For Aless who has strong believes about not-Anthea, beliefs that I am hoping to shake a little... Happy Birthday, Honey!

The last thing that he remembered before it all went down, was not-Anthea standing at the end of the alley with the car door open. She was talking to him in that bored and scathing way she had, and saying that Mycroft wasn't a man to be kept waiting, enticing him into the car.

And then the shot rang out around the alleyway and John fell like someone had placed a hinge at his feet, his head hitting the tarmac with a thud that resounded through his ears.

What happened next was a blur, but shortly after, he heard two more shots, coming from the direction of the High Street and a scuffling noise. He then remembered feeling a delicate female hand against his neck and wondering if he was being checked over for life signs or he was about to be throttled, finishing the job the bullet had started. Her voice was both choked and plaintive as she breathed out two words, "Oh, John!" And then he felt something warm and damp on his cheek and realised she was crying over him; not-Anthea was crying over him!

He opened his eyes and winced at the brightness, his head was not happy that his eyes were open. None of his body was working together and it seemed to him that his heart was winning out over all his other inclinations. His heart wanted to see her face and, maybe in a moment or so, reassure her that he wasn't dead. The rest of him wanted to lie there and die in peace.

"Tell me your real name," he pleaded. Not-Anthea straightened with a start.

"How are you not dead?" she asked in a more professional than caring tone. She looked at John's chest and felt around, for blood presumably. When she found none, she undid a couple of buttons and felt under his shirt.

"That's more a third date move. I'm not the kinda guy to allow that kinda intimacy until we know each other better. We're not even been officially introduced. I don't even know your name ... now if you were to tell me your real name-"

She'd finished her exploration by then. "You're wearing a police issue kevlar vest - why are you wearing a police issue kevlar vest? Did you know this was likely to happen? How did you know this was likely to happen?"

John propped himself on one elbow, trying not to wince at the bruising on his chest. "I liked it better when you were lying over my dying body, weeping," John complained. "At least tell me your name, now I know there is more than just a little profession concern over my wellbeing." He smiled his most winning smile and not-Anthea actually smiled back, her eyes creasing with a sincerity John had never witnessed before. When she didn't respond immediately he tried to push his advance. "Won't matter if I die. I might still be dying, I hit my head with an almighty wallop when I fell-"

Not-Anthea looked at him appraisingly. "If I tell you my real name and Mr Holmes finds out - and he would find out - then you might just wish you were taking your dying breath right now."

John propped himself up slightly to get a better look at her. "Official Secrets Act? I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you?"

"Something like that," she said smiling broadly. She'd given him more eye-contact in this short exchange than the whole of the rest of the time they had spend together. He realised that her mobile was held loosely in one hand, her arm hanging by her side. He'd never known her to go so long without clicking on it.

"So, if Mycroft says you can tell me your real name, then you'll go out with me?" he tried, mixing logic to his advantage.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "So, how does that work exactly? I get the go ahead to break my cover and then I am forced to go out with you on a date? I fail to see the logic." Both eyebrows were up now, but she was still smiling and her eyes were still sparkling in the way that John had not experienced before. "I don't respond to black mail, threats, trickery or misogynists colluding together to force my hand!" She looked less amused now. "I'm my own person and make up my own mind what I do, where I go, and who I see. And I say we go out, whatever Mycroft says - it's nothing to do with him what I do on my own time. You-me, cinema, Friday evening, the Everyman on Baker Street, the latest episode of the Hobbit series - Dutch date."

Not-Anthea looked triumphant and it took a moment for John to realise that he had got just what he wanted and more than he bargained for.

"And, sod Mycroft! My name's Mary - Mary Morstan. My parents were good friends of Mycroft's and he took me in when they were killed. I've had to change my name as their killers might still be after me as I was a witness to their death."