MARIA - A Sherlock Fanfic

The Big Reveal

“Anna?” Sherlock said, surprised.

She grinned at him. He looked her over. Gone was the attire of the morgue attendant, in its place were flashy purple clothes, which led Sherlock’s mind to those worn in television shows about female warriors.

“I lied before, Sherlock. Well, not really. I’m not a liar. But I…mislead you. On the phone. It wasn’t exactly me, per se. I have a voice double, you see. She just read my script, and well, if anything went wrong, she could improvise.” She shrugged. “Anna’s not real.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “Ah. So you are Maria.”

She gave him a tolerant smile. “In a sense.” Before he knew nothing about her, now data was pouring in. Her clothes – flashy and expensive. She was rich, flamboyant, a show-off. Her hair and makeup delicately done – she cared about her appearance. No, that wasn’t right. She cared about how she looked in front of him. She was self-important – she had a throne. But she was also just messing with him. This was who she was pretending to be. No one could ever practically use a throne – this was part of her game. He tilted his head at her.

“What is Maria?” he asked.

“An organisation,” she replied quickly. “A mixture of thieves and detectives. Both sides, unknowingly working together.”

“You said you were Maria,” Sherlock retorted, just as quickly. This was it, their meeting, and neither was going to let a second go to waste.

“I am. I’m the founder. All information goes through me. Nothing is beyond my gaze.”

“Why Maria?” he asked. It had bugged him from the beginning.

She gave him a smiled. “Maria. And Anna too. I don’t suppose you see the connection. Maria. Oh, Anna’s actually short for Antonia, did I mention? Maria Antonia. Poor girl, she was, have you heard of her? She changed name as she got older – Marie Antoinette. Poor thing lost her head. Too outrageous, they said. The people of France loved her at first, but then turned on her, accusing her of treason. As I said, poor girl.”

“So you feel a… kindred spirit with the deceased french queen?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s a nice story though, isn’t it?”

He sighed. “Why?”

She smiled at him then. The smile wasn’t particularly one of a sane woman. But then again, could a murderer really be sane? “Because someone needs to keep an eye on them. In this game of angels and demons, I am God.”

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that.

“Ah, so you think you’re God?” he said, each word filled with cynicism.

She gave a giggle. “Hardly.” She paused and frowned. “Maybe. Oh, but it’s fun though. Watching those demons stir up trouble.”

“Mycroft.” Sherlock said suddenly.

Maria tilted her head. “Hmm?”

“You’re his agent?”

She nodded irritably. “Yep. Have been for a while. He didn't even realise.”

“But then what about Moriarty?” Sherlock asked, his silky voice sliding over the words, knowing he had found a weakness. “He knows you.”

She gave him a look. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he? A bit annoyed that he helped you, actually. Anyway, that’s an easy one. I have operatives within his organisation, and for the matters I have to handle myself, I act as an informant.”

Sherlock’s eyes twinkled. “Fascinating. You run this whole thing by yourself?”

“I can hardly say that. The day to day operations fall as they will. It’s just whenever there’s something big going down, I get informed. For small things like robbery, people don’t bother talking. But for the bigger things…Moriarty for instance. I have to have several agents on him, because he’s always planning big.”

“Have I won?”

She paused, tilting her head. “Yes,” she said, uncertainly. “It’s never happened before. I could say Moriarty was a cheat but,” she shrugged. “Ah, well. So then,” she said with a teasing smile. “What’ll be your prize?”