Holmes entered the sitting room quietly, even though he knew there was no one he would wake up - she was already awake. The room was dark, the last of a fire glowing in the grate and he could see the embers of his pipe glowing from her seated in his chair. He lit the lamp and turned to her. She was back in one of his old shirts and trousers, knees pulled up and hugged to her chest, his pipe between her lips and a blank look on her face. She was the spitting image of her father.

"Nasty habit for a young lady." he said and reached for one of his other pipes. "I agree, it's almost as bad as lying to your child." was her reply. He almost faltered as he reached to fill the pipe. He sat down in Watson's chair and lit it. He wasn't comfortable in this chair, it was out of place, he felt like he didn't have total control of the situation. It was a feeling he had found he didn't like at all. "I only lied to you once really." he said, not able to look her in the eyes. "Yes, just the once, but it has lasted over 12 years so I think that's quite enough to make up for it." she spat back at him. He cringed into his chair. He always knew one day she would become his most worthy opponent in one way or another, at this point he was thinking it would be easier if she'd become a criminal. It would have been like chasing her mother all over again, he could have lived with that, but this..."Where is she?" she asked and broke his thoughts. "I don't know. I only caught a glimpse of her, like you. It was..." he said and she heard his voice crack, "The first time I'd seen her since we parted." "You actually expect me to believe that you haven't seen or heard from her in all these years?!" Annie said and stood over him. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes and said, "She was as dead to me as she was to you."

That was it, the wall she had spent the last few hours building up around herself crumbled and she dropped down beside him and leaned against his leg, sobbing. He just let her cry, stroking her head. She deserved to be let to cry, she never had before except during nightmares. Not when she'd skin a knee, not when she broke her fingers in a fight, not when her snake had bit her, she never cried. He knew there were times when she wanted to, but like him, she always stuffed it back. So he let her and she did, for nearly an hour. Sometime during it Mrs. Hudson had appeared like a ghost and left a tray of tea and a wet cloth. Holmes never remembered her coming in or leaving, amazing how she could do that around him of all people. When she had finally calmed down and cleaned her face, he got her to take some tea and waited until the little sobs still left over stopped. "You should go to bed, Annie. It is far too late for you to deal with this now." he said. "No." she said and took a deep breath, "I want the truth, all of it. I want to know why she left. I want to know why you let her go. I want to know why we didn't all go together. I want to know what promise you made Uncle John make when you followed her with Aunt Mary. I want to know it all." He knew there was no arguing with the steel in her voice, so instead he re lit his pipe, it was going to be a long night.

He sat down on one of the pillows in front of the fireplace, placing the tea tray between them. This was their place, it was where they had countless night long talks over the years about everything. There was many a morning Watson or Mrs. Hudson would find them there, either still awake and debating something or both asleep on the tiger skin rug, tea cups tipped over, books and papers scattered everywhere and looking like mirror images of each other on top of it all. It was mornings like that that both Watson and Mrs Hudson realized that not only were they father and daughter, they were best friends, and all each other had, and both would need looking out for if family history had anything to say about it.

Holmes pulled out his silver cigarette case and tossed it to her. She picked it up and looked at him, then rolled her eyes and took one. "I really don't know why we keep playing this game of hiding things from each other, it never works." he said and lit it for her. She just sighed. "You've known, or at least had some idea about your mother since the morning after your birthday. The perfume you were given as a gift sparked some recognition or remembrance. And yet, you did not tell me about it." he continued. "I didn't want to hurt you with what was mere theory at the time." she said and looked into her cup. He leaned against the brick for a moment, then said, "Thank you, you always did take time to think of others, even if they didn't deserve it." She just nodded and waited for him to continue. "So, what have you found out, because it's very likely more than I know at this point." he said and frowned at himself. "Uncle John has been receiving letters from a Madam Vernet in Paris. Nothing of any regularity, sometimes 2 in a week, sometimes nothing for a month. But she is not in his patient files. John was looking for me, he never found them disposed of after being read and there was no ash in the fireplaces. He finally found them hidden in Mary's sewing basket. The one *you* bought her." she said and looked at him expectantly. He laughed and said, "Yes, I had that made, you know. I thought it would be a good place for her to hide a revolver. I never thought she'd use it to hide something from me. And yet another reason to not trust the fairer sex."

She looked at him and he raised his eyebrows at her, "And that includes you, my dear. But I say that with the utmost respect and love you can imagine." She just smiled at him and tossed her cigarette in the grate. "I haven't seen any of them, and John didn't get time to read them either. As I said, until now, it's been theory just coming together. Until last night anyway." she said and laid down with her feet up on the wall. He always thought it odd when she did that, she said it helped her think. She picked up his riding crop that was laying to the side and point it at him, "And now...you." He took a deep breath and said, "Did I ever tell you I created a monster?" "Yes, constantly since I was 9, I think. Now out with it." she said and poked him in the nose.

He swatted it away and readjusted his pipe. "Watson told me about the letters last night. I had no idea she contacted them about 2 years ago. He says they are written in such a way as to not draw attention. Most of them asking about you and how you were growing. Very much like a distant family member who had been cut off and just wanted basic information. He didn't know she was there, she never let them know and I had no idea, either. As I said before, she was as dead to me as she was to you. Thinking of it that way made it livable for me." he said and she tried to ignore the crack in his voice at the end. They were silent for a bit, the only sounds were the fire and the clock on the mantle. "Alright, that is what we know *now*. I want to know about then. Why or who or what was it that tore you all apart. I've heard the stories, Dad, nothing could ever come between any of you and yet something had everyone running in different directions for their lives and left Uncle John with the option of becoming a widower with two children to care for?" She sat up and leaned towards him, "What the hell happened?" He shot her a look, he never did like it when she swore. Of all the unladylike things she did, he drew the line at that. "Sorry." she said and refilled their tea.

He just nodded and then said, "Things here in London were fairly safe, all things considered, at that time. There were a few groups trying to gain footing as crime families, but they were easily pulled apart. This was not the case in Italy, however. Just before we were married your Mother was asked to perform for a month in one of the great opera houses there before she retired for good. I wasn't going to tell her no, it was not my place. She loved to sing, she loved the stage and yet she was about to give it all up to stay here with me...finally." At that Annie laughed, "I had heard of some of the goings on in Italy about an emergence of crime families, but I didn't think too much of it at the time. Your mother left and about 2 weeks after I received a telegram asking me to come join her as soon as I could. She stated nothing alarming in it, but that's why it bothered me. If it was a matter of her just wanting my company she could have sent it by post. But this was a telegram, and her words had none of the warmth I was used to in them. I left that afternoon. When I finally reached her she was in a state I hadn't seen your mother in before, not even when she had gotten mixed up with Moriarty. The son of the head of the biggest crime family seemed to have taken a liking to her. If it was a simple matter of someone sending your mother gifts and flowers, or unwanted attentions, it wouldn't have been a problem for her. She'd dealt with it before and usually came out the other side with more jewelry and a new wardrobe before pulling one her disappearing acts." he repacked his pipe and took some tea before continuing,

"This man was different, though. He had been raised to get everything he wanted, simply because of who his father was and who he one day would be. The head of the largest crime family in Italy. If he couldn't buy something, he took it. And if that didn't work, then no one else was allowed to have it either. This had come to include your Mother. After investigating the situation, I came to realize our best course of action was to simply leave Italy and get back to London. Here, if he chose to follow, we at least were on our home soil and had our friends and connections to aid us. But when we did try to leave, we were always stopped, even by official police. It was then I sensed how deep the trouble ran there and that we had to get out as soon as we could. I tried wiring your Uncle Mycroft and he never received any of them. We were trapped."

Annie leaned froward on her pillow and rested her head on her hands. " We managed to get as close as we could to the Austrian border. We had tried for France and were cut off, but this part of the country was a little more wild. It was there that we got lucky, or fate was looking out for us. We came across a band of Gypsies that had passed through London on occasion that I had gotten to know well. They took us in and effectively we disappeared into their world. Instead of heading straight back to London we traveled with them for a few of months, working our way back slowly in the hopes that if someone was sent after us they would think we'd vanished." Holmes stopped and smiled at Annie, she looked at him questioningly. He took another drink of his tea and said, "And now for a story I know you haven't heard before, my dear. I don't know why I never thought to tell you until now, but no matter. It was while were were traveling with the Gypsies that your mother and I were married. She had been married before and had no want of another large wedding and you know how I hate them to begin with. So we had your Uncle take care of the legalities of it and we were married under the stars in the middle of a caravan at the base of the Carpathians. It was all very bohemian of us."

Annie just smiled at the thought, it fit them, she couldn't imagine her Father in a church wedding anyway. "By the time we reached London your Mother was half way along with you. Watson and Lestrade had been keeping their eyes and ears open on the streets and your Uncle was using his connections in the Government and none of them had come up with any cause for worry. So we settled back down here and went on with our lives." Holmes said and sighed at the thought. Sometimes he wished they'd stayed with the Gypsies and a simpler life. "Dad? What changed?" Annie asked, pulling him back from his thoughts.

"I had been keeping track of the goings on with the family just to be safe. I knew that they had been branching out as far as the states and becoming very powerful. It was an interesting study, I had never seen such a thing before. The name the families were taking on was La Cosa Nostra, or Mafia, as they were called in the States. The power in them and that they accumulated was amazing. Again, there was little going on here, but it was slowly creeping into London as well. And then, when you were 4, the threats began. It escalated quickly, over a matter of 6 months. The man's Father had passed away and he was now head of the family. He used that power at his first opportunity to hunt us down and demand your Mother return with him to Italy. He sent letters, associates, gifts, money, anything really. And then one day he showed up here himself." at that Holmes stopped and stared into the dead fire, his face taking on the same shade as the ash in it. Annie had never seen him look like that before. She reached out and touched his arm and he quickly grabbed her hand and held it tight.

"You were outside with John, Mrs. Hudson was watching you both play on the sidewalk. He was a large man and his shadow fell over both of you. Mrs. Hudson called for both of you to come to her immediately and for once you both listened. She called to us and we came running downstairs. When your Mother saw him she grabbed you and ran back inside, with Mrs. Hudson pulling John along with her, and we slammed the door and locked it, not knowing what else to do. I think we were in shock, it had been so long with nothing that even I thought it was over. We received a note later to meet him across the street in the cafe. When we went, we were the only ones there, he had paid the owner to close for the night. He was very straightforward with his demands. Your Mother left with him the next night or..." Holmes stopped and pulled Annie to him, wrapping his arms around her, "or he would take you instead and that he would return you to us, in pieces. Sadly, this was not an uncommon threat among his kind, so I knew he wasn't bluffing. I was surprised next by your Mother, though. She somehow stayed calm and put a hand on me to keep me calm as well. Even though it looked like we were alone, I know we weren't. It was then that she said she had a proposition for him, but if he accepted it, she wanted his word on his Father's grave that we would be left alone. That he could never touch you or I ever, as long as we lived. She said she would leave, but not with him. And he was welcome to pursue her, but she refused to be a captive to anyone. She pointed out to him that he had told her once that he enjoyed the way no one could seem to own her and why would he want her changed if he wanted her that much? I think he looked upon it as a game he would easily win and thankfully, he agreed to it. She agreed to leave the next night and she had him write it out and sign the agreement, knowing he could not go back on it."

Annie tried to sit up to get him some more tea, but he held her tight so she just leaned on his shoulder. "I thought your Mother was buying us time and as soon as we came home I started throwing things in bags, planning to disappear with the Gypsies again. But she wasn't. She didn't want you to live your life running, so she was going to leave us. It was then we called for your Uncle and Mary, we let Mrs. Hudson ply the two of you with tea and cookies while we came up with the plan. She would leave that night, knowing we would be watched, Mary and I would divert attention long enough so she could get on a small boat owned by a friend to get her across the channel without leaving a trail of buying a ticket. Mary and I would take the train and lead them in the other direction. Watson would stay here with the two of you. If none of us contacted him or returned in in set time, he was to take the two of you and Mrs. Hudson and go to the Diogenes Club, where Mycroft would effectively make all of you non-existent and you would find yourselves in India, where your Uncle could easily live and care for you with no one the wiser."

"Why didn't Uncle Mycroft just do that for all of us? We could still be together." Annie asked, fresh tears now falling onto his shirt. "Because we knew that if we left him with nothing to chase, he would make good on his threat and we couldn't allow even a chance of that. We all left that night. I met up with your Mother in Switzerland and your Aunt came back home to care for you. It was there we came up with the story of her falling into a gorge and being swept away by the water from the Alps. I came back home, the grieving widower and she was just gone." Holmes said and finally let her go enough to reach for his cigarette case, he no longer had the energy to pack his pipe. He looked at it for moment and the sighed and held it out to her, as well. "But Dad, who..." she started to say and then wasn't sure how to finish it. He knew what she was going to ask, and answered after holding out a match to her. "Lestrade is the only other one besides us that knows what happened, he was kind enough to provide a body for your Mother's grave. It was a young woman, her age, that was meant for Pauper's Park. She may not have been buried under the right name, but at least she was buried properly." he said and leaned against the brick, closing his eyes.

Annie stood up and paced the room a bit, then went over and poured her Father some brandy and brought it to him. He smiled and took it from her gratefully. She paced a bit more and he could see the wheels turning in her head. "Something's happened, something's changed or she wouldn't have risked it. She's out there, Dad. We need to find her, she needs us." Annie said and looked through the mostly shut drapes, it was beginning to show a hazy morning light. Holmes didn't say anything, he knew she was right, he'd been thinking the same himself. He looked in the teapot, now cold and then to the fire, also cold. No matter, the night had been warm from the storm. He absently began to pick at the edge of the rug. "Dad, do not do that. Not now. I will not be shut out of this." she said and turned to him. "It is not safe, Annie. Even if something has changed, we did this to protect you." he said, not looking at her. "And in case you didn't realize it, you have spent all these years since training me to protect myself in every possible way. You have not raised a fool, or a society princess, or a tomboy, you have raised something completely different and unknown to these people. You *have* created a monster, Father, one of your own design." she said and he finally looked up at her. She could see in his eyes that he was finally understanding what he'd been doing all these years, on purpose or not.

She dropped back down next to him and said, "I want my family back, I want my mother back. I want her at *my* bohemian wedding. I want you to not have that lost look to you ever again when you think of her. He didn't just take her from us, he took part of my life and I want it back." she said and looked right in his eyes. When she saw they her words had hit home, she sat back again and said, "Now, we can do this together, or you can wonder where I am in the middle of the night until I've finished it myself. Which will it be?" He couldn't help it, a slow smile played at the corners of his mouth and he finally said, "You would have made an amazing criminal, my love." "Don't worry, Daddy" she said and leaned over and kissed his cheek, "I'm still young." and then winked at him and he did smile. Then he looked at her and said, "What bohemian wedding?!"