Author Note: I will try to update every two weeks; sometimes earlier depending on how the muse hits me! Thank you for the following and favourites; much appreciated. Please review though; even if it's criticism. Enjoy.

Warnings: Mystrade, Sherlock/OC, a bit of Sherlock/Irene and a large amount of MorMor. Violent deaths, contains bad language, sexy times, family times, drugs, killings, Angst; jealousy, devotion, gory descriptions, BAMF Mycroft/John/Sherlock/Marilyn/James/Sebastian and much more. Might be a bit OOC; but I'll try not to! Enjoy and please review!

Any mistakes are my own; I do not have a Beta for this story. No copyright intended; I only own Marilyn, the murderers/cult/victims and the Moriarty family all apart from James.

CHAPTER TWO

ADDICTED

Sherlock is eager. He hasn't felt this eager since Mummy took him to the dog breeder where he met Redbeard around 30 years ago. Everything Mycroft said about this Marilyn sounds different and unlike the idiots around him. In better words she sounds - perfect. The way she noticed the rings were well looked after was fascinating, she is definitely different. The other idiots believe it's her husband but - no - this Marilyn was able to notice that she was happily married, resulting in this being the work of a serial killer.

She surprised Sherlock just like John surprised him.

Even Mayleen was able to shock him.

Maybe he's growing soft.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he relaxes into the back seat of the cab. John sitting silently next to him, watching the world pass by through the window. Sherlock turns to his own window, his thoughts swirling with the new information he was able to gain.

His brother warned Lestrade, John and Sherlock about Marilyn. The name on the wall got everyone excited. A relative of Moriarty is a weakness that anyone would use to bring him down. However, Mycroft arrived using the excuse of this now being a 'government matter' because the name belongs to a powerful politician that Mycroft just happens to know.

Sherlock was curious.

Why would his brother keep a relative of Moriarty's secret? Is she just as dangerous? Does Mycroft care for her? Is she dead? What is she to Moriarty? Daughter? Mother? Sister? Cousin?

All the questions vanished from his mind when Mycroft started explaining. He informed us all that Marilyn was the half-sister of James Moriarty. That she is a Government Detective and the only one that Mycroft knows about. He also went on to explain that she has more power over the Government than Mycroft has; telling us all that she isn't someone to mess with. Marilyn is also no longer in contact with her half-brother and hasn't been for the last eight years.

All the rest of the information was irrelevant because Sherlock final deducted that Mycroft actually cares for Marilyn Moriarty. Mycroft continued explaining to Lestrade and John about her but all the data went in through one ear and went out the other. Sherlock just couldn't fit the idea of his brother having a friend through his head.

Blinking out of the memory, he climbs out of the cab. John closely following. They enter 221B, the smell of Mrs. Hudson cooking reaches his nose making his stomach rumble slightly. John instantly goes onto his laptop, stripping off his coat and turning the kettle on. Sherlock stands in the middle of the room, slowly undoing his scarf and taking his Belstaff off. He is still filing information on Marilyn.

"How do feel about two other people living with us, Sherlock?" John asks, typing something into his laptop but looking quickly up at his flat mate.

"Why would I feel different about where someone lives?" Sherlock snaps back. His light eyes moving towards the soldier. Sherlock suddenly feels self-conscious as if John can tell that he is in fact uncomfortable about having two other people living with them.

"You're not the most sociable of people, Sherlock." John points out, getting up to finish making his tea. Sherlock slowly sits down on the couch and gets his own laptop out, fixated on getting more data on the Moriarty family.

"Well done for pointing out the obvious, John!"

John rolls his eyes before sipping his hot tea, wincing as it burns his tongue. Sherlock turns his attention back to his laptop as he types in her name on Google Search. It comes up with a blog. The title of the blog called: THE OTHER MORIARTY. Snorting softly, John quickly looks up at him before returning to his own search.

Sherlock clicks on the blog, his fingers tapping impatiently on his knee as it loads. He silently curses the slow wifi and at John for using it when he needs it desperately. When the website finally loads, Sherlock scrolls down to see hundreds of cases wrote up and posted on the site. Sherlock also sees pictures of the assistant and Marilyn smiling, some pictures even of Marilyn and fans. Going onto the picture albums, Sherlock absorbs all the information he can get off of the pictures that would be relevant information. However, he can't get a lot. There are just as many pictures as there is written cases, some of the landscapes but most are of Mayleen or Marilyn.

"Bloody hell!" John curses, drawing Sherlock's attention off the pictures and to his flat mate. John's eyes are glued to his laptop screen as Sherlock frowns at him, "Have you saw how many followers Marilyn has? You know her blog that Mycroft mentioned?" John explains quickly, Sherlock raising his eyebrows as John rambles.

"How many followers?" Sherlock asks, feeling slightly embarrassed about looking at her pictures and not at the cases to see what competition he'll have in the future.

"Over 1,000,000!" John shouts, "She's fucking famous, Sherlock!"

"Obviously." Sherlock answers in a bored tone, looking back at the pictures. One of the pictures makes him pause and click to enlarge it. It is of Mycroft and Marilyn. They're both young. Mycroft with scruffy, curly, red hair and grinning widely at the camera. He's wearing a light blue button-down shirt - untucked - with black dress trousers and his normal black shiny shoes. An arm is thrown over the surprising small Marilyn. She comes up to his shoulders. Her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head, eyes bright, and lips pulled over her teeth in a large smile and her left hand rests on Mycroft's chest and the other is behind his back. She's wearing a red skater dress and black five-inch shiny heels, the dress making her breasts look large and her waist tiny.

Both of their eyes are wide and alight with happiness. Nothing about the picture is sexually, it's just shocking to see Mycroft actually smiling for once and not just sneering. Sherlock blinks slowly, interested to know more about their past.

"Holy shit! Is that Mycroft and Marilyn? They look like lovers!" John comments loudly, eyes glued to his laptop. Relief passes through Sherlock, relief that he isn't the only one just looking at the pictures.

"There is nothing sexual about the photo, John." Sherlock replies, huffing.

"It's weird to see Mycroft looking so relaxed and happy. You think he'll change when she arrives?"

"Not likely. Mycroft has been a cold twat for far too long, he's properly forgotten how to smile." Sherlock grin. John chuckles, shaking his head.

"Wonder if she's as good as it says on this website?" John says, closing his laptop and walking into the kitchen to make a sandwich.

"She's a relative of Moriarty; of course she'll be good. What you should be asking is if she'll enjoy games like her brother does or if she's dangerous."

"Well then, do you think she'll be dangerous?" John asks. Sherlock can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"She'll be as dangerous as Mycroft and Moriarty. She'll be manipulative and cold but I don't think she'll be violent. Look at her pictures, all of them she looks carefree and happy." Sherlock explains quickly.

"Can you deduce anything about her from the pictures?"

"Of course. She's an animal lover, had a string of dogs in the past; possible cats as well. Looks after herself, makes sure she looks presentable all the time because of the fame she's caught. Naturally blonde. Works hard but makes sure she sleeps reasonable. Has a large family, doesn't keep in contact with them all the time..." Sherlock trails off suddenly, realizing that's all he's able to get off her. Dumbstruck, he looks up at John who is silently eating his sandwich.

Styled hair and clean-shaved - trying to impress someone. Date shoes. Bags under eyes - nightmare last night. Had jam this morning on his toast. On a date with Sarah Sawyer tonight. Worried about the restaurant he's chosen and if he'll have to leave halfway through. Hoping to get intimate with Sarah tonight. Showered last night. Cleaned teeth twice…no three times. Masturbated this morning.

"You alright, Sherlock?" John asks, frowning at the genius as he continues staring at John. Sherlock blinks slowly before looking back at his laptop.

"I'm fine, John." Sherlock mutters, clicking off the pictures and looking through her cases. Each of them has stupid titles like John's but the grammar and the English used intrigues the detective. Sherlock soon found that he can't look away from the screen…

X-X-X

The sound of the front door slamming brings Sherlock's attention off the case about a clown serial killer that was killing gay couples and back into the present. John looks up from his book as Lestrade bursts in through the flat door, face red and sweaty. John stands up, back straight - ready for war but Sherlock simple closes his laptop and stands up calmly. Noticing that Lestrade's body language isn't ready for an attack.

"Marilyn is going to arrive soon. Mycroft told me to bring you all to the station; we're going to see what she's been able to find out." Lestrade huffs, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Sherlock wastes no time in grabbing his phone, scarf and coat and quickly leaving the two confused and baffled men behind. Grabbing a cab, he shouts for John to take the police car with Lestrade before the cab takes off. His heart is slamming in his chest as his palms become sweaty, the eagerness returning and making him stuffy. Questions race through his mind again as he presses his finger tips to his temples and organizes the questions into his 'question' room. His mind is still racing though, like it always does, never stopping or calming down unless he has a case or puzzle.

Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his Belstaff, he flicks through the pictures he took of the crime scene. All the facts and data he has comes flooding to the front of his mind as he tries to organize them but thoughts of the golden-haired detective are pulling his attention from the case.

Huffing he puts his phone back into his pocket and looks out of the window, watching the world pass by. He's always wonders how people can have such boring and ordinary lives. Everyone seems to go university or college, get a decent job, fall in love, marry, have child and grow old. He finds that life so boring. But most of all he can't imagine himself having the ordinary life that everyone else has. He doesn't run like everyone else. He doesn't feel like everyone else. He blocks his emotions from the outside world and calls himself a high-functioning sociopath as a label. He was diagnosed as one as a young child but he has always know he isn't one and Mycroft knows as well. The Holmes family is just different and different is how we like it.

The cab pulls up in front of the station. Throwing a couple of notes at the cabbie, he walks straight into the building only noticing one of Mycroft's car parked at the front. The bottom floor is oddly silent as he climbs the stairs two at a time until he gets to the final floor.

As he creeps silently into the office, most of the officers are busy working except Donovan and Anderson who are chatting faintly to each other. Mycroft is sitting on one of the office chairs, his assistant also sitting down but tapping away on her phone. Mycroft is strangely shifting on his chair and rubbing his palms on his grey trousers as if he's nerves. Sherlock makes his way over to his brother. Hands stuffed in his Belstaff as he leans against the wall opposite his brother; John and Lestrade yet to arrive at the station.

"I'm surprised you came, brother dear." Mycroft sneers, his voice strong unlike his posture. Back straight but shoulders rounded as if trying to cover his fat stomach. Sherlock thinks to himself, even when he knows that his brother isn't fat at all, "You didn't seem pleased to hear that Marilyn was coming to London."

"I need to read her. Observe her as she works."

"Good luck with that, Sherlock. She's skilled and hard to read."

Sherlock snorts, eyeing his brother and comparing him to the picture of his younger self. Apart from the few wrinkles Mycroft has developed and the slight loss of hair, he still looks the same as he is in the picture. Only he now looks as if life is weighing him down and the happy spark in his eyes is none existent.

The door that Sherlock just walked through opens again, revealing Mayleen, John and Lestrade. Mayleen is still in her heels, jeans and blouse but now has her own phone glued to her face; reminding Sherlock of Mycroft's assistant. John is not so subtly 'checking out' the dark-haired girl, his eyes landing on her arse far too much and long to be friendly. Lestrade on the other hand is busy bossing around Donovan and Anderson, telling them to make drinks ready for the arrival of Marilyn.

"You mean THE Marilyn Moriarty is coming here?" Anderson repeats, his dark hair gelled backwards revealing his dark eyes and crooked nose.

"That is what I said, Anderson," Lestrade replies, breathing deeply and giving the man a bored glance, "So can you please get this place more presentable?"

Sherlock watches - secretly amused - as Anderson shoots up off his backside and starts cleaning up papers on the desk and making sure even the pens are straight on the desk. John laughs as he also watches Anderson act like a boy in the presence of his first crush.

"You shouldn't be laughing, Watson. Wait until you get addicted to the work she produces. It's like the work of an angel!" Anderson snaps at them as Mycroft's lips curl up in amusement, "She's a genius in the making! And a celebrity similar to England's very own Marilyn Monroe! And her beauty! She's like a goddess walking among us! I can't believe you have never heard of her before!"

Anderson looks up startled as Mayleen bursts out laughing, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes and to smudge her natural looking make-up; it's the first time that the girl has relaxed around us Sherlock notes, "Wait until she hears that! My god, you'll be on the receiving end of the most charming smile for days!"

Everyone watches as Mayleen clutches her stomach and continues laughing, her phone forgotten about on the floor. Even Mycroft's assistant looks up from her phone to send Mayleen a humor filled smile. Mayleen stops laughing suddenly when her phone beeps from the floor, quickly scooping it up she reads the received text. Wiping her eyes with her hand quickly to get rid of any smudged make-up, she looks up; sending Anderson a devilish grin, "You better be ready because it seems as if your 'goddess' will be among us soon!" Anderson blushes before starting to make drinks, Donovan clenching and unclenching her jaw as she watches in annoys.

Sherlock quickly takes off his scarf and Belstaff, revealing his tailored black suit and light blue shirt. He ignores the odd looks both Mycroft and John are sending him as he leans - gracefully - back on the wall, his coat and scarf on the back of another office chair next to Mycroft. Lestrade quickly heads into his office before returning, a large case file and a pile of photos in his hand. Sherlock puts his phone in his trouser pocket, ready to work with his own photos. Mayleen sits down on an office chair, turning one of the computers on before typing away. Her phone vibrating every 15 seconds as she replies each time; the younger Holmes brother notes.

John sits down next to Lestrade. They both slowly look through the pictures, cringing at the photo of the knifed anus. The Holmes brothers are the only people not doing anything as they wait patiently, Mycroft only twists his umbrella with the tips of his fingers as Sherlock stares at the waiting doors with a hard look on his face.

Five minutes tick by before Mayleen stops typing and simple leans back in her chair eyeing the Holmes brothers weirdly before shaking her head and slightly cursing Marilyn for having such a strong effect on people.

Mayleen's phone vibrates the exact same time the doors fly open…