Because of Jim, I had to load this... just a drabble... I don't know if this will actually go anywhere. I have many ideas, but have no story line or plot... Also I'm getting a beta soon so you guys won't suffer... I've given you a glimpse, FanFictioners—just a teensy glimpse—of what I've got going on in my mind...

So my idea for this is to have this girl enter Sherlock's life in an early stage, they grow up together, become family. And Sherlock being himself, doesn't realize that he truly loves her until she searches for normality in her life.

Another thing you need to know is that Krystine loves Phantom of the Opera... Sooooo~

Enjoy, and pass me a message, give me your thoughts...

When he received a text from Mycroft telling him to rush to the hospital the last person he expected to see there was Krystine Elizabeth Youngchild, the woman he knew in many ways. She had been his friend, his sister, helper, and his first and only lover. Sherlock Holmes rushed to her side when he was able to control his movements again.

A chair had been moved to her bedside, put there by Mycroft no doubt, and now sat empty. Outside of his character, he hurriedly sat and took her hand in his and began to stroke the back of it with his thumb. From here he could examine the unconscious body Krystine.

Most obvious, her left leg lay out from beneath the best bed sheet encased in a bright green cast. Her captors didn't want her to escape. A splint held her left wrist strait. She fought back at some point. Peaking out from the splint were angry blue and purple bruises. They were reflected onto the other wrist. She was bound and grabbed restrained with a cord possibly. A small cut was bandaged with a butterfly strip on her cheek, rich above where he knew her dimples were when she smiled. The area around the cut has discoloration, she took a hit to the face, the attacker was wearing a ring. Her hair, which was long and held back with a band last time he saw her, was unevenly cut and unwashed. It had frizzed with the lack of care. Overall, she was malnourished and a sickly shade of pale. Her ten year abduction had taken a toll on her body.

Mycroft choose then to walk in, holding papers in one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other.

"... I will tell him, yes. Good night Ms. Youngchild."

Sherlock's head shot up to look at his brother as he hung up the phone.

"What did she say?"

"She asked me to pass on a 'hello' and is excited to see you preform this June."

"You didn't tell her." Sherlock moved his gaze back to the woman.

"No," Mycroft moved a chair on the opposite side of the bed closer and sat down. "We didn't find Krystine's captors, only her. I had all files on her whereabouts changed; according to her papers, we are in our cousin's room. Allison Orthors, daughter of Aunt Marie: deceased."

"And you are sure they won't find her here?"

Mycroft hid a smile from the concern his younger brother released in his voice; glanced down at the thumb still stroking the back of Kristine's hand, Mycroft doubted that Sherlock even knew he was doing it.

"I have my ways Little Brother. My concern for her may not out way yours, but she was, is, a friend to me as well."

The older Holmes' phone rang. "You have?"

He stood to leave, " Yes, I'm on my way."

He ended the call and turned to look at his brother.

"Did they find him?"

"No, a lead."

There was a silence between them and Mycroft turned to make his exit. Sherlock's gaze remained on Krystine's body.

"Mycroft," said man stopped at the threshold of the hospital room.

Sherlock turned his head to look at his older brother. "Thank you; for finding her."

Mycroft smiled, a genuine smile, it had been years since Sherlock had actually been sincere and had voiced it in a 'thank you'.

"If it meant to make you happy, I would do most anything for you Sherlock."

With another wink of a smile, Mycroft left the room. And once again Sherlock was alone with the still body of his Angel of Music.

Thoughts?

Did you see what I did there? In the note in the beginning?