Nicotine

A.K.A Mary Morstan

"Mrs Hudson, where's Sherlock?" Said John as the landlady walked in with a mug of tea.

"Oh, he's gone, John dear. Left a couple of hours ago." She said as she set down the tea on the coffee table. "I'll see if I can find some biscuits. Or do you want some toast?" She continued.

"Yeah, toast'll be fine thanks- but wait, where's Sherlock gone to?" John said impatiently.

"Madrid, dear. Didn't he tell you?" She hummed as she straightened the cushions. "Ohh. Did you two have a domestic? I don't blame you. It must be hard." She said, looking at John for answers.

"I-we...yeah. Well, not really. I yelled a lot and he stood there and took it." John said dully.

Mrs Hudson eyed him carefully. "Did he...speak to you?" She said tentatively.

"Yes." John said sharply. So Mrs Hudson had known. "So can you tell me why he's now in Madrid. Please."

"I don't know much, dear. He's been gabbling down the phone in Spanish for months. He's tracking down an assassin I think, something like that. You know, one of these days it will go wrong, dangerous job like that. I don't know what Mycroft is thinking, letting him do it..." She tottered out the flat for the toast.

John sat back and sipped his tea. Sherlock had been speaking Spanish the day he himself had come over. Sherlock had been busy with work.

Spain... why Spain?

John's stomach flipped as he remembered his honeymoon. He forced Mary and assasins out of his mind as his throat tightened.

Sherlock.

Spain for the honeymoon.

Spanish on the phone.

Mary's death.

Mary the assassin's death.

Sherlock tracking assasins in Spain.

John frowned slightly.

Why are you in Spain?  -JW

Mrs Hudson clattered up the stairs and into the living room, bearing toast smothered in butter and jam.

"Big scandal last night, were you watching?" She said as she set down the toast.

"The telly? No, I missed it. Thanks." John said distractedly.

"Oh, it was a good one. Paul was sleeping with-"

"Spoilers." Said John, with the ghost of a smile. Crap telly, but once you're hooked- you're hooked.

Mrs Hudson laughed and left the flat.

John looked at his phone. He expected an instant reply, he normally got one.

Look, I'm sorry we argued. I didn't know what had happened at St Barts. -JW

I got upset. It was a lot to take in. I'm sorry. -JW

Your wife was an assassin. Considering it was the first you'd heard about it you took it remarkably well. - SH

I don't want to talk about it. Why are you in Madrid?  -JW

You said you don't want to talk about it.  -SH

What do you mean? -JW

Have you read the file?  -SH

John looked at the large brown envelope Sherlock had given him resting on the table beside his tea. Did he really want to know?

Not yet. -JW

Read it. I have to go, in the middle of a case. -SH

Text me when you've read it. -SH

John set down his tea. Sherlock was surrounded in mysteries, well- more than usual anyway. They related to Mary. Everything was explained in the file, Sherlock said.

John opened the envelope with shaky hands and slid the file onto his knee. He exhaled slowly and read the title.

PERSONAL FILE

A.G.R.A
(a.k.a Mary Morstan/Watson)

HISTORY AND IDENTIFICATION