I hope everyone is still enjoying this story! I had so much trouble writing the last chapter.

And this chapter is proving to be even trickier! Just a heads up, this is mostly going to be Abigail's back story, so if that doesn't really interest you, feel free to skip ahead to the next chapter.

A week later, the group reconvened at Baker Street, all mostly healthy and whole, with the exception of Trevor, who was receiving his final check-up and would be delivered there later by Mycroft's driver.

John sat in his usual chair, with Mary and baby Rosie downstairs visiting with Mrs Hudson,
Sherlock sat in his usual chair, with the addition of Molly sitting in his lap (she had tried to protest how inappropriate this was for the occasion, but he was adamant). Mycroft stood by the door, attempting to look aloof and distancing himself from the situation. Possibly also positioning himself for a quick escape, should the need arise.

Normally, the clients would sit in a very particular chair, in between Sherlock and John.
In this instance, however, Abigail sat cross legged in the middle of the couch, with everyone staring directly at her. She was still a little bruised - a cut on the lip and cheek taking slightly longer to heal than normal. She also looked tired - so very tired - and a little bit nervous. She knew this day would come, she just wished it had been under different circumstances.

"So where do you want me to start?"

She looked up at the group, scanning each of their faces. There seemed to be a mix of pity
and understanding. Except for Sherlock. There was a little bit of anger simmering under the surface there. Abigail felt sure it was against her, but looking over at her father, she realised it could be directed at him as well. So, she wasn't surprised when Sherlock's reply sounded a little bit clipped.

"At the beginning, if you would".

She sighed.

"If you want the story of my birth, about how my mother and father met, well I'm afraid that's not my story to tell. All I can say is they were both young, and my mother didn't want to burden him. So, she ran back to Ireland so that I would have a different life".

"What I can tell you, is how I fell into Moriarty's gang. What...what you need to understand, is that I never sought it out. Not in the beginning. I was in High School, and one of his drug runners was in the same year as me, and he started to give me a hard time. One day he just...pushed me too far, and I snapped. I sent him back to James with his tail between his legs, so to speak. I had heard about 'Jim Moriarty and his boys', and I honestly expected some kind of retribution!" She let out an emotionless laugh, "Boy was I wrong. Instead of dealing with me, like I thought he would, he recruited me. He had heard from his boys at the school how smart I was, and just wanted me to do a few jobs for him. Mum had been getting sick for a while, so I figured whatever I could do to help out with the bills and such, I would do. It was just small jobs at first - his main source of income in that town was from drug running, but I swore I would never touch the stuff. I guess he kind of respected me for that".

She paused to take a breath, noting how Sherlock's expression never wavered.

"So, I helped with the...I guess you could say administrative side. Helping with the books, maintaining a client database that even the authorities couldn't access, that sort of thing. And that was enough for a while. It helped us get by"

"After...after mum died, I was sure I would be sent off some family member across the Isle that I had never heard of. Mum said she had family back in England. At the time, she had never mentioned who my father was, and seeing the sadness in her eyes every time the topic was even hinted at, I never pressed her for it"

Abigail paused again, briefly, just to wipe an errant tear away. She didn't dare look up at the faces around her, staring steadfastly at the peeling nail polish coming away from her thumb.

"Anyway, James came up with this brilliant idea. He had a woman in his network that
looked similar enough to me that she could pass for an aunt. He managed to doctor my file, and have her present herself at the courts and get custody awarded to her-"

"You agreed to this?" John suddenly asked, rather incredulously.

"I did. You forget, I was 16 years old at the time. I still had friends at school, hell I still ENJOYED school, and being taken away was an unknown variable I was not prepared to deal with. So yes, John, maybe I made a stupid decision. But could you say, with any certainty, that as a 16-year-old you would have made a better one?"

The anger that had briefly flared in her eyes died down immediately. She was too tired to
keep that flame burning. Plus, she knew that John had good intentions.

"So yes, James managed to obtain a suitable parental figure for the time being, and in return I stepped up my role within with his little network. He even started training me in intelligence gathering. And I guess as it went on, I even picked up a little deductive and reasoning skills as well".

Sherlock scoffed at this, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his beloved. Abigail continued on, knowing if she didn't, this was going to be a VERY long and tedious afternoon.

"About a year after this, towards the end of school, James introduced me to Irene Adler"

Everyone sat up a little bit straighter at this.

"There was a mission he needed me to go on. A specific businessman who had information he needed, and had a particular fondness for… younger women"

"I had spent the last 2 years pretty much ignoring guys, focusing on my school work and my job, so I had no idea how I was supposed to seduce him. So, James' brought Irene in to train me. It worked, and I got the information he wanted. Just at a greater cost than expected"

"I was just 18 years old when I killed my first man".

The silence in the room was palpable. She had barely scratched the surface of her sordid past, but already, she felt like there was so much judgement aimed at her. She couldn't be more wrong of course. Molly could feel her heart breaking for this poor girl, no matter what she had done. She felt similar to the way she did when Mary had confided in her about HER past. She didn't even want to guess how Sherlock and John felt about all this. Or even Mycroft! How he must feel having to hear his daughter lay out all her dirty secrets before them. It would make even the hardest of Ice Men crack.

Surprisingly, even Sherlock seemed somewhat affected.

"So, skipping ahead" His voice crackled slightly, "I'm assuming your association with Moriarty and The Women continued?".

"If you mean Irene, then yes. James found it beneficial for us all to continue on like this. I did essentially become their protege. James taught me to use my mind, Irene taught me to use my body".

"When did you decide to leave him?"

The voice that spoke was Molly, not timidly as was to be expected, but strong, and confidently.

She knew all too well the spell that 'Jim' Moriarty could weave.

"Funnily enough, it was the first time I met you, Sherlock"

Sherlock suddenly looked very confused

"Well not met, I guess. The first time I ever saw you. A few months prior, James had done some digging, and found out who my father was. And then, he discovered my far more interesting Uncle, who was starting to bother the criminal classes of London that he had started to influence."

"That day…. that day in the pool when he threatened to blow up you and John…."

Molly suddenly looked frightened, never having heard the full explanation of that story"

"...I was one of the snipers. I heard everything he said to you guys. Vowing to burn the heart out of you. This was not the man I married…WAIT…I MEAN"

At the moment, all hell broke loose.

Yet another chapter I need to break up, otherwise it would just be too much to digest in one sitting.

Again, I hope everyone is enjoying this as much as I am loving being back to writing it! Please feel free to leave a review.