'Needs must when the devil drives.' Wasn't that the human phrase? Wasn't that what people said when they had to do things they'd otherwise not do? When the need was too great, when the situation too dire to do anything else.

Naomi, angel of the Lord and leader of Heaven's Intelligence Division, would hardly be an angel to take a child as a vessel. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

There'd been an attack. A trap set for her specifically, something so cruel she'd only just barely escaped with her life. Her vessel had been killed in the escape. She herself was injured, the holes ripped through her grace were so painful she could barely focus. Still, she'd fled the mangled vessel as a silver light of falling angelic grace.

The year was 1980. October to be precise. The location was London, England, where the leaves were changing colors and the chilly wind penetrated through life with icy fingers. She felt cold, it was an odd experience to something as powerful as a star.

Staying as she was, even injured, meant she'd hurt humans. They'd not be able to survive witnessing the enormity of her four headed, six winged, twelve clawed form bursting with star light. That was not her goal, there was no need, and she could not stand for that. So she zeroed in on a vessel that would be suitable. The closest one. The most vulnerable.

This vessel she'd been reduced to was a doe-eyed ten year old with dark hair that reached the middle of her back. She accepted the angel immediately without question, and Naomi descended.

The light had been intense, the heat divine, but she settled into the vessel like a hand in a glove. Naomi stood up from the grass of, wincing just slightly as the small vessel hurt along with her. She needed to hide. She needed to find shelter so she could heal. She wouldn't be leaving this vessel until that happened, child or not. The child's mind was fresh, impressionable, full of potential. But she was a devote believer, accepting, with a real childlike faith. So Naomi fell into her mind to begin healing her grace.

Mycroft Holmes was all of ten years old and standing in his house's front garden, watching his three year old brother play in the grass. Their mother kept a weather eye on both of them from the kitchen window, despite his efforts to assure her that he had the situation well in hand. He was not a common ten year old.

The neighbor's daughter, brought over to 'make friends' with them, certainly seemed to be. He wasn't sure what their parents were thinking. He didn't need friends. Books were more than adequate company. As was his brother, even if he hadn't yet developed the skills to carry on a decent conversation. He would in time, if he had anything to say about it.

Mycroft smiled a bit at the idea and smoothed a hand over his perfectly combed hair, watching Sherlock giggle at something or other he'd found in the grass. He lifted his eyes to search for their companion.

She wasn't nearly as bothersome as he'd thought she would be, but she was slow. Slower than he was by quite a bit, and it was something he didn't fully understand just yet. He felt oddly out of place. Like he didn't belong with other children his age. His mother seemed convinced she would make a suitable friend, however, and he felt obligated to try. An experiment, perhaps, like he'd seen in his science books.

He spotted her some distance away, standing still with her eyes closed. Furrowing his little brows, he wandered over to check on her. "Are you all right?"

Naomi opened brown eyes. Children were almost a foreign concept to her, at least as far as she was supposed to act as one. Her experience killing them was more prominent. The boy that approached her was unusual and intriguing, even by first impression of his mind. She tilted her head and spoke, her voice more serious than she could help. Perhaps it'd be enough to deter any suspicion. "Yes, I am all right."

"If you say so," he answered dubiously, squinting his eyes a bit as he looked her over. "My mum says I should try and make friends with you. I don't think I'd be very good at it."

Naomi met his look with a curious one of her own. "I'm not one to make friends either." She said, speaking for herself rather than the child. "Do you need a friend?"

"I don't think I do," he said honestly. "But my mum doesn't agree. I keep thinking I should make a list." He turned his head to check on his brother. "Do you need a friend? Is that why your parents sent you over?"

Naomi didn't want to peruse the girl's memories too much, her mind was vulnerable and Naomi didn't have the strength to make sure things would remain as they were. Besides, she was intrigued. "I'm not sure if I need a friend." She said, glancing at the curly haired boy that Mycroft was looking at. "If you did have a friend, what would they be like? What do friends do?"

Mycroft wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like a good opportunity to find out. He turned his attention back to her. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to try and find out."

"I think we can come to some sort of arrangement." She replied, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Just a child, and so vulnerable. If those who hurt her found her among them, these humans would not be left alive. Unnecessary casualties. There'd be no reason for that. She stepped up to him and offered her hand. "Call me Naomi."

"Mycroft," he introduced himself in turn, gripping her small hand in his. "Would you like to see our library?"

"I'd like that." Naomi said, taking her hand back after a moment. "It's probably safer inside."

"Safer from what?" Mycroft turned towards his little brother, already stepping towards him to usher him inside as well.

Naomi paused, not meant to have said that and it flashed over her young features. "I don't like being outside for very long." She amended.

"No, I think you meant what you said," he said confidently. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Let's talk in the library." Grabbing Sherlock's little hand, he helped him up and walked with him, and his new friend, Naomi, inside the house.

"Tired of playing already?" Mrs Holmes greeted, poking her head out of the kitchen as they walked past. "Give him here. It's mealtime for him, at any rate," she continued with an openly loving smile for Sherlock. "You two can go on ahead. I'll call you in for dinner."

"Buuuut my My." Sherlock stated, only to be scooped up and carried off.

Naomi watched the dark haired woman with a curiosity. But she was more drawn to continuing on with Mycroft than questioning his mother. She pulled off the little peacoat her vessel had been wearing, and draped it over a chair. Her brown eyes fixed on Mycroft again. "He's very young." She stated.

"Seven years younger than I am. He's three," Mycroft confirmed, with the briefest fond smile for his brother. "I read to him sometimes. He seems to like it and mum says it's good for both of us." He stopped once they'd entered the library, stealing a hesitant glance her way. "Who are you really?"

Naomi stopped next to him, turning just her head. One could try, but she wasn't human enough to be able to fake being this child. Besides, what could this boy do? "I'm not going to hurt you." She said firstly. "And my name is Naomi. I need…shelter for the time being. There is someone after me."

Mycroft's brows pulled together, and he snuck a peek over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Someone dangerous, then? I don't think my mum would mind you staying over if she believes we're becoming friends…"

"Very dangerous," she confirmed.

He paused, attempting to understand things he hadn't yet been exposed to. "What about your parents? Or… Delilah's parents, I suppose."

"I can…alter their memories. They'll never know she was gone. As long as I heal without being found, dying, or being the reason for harm to come to any humans, I'll consider it a success." She paused, turning away to move towards the bookcases. "You weren't supposed to know either."

"I don't usually miss things," he confessed. "I'm still trying to understand why." He watched her browse through his books, shuffling in place before he marched up to browse with her. "Will you alter my memories too?"

Naomi dropped her hand and turned to him. She crossed her arms and leaned against the bookcase. "I'm an angel. A divine being created before time itself. I watched humanity rise from the mud. I've killed thousands, and the creature that is after me will shred anyone who got in his way if it meant finishing the task of killing me." She paused, brown eyes searching him. "Do you want to remember?"

"That depends." Mycroft didn't want to give a definitive answer, partially because he wasn't entirely sure what forgetting would entail and partially because he'd only now realized there was a distinct possibility that his young life was in danger. "Would it be alright if I made a decision later, when you have to leave?"

"If you like. We'll leave it until then." Naomi said, but there was just the smallest smile on her young face. "You're fascinating."

Mycroft blinked several times in quick succession, an unconscious habit that would follow him into adulthood. "That's not what other kids usually say."

"I'm not a child." She replied. "But it is a pity they don't see it. But I've little experience with children. At least in the social sense." Her thoughts drifted to days not so long ago, when she swept through the land of Egypt. She killed many first born sons that day. "They're not as clever as you." She added after a pause.

"They're… slower," he agreed cautiously. "Talking to them isn't easy. They don't understand." He watched her thoughtfully for the space of a few heartbeats. "You're an angel, then. I've read of them… or a version of them, I suppose."

"There's many myths about us. I am a warrior, not a baby cherub." Naomi said. "But I meant what I said. I will not harm you, it is not in the plan, and will do my very best to ensure your safety."

Young as he was, Mycroft still didn't trust her immediately. But he was more than a little curious and she wasn't making fun of him, like other children he'd been forced to interact with before. More than anything, he wanted to follow through with this friendship experiment. "Is there anything you need me to do?"

There was a bit of a pause, as if she was thoroughly considering his question. "Tell me about yourself?" She suggested.

Mycroft walked over to one of the plush leather chairs and sat down, fidgeting with his shirt. "I don't know if there's much to tell. I spend a lot of my time reading. Lately it's been this fantasy series." He paused. "I read them to my brother."

Naomi meandered his way, her eyes flitting from book to book until she turned her attention to him and sat down gracefully on the next chair over. It dwarfed her petite frame and she sorta curled up in it. "You care about your brother." She stated rather than asked. "I…I have many brothers and sisters. But I'm not close to any of them."

Mycroft smiled a bit and relaxed in his chair, l short legs stretched out in front. "It's my job to protect him," he announced. "I suppose it can't be the same with angels. You don't... need each other that way, do you?"

"I protect Heaven. That's my job." Naomi started. "If…necessary casualties happen along the way, I mourn them, but move on. Closeness, needing each other, is counteracting of everything we need to do."

Mycroft's little brows pulled together, but he nodded in understanding. "Will you tell me what you're hiding from now?"

"A rogue angel. Someone who…drifted away from our mission. He's amassed quite a bit of demonic power, coupling himself to both realms." Naomi said. "His intent was to start a wave of devastation over the world. Despite my injury and the loss of my vessel, I stopped it." She paused, trying to decide if it was too much information. Not a problem, she'd wipe his memory if she needed to. "He's very dangerous. His name is Barabbas."

"Barabbas from the Bible?" Mycroft was once again curious and intrigued by the sheer amount this angel must've seen, and he'd only read a fraction of. He suddenly didn't want to forget, but he didn't want to make a hasty decision either. "Once you're healed, you'll go after him again," he said more than asked. "How long will it take for you to regain your strength?"

"A day or two." Naomi answered, her smile enigmatic as she watched him. "I can't contact my division, because there's a mole and I don't know who it is yet. I must do this alone." She paused. "You believe all of this. Without proof?"

"I don't know if I believe it, but you're not the same girl I met earlier and you have no reason to lie… at least I don't think you do. I made—" He paused carefully to make sure he got this right. "Deductions. If what you're saying is true, I'll have proof soon enough."

"Sooner than you think." Naomi said as she straightened in the chair. Maybe it was an effort to impress him, maybe it was to connect to a human as she hadn't in millennia, maybe it was because she was alone. She straightened up and let the holy light grow within her. It shown out her eyes and through her chest until it was enough to cast shadows of her expansive wings on the walls. She extended them up and around, like a canopy of feathers.

Mycroft stared at Naomi with wide blue eyes. Young as he was, he still didn't impress easily, but this was quite impressive. He found himself sitting up in his chair as well, trying to take the full expanse of her wings, casting shadows on the wall. "Wow," he breathed quietly.

Naomi let the light die and relaxed completely back into curling up in the chair. Nothing like an angel leader, but more like a curious child. It was an odd place to be in, but she didn't mind so much. "I take your interjection as approval and appreciation. Do you have any other questions?"

Mycroft shook his head once. "Nothing further for now," he assured her. "We should probably talk to my mum and explain why you'll be staying." He rose to his feet and gestured for her to walk with him. "Come on. Dinner will be ready soon, too."

He thought perhaps Naomi would tamper with his mother's mind, out of necessity, of course, but there was little he could do to help that. They'd need to compromise if this was going to work and, surprisingly, he wanted this to work. He'd never had a friend before, primarily because they all proved slow or idiotic (or both, to his growing dismay), but Naomi was neither one of those things.

He was intrigued by the idea of friendship for the first time in his short life, and he was eager to know more.