It's a bit of a short, I know, but I didn't want to fall out of updating everyday. I promise the next one will be better. It's a bit quick, but... I don't know, just go with it and we can move on from it tomorrow XD

Thank you for sticking with me.

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There wasn't many things in the world that Faye hated more than Mary. The sight of the 15-year-old could drive her into a fury only matched by her terror of Daddy Long Legs. However, the one thing she really hated was when Mycroft could predict what she was going to do. She had been so sure she wasn't coming back to Baker Street, but here she was, pushing her furniture out of her bedroom by herself. He hadn't removed it, or rather he hadn't had it removed, he'd just told them to pile it all into the bedroom because she was going to go back! It wasn't that she wasn't happy to be there, because she was, but really? Did he have such little faith in her decision-making?

Mycroft once told her that if she was in a situation she really couldn't handle, all she had to do was tell him she wanted out and he would remove her from it. It wasn't something she had to call on very often, really only a couple of times. Like when her last room-mate, Katherine, had heard her mother called her Mary and had started screaming at her. He had turned up in under half an hour to take her away. She should have known something was up when he hadn't come personally to get her. Stupid bloody Holmes. The pair of them! She grunted as she pushed her sofa into place using her back.

"Want a hand?" She looked over at the door and saw John there. She smiled brightly at him.

"No, I'm done now." She replied, sitting on the sofa and staring out into her otherwise empty room, "Well, I'm done for now, anyway." She corrected, patting the cushion next to her, "No case today?" He sat next to her and she eyed him curiously when he didn't seem to make himself comfortable.

"Sherlock's still in bed." He replied and she looked at her watch.

"It's like, 3pm!" John nodded.

"I know." They fell silent for a moment, "So, you're called Mary?" She shook her head, sitting up and twisting to face him. She knew he was going to come to see her about it eventually. She'd been thinking about it since she'd stepped back into Baker Street with Sherlock, about what she was going to tell him.

"No, I'm Faye." She told him, "Mary doesn't exist anymore. Well, except for my mum. She won't call me Faye."

"And you knew Sherlock as a kid?" She nodded, a faint smile on her face. He hadn't shouted, which was partly what she was frightened of. She had just felt... one person should know. Mycroft knew, but he'd always been there, it couldn't be helped. John was someone she could tell, someone she could try and explain it to.

"He was my best friend. I met him when I was 4, just as I entered infants school. He didn't have any friends and I didn't like that. I felt that everyone was suppose to have a friend, it offended my sense of togetherness. I refused to leave him alone. I never did."

"Until you tried to cut off your face." John retorted and she nodded, the smile falling and John felt slightly bad at chucking it in her face.

"He was... he is amazing. And it was fine, because he didn't notice anyone like that. I could fancy him from the side and he was none the wiser. And I didn't have to watch him fawn all over other girls because he just didn't care. But he had noticed me." She reached up to rub her cheek roughly, feeling the dints from the scars hidden there. Most people didn't notice them, but she couldn't ever forget they were there, "And he'd dismissed me. To be told I wasn't 'conventionally pretty' by the boy who didn't notice pretty?" she shrugged, "I tried to change myself, my parents found me. I was shipped from school to residential units, saw shrink after shrink and tried to top myself on more than one occasion. The only way I could stop her being so destructive was to not be her anymore. Mycroft created Faye Newbarns and I've never really looked back." John stared at her and she shifted, uncomfortable under his gaze as he tried to read her. She'd lied about everything, about who she was. But she hadn't, not really. She'd never really mentioned her past, and the only thing she had said was that she couldn't talk about her and Mycroft. He'd never asked, he wasn't one to pry like that into other people's business. Which was odd considering he'd become a detective's assistant.

"Why would Mycroft do that?" He eventually asked, "He doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"He doesn't care about anything but himself and Sherlock." She corrected, "I saved Sherlock's arse on more than one occasion, lied to teachers, stood up to bullies. Once I let three boys beat me up just so they'd leave him alone. At first Mycroft felt he owed me for that. I just wormed my way into his heart, I suppose."

"You do that." John retorted and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I know it's probably really weird for you." She told him, reaching out to take his hand, "But apart from my name, and the fact that Faye can eat a full plate of chips and Mary won't eat anything if she can help it, nothing much is different. I promise." He looked down at her hand, fingers laced with his then sighed, wondering why he was even going to ask.

"And do you still, you know..."

"Fancy him?" She finished for him and she shook her head, "Not still. I did move on from him. Had a string of boyfriends and one night stands. Then I met him again. I tried not to, but he's still magnificent. And still an arse." John nodded, agreeing with her completely. He then sighed again, torn over what to do.

"I should tell him." He started slowly, "But I don't see what good that would do him. Or you. He will figure it out eventually, though." She grinned and chucked her arms around him and he laughed at her behaviour.

"Oh, thank you John!" She squealed like a teenage girl before letting him go, leaning back onto the sofa.

"You know, I still may get really mad about this." He warned her, "You're lucky you're my friend I like you, otherwise who knows how I'd react." She nodded, a serious look on her face.

"You have every right to be." She replied, "You can take your time, let me know when you're comfortable with me again. If you don't, that's fine too. You mean a lot to me, John. I hope you can forgive me." He observed her for a moment before sighing, shaking his head. It was nice knowing something the great Sherlock Holmes didn't. Maybe he could lord it over him like Sherlock liked to do with him? It was something to think about, anyway.

"Do you remember when he was drugged?" She nodded, looking as confused as he expected her to, "He wasn't talking about Irene. He was talking about you."

"What? That can't be right."

"You can't tell him." John insisted, "But he kept going on about her legs. I thought it was because he'd just seen her naked, but then he mentioned 'girlfriend'. It was because he was remembering the Palace, and that pervert looking at your legs." She blinked, surprised.

"You mean, he noticed me?" She whispered and he nodded, smiling sadly at how happy she seemed.

"Yeah, he did."