"You both formed a plan to take Moriarty down and are only telling me because I want him dead and for some reason neither of you want that; and since you're both in agreement I assume it's the same reason for both of you, which I can only guess it's because I can't kill him without his men killing me. Am I close?" she asked turning Sherlock's head in surprise at her having figured that out.

"Yes, that sums it up," Mycroft answered not surprised in the least.

She took a calming breath in an effort to keep herself from raising her voice, knowing Mycroft detested her yelling. "So, what is this plan?"

"It's quite simple really, I gave Moriarty all he needed on Sherlock."

"I'm aware of that, I'm guessing you're about to tell me why you're not actually an idiot," she said barely a moment after he spoke; startling Sherlock with just how free she was with his brother, and that Mycroft allowed it.

Mycroft smiled entirely unamused, though he'd expected it. "I'm sure you will still find something disagreeable," he told her.

"Naturally," was her short response.

His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at her furious face, seeing the worry that hid in the depths of her eyes. "Moriarty will use the information against Sherlock."
"To kill him."
"He will completely slander Sherlock's name and turn, the entire country against him."
"And then he will kill him."
"I'm sure there will be a more elaborate scheme Moriarty prepares for Sherlock's downfall, which of course we will use to our advantage."
"Yes, he'll kill him."
"And with my mind, Sherlock's and yours I am quite sure we will discover what his plan is."
"It's simple, he will kill him."
"Alice, do you honestly believe Moriarty would do something as simple as killing Sherlock?"
"No, I think he'll seduce Sherlock into doing for him."
"How fascinating. Do you have an idea of what Moriarty plans to do to make Sherlock kill himself?"
"No but I'm sure he'll give it away after he gets himself free."
"You're so sure he will give his intentions away?"
"Of course, he's Moriarty – where's the fun if the other person doesn't know half of his plan. You need to look closely in everything he says, every choice of word every phrasing of a sentence; you'll find your answer somewhere, and he might make it quite obvious depending on the mood he's in."
"That is very good to know."
"Is it? Because I haven't agreed to this plan."
"I don't remember asking for your agreement, nor do I require it."
"Then why am I sitting here, you can't honestly expect me to believe you're both showing sentiment in wanting me alive?"
"Of course we want you alive, your death would be useless. The other half of the plan includes the network Moriarty has woven."
"So after Moriarty is indisposed, possibly dead, you're going to let your brother put himself into even more dangerous situations by going after Moriarty's network?"
"Tell me the idea of a world rid of Moriarty's stain doesn't entice you."
"It does, however the idea of your brother dying ruins it. You haven't explained to me how I can be sure Sherlock will not be in danger, because I'm gathering that you expect me to let him go off on his own – which you know I will not agree to."
"I'm very aware you won't agree to it, but as I said I did not ask for your agreement."
"That doesn't answer the question: will Sherlock be in danger?"
"It's a necessary risk."
"That's not what I asked."
"Alice."
"Yes or no?"
"Nora-"
"Don't call me that. Will he be in danger?"
"That is no longer your concern, he's not your job anymore. I am taking you away from him."

There was a pause in the conversation: for the first time in the past two minutes there was complete silence as Alice processed what Mycroft had said. Sherlock had watched the two of them converse almost shocked at the speed in which they responded, as though they already knew what the other would say – there had been no pauses, not a single movement of their bodies or their faces to indicate any sort of a response, not even the tone of their voice had changed. They sat staring at each other now in the exact same position wearing the exact same expression as before they'd begun speaking. Sherlock looked from Mycroft's expecting face to Alice's greatly unhappy one waiting for her to refuse, to yell or throw something – some sort of outburst to match the storm raging in his mind at the thought of Mycroft taking her away. But she did nothing more than stare at Mycroft with furrowed brows waiting for him to speak.

He gave her a small smile knowing nothing he said would assure her this was for the best. "Do either of you have any questions?" he asked knowing his brother would raise his voice in a childish manner the moment she left; however, Mycroft didn't know how she would respond, all he could see was a lost young woman staring at him with eyes full of betrayal.

"Are you selling the flat?" she asked softly surprising Sherlock with how calm she sounded.

He shook his head not bothering to look at his brother. "Of course he's not selling your home, it's yours," he told her trying to assure both her and himself that she would not be leaving him – that was not part of the plan.

Mycroft sighed turning hard eyes to his brother. "You've seen her room Sherlock, this is her home. And with her no longer watching you there's no reason for me to continue paying for the flat," he told him watching realization dawn in Sherlock's eyes, before turning back to Alice to find her still staring at him obviously distressed.

"And my cameras?"

"They will be removed," Mycroft answered gently seeing the alarm blaze in her dark eyes. "I will allow you to keep the trackers in his and Dr Watson's watches if you'd like," he offered knowing she would have already.

She nodded having not planned on removing them, though she'd hoped he might let her keep the ones in Sherlock's phone – but she knew he wouldn't, what he offered was all he'd allow. "What about Mrs Hudson?"

The pleasantness he'd allowed on his face for her slipped away, wishing she had left all fondness with Sherlock and John. "I suppose I can allow it," he agreed reluctantly.

"And Detective Lestrade," she added quickly not wanting to leave him out. "I like him."

He sighed wanting to tell her no, knowing he should tell her no; but looking at her painfully vulnerable face he nodded allowing it. "Are there any other questions?" he asked knowing they both had many, and knowing they both were holding back because the other was sitting beside them. He watched as Alice turned to Sherlock – who had never taken his eyes off her as though she might literally disappear – seeing they had grown quite fond of each other. "You can visit him," he told her waiting as she turned to him. "Anytime you'd like, but you will not join him in his investigations. You may call, have dinner there: I'm not completely taking you away. But he will not be your assignment," he said sitting back and watching her unhappily process it all. "Do you have another question, Alice?"

Sherlock watched her closely as she looked the carpet as though it might have the answers for her; she looked as lost as he felt, he honestly didn't know what he would do without her constantly with him – he hadn't known that life was possible. "Have I done something wrong?" she asked, her voice small and quaint as she looked up at Mycroft not understanding why this was happening. He turned to Mycroft to see a soft look in his eye as he stared back – a look he had never seen his brother wear.

"No," he told her smiling delicately. "Your separation has become necessary, and permanent I'm afraid. You may spend time as friends but nothing more," he explained, seeing in her the young woman that had been brought to his front door broken and insane – looking to him for guidance because she didn't know what to do. "If you'd like we can speak of this in the morning," he offered, smiling again when she nodded. "Is there anything else you'd like to speak of then?" he asked knowing there was, he could see in her eyes something was wrong. "Thomas, perhaps?" he asked for her, pleased when she nodded once more. "Go to your room for now, Sherlock will say goodbye before he leaves."

Sherlock watched her go wanting to tell her to stay, to say she was going to go home with him because she wouldn't be taken from him; but there was a strange stillness to her, a neediness when she looked at Mycroft as though she wasn't quite sure if she knew how to respond – she looked so young, and sad, like she was watching everything fall apart. And so he sat quietly until the door closed and he heard the sound of her feet on the stairs. "You are not taking her," he demanded rising to his feet in unleashed fury.

"Honestly Sherlock, must you be so dramatic?" Mycroft sighed with a shake of his head.

But Sherlock wasn't having it, he paced behind the chairs as he thought of why his brother would decide that now was the moment he should take Alice. "She's completely right, it will be dangerous. If I ever needed her it would be now," he hissed through clenched teeth, refusing to be separated from her.

"Sherlock,"

"No, I won't hear it," he said interrupting Mycroft. "You gave her to me so she could protect me, allowed me to know of her. You knew I would be fascinated by her, that I would never be able to resist her – you can't just take her."

Mycroft his rolled his eyes. "Sherlock," he said again trying to make him stop.

"She is mine," he yelled before he had the chance to realize the mistake that was. It left him staring at his brother's cold face with the remnants of his fondness still echoing in their ears.

"Are you finished?" Mycroft asked levelly before pointing to a chair and waiting for Sherlock to sit. "I did not give her to you, Sherlock. She is not a book I let you borrow. I pay for her flat, I gave her the equipment she uses to monitor your whereabouts, I even bought her the sniper she uses. If she were a possession one of us owned, then she is mine. I let you have her for a time but it is now ended: you were never supposed to fall in love with her."

"I would never," Sherlock exclaimed disgusted at the idea.

Mycroft smiled amused. "How would you know?" he asked making Sherlock scoff at the idea though his mouth could not form any other words to deny – but he did, silently in his mind he tried convincing himself it simply wasn't possible that he felt anything for her, those were things he didn't partake in. Mycroft watched his brother sit deep in thought knowing he was refusing to believe he cared for Alice, as though it were that easy. "Would you like to know why I am terminating her assignment, or do you plan to continue yelling at me as though you were a child?" he asked making Sherlock scowl at the tone of his voice.

He turned to his brother with furrowed brows, staring hard at his cold eyes. "I know you care for her," he told Mycroft watching him laugh shaking his head. "Oh come on, you pay for her flat you bought her tracking devices and a gun – and don't try to say it's part of her job," he added when Mycroft made to intervene. "You give her things because they please her, you text her because she prefers it, you allow her to overstep in the way she speaks to you without batting an eye, you have opened your house to her and allowed her to make it her home. You are gentle with her, and soft – everything you do is proof you care for her," Sherlock said combining all the instances he'd seen of his brother's strange relations with Alice.

Mycroft sat in silence as he listened to Sherlock, waiting for him to finally finish. "I never said I didn't," he told him.

"But you won't say you will," Sherlock said watching his brother smile.

Mycroft would never say it, wouldn't dare admit it; she was a weakness, for all her strength she made him weak. "If there were ever a woman for either of us, it would be Alice. So cold and unfeeling, unused to caring, unfond of people and their simplicity – I suppose I should have known you would've felt fondness toward her."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You should've known?" he asked bitterly, still refusing to admit it.

But Mycroft nodded. "Not even I could help it," he said before folding his hands and looking at Sherlock seriously. "It has become necessary to remove her from you, as well as Thomas."

"Why Thomas?" Sherlock asked immediately, earning himself a hard look from his brother.

Mycroft stood and quietly opened the door to see that Alice hadn't returned to seek an answer; but she'd gone to her room as she'd been told and he returned to his chair satisfied. "He is not on her side."

Sherlock snorted interrupting his brother. "You don't honestly believe that: he loves her."

Mycroft's eyes sharpened to a lethal edge. "Don't mistake love for allegiance," he told his brother silencing him. "He wouldn't hurt her, he has done everything to keep her safe but he is not on her side."

"That doesn't make sense," Sherlock said though he didn't quite believe it. "We are talking about a man that threatened to kill me because my actions led to her being hurt, who has wanted to kill me from the day we met but hasn't because he loves her – how is that not on her side?"

Mycroft sat back seeing the thoughts churning in Sherlock's mind, and knowing he only needed a slight push before it all unraveled. "Think about it, Sherlock," he told him.

Sherlock looked at him not knowing what he should think, if anything he thought was actually true when both Thomas and Alice hid their feelings behind walls of unfeeling and lies. "He loves her," Sherlock said. "Every look and caress, every word he speaks further solidifies that in her mind – she knows he loves her, he makes her believe it. She depends on him, needs him in a blindly stupid way: she trusts him completely. She would follow him over a cliff she trusts him so fully, he con-" The words dried on Sherlock's tongue as he stared in shock at his brother – finally seeing what Mycroft had. "He controls her. She doesn't know how to function without him, he makes her human and reminds her not to kill every time she has the urge – he's been there with her for months, she was almost happy. She barely smoked at all, she was almost pleasant, she smiled, she baked; she was so unbearably normal."

"Do you think Thomas' being there had that effect on her?" Mycroft asked.

But Sherlock shook his head, pieces of a very confusing puzzle were slowly locking into place in his mind. "I had thought so," he answered as he pulled every memory of that terribly pleasant time before the trial had come up.

"And now?"

Sherlock looked at his brother unable to believe how obvious it had been, and how blind he'd remained. "There were days I never saw her, that her lights never came on; we only spoke on the phone I hadn't thought anything at the time I was always on a case. She wasn't there. He brought her with him on his assignments, he let her torture and kill as she so craved – she didn't need nicotine to drown her terrible lust, he was giving it to her. Why?" he asked as several thoughts swirled through his mind one after another. "I had thought she was getting better, but it ended the moment Moriarty came back. She stopped killing and now she needs it again, she's in withdrawal there's always a cigarette in hand. She was never getting better, he doesn't want her to get better. Why? Why doesn't he want her to get better?" He was left with no more answers, everything he'd noted he'd already gone through and he was left with a question only Thomas had the answer to.

"I don't know," Mycroft admitted, it was the only piece of the puzzle he didn't have. "Do you have any idea how difficult it has been planting doubt in her mind; he has hidden it completely from her."

Sherlock shook his head. "She knows," he said before he understood why that was true, thinking back to when he'd first known of Thomas and he laughed as realization came to him. "Oh that brilliant girl, she's known this whole time," he said looking at his brother's confused face. "She knew he was working for you to catch Moriarty, her first instinct was to tell me not to trust him. A man she placed above all others, even you, a man she trusts fully and her instinct was that he would hurt me. But then he spoke to her, he touched her and seduced her back on his side – but it comes back," he said speaking faster now that he understood, now that he realized she'd been giving them all the answers without ever knowing the truth herself. "Every now and then she'll watch him curiously, she'll doubt him, she puts herself between him and I because he's always wanted me dead – that's why you hired him to catch Moriarty that's why you push her toward him when she's unhinged, you don't want him to suspect you're the reason she's slipping out of his grasp," he said seeing on his brother's face he was right. "Oh but she is yours. She comes to you when she's troubled – when she was on 'vacation' she called you to help her come to me against Thomas' wishes. When a man had a sniper on her she didn't call Thomas, she didn't go to him, she went to you – and when she got back from her punishment she didn't stay with Thomas, she came here. You are her refuge, she doesn't understand what's going with Thomas or why she can't make herself trust him, you are now the person she holds above all others. This is what you wanted," Sherlock said now seeing his brother had his own plans with her.

Mycroft nodded not bothering to defend himself. "From the moment she was brought to me I wanted her away from him, I do not trust him. She needs to be separated from him, he will take her back the moment she sees him, when he lays a hand on her or leans in to kiss her she will be his and I cannot allow that. She will never get better, there will never be a world for her where she can exist without the need to kill; the only way for her is to be completely cut off from him. And that will only happen if she entirely removed from her former branch," he said watching Sherlock's eyes widen.

"You can't be serious," he said appalled at the idea.

But Mycroft only raised a brow, thinking Sherlock would've jumped at the idea. "Of course I am."

Sherlock released a breath before shaking his head. "She is a psychopath with dissociated feelings, and you want her to be free from the people that control her?"

"I want to control her," Mycroft told him firmly. "She will take her assignments from me, her punishments for her indiscretions will come from me – there will be no pleasure in killing, a broken neck is all the satisfaction she'll receive. Her addiction will diminish until she no longer craves the need to make people scream, she will not need him; she won't need anyone."

Sherlock sat back wondering if any of that were actually possible, if perhaps with time his brother could get her to a place where she might actually be free – and he wondered who she'd be if that happened. "She'll be Nora Harris again," he said finding he was very curious to find out who that woman was.

Mycroft nodded. "With a few more scars and a broken heart, but yes, Alice Carroll will be nothing more than a mask she once wore. You cannot speak of this," he told his brother. "Alice's inspections are thorough and her hands," he paused as he took an unhappy breath at the memory of her hands running along his body, "unless she has covered the room and the people in it and is satisfied, there is no talking of this – he will kill us all within the hour and take her."

Sherlock nodded understanding, realizing John wouldn't know any of this; which would be for the best when John would insist she needed to know. "And she mustn't know either," he added watching Mycroft nod in agreement.

"I'll let you sleep on it, don't forget to tell her goodbye before you leave she's waiting for you," Mycroft told him sternly knowing Sherlock would rather leave without seeing her.

He nodded unhappily before leaving the study and climbing the stairs, hearing the soft sounds of her feet on the floor the moment he reached the landing. She paced the length of the room continuously, barely glancing at him when her door opened; she didn't stop until he'd dropped his coat and phone in the hall and closed the door. "I did something I shouldn't have," she told him immediately, having already combed through the room three times, it was clean.

"What did you do?" he asked wary of what she'd say; for a moment he worried she had in fact overheard them, but her pale face spoke of something else.

She ran a hand over her hair trying to make sense of it. "I hacked into the system," she said, her voice strange and breathy as a panic attacked loomed in her lungs. "The database where I used to be positioned," she explained watching his face smooth into one of surprise. "There's a very small window before you're noticed, most people get caught and someone is sent to take care of it, I know the system I've done it before I knew what I was looking for," she rambled feeling her body shaking but not able to control it; everything was falling apart and she couldn't find a breath of air. "He's been given four assignments since you met him," she said; Sherlock watched her hold up four quivering fingers knowing she was close to breaking. "And I went on Mycroft's work computer while he was sleeping, his only assignment was to capture Moriarty."

"Alice," Sherlock said trying to stop her, she wasn't ready to know this – she couldn't see this yet, not when Mycroft had taken her from him and he couldn't occupy her with a case.

"He's been on twelve cases," she said not caring for his interruption. "Only five can be accounted for."

And there it was, the proof something was wrong, the reason why she was doubting Thomas – and it left her looking so broken. "You don't trust him," he said leaving it up to her.

She stared up at his empty face knowing he knew the answer, which meant Mycroft knew – everyone but her had known, her heart had made her blind. "No," she breathed finally admitting it. "And it's Mycroft's fault, he's making me question him, but there's a reason; Mycroft wants something. I don't know if I can trust him either, I really want to."

Sherlock grabbed her arms and forced her to stand still and face him. "Who do you trust?" he asked her needing to know who he needed to get to calm her down. "If you're not sure you can trust Mycroft then who?"

"I trust you," she said staring up at him with wide eyes he could read so clearly; she trusted him, in that moment he was the person she held above everyone else. "And John," she added, "but he doesn't really know anything."

If she wasn't so panicked he might have laughed, but he only pulled her closer. "Then I swear to you," he said staring hard at her dark eyes, "Mycroft is doing what's best for you, he is trying to help." He watched relief settle on her shoulders, seeing then his brother was very important to her sanity – that he'd made sure he was.

But she looked back up at him knowing what he hadn't said; not Thomas. "We're trained to lie, to love the kill, they made us crazy – this was to be expected," she said hardening herself as she stepped away from him. "It was always stupid to trust him, for any of us to be trusted. We are poison."

He watched her pull the covers down on the bed and climb in before laying on her back staring blankly at the ceiling. He knew the war in her mind, she wasn't calm and she wasn't emotionless – she was completely wrecked. "Would you like me to stay?"

For several moments she laid quietly staring at the nothing of her aching thoughts, drowning in too much information too soon. "Yes," she answered softly, not wanting him to leave her. And so he laid beside her feeling the warmth of her arm against his, honestly wishing morning would never come.