Sherlock screamed out John's name, as he futilely clutched at his disappearing form and then just like that, John was gone. For a moment Sherlock and Mycroft sat looking at each in stunned silence and then Sherlock felt a prickling along the back of his neck, his vision blacked out and the last thing he heard was Mycroft shouting his name.

Moscow during the reign of the last Tsar Nicholas

Sherlock was bored and he hated it when his family chose to stay at the Grand Palace in Moscow, for the days were full of endless ceremonies, all of which bored Sherlock, who was convinced that his relation to the Romanoff family was more of a nuisance than an honor. The palace had a somber atmosphere that made Sherlock on edge for the Tsar's son Alexei was sick again and that meant that the monk Rasputin would be attending to his needs. Sherlock hated Rasputin for sometimes he would stop and stare at Sherlock, his bright eyes fixated upon Sherlock as if he were a prey animal waiting to be torn apart by a predator.

One day after his violin lesson with Leopold Auer, Sherlock escaped his keeper, as Sherlock was fond of calling his valet and went in search of the Princess Anastasia for Sherlock had a plan.

Anastasia, looked at Sherlock in horror as she exclaimed, "Sherlock, we can't just leave and explore the city, what are you thinking?"

Sherlock slid across the marble floor directly in front of Anastasia and whispered in her ear, "Anastasia, please I want to visit the gypsy camp, for I need to know the cause of the nightmares that plague me." Sherlock said in a mirthful voice, tinged with a streak of fear. "Anastasia, please I must know," Sherlock begged softly.

Anastasia sighed, "Sherlock, why don't we ask Rasputin to hypnotize you?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed in distaste, "I hate him."

Anastasia's eyes widened in shock, "Why, he is such a funny man? Mother adores him and he has helped Alexei."

Sherlock wanted to say that Anastasia's mother the Tsarina was foolish to trust the monk, but instead he just said softly, "Anastasia, he is evil, very, very evil."

Anastasia laughed and said, "Sherlock, you are teasing, now come on let's disguise ourselves and go and see the gypsies."

Anastasia, laughed when she saw a reflection of herself in a mirror, "I look so funny," she whispered as she pulled a ragged shawl around her thin shoulders.

Sherlock pulled at her arm, "Come on let's go before they notice we're missing."

Sherlock had been on solo outings before, but Anastasia had never been without an attendant by her side, so everything was a marvel to her. The horse drawn sleighs and carts, workers, beggars, shopkeepers, all were a part of Imperial Mother Russia that would soon be changed forever. When they reached the gypsy camp on the outskirts of the city, Sherlock and Anastasia were shocked at the poverty that surrounded them. The aged bent over in pain, followed by the younger generation's pale angry faces, only the very, very young remained unaffected as they ran through the camp shrieking with delight as they chased each other. An emaciated dog ran with them and as it passed by Sherlock, it stopped in front of him sat down and whined a little. Sherlock had never been allowed to have a pet, so he just stared at the dog and was just about to reach his hand out to pet it when a woman's voice snapped at them.

"Hey, what do you two want?" The woman asked harshly.

Sherlock stepped forward, "We want our fortune told."

The woman's demeanor changed instantly when Sherlock held some coins out in his hand. "Fine, fine come this way," she said cheerfully.

"She sure pulls out all the stops," Sherlock thought as the woman led them to a tent, had them sit down, as she began to moan and chant beckoning the spirt world to join them.

Sherlock was the first to hold out his hand. The fortune teller mumbled under her breath and then her face changed entirely and she dropped Sherlock's hand as if it were a poisonous viper. "You are out of time, therefore you must be a demon, get out."

Anastasia jumped up, "How dare you talk to him like that and what about my fortune?"

The woman kept a wary eye on Sherlock as she grasped Anastasia's hand; she then shuffled some cards and gasped. "Get out both of you."

Sherlock and Anastasia ran from the tent and once they were safely out of range they stopped to catch their breath. "Sherlock, did you see my card?"

Sherlock's shook his head, "No," he lied for the card had been the skeleton of death and Sherlock felt as if his throat were closing over for it seemed as if its bony fingers were reaching out to crush them.