Author's Note: This chapter is short but very important. You learn more of the story, but there are many layers to this story. I know this fic is a lot of dialogue right now, but all of this is very important. Some exciting action stuff will begin again soon!

Abrams continued working as he sat in silence, acting as though there were nothing surprising about what she said. Sherlock could only stare at her, stunned.

"His first mission abroad was in Italy," Abrams began when he continued to say nothing. "He was working counter-terrorism. On his second day in Florence there was an attempt on his life: someone struck the vehicle he was riding in head on. The driver and passenger were killed instantly, but your brother was taken from the scene."

This sounded too familiar. His eyes grew wide as he realized what story he was hearing. Realized that his brother lied to him. Realized that this was so much worse than he thought-

"Taken?" He asked quietly.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to expect when Abrams glanced up at him, her eyes dark and somber.

"He was held hostage for a week," she explained. "He was able to escape after seven days. I don't know what happened to him during that time, but everyone says that's when he changed. When your brother returned to London, he was a different man."

"The Ice Man."

The words echoed coldly off the tip of his tongue as he recalled Moriarty's nickname for his brother. At the time he took the comment as a joke, but he never considered the truth behind it. Looking back through his life he had always been able to recall the exact time when both he and his brother completely changed personalities. He had always connected it to, well, the drugs and running away from home.

He never considered that something else might have triggered this change in Mycroft.

Sherlock had always noticed a significant change in his brother's attitude- like a switch had flipped and something changed within him once he left home and started working for the government.

Whatever happened must have been so traumatic that Mycroft had even covered up that lie with another one. To think of his brother going through that and never telling anyone was an impossible thing to wrap his mind around.

"What was that?" Abrams smirked.

"Moriarty's nickname for my brother," he answered.

"Fitting."

"Better than his nickname for me."

"What was that?"

He could feel his cheeks turning slightly red in embarrassment as he replied:

"That's a story for another night."

Abrams shook her head as the smile faded away; it was the most human emotion he had seen from her yet.

"As I said, your brother was a changed man," she continued, her tone more sympathetic now. "He ensured the men who were responsible paid for their actions."

"Who were they?" He asked.

"They were like a terrorist cell," Abrams explained, "but not that extreme. Yet. They thought your brother was in Italy to go after them, but it turns out that was just a misunderstanding. That didn't stop them from being angry- from realizing what power they had with having a British government official on their hands. Your brother was lucky he got out when he did."

Sherlock closed his eyes, desperately trying not to picture what she meant. He felt ill, and for once he was not sure how much more of the story he could stand to hear.

Yet he knew he had to listen.

"Mr. Holmes, when your brother returned to London he ordered for all of the men responsible to be captured, dead or alive. None of the eight men turned up alive- but all of their bodies were found. All but two."

He had a terrible feeling about where this was going.

"One of those men was Sebastian Moran."

Anxiety overwhelmed him as everything began to make sense. He could hear his heart pounding and he considered, as she studied him, that she could hear it too.

"Moran escaped when they tried to get him too," she continued. "I should explain, this- cell- they weren't focused on terrorizing the public. They had very specific plots in place, many dealing with government officials. They realized that by putting certain plans into motion they could affect the outcome of events. A few members of this cell had already been carrying out these schemes for years, but they had a few new recruits- Moran included. He was only about your brother's age at the time."

"How can someone that young get mixed into something like this?"

"Out of the army."

His eyes shot up towards her; he didn't realized he had spoken out loud. Right out of the army. This story was beginning to sound too familiar. Right out of the army- just like John.

Not that John would ever get mixed up in anything like this.

"He wasn't a very dedicated soldier, if it makes you feel any better," Abrams said, noticing his discomfort. "Moran was someone who was very lost, very unsure of who they were. Someone who was very easily manipulated by people like these men. It's no excuse, and he will never admit why he had turned out this way. But to continue the story…your brother's history with Moran has been more of a cat-and-mouse chase than anything."

"What about the other man? You said two bodies weren't found. Was it…"

"No, it wasn't Moriarty," Abrams said, rolling her eyes. "He didn't meet Moran until much later. No, the other man was caught by your brother himself in England."

"This man actually went into the same country where Mycroft was?"

"Of course. He was still trying to fulfill the cell's latest mission: kill Mycroft Holmes."

She paused, offering him a moment to absorb everything.

His mind was reeling from shock. As much as he tried to push the emotions away they threatened to overwhelm him.

First: anger towards his brother for never telling him any of this. Anger towards his brother because he lied about what happened to his fiancé (because it couldn't be a coincidence that there were two such deadly wrecks in his brother's life). Guilt for never taking his brother more seriously when he was younger. Guilt, for never considering that there must be a reason behind the cold, dark, shadow that was his brother. Sympathy for realizing the pain his brother must have gone through- both physically and emotionally.

"He failed miserably," Abrams continued. "Your brother caught him and put him in solitary confinement."

"For how long?"

"Two years."

Once again his eyes grew wide.

"What happened after two years?" He asked cautiously.

"Your brother made his first deal with Moran."