike the strong woman he knew, and they had betrayed her to him.

"What is it?" Sherlock questioned, and Marie exhaled sharply.

"It's him." She gestured at the memory stick unnecessarily as she continued: "Ajay."

"What about him?" Sherlock asked curiously, and Marie said in a low voice: "He's like that video of Moriarty – proof that we can never outrun our pasts. And that…"

She trailed off, but Sherlock understood exactly what she was feeling. Her eyes had flickered to the back, to their room where their children currently slept peacefully, unaware of the battles their parents were facing.

Sherlock gently took Marie into his arms, pulling her in close though he kept enough distance that he could maintain eye contact with her as he promised softly: "Nothing will come back to harm you; I promise."

Marie stared at him, her eyes unreadable as Sherlock said softly: "I vowed I'd look after you, and that includes our family now. Just as it includes John, Mary, and their baby."

Marie continued to stare at him, almost unnerving him though he met her gaze earnestly.

Finally, she sighed and she asked softly, a hint of something akin to sorrow in her voice: "How can you be you, clever, sharp, consulting detective Sherlock Holmes… and yet still be so naïve?"

Sherlock frowned at that, but before he could ask, they heard the front door open downstairs and hasty footsteps bounding up the stairs. Marie released Sherlock, stepping back, and he sent her one last frown before turning as the flat door opened and Lestrade burst inside.

"Well?" Sherlock demanded, immediately cutting to the chase and interrupting whatever Lestrade had been about to say.

Lestrade shook his head regretfully, adding hopefully: "He can't have got far. We'll have him in a bit."

Marie shook her head while Sherlock replied simply, switching on his phone: "I very much doubt it."

"Why?" Lestrade asked, frowning as he glanced between Sherlock as the man texted something quickly, and Marie who's brows had knitted anxiously.

"Because I think he used to work with Mary." Sherlock told Lestrade as he sent his text and met Marie's gaze.

She nodded, and Sherlock's eyes tightened with determination as he nodded back at her once before he swept out the door, heading swiftly away. And Marie's face filled with worry once more as she glanced back to where her children slept, anxiety filling the pit in her stomach as she clutched her left hand, holding her wedding ring close to her heart.


Mary hurried through the thunderstorm, using a flashlight as a guide through the dark, dreary night, towards the derelict church Sherlock had texted her about. Immediately noting his sign – a spray-painted 'i' inside a white circle – underneath the already existing graffiti, she pushed a heavy side door and scurried indoors.

As Mary stepped into the small, dimly lit vault, pulling down her wet hood, Sherlock's voice murmured: "I am an idiot, I know nothing."

He stepped out from the shadows at the far side of the room and Mary shrugged as she replied: "Well, I've been telling you that for ages. Told you, you should listen to Marie more often, hey?"

She smiled as she teased him, keeping things light though she couldn't shake her worry as she added a little more seriously: "That was quite a text you sent me. What's going on, Sherlock?"

"I was so convinced it was Moriarty, I couldn't see what was right under my nose." Sherlock answered flatly, causing Mary to frown. "Expected a pearl."

He looked down to his hand, which was thumbing the memory stick, and Mary's jaw went slack with shock.

"Oh, my God." Mary said, stunned. "That's a..."

She stepped forward, staring at it in disbelief while Sherlock agreed quietly: "Yes, it's an AGRA memory stick, like you gave John, except this one belongs to someone else. Who?"

He stared at Mary, but she was baffled as she admitted: "I don't know. We, we all had one but the others were..."

She shook her head as she demanded: "Haven't you even looked at it yet?"

"I glanced at it but I prefer to hear it from you." Sherlock returned, his eyes still narrowed on Mary, who demanded: "Why?"

Sherlock leveled a measured look at her, before he answered calmly: "Because I'll know the truth when I hear it."

Mary scoffed, turning away from him sharply at that, and she stalked away, pacing, but she stopped when Sherlock said quietly: "Mary, I need to know for Marie's sake as well. She knew AGRA, or at least of it."

Mary took a deep breath, exhaling sharply but she did turn back to face Sherlock. Her face was grave as she told him grimly: "There were four of us. Agents."

"Not just agents." Sherlock pointed out, looking at Mary, and she scowled as she answered: "Polite term; you would know."

Sherlock nodded once to concede her point, and Mary moved on with her story.

"Alex. Gabriel." She lowered her eyes briefly to the memory stick. "Me. And Ajay."

Sherlock bent his head once more, thumbing the memory stick as he listened while Mary explained: "There was absolute trust between us. The memory sticks guaranteed it."

He glanced up at that, as Mary admitted: "We all had one. Each containing aliases, our background, everything. We could never be betrayed, because we had everything we needed to destroy the other."

"Who employed you?" Sherlock questioned, and Mary shrugged as she answered: "Anyone who paid well."

Sherlock raised a brow at that, but Mary was unrepentant as she went on: "I mean, we were at the top of our game for years. And then it all ended."

Her eyes were tinged with a slight sadness as she informed Sherlock brusquely, almost formally: "There was a coup in Georgia. The British Embassy in Tbilisi was taken over, lots of hostages. We got the call to go in, get them out. There was a…" she sighed, "change of plan, a last-minute adjustment."

"Who from?" Sherlock asked instantly, but Mary shrugged as she answered: "I don't know, just another voice on the phone."

She paused, taking a deep breath, before she added: "And a codeword. Ammo."

"Ammo?" Sherlock repeated, brows furrowing, and Mary shrugged as she said: "Like ammunition."

Sherlock pursed his lips, but let Mary finish as she said: "We went in, but then something went wrong. Something went really wrong."

She took a deep breath as she remembered that awful day, the screaming, the gunfire. And running, running as she'd never run before, running for her life.

"That was six years ago." Mary finished flatly. "It feels like forever. I was the only one that made it out."

"No." Sherlock contradicted, moving to a laptop he'd left on one of the desks inside the vault, while Mary frowned.

"What?" She asked, and Sherlock explained as he inserted the memory stick: "I met someone tonight."

He quickly pulling up the relevant file on the laptop as he told Mary: "Same someone who's looking for the sixth Thatcher."

He turned the screen to show Mary the file on the man that he'd fought earlier that night, the man that had almost killed him… and who also seen Marie.

Mary came forward, gasping as she saw the picture, and she whispered: "Oh, my God, that's Ajay, that's him. What, he's alive?"

She leaned into the laptop, almost grasping it desperately as hope threatened her, while Sherlock grimaced, touching his bruised cheek as he muttered: "Yeah, very much so."

"I don't believe it, this is amazing!" Mary whispered longingly. "I thought I was the only one, I thought I was the only one who got out. Where is he?"

She turned to Sherlock, demanding desperately: "I need to see him, now!"

But Sherlock just gave her a firm look as he asked grimly: "Before you gave it to John, did you keep your memory stick safe?"

"Yeah, of course." Mary answered, frowning at Sherlock's question. "It was our insurance. Above all, they mustn't fall into enemy hands."

"So Ajay survived as well." Sherlock said softly, his tone more gentle as he tried to get Mary to see what she'd missed in her delight at finding her friend still alive. "And now he's looking for the memory stick he managed to hide, with all of AGRA's old aliases on it, but why?"

"I don't know." Mary answered, her confusion clearly truthful, and that hurt Sherlock, knowing he was the one that would have to break the real truth to her.

"Tbilisi was six years ago, where's he been?" Sherlock prompted gently, and Mary blinked, confused

Sherlock steeled himself and he finally said firmly but not unkindly: "Mary, I'm sorry to tell you this, but he wants you dead."

Mary laughed, disbelieving, and she answered determinedly: "Sorry, no, no, because we... we were family."

"Families fall out." Sherlock countered softly.

Mary's smile fell, and Sherlock pressed, needing Mary to understand: "The memory stick is the easiest way to track you down. You're the only other survivor, it must be you that he wants, and he's already killed looking for the Thatcher bust."

"Well, he's just trying to find me." Mary argued, but Sherlock could see the seeds of doubt and worry, even as Mary tried to say firmly: "He survived, that's all that matters!"

"I heard it from his own mouth." Sherlock interrupted, staring at Mary seriously. "Marie and I both did. He told us, 'Tell her she's a dead woman walking'."

He gazed down pityingly at Mary as her face fell, all sign of hope gone as she finally accepted the only possible truth. She swallowed, before asking in a voice that held the faintest tremor: "Why would he want to kill me?"

Sherlock took a deep breath before he informed her: "He said you betrayed him."

"Oh, no, no, that's insane." Mary said sharply, turning away, but her gaze fell on the file still open on the laptop.

She stared at her former partner, her former best friend, her brother, and her jaw clenched even as her eyes filled with sorrow and confusion. Sherlock read all of her emotions easily, and he said gently: "Well, it's what he believes."

Mary stared at the screen, her eyes filling with tears, before she tore her gaze away, sighing deeply. She collapsed onto the seat by the table, holding her hands clasped before her one her knees as she said grimly: "I suppose… I was always afraid this might happen. Even when I said otherwise, I knew there was always that chance. That something in my past would come back to haunt me one day."

"Yes, well," Sherlock muttered as he touched his aching side – he was sure it was bruising and that would not make the job of raising twins any easier, "he's a very… tangible ghost."

"God." Mary whispered, leaning her head into her hand. "Marie was right."

Sherlock glanced back at Mary in surprise as Mary sighed, murmuring: "I just wanted a bit of peace, and I really thought I had it. But…"

"No, Mary..." Sherlock interrupted, moving to be before her.

She glanced up at him in surprise as Sherlock gazed at her evenly, saying softly but determinedly: "You do. I made a promise, remember?"

"You broke it instantly, to make a vow to Marie." Mary teased half-heartedly.

But Sherlock was dead serious as he answered firmly: "I may have broken my word that it would be the last vow I ever made, but I stand by the promise I made. I said I would look after the three of you, and I will uphold that vow, just as I will protect Marie and the twins."

Mary's lips twitched at that, and she joked lightly: "Sherlock, the dragon-slayer."

Sherlock smiled a little in response, but it dropped as he said seriously: "Stay close to me and I will keep you safe from him, I promise you."

Mary stared at him for a moment, before her gaze dropped and she stared thoughtfully into space. Sherlock could almost hear the gears working in her mind, before Mary finally came to a decision and she said as she stood up determinedly: "There's something I think you should read."

She dug around in her pocket, and Sherlock frowned as he heard the rustling of paper.

"What is it?" He asked, glancing down at the folded piece of paper that Mary was handing over to him, and she admitted: "I hoped I wouldn't have to do this."

Sherlock frowned at her, glancing up but she met his gaze with an unreadable look. He quickly opened the paper, his frown deepening as he saw it was blank, and he began as he looked back up at Mary: "What are you...?"

He cut off as he caught a hint of something wafting up, and he quickly sniffed the paper. Realization hit him too late as Sherlock felt his head suddenly spin, and he groaned: "Mary... Oh, no!"

He gasped as he toppled, Mary quickly catching him and she settled him swiftly into a chair, murmuring: "There you go. It's all right. It's for the best, believe me."

"No…" Sherlock groaned, but Mary said urgently as she left him, his sight tunneling into darkness as she whispered: "You just look after them till I get back. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"


Sherlock vaguely heard a little girl's voice singing something as though from a distance, echoing strangely as he remembered a vague memory from his childhood where he would play pirate. He remembered a beach, and a dog, and it barked as a baby cried in the distance – a familiar cry.

Sherlock jerked awake, blinking as the memory slipped away like a dream. He groaned as he forced himself awake, looking around the church vault and his eyes instantly landed on the abandoned laptop, still opened… but missing the memory stick.

Sherlock gasped, grabbing the laptop to check that the memory stick really was gone, before he heaved himself to his feet, groaning as he did. His head was pounding and he felt nauseous, but he fought it all as he staggered out of the church.

There was no sign of Mary anywhere, and while he'd promised to call Marie as soon as something happened, there was one place he needed to check first. Sherlock stumbled out, groaning and wincing when he almost went toppling over, but he forced himself to power on as he pulled out his phone.


"Agra?"

Mycroft stared at his disheveled younger brother sitting across from him at his desk, his brow arching questioningly as Sherlock just waited impatiently.

Mycroft shrugged, leaning back casually as he recited: "A city on the banks of the river Yamuna in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, India. It is 378km west of the state capital, Lucknow-"

"What are you, Wikipedia?" Sherlock interjected, his tone flat and unamused.

Mycroft hid a smile – unsuccessfully – as he answered in amusement: "Yes."

"AGRA is an acronym." Sherlock elaborated, and Mycroft returned sarcastically: "Oh, good, I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them."

Sherlock ignored that as he continued: "Team of agents, the best. But you know all that."

He looked at his brother, who replied flatly, no hint of joking left: "Of course I do. Go on."

He stared at Sherlock, who explained: "One of them, Ajay, is looking for Mary, also one of the team."

"Indeed?" Mycroft noted, his brow quirking slightly. "Well, that's news to me."

Sherlock raised a brow as he challenged: "Is it?"

Mycroft just lifted his brows back at his brother, smiling lightly, and Sherlock moved on: "He's already killed looking for that memory stick. AGRA always worked for the highest bidder, I thought that might include you?"

"Me?" Mycroft questioned with a deep frown, and Sherlock sighed as he retorted: "Well, I mean the British government, or whatever government you're currently propping up. You did hire my wife, after all."

"She wasn't even your girlfriend at the time of hire." Mycroft countered.

Sherlock gave him a look, and Mycroft finally straightened up as he informed his brother: "AGRA were very reliable. Then came the Tbilisi incident."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed just slightly but he listened as Mycroft said briefly: "They were sent in to free the hostages but it all went horribly wrong. And that was that, we stopped using freelancers."

"Your initiative?" Sherlock questioned, and Mycroft acknowledged: "My initiative. Freelancers are too woolly, too messy."

His voice went flat and for once he was being completely honest as he stated: "I don't like loose ends. Not on my watch."

Sherlock ignored that as he reached for a pen and paper off Mycroft's desk, saying as he wrote something down quickly: "There was something else. A detail. A codeword."

He turned the paper back to his brother, who read it with a frown.

"Ammo?" He questioned, and Sherlock shrugged: "It's all I've got."

"Little enough." Mycroft snipped, and Sherlock barely withheld his sigh.

Instead, he asked as nicely as he was capable of being with Mycroft: "Could you do some digging as a favour?"

Mycroft almost raised a brow at that. As it was, he did give his brother a rather nasty smile as he pointed out: "You don't have many favours left."

"Then I'm calling them all in." Sherlock replied firmly, and Mycroft did raise a brow at that. Sometimes, he forgot how stupid his brother could be.

He leant forward, watching his brother intently as he asked: "And if you can find who's after her and neutralise them, what then? You think you can go on saving her forever? Save your wife forever?"

Sherlock didn't even miss a beat as he answered: "Of course."

"Is that sentiment talking?" Mycroft challenged, and Sherlock retorted: "No, it's me."

Mycroft leveled a look at him as he countered in a musing tone: "Difficult to tell the difference these days."

"I told you, I made a promise." Sherlock almost snapped. "And a vow."

Mycroft continued to watch his brother for a moment longer before he sighed, and said brusquely: "All right. I'll see what I can do."

He then leveled another look at Sherlock, leaning his elbows on his desk as he warned: "But remember this, brother mine. Agents like Mary, and Marie," Sherlock twitched a little at Mycroft's use of her actual name for once, "tend not to reach retirement age."

Sherlock stiffened as Mycroft gave him another look, saying rather bluntly: "They get retired… in a pretty permanent sort of way."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, his jaw setting angrily, and he bit out harshly before he left: "Not on my watch."