A/N: I don't own BBC Sherlock. I own my OCs. Almost forgot that.

Her name was Faith Grace Watson, only she went by Faith Watson when she is with friends and newly met strangers. She was known as "Faithie" with her family, and especially her older brother, John Watson. She was 5 feet and 8 inches tall, taller than John by only a couple of inches. She had light brown hair that tended to go curly when it got soaked and then wavy when dried. Her eyes were brown, and they seldom sparkled; only certain people could do that, and those were far and few in between.

Ever since she was a little kid, she was afraid of hospitals. It happened when she broke her arm climbing a tree. She was rushed to the ER, and she panicked. All she could remember were straps holding her down so the doctors could take x-rays and set her arm in a cast. Once she was home, she steered clear of anything that reminded her of that place. At night she would have nightmares, and they were not the most pleasant of dreams. But then she grew into a woman who would knock the living daylights out of anyone who would even dare to hurt her family.

It wasn't unusual in her family that more than one child went off to serve in Her Majesty's Military. Usually they go into the same branch, as to keep an eye on each other. But Faith wanted to be different. She went into the Navy, instead of the Army like her father wanted her to do.

"The Army is good enough for John; but it's the Navy for me." She said to her father the day she signed up.

She knew that John wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her, which was fine. She could take care of herself. Or so she thought. At times when she got sick, she could not go to the infirmary, only because it reminded her too much of the hospital. She got bullied around in boot camp, to the point where she exploded and gave one guy a cracked jaw. She was punished, but in the end, she was rewarded for putting that guy in his place. After she finished boot camp, she worked her way up into the military until her commanding officer gave her the rank of Lieutenant-Commander. Even though she was a woman, she was treated like a man, coming from a family that was famed for its military service to the Queen. She followed her brother in the news, looking for his name when some big happened in Afghanistan. When it came up in the news that he had been shot and sent home, she requested leave to go home and meet him. She got permission, and so helped John at home until he got better. When she was with him at his physical therapy, she would use her best military voice to get him to do what she wanted, or rather, needed him to do.

"John," she would say, "you need to get better so that mum and dad don't have to worry about you. And Harry; can't forget her, even though she tends to forget the rest of us in her drinking. Now, GIVE ME 20!"

Once he got better though, she left again for the Navy. She was 18 when she started and 26 when she got the rank of Lieutenant-Commander. All this time, she was a medical doctor, just like John, but she dealt with other things than John. The more intimate parts one could say. Sometimes she had to travel outside of the navy to do her job proper, but more often than not she stayed inside the navy, treating whatever cases came her way. When she got leave again to visit her family, she considered leaving the navy for good.

"I don't know if I can do it, John. I want to be with my family again." She snuggled up to her brother at their home at Christmas time. "I would be able to do my job proper here, and work with you too. I guess that is what I really want." John pulled his sister closer.

"If that's what makes you happy, then go for it." He planted a kiss on her head, and then got up. "Well, mum wants me to go shopping with her, so I'll be gone for a bit, Faithie." She nodded.

When she got back from leave, she resigned formally from the Navy. They understood; they really did. She felt happier than she did in years, and got herself set up with a doctor who even works with John from time to time. Occasionally John would ring her and she would come when he needed her. But that was only when he couldn't handle it on his own.

On a particularly slow day after work, she sat in her favorite pub, The Singing Frog, drinking a glass of a fruity wine. And that's when the trouble began (or so she thought).