Morstan and Adler

Three: Mary

MARY

Mary watched Sherlock. She'd been doing so for weeks now. Watching him. Now would be a good time to kill him. But, no, their plan relied on Irene being here.

He wasn't eating. He wasn't drinking. He wasn't even sleeping. He didn't talk. He didn't move. He'd been like that ever since the news of Irene's death came through. The assassin almost felt sorry for the man. He had to be heartbroken.

His flatmate, John, tried to console him. Goodness, John Watson. He was simply adorable. Mary would have liked to take him on a date somewhere, but that would be inappropriate, considering her target.

She watched as John confronted his friend.

"Sherlock, please. Sleep. Drink. Eat. Do something," John begged. He offered Sherlock a cup of coffee. The detective looked at it with his tired, sad eyes, and slowly shook his head.

"At least go to sleep. It's been days. Please."

Sherlock looked like he would try and reply, but he had no energy to. John just slowly lay him on the sofa, and left the coffee on the table beside him. Sherlock didn't say anything. He finally closed his eyes and slept.

John muttered, "What has that woman done to you?"

Mrs Hudson entered the room, glancing at the sleeping Sherlock, eyes full of concern. "Oh, John. You got him to sleep?"

"Yeah. It wasn't hard. Mrs Hudson, have you ever seen him like this before?"

The landlady shook her head. "I suppose he's grieving over that Adler lady, isn't he?"

John nodded. "I don't know what's got into him. I've never seen him care about somebody before."

Mrs Hudson just shrugged, and they both left the room, to let Sherlock sleep in peace.

Over the next few days, Mary watched as Sherlock began to eat again, but rarely, and always alone. He still hardly spoke. In fact, the only thing he seemed to do was write music. Mary noted that it was titled, Irene's Symphony.

The assassin shook her head sadly. She leapt down from her eyrie on a low rooftop (but still hidden) and whipped out her phone and texted Irene.

He's heartbroken. Time to come back.

Five minutes later, a reply.

I agree. Time to break the man further with the news of my survival.

Mary nodded. They had realised that faking Irene's death would be to their advantage. Sherlock would be shaken and broken, damaged even, with all this to his system. It would make him a sitting duck; killing him would be easy.