A/N: This is a post-fall story that I posted on a long time ago as a much shorter fic about a year ago, since then I've taken it and flushed it out. I left it as the original title because I couldn't come up with a better one. Please enjoy!

Freak. The Holmes siblings knew the word well. They knew how much it hurt to find that word written on a piece of paper or shouted at you from across a class room. But it hurt the most when it was a whisper that you just barely over heard. Veronica had fought the hardest against the word. She tried to deny everything that her brothers had left in their wake. Every day she had come home from school with a black eye or a fist shaped bruise somewhere. The only thing that changed when she grew up was that the fighting turned verbal, which didn't get her in as much trouble. When she went to Oxford she found a roommate who didn't mind her scars, her deductions, or her crazy brothers. Her name was Savannah.

Savannah was American and her uncle was giving her a full ride because he just had way too much money. That was what she had said to her anyway. Veronica had deduced a different story. Her uncle was in the head of a drug circle in New York City and didn't want his favorite niece to get caught up in everything. So he had paid off the admissions office in order to get her in and had prepaid for eight years of education for her, so she was safe no matter what happened. He hadn't shared any of that with her, so Veronica wouldn't either. She was a little more tactful than her brother.

Her immediately older brother Sherlock and she were the closest. He would take the train to Oxford every few months and the two of them would go get tea at a local café. It was nice and pleasant, but as the years progressed the trips became less frequent and once he gained his blogger they became none existing. She didn't mind too much, she followed John's blog and emailed her eldest brother, Mycroft, from time to time to catch up on what was going on. She never had direct contact with him until almost two years had passed and she was in her fourth year at the college, she was getting a doctorate. It was then that he knocked on the door of the flat that Savannah and her shared.

He was soaking wet and his eyes were red from tears as he stood in their doorway. "Oh Sherlock what happened?" She asked as she pulling her brother into the flat and set him in front of the fireplace.

"Moriarty," was all he could get out before shuddering from the cold.

"Hold on, you need to get your wet clothes off before you can get any warmer, I'll go look to see if I have anything that would fit you," she babbled as before she went to her room to grab some clothes. She returned to see her flat mate pale and her brother talking at a million words a second. "Sherlock what did you say?"

"He talked about my uncle…" Savannah stammered. "About the drugs… he said you knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she had prospects of getting into bed with you and didn't want to hurt your feelings," Sherlock explained.

Veronica dropped the clothes she was carrying, "Sherlock. Just because you just went through hell doesn't mean you can take it out on me and Savannah, if you want my help just shut up."

"I doubt you even know what just happened," he sneered.

"Do you really take me as that dumb? Sherlock you came to me, after years of no contact. Something serious must have happened, too serious to involve John. Although judging by the look on your face it did have to do with him and judging by the most recent news scandals involving you it also dealt with your reputation. In addition to that fact the entire internet thinks that you are dead. There for given what you said about Moriarty having to deal with it this is what I understand. You are supposed to be dead, the internet said it was the 'suicide of the fake genius' but we both know that that was Moriarty's doing. Now is the matter of why did you jump. It has to do with John, yes? Yes, I think it does and you did it to protect him. So you ruined your whole reputation and died for John, interesting."

"I forgot how similar to us you were," Sherlock said shaking his head.

"So I'm right?"

"Yes."

"Um excuse me," Savannah said clearing her throat, "Confused flat mate over here. Does anyone care to explain?"

"About what?" Veronica asked.

"Well, first, for how long did you know about my uncle? Was that fucker right about you wanting to sleep with me? Oh, yeah, and what the fuck is going on?"

"I knew about your uncle since we moved in together, yes he was right but I respect you and never brought it up because I don't think you swing that way given your constant being on dates with guys, and this is my brother Sherlock Holmes he is an asshole and he is going to die of pneumonia because apparently jumping off a hospital roof didn't kill him." She explained with her head in her hands so she didn't notice Savannah walk over to where she was standing.

"Veronica Holmes you are a completely oblivious asshole," she then wrapped her in a hug and kissed her square on the mouth, an action which was pared with similar feelings.

"I'm just going to go delete everything I just witnessed," came a groan from in front of the fireplace.

"Oh grow up," his sister said playfully as she tossed him the t shirt and sweat pants.

"These are mine," Sherlock remarked. "When did you get these?"

"When you moved out you left them behind," she shrugged.

"I'm not changing with you two in here," he said pointedly.

"Fine, we'll go to the kitchen and talk," Savannah suggested.

"I need to have words with John about how much he has improved your modesty, it's impressive," Veronica added as she followed the other to the kitchen door.

Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door, "What am I going to do?" Sherlock asked as he walked into the kitchen and sat on the floor his attitude was of a person of a broken man.

"Well," his sister sat down next to him as the other girl made tea. "Moriarty has a web of criminals correct?"

"Yes…"

"Well, if you got the spider, why don't you hunt down the web?"

"I had been thinking along those lines, I just didn't know if it was as good of an idea as I thought."

"It's a great idea, but you're recognizable, you could lay low or…" she trailed off.

"Or what?"

"We could always bleach and cut your hair…."

"Do it."

"Really?"

"Yes, if it'll mean I get to go back to London sooner, do it."

In the morning a different man left the flat, he was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants with trainers and his hair was blonde and cut short. This wasn't Sherlock Holmes any longer.