"Sherlock? What's wrong?" John asked as he looked up to see his best friend lean against a wall in shock as his phone fell between nerveless fingers. John picked up, to find a message from Mycroft. She's been found.
Mycroft sighed as he looked at the file on his desk. It was old and battered from many years of being leafed through for clues. But finally there was a solid lead. His agents had found her. Winter Annette Holmes, his youngest sibling, and only sister. He looked at the picture he had been given. She was now 28. She had the same face and eyes as her brother Sherlock, but with straighter, redder hair than him. She was short, for a Holmes, with a more expressive face that hid the sly intellect that had surprised Mycroft more often than he'd cared to admit. He paged his assistant Anthea. "Please prepare the secure quarters for our guest, Anthea."
Winter saw nothing but the black world she had been dragged into. She had been stolen from the boarding school she had been attending for her secondary education when she was 11. Now, she was the spy and assassin of one James Moriarty. She hated him, and what she had been trained to do. She killed to live. If she didn't do as she was ordered, she would be the one to die. She liked living, so she did as she was told. But how she killed the people was up to her. Mostly, she would make it look like a mugging, but some people she would kill quieter, in their sleep in such a manner that it looked like a heart attack. They were the people that didn't deserve their deaths.
And now here she was back in London once more to kill. Her subject lived in 221B Baker Street, and lived in the lower bedroom. She had to be careful because of the Army Doctor in the bedroom above. It was simple: go in, stab him through the heart with a knife, and leave. It was simple.
"Sherlock? Who is Mycroft texting you about?"
"Our younger sister, Winter. I'm terrified because she was trained to be an assassin. A woman with Mycroft's intelligence, my agility and flexibility. She works for Moriarty against her will, and is probably coming to kill me."
John stood in stunned silence, then shook his head, and took a deep breath. "Then let's prepare so she doesn't kill you, and she finds out that she can live outside of Moriarty's web."
"It's not that simple. She's a smaller, even more physically agile and fit version of me. Even I would lose against her in a fight."
"I'm not letting you die on me, Sherlock. Not now, not ever. Especially since I saved your life once already."
Sherlock walked to his chair, and sat in thought. "It wouldn't hurt to try... luring her here to help her... Would it?" John asked, trying to elicit a response from Sherlock.
AN: Hello, I'm back and any of you who know me, I'm not that good on updating, so please give me two weeks to update before you get angry. I know I've got other stories that should be finished, but with college and life in general things are really hectic. It'll be a little bit of a departure from my usual writing style, but still very much my normal subject matter. See you when I post the next chapter!
~ Helen Nurse