When we got out of the cab, I felt something was wrong when Daddy John answered Daddy Sherlock's phone and put it on speaker.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

"Turn around and walk back the way you came."

"No, I'm coming in."

"Just. Do as I ask. Please."

"Where?"

"Stop there."

"John," I said as we were in front of the ambulance shop, just out of view of the entrance. I pointed at the tall figure of one of my dads on the rooftop.

"Oh god."

"I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."

"Daddy, you're scaring me. What's going on?" I cried as I realized what must have happened and what he needed to do.

" An apology. It's all true."

"What?"

"No, it's not. You don't have to do this. We need you."

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Why are you saying this? You are making Caterina cry and you hate doing that. She needs you."

"I'm a fake."

"Sherlock—"

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Its just a magic trick."

"Well, what about me? You saved me from an abusive childhood and gave me a new lease on living. Did you fake that?" I was beginning to get angry along with crying so I could maybe get him to stop from jumping.

He started to cry. "Oh, my little kitten. I don't want to leave you alone, but solve the hard crimes for me, yeah? Be brave and don't let John become too miserable without me."

"No. Alright, stop it now." Daddy John started to walk towards the hospital.

"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."

"Alright."

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" he reached out towards us with one hand.

"Do what?"

"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."

"Leave a note when?"

"Daddy?"

"Goodbye, John and Caterina. I love you both so much."

"I love you too, Daddy."

"No. Don't—"

My dad Sherlock Holmes fell.

"Daddy!"

"Sherlock!" we both cried.

I stood poleaxed on the spot for about a minute with my other dad before running over to Daddy Sherlock. His face… I didn't want to see it, all covered with blood. Dad checked for a pulse, and he couldn't find one. A wail of loss and uncontrolled grief tore from my lips as I kneeled next to the man who had saved my life. My father, one Sherlock Holmes, was dead.

After the funeral a month later, I found myself standing alone in front of his grave.

"Come home, Daddy. We need you. John is becoming like he was before he met you, only worse. He's dried up inside. Be the miracle that you are and don't…" I paused in pain as tears ran down my face. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you bloody better not be dead, or I will find some heinous black magic to bring you back and kill you myself. Just, Come home to us." I ended up sobbing to the smooth, black marble headstone.

On the wind I heard a whisper "Keep looking and you will find me. Solve the hard cases for me." I ran to the street and hailed a cab and ordered it to Uncle Mycroft's club.

When I went to the guest room to talk to him, he was looking at a file with Moriarty's picture on it. "I want to take down that bastard's network."

He looked up at me in surprise "Why?"

"My dad would want me to do this. Sentiment. Loyalty. Courage. Logic. Anger. Do you know what all of them have in common?"

"No. Do I want to?"

"They are all inside a sixteen year-old assassin that wants to do something for her dead father. Either you help Morrígan Le Fey by providing information, or stay out of her way." My hair was like a black cloud of curls around my pale, bony face.

"So you're back. I'll give you a team that includes your remaining father as one of the members. I already have Cù Sìth and his team working on the take down in Europe. Would you like to take care of North and South America?"

"Deal. I want my usual gear and work clothes available, along with my crow and my wolf."

"I will do my best."

Three Years later

"It's over, dad. We can go home." I grimaced as he stitched up my arm for the twentieth time since we began our takedown of half Moriarty's global network.

"Sherlock can rest peacefully now." John said as he put in the last stitch. He handed me a bottle of ointment. He smiled a sad, content smile "You know the drill."

"Yes, sah!" I cheekily saluted before sauntering out to place a kiss on Greg Nott's cheek. "Thanks for saving my ass back there. If you hadn't distracted the Colchis Demon, I would be dead from a knife in my chest."

He blushed and I called Mycroft from my mobile. "The Colchis Demon is dead, sir. My team's coming home."

"Well done, Morrígan. I hope that you have a pleasant journey home. Can I get you to reconsider your decision to retire since this take down is over?"

"No way in hell, sir. I've earned a retirement. I'm going to solve the hard cases for him. If I didn't, then what kind of a daughter would I be?"

"Fly safely."

I wondered what the hell my deceased father's older brother, aka. the British Government, was hiding. I went into the main room of the suite where my team was staying. I used my parade ground voice "Listen up! Operation Clean Sweep is finished. Three years, and the Network set up by the man that killed Sherlock Holmes is gone. Well done. We are heading back to London for dispersal. All of the money you earned from this op will be put into your personal accounts. We leave tonight for London on the 11pm flight. Pack your things and meet me at the private runway of our dear benefactor. We crushed the spider under our boots, ladies and gentlemen." I paused before I gave the usual phrase that everyone responded to. "Morrígan's Black Feathers, you were the best team that I've ever had the honor of serving with. The Crow and Wolf!"

Everyone punched their fists in the air 'The Crow and Wolf!"

London, three years later

Dad and I walked to our new home that was on 33 Linhope Street in Marylebone district. We had just talked to Mrs. Hudson and decided that we'd rent the flat, but preserve it as a shrine to Sherlock. It was a nice place, we had a study, kitchen, multiple bathrooms and bedrooms.I liked the quietness of the place as I outfitted one room with training equipment and put in a false wall so I could hide my arsenal and emergency kits for use in times of need.

Dad decided that we should celebrate the end of the Network. He made a reservation for dinner at the Landmark Hotel on Marylebone road the next evening.

Landmark Hotel, evening of the following day

I rushed to sit down. "Sorry I'm late, Dad. I just got the lease for the dojo approved."

"Congratulations. I thought you were going to solve the hard cases in his memory."

"He meant the mystery of living, Dad. That's the hardest case to solve."

Suddenly a very annoying french waiter gave my dad the champagne. I saw the vintage '2000 Saint-Emilion' "Take it away. We want the Château Bonnet 2010 Merlot Cabernet Sauvignon Rosé. I don't drink champagne unless it's a wedding or New Year's."

"Oui, mademoiselle." the waiter gave me an annoyed glare before returning to the cellar to retrieve the correct wine for dinner.

"Why did you do that?"

"He's being annoying." When the waiter reappeared I said in exasperation, looking at him as he took off his glasses "look, just serve… the…Oh, shit. That's not possible." I looked at my dad as he sat in stunned silence trying to not yell at him.

"Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and anonymity to waiters."

John struggled to his feet with tears forming in his eyes.

"Dad?" I was worried he was going to have a fit.

"Well, short version… Not Dead."

John was staring at Sherlock trying to hide his pain and increasing anger, and doing a very poor job of it.

"Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny." seeing the rage building in John, he backpedaled "Okay, it's not a great defence."

"You died. You jumped off a roof." I uttered in disbelief as I felt my anger rise.

"No."

"You died, Sherlock. I. Was. There."

"No. I'm quite sure. I checked."

"Oh my God, oh my God. Do you have any idea what you've done to us? We grieved for you."

"Okay, John, I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology."

Dad punched his fist into the table so hard that I thought it would have broken or flipped over from the force he put behind it.

"All right, just ... Dad? Just keep …"

John pulled in a deep shaky breath before looking up at Sherlock whispering "Six years." He shook his head, dragging in another long breath and blowing it out again before starting to straighten up before whispering again. "Six years." He cleared his throat "I thought … I thought ... you were dead." He was really starting to look pissed at him "Hmm?"

I was starting to get worried as John began to hyper-ventilate in anger "Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that? How, God Damn You?"

I thought at this point it would be a good idea to keep this from going any further. "Dad? Let's go home and work off some steam in the training room." I turned to Sherlock, whom I had dedicated three years of revenge to pointing at him "Go to your brother and sleep there tonight. Ask him what we did for the past six years. Ask him who took care of the remnants of the Network in North and South America. Ask who lead the team and her background. You might be surprised. Now, I have just one last thing to do before I take my dad home." I drew back my hand and slapped him on the cheek that it was audible in the entire restaurant. I turned to my dad and pulled him behind me out of the restaurant before he could do something stupid.

When we got back to the house we changed into our sparring clothes and wrapped our hands before punching the dummies in front of us. After two or three hours, we showered and went to bed. I quietly went back to the training room and entered my arsenal. I took out my duffel bag and loaded it with everything I used along with my uniform from the time I spent as Morrígan. I put on the black leotard and attached my utility belt before putting on a long, black celtic skirt and crow feather earrings. I grabbed my pack and went into my room and used my crow feather quill to write a short note to my dad.

Dad,

If I stay, I will eventually go mad. I set up the Dojo for you and hired five professionals to teach classes. Don't send Sherlock after me. I'm still the Morrígan. If you hear of any bad guys dying with a crow feather placed on their person, you will know it was me. Don't forget to exercise daily and eat properly. I need to travel. I've been in one place for too long. Don't blame Sherlock, I needed to disappear soon anyhow.

Love,

Caterina Karpov Holmes (Morrígan Le Fey)

The Crow and the Wolf!

P.S. Date the short blond that was on our team, Mary Morristan. She'd be good for you, and she'll be able to protect you for me.

Following Day, Holmes Manor

Sherlock groaned as he rolled off his bed in a guest room of his childhood home. He went over what had happened the night before. When he saw in his mind the young woman having dinner with John, he hadn't realized that it was Caterina until she said she saw him die. He remembered the inhuman wail from six years ago that came from his daughter's lips.

He went into Mycroft's study and confronted his older brother "What did my daughter and best friend do for six years? And what did my daughter mean by telling me to ask you about who lead the team in North and South America?"

Mycroft sighed. "Caterina lead the team that eradicated the Network in North and South America. She used her alias as the assassin Morrígan Le Fey in order to pay tribute to you. I fear that she's been stationary for so long that she might leave the country now that you are here to watch John. She set up a fund in case she had to leave before John had found someone. He's set for life, but I fear for her. She's like you, except instead of solving crime, she's a bodyguard and an assassin."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you that your adopted daughter Caterina Karpov is the Morrígan? No. But if you try to find her, you won't like the woman you see. She's not the little girl you rescued any more. She was trained from birth in her first home as an assassin. By the time you rescued her at the age of ten, she had already been named Morrígan Le Fey and had killed multiple people."

"Telling Sherlock state secrets, are we Mycroft?" asked a young woman with wild, tightly curled black hair that appeared to have crow feathers sticking out of it.

"I would never think of it, Morrígan. He deserves"

"Nothing. The only good that came of the six years away from us is that you took care of Europe and Asia's part of the Network." Turning to Mycroft she said "Watch my dad, will you? I've introduced him to an old friend of mine that currently goes by Mary Morristan. I'll always be watching and protecting the family from irreversible harm. Good bye."

Curch, Two years later

I watched my dad get married by sneaking into the church seconds before the ceremony started. I wore a white dress with crow feathers stitched into the hems, making me look like a witch of some sort. After the wedding was over, I took my picture next to Major Sholto, and helped him with the subtle knife that had wounded him before the dinner began. I told him to tell my dad that he'd been saved by a Fey creature. I watched silently as John smiled.

"She must have had some good magic, because you don't have any injury now."

I left my present for the happy couple in their flat. A baby blanket with a single crow feather attached and a book on the celtic goddess of death, The Morrígan.

Appledoor, four months later

I watched as the helicopters surrounded Appledooor and my dad with his sociopathic best friend held their hands up. I knew what Sherlock would do if I didn't act now. I slowed down my breath and shot him through the temple. I quickly followed it with a bolt from my long-range crossbow. The bolt's flights were Crow feathers, a message to Sherlock to not be stupid and turned to my wolf, and we returned to the darkness of night.

33 Linhope Street one week later

"Who keeps on sending us clues and messages with crow feathers? I'm starting to worry about this. Who's doing this?" John argued with Sherlock as he paced back and forth worrying about whether or not his wife and daughter were safe.

"I don't know. This person doesn't leave much in the way of clues. All that's left is crow feathers, every time."

"Crow feathers? Hold on." John went to the library and brought back a book and tossed it to Sherlock.

"The Morrígan? Why do you have a book on the Celtic Goddess of Death?"

"Look at the inscription."

"To the family that gave me safe haven for so long, I will protect all of you until the end of time. -The Crow and the Wolf!"

"What? Did you just say The Crow and the Wolf?"

"Is that important?"

"That was our battle cry during the takedown of our part of the Network."

"Who lead the team?"

"Cat did. Oh, God. The Letter!"

"What letter?" Sherlock muttered as John ran to his study and grabbed the letter Caterina had left the night that Sherlock returned.

John re-read it and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock frowned as he saw the signature. "Caterina is Morrígan Le Fey. My daughter is an assassin that will protect the family without ever being apart of it. She's more of a Sociopath than I am. Well then, I guess I'll just have to draw her out somehow."

"Don't bother."

"Jesus Christ!" John yelled as he saw her step from the shadows. She wore black leggings, a tight, black lace top with the pattern of feathers, and her tight, curly black hair was full of black feathers.

"Don't swear, Dad. You have a child on the way."

John strode over and grabbed his errant daughter in a crushing hug to convey all of the happiness he felt at seeing her again. "Were you at the wedding?"

"Look at the photo of Major Sholto. He was very happy to see me alive after our work together when I was younger."

"When you were younger?"

"He called me Fey when I worked on an operation with him when I was six. I looked like a little fairy child back then. I've been a trained killer since I was three. I came to warn you, Moriarty is alive, and I can't take him out. That's your job. I'll stay for a while and help you until the threat is neutralized, but don't expect me to stay forever. If you need me, just write on your blog the place to meet and the battle cry. I'll be there at the time you sent it three to five days later unless I reply with a specific date and time of my own. Let's introduce me to my step-mom, shall we?"

I do not own Sherlock. If someone wants me to continue this story, please review or PM me about it with any suggestions. I wish all of the people who read this good lives with happier endings.