I just couldn't resist this one. Probably AU. Gender swap.

Full Summary: Sabrina Moran is the last of Jim's web that needs to go, and perhaps the most dangerous. But the tables are turned when she gets to Sherlock first. Now, she is going to get revenge for Sherlock taking the only man she ever loved.

Chapter One

Darkness had no need
Of aid from them-She was the Universe
Lord Byron, Darkness

It was suppose to be, as usual, a quiet evening for John Watson.

The doctor walked to the pub where he was meeting some of his military mates on leave. He did not want to go, but he could not coop himself in that bloody flat with his sister any longer.

I'll have a pint or two and then leave, Watson promised himself. I'm too tired to go gallivanting around town.

It wasn't until he entered the bar that he realized he made a genuine mistake.

It was a college pub.
And he was one of the oldest ones in there by at least 20 years.

Watson tried to escape discreetly, but to no avail. His mate Stephens saw him, grabbed his shoulder and steered him to the bar. In fact, fact was probably Stephens idea to come to a young people's pub. He had been a bit of a lecherous bugger in military camp.

In no time at all, Stephens had two horny freshmen on his shoulders, while John Watson sulked alone, defeated and embarrassed. He was about to leave when a girl tapped him on his shoulder.

"Oy," she shouted over the riff raff, "that your mate?"

John glanced at Stephens, who was burrowing his face in a girls' cleavage. He looked back at the young woman. She was not dressed for going out. In fact, it looked like she had just rushed out the door, with no signs of makeup and dressed only in a t-shirt and gym shorts. Regardless, her natural beauty outshone every whored up girl in the pub.

"He's got my friend," she continued. "I need to get her home."

"Which one is it?" John asked.

"The really slutty one over there next to your friend."

John gave the girl a look. "Yes, because that narrows it down quite a bit."
"Her!" the girl pointed. It was the student Stephens had been motorboating earlier.

The under dressed girl pushed through the crowd, and grabbed her friend, trying to pull her away from Stephens. "We have to go, Claire. Now."

"What the hell, Marrry," the slutty one slurred. "I'm not ready to go."

She began to turn away, but Mary tightened her grip. "Come on. I'm not going to get blamed again because you miss your final tomorrow. You text me to come get you. I have."

The Claire girl opened her mouth to protest, but instead nearly fell to the floor. John quickly caught her, and lifted her up. Claire laughed. "You military types just wanna have FUN don't you?"

Mary frowned. It was not a judgemental frown. It was the same frown John used to give Sherlock- a general, getting real tired of your shit frown.

"Listen," she asked. "I know it's asking a lot but- could you help me with my... little problem?"

Her eyes were large. Blue, like a stormy ocean. John loved blue eyes, storms, and the ocean. "Sure. Yeah ok."

Together, they dragged Claire out of the bar, and into the cab.

"Are we's gonna have ourselves a threesome?" She giggled.

"Claire," Mary muttered, "do shut up."

That's how it started. On an unassuming night, in a college pub.

John found that Mary was a senior in Med School. She was incredibly bright, if not a bit intense sometimes, and sarcastic. But when the moment called for it, the young woman could be delicate. She could also dress up, although she still wore minimal makeup.

John liked that. He liked on their first date she ate spaghetti, and made inappropriate jokes about the various other couples in the room. Liked that she could take a joke, hit the ball right back without offense, that she'd rather read National Geographic but still worked out and forced John to get off his arse, too. Bit by bit, he was becoming whole again.

Tonight was their sixth month anniversary.

They had been halfway to the hotel, when John realized his wallet was missing. Together, they both went back to Baker Street to get it, even though secretly the couple knew they might not leave.

"Take me right here," she whispered in his ear, as soon as they walked on in. She pressed herself against him, and all thoughts of dinner were forgotten.

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

The voice was cold. Hard.
Familiar.

John rushed up the stairs, leaving Mary wide eyed and bewildered.

It was Sherlock. Tied to a chair. Beaten and bruised.
Alive. Breathing.
But barely.

"Hello John," he croaked with as much strength as he could muster. "Not exactly how I wanted to do this."

"Sherlock, what happened? How are you...?"

"Alive?" A new voice. Not at all familiar. She stepped from the kitchen, gun pointed at Sherlock. A tall woman. Jet black hair. Porcelain skin.

A killer.

She cocked her gun. "Listen carefully Dr. Watson. Unless you do exactly as I say I will kill your friend. Again. And this time he won't be coming back."

"Who the hell are you?" John demanded, quietly.

The woman smirked. "Sabrina. Sabrina Moran."