"They've clearly got you on some strong stuff for you to be saying this, Sherlock," I snapped. We were outside in Leinster Gardens. This place looked built for the rich on both sides. "Why would you say that?"

"I saw it, Rachel. You honestly didn't believe that I didn't see my shooter, did you?"

"Not for a second." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You've only told me that Mary was the shooter; you never gave me any proof."

It was hard to wrap my head around the idea. I couldn't picture her doing anything violent; she was too sweet for that kind of thing.

"I smelled her perfume when we were in Magnussen's office. She and only one other person wore that type of perfume, and it was Mary. I saw her."

I shook my head. "That can't be true. Why would Mary want to break into Magnussen's office and try and kill him? Why would she shoot you?"

"He obviously has something on her, that's a good enough motive. Right now, we've got to get some others to join us before I tell you everything." Sherlock swayed slightly.

"I should take you back to the hospital."

"Don't, I'm fine."

"Sherlock, you look like hell."

"I can't go back there now."

"Just accept that you need help!"

"Right now Lestrade, John, and no doubt others will be looking for me. The help can come later. I'm going to get a hold of your father now."

"What makes you think he'll listen to you?" I hovered at Sherlock's side. "You need to at least be inside so you can sit or something. Come on."

While Sherlock got a hold of my dad, I escorted him into one of the places in Leinster Gardens. He gave me instructions on where to guide him. We ended up in a room with a projector.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"You'll see."

While Sherlock explained vaguely what he told me to my dad, I fiddled with my pendant on my throat. If Sherlock was telling the truth, and Mary did shoot him, she had a lot to answer for. What did Magnussen have on her? What did she do that was so horrible?

This was going to kill Dad. I would never have the heart to tell him that Mary shot Sherlock, even if I wasn't sure it was true. Dad loved her, and she was expecting. How could I trump Dad's happiness with that grim piece of news?

This was why Sherlock was going to tell Dad, because he could handle it.

"Alright," Sherlock said once he was off the phone with my dad. "John will be here shortly."

"This is going to tear him apart," I moaned, rubbing my face. "You better hope he doesn't give you hell for this."

"He may since I recruited you here."

"Why did you anyway?"

"I needed a crutch."

"Wow, so it has nothing to do with the fact that my stepmother shot you and has an awful past?"

"It's partially that."

During the time we waited for Dad to get to Leinster Gardens, I helped Sherlock back outside. I couldn't believe he escaped a freaking hospital just to expose who Mary really was to my dad and me. Sherlock had to care a lot about my dad if he was doing this.

I flinched as my phone went off. I heaved a sigh, realizing Bay was trying to get a hold of me. I should have known it was only a matter of time.

"Where does he have you, Rachel?" he demanded once I answered.

"Bay—"

"Did he threaten you?"

"Bayley—"

"Just tell me where you are."

"Bayley, stop it! Shut up for a second." I waited less than that for silence. "Sherlock hasn't threatened me. I'm not in danger, I promise. I wish I could explain what's going on, but I'm short on time. When I get back to the hotel, I swear I'll tell you everything."

"You better."

"Sorry," I whimpered before I ended the call. I looked to Sherlock fiercely. "Great, I should have known I'd have people at my throat for running off because of you."

"You chose to meet me here. Like you told Barry, I didn't threaten you."

"You're doing that on purpose," I grumbled.

When Dad found us, let me tell you, he didn't look happy at all. He looked slightly pissed but mostly dazed, like what Sherlock had told him really threw him for a loop. It would have shocked me if it hadn't. If I'd been told Bayley shot someone close to me, I wouldn't believe it either. I would demand hard evidence.

Sherlock briefly explained how this was going to work. Anytime now, Mary would be on her way to Leinster Gardens. How he knew this, we weren't sure. Wiggy would be ready on the streets to give her a phone so Sherlock could talk to her. The fact that Sherlock got a hold of Wiggy stunned me; I guess his amateur deduction skills caught Sherlock's interest.

Sherlock would convince Mary to go inside to where she'd be in a narrow way. At the other end, she'd see a figure that looked like Sherlock, when really it would be my dad. That was how Sherlock was going to prove what Mary was.

As hurtful as the plan was, it sounded solid. Dad reluctantly agreed. I knew he didn't want it to be true about Mary. Neither did I, as I didn't want Dad to be thrown into turmoil.

I remained with Sherlock so he didn't collapse at any point in time. We didn't have to wait long before things went into motion.

"Where are you?" Mary's voice came from the phone. I was practically leaning on Sherlock so I could hear her.

"Can't you see me?"

"Well, what am I looking for?"

"The lie—the lie of Leinster Gardens—hidden in plain sight. Hardly anyone notices. People live here for years and never see it, but if you are what I think you are, it'll take you less than a minute. The houses, Mary. Look at the houses."

"How did you know I'd come here?"

"I knew you'd talk to the people no one else would bother with."

She laughed. "I thought I was being clever."

"You're always clever, Mary. I was relying on that. I planted the information for you to find. Thirty seconds."

"What am I looking at?"

"No door knobs, no letter box, painted windows. Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens, the empty houses. They were demolished years ago to make way for the London Underground, a vent for the old steam trains. Only the very front section of the house remains. It's just a façade." Sherlock pulled in a breath. "Remind you of anyone, Mary? A façade."

The projector clicked on, revealing a picture of Mary on her wedding day on the houses opposite where we were. It was only a head shot of her, veil and all. She looked so happy. How could someone like that have an awful past? Look at yourself and Bayley. You two have horrors in your past. You put on façades, too.

"Sorry. I never could resist a touch of drama," Sherlock noted. "Do come in. It's a little cramped."

We watched as Mary headed inside. Sherlock and I started out, keeping a good distance behind her.

"Do you own this place?" she asked.

"Mmm. I won it in a card game with the Clarence House Cannibal. Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately I had a...straight flush. Quite a gambler, that woman."

Mary was past the door that was slightly left open, inviting her to go inside. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

Sherlock and I slowly crossed the street, taking our time.

"Mary Morstan was stillborn in October 1972," Sherlock said. "Her gravestone is in Chiswick Cemetery where—five years ago—you acquired her name and date of birth and thereafter her identity. That's why you don't have any 'friends' before that date."

I vaguely remembered her saying that she had no family, only friends when she was figuring out seating for the wedding.

"It's an old enough technique, known to the kinds of people who can recognize a skip-code on sight, have extraordinarily retentive memories."

"You were very slow."

"How good a shot are you?"

"How badly do you want to find out?"

"If I die here, my body will be found in a building with your face projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard could get somewhere with that. I want to know how good you are. Go on. Show me. The doctor's wife must be a little bored by now."

Sherlock and I were at the ajar door now. We peeked in and watched Mary. It was scary to see her with a gun in her hand. She flicked a coin in the air and took a shot. I winced as the coin hit the floor. Sherlock threw me a look that said stay here. I nodded but watched him warily as he fully opened the door. I poked my head around enough just so I could watch them.

"May I see?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a dummy," Mary realized. "I suppose it was a fairly obvious trick."

My heart hurt. If Sherlock telling my dad that the perfume he smelled in Magnussen's office was hers wasn't enough proof for him, seeing her shoot had to be.

Sherlock picked up the coin. I could see he was rigid with pain.

"And yet, over a distance of six feet, you failed to make a kill shot," Sherlock said tightly. "Enough to hospitalize me, not enough to kill me. That wasn't a miss. That was surgery. I'll take the case."

"What case?" Mary asked. She stole the question right out of my mouth.

"Yours. Why didn't you come to me in the first place?"

"Because John can't ever know that I lied to him. It would break him, and I would lose him forever, and that would mean losing Rachel too—and, Sherlock, I will never let that happen."

Sherlock turned on his heel, meeting my eyes. I sucked in a large breath.

"Please...understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening."

"Sorry." Sherlock looked back at Mary. "Not that obvious a trick." He flicked on the lights, revealing my dad at the other end.

I stepped out from my cover, staying behind Sherlock. Mary saw me first. Fresh tears fell down my face.

Mary genuinely cared about me; she practically said I was her daughter even though she'd never really said it. I'd come to love her, but now...that was gone. All the love and trust I had in her was shattered.

Mary turned around to see Dad, who looked like a statue. No emotions in his brown eyes terrified me. Words could not express how much hurt I felt for my dad to see this.

"Now," Sherlock whispered, "talk, and sort it out. Do it quickly."

Silence ensued. Nobody said anything. The tension was unbelievable. I couldn't imagine what was going through Dad's mind. How hurt he had to be to know that his wife had kept this from him, had shot his best friend. I didn't care if she kept her secret out of love like she claimed to, relationships were supposed to promote honesty.

She was hardly an honest woman.

"Baker Street," Sherlock broke the silence. "Now."