A/N- This is the end of the cannon. We aren't done yet but if you read this sometime in the (far far damn you Moffat) future know that after this chapter we will diverge from whatever happens in season four.

.54- Thank you! Also… Have you ever considered dating a mountain climber? :)

Teshka- Noelle is a bit off a tough cookie. I think she takes the good of the situation for what it is since she has so much bad sometimes.

Black Night- Thanks! I love you too! Was that Magnusson? Hmmm….

IzzyBells- Thank you! I literally died of laughter watching Mycroft at Christmas. Died!

Christmas was bittersweet for Noelle. On one hand it brought an end to Mark's enlistment and of course she had always loved the meaning in the day. On the other hand she missed Danny who had been planning on coming to her holiday dinner. The dinner had been canceled of course seeing as they had all been finagled to the Holmes' house. Surprisingly Sherlock and Mycroft's parents were strangely normal, well as normal as anyone got around there. Currently she was engaged in a discussion with Mrs. Holmes to whom she made the mistake of mentioning that she was never really good at math. Her husband smiled good naturedly at Noelle sending a sly wink as the woman was lost in two seconds flat. Trying to steer the subject away from advanced calculus Noelle abruptly switched topics.

"So do you have any pictures of Sherlock and Mycroft when they were young? I bet they were adorable little hellions."

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed, "They never like me showing off their pictures but I just adore them. They used to be so cute," she sent a glare towards the men who had been caught smoking for the third time that day but then her expression softened, "They were adorable infants. Both with a full head of hair, Sherlock kept his. Mycroft- well."

John snorted as both brothers glared at Noelle petulantly while their mother brought forth said pictures.

"Oh. My. Gosh," Noelle exclaimed as they went through the album, "Is that prom Sherlock?"

Sherlock huffed his ears turning pink as Mycroft smirked.

"Summer Ball dear," Mrs. Holmes smiled, "let me show you Mikes he looked so nice with his date!"

Mycroft dropped his smirk which was picked up by his brother.

"Yes mummy," Sherlock called, "Show her the one with the corsage."

"Show her the one of Sherlock's equestrian competition."

"Show her Mycroft's ballet performance."

"Show her Sherlock with his ballroom partner."

"Show her Mycroft's fat phase."

"Show her Sherlock's rock phase."

"BOYS!" Mrs. Holmes commanded rolling her eyes to Noelle now joined by Mary who lay rolling on the floor with laughter, "Don't make me send you to your rooms!"

"Sorry mummy," the brothers chorused.

"Now where were we?" she continued cheerily, "Ah yes the dances! Mycroft dear whatever happened to that young woman you took that year?"

"Librarian," Mycroft begrudgingly answered.

"Boring!" the brothers spoke at the same time again.

"Oh she was such a nice girl!"

"Blub blub," Sherlock smirked at the elder making a strange fish face that brought questioning glances from his father.

"and Sherlock!" Mrs. Holmes pressed on, "Why didn't you bring that girl you always talk about? What was her name?"

"I don't know who you're talking about," he replied stiffly.

"Of course you do. You told me all about her. Was it Maggie? Margret?"

"Molly?" Mary suggested with a smirk towards Noelle.

"Yes! Molly. Molly Hooper her name is."

Mycroft looked distinctly surprised as Sherlock's ears turned pink.

"Doctor Hooper is with her family today," he muttered.

Mycroft opened his mouth no speak, no doubt some witty barb, when a ding was heard from the other room.

"Oh!" Noelle exclaimed rising, "Pies are done."

"I'll get it," Mycroft cut in with a greedy countenance.

"I'll supervise," Mary added grumpily, "I've had a craving for chocolate for the last three days and someone at the cookies Noelle baked yesterday."

"They are all gone already?" Noelle raised her brows.

"Oh Mikey," Mrs. Holmes cut in as Sherlock snorted, "Off the treadmill I see older brother."

Mary swatted Mycroft and made towards the kitchen with the eager Mr. Holmes on their heels.

"Oh this is such a lively house again!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed as the trio left, "It has been so long since we had the family together and so many friends too! I remember when Sherlock was just a boy we thought it would be good to get the boys out of the house. When we left half the girls were crying and several boys were bleeding. It was a mess!"

"Sherlock got in a fight," Noelle asked, "at such a young age?"

"No," she smiled, "Sherlock had been playing you see with some pretty little girl. He wanted to be a pirate you see. Anyways some older boy pushed the little girl him in the mud. Sherlock got mad and threw a handful of mud at the boy. Mikey came just in time to see Sherlock jump on the boys back. Some other boys came up and Sherlock decided it would be a good time to exercise his new adult teeth. Lost one of his baby teeth then too, blood all out his mouth. Mikey thought he had been hit and hit the poor boy. Broke his nose! The girl if I recall, pretty little thing with yellow ribbons in her hair, was quite fond of Sherlock and wailed as the whole thing went down. Her father thought the world was ending when he ran up. Saw what had happened and shook Mycroft and Sherlock's hand."

She smiled at the fond memories then frowned, "the other parents weren't so understanding."

"Well," Noelle grinned at the consulting detective who was sulking over the stories of his youth, "that is such a great story. A cherished memory I am sure. Thank you for sharing it with me and of course for having us all for the holiday."

"Nonsense!" the older woman waved her hands, "It's so lovely you have come. I have been telling Sherlock for years to come bring Doctor Watson and of course this sister he is always talking about. You can't imagine how thankful we are that Sherlock made some good friends. After things like the playground incident we were worried that he would never make friends."

"Nonsense Mummy," Sherlock cut in still pouting, "Noelle is not my friend. She is my sister."

"Oh!" Mrs. Holmes winked at the younger woman, "I always wanted a daughter you know."

Sherlock got up from his seat and flopped down on the sofa between his mother and his sister. Noelle and his mother laughed causing him to scowl deeper.

"Mummy don't you have some book to write or dreary musical to exclaim over to Mary?" Sherlock sarcastically drawled, "Noelle shouldn't you find your beloved or bake or do some other function of domesticity that you seem to enjoy?"

"He and John are still cutting wood in the back. The rest of our group have probably already eaten one of my pies and we won't be ready for the deviled eggs until after the turkey. I'm good here."

Sherlock headed for the door, "I need a drag."

"What!?" his mother snapped and he turned instead towards the kitchen with the wrath on his mother on his back.

"I need a snack!" he tried again.

When they were alone in the room the women looked at each other and broke into laughter.

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Christmas day came with songs and food and other despicable celebrations. Sherlock was high strung and ready to get on with the case. He sent an irritated glare towards Bill Wiggins, the man was perfectly calm. If Sherlock hadn't demanded Molly to run a drug test on him the night before (she could be awfully covert when she wanted to be) he would have thought the man was on drugs. It was infuriating. Wiggins was not supposed to be this calm in the face of a case, he was supposed to be on edge like him or worse. Watching the going ons of the kitchen he set the timer in his head. Just then Noelle and Mark slid into the kitchen with goofy smiles on their face as his mum heads out with the drugged tea.

"Why do you two look so smug?" Sherlock asked.

"John and Mary are making up," Noelle smiled as Sherlock held a cup out to her, "Oooh eggnog!"

"Yes, yes, enjoy the festivities. Happy pagan rituals and what not."

Noelle slapped him lightly on the arm with a laugh.

"Don't I get any eggnog?" Mark pouted.

"No," Sherlock shot before heading outside, "I need a drag."

There followed one of the most uncomfortable conversations he had ever had with his brother and that included the chat that followed a three year old Sherlock somehow getting access to a very detailed anatomy book. In any case by the time he came back in a smirk had been affixed to his face by the sight of an upset John and a passed out family. He had just calmed his best friend down when Mark and Noelle came rushing out of the kitchen.

"Sherlock," Noelle gushed, "your family just- Did you drug them and Mary!?"

"Curious," Sherlock remarked peering into her eyes.

"What?"

"I didn't think you would have such a high tolerance. I wonder why that is?"

"Sherlock Holmes did you-? Oh." she sighed as she started to rock on her feet, "You hijo de bu-"

John caught her as she simultaneously lurched towards Sherlock and passed out. He set her in the living room with Mary as Mark started to work himself up.

"You bastard!" he yelled, "You drugged my fiancé, John's wife, and your family. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"High functioning sociopath," Sherlock answered immediately, "I thought we had been through this already."

"Sherlock," John warned as Mark opened his mouth to speak.

Sherlock cut him off, "You are planning on marrying the woman right?" Mark nodded tensely, "Then you are going to vow to protect Noelle. It is time to start. We have a meeting with Magnusson. Considering your fiancé has been constantly bombarded by the man every time they meet I thought it unwise to bring her."

"Then why am I invited?"

"Because technically looking after her is your job now," he said surprising all the men present, "Just don't get in the way."

The sound of a helicopter could be heard through the house, "Ah there is our lift."

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Through the whole visit Mark kept silent. He watched himself. Sherlock Holmes may have thought he was an idiot but in the world outside geniuses he was quite an intelligent man. There was a reason Noelle picked him after all. There was a reason the government had picked him. He was meticulous in a way that most people didn't expect from him, in a way that didn't show until he was standing on a battlefield. This was indeed a battlefield. He watched cataloged as the devious man flicked John in the face.

"This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries," Magnusson boasted letting his eyes slide towards Mark, "This is what I am going to do to your little whore."

First instinct, punch him, suppressed, more information needed. Next step exploit his ego.

"This thing with Mary is regrettable but honestly will only get you so many privileges. There is nothing for you to goad my fiancé with anymore. Noelle has taken out her enemies. You obviously know this. If she has faced everyone from lowlifes to entire governments why do you think she would bow down to you?"

He sneered flicking John on the cheek again.

"Doctor Morgan almost lost you I heard. It would be regrettable for her to face that possibility again."

"Did you have something to do with Danny?"

"Regrettably no," he sighed flicking John again, "but I have heard whispers. It is only a matter of time until I have their numbers too. Can I do your eye now?" Magnusson asked John.

First instinct, kill, suppressed, witnesses, dangerous to those with him. Next step. Next step. Next step… but that was it. He could think of no next step. Perhaps the genius had a better idea. He looked to Sherlock to see the man thinking intently. Helicopters approached. Mycroft's voice came through the air. Finally Sherlock turned towards the blackmailer.

"To clarify, Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there."

"They're not real. They never have been."

Magnusson laughed yelling to the incoming troops, "It is fine they are harmless!"

"Sherlock, what do we do?" John asked.

Mark was wondering the same thing but then he caught the detective's face. He wasn't sure what it was that gave the detective the motive. Mark would like to think it was just Mary, that the man really trusted Mark to look after his sister but really he knew it all was part of it. He knew though in that moment and Sherlock caught his eye and knew that he knew. It was in his face, his countenance. It wasn't something that could be described, put in a book, labeled, but it was clear all the same. The helicopters raged above them, the villain in all his nefarious glory laughed in victory, the whole scene was a taunt but Mark knew it was deceiving.

"Oh, do your research," Sherlock scoffed, "I am not a hero, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!"

With a quick move and a bang the blackmailer ley dead at his feet. Soon all hell broke loose. The troops, the lights, Sherlock yelling at them, the blood splattered on his shirt, the smell of gunpowder in the air, John's curses, the breeze from the helicopter. For the first time as Mark looked at the man now kneeling on the ground he didn't see a detective. He didn't see a friend. He didn't even see a high-functioning sociopath. He saw family. A brother in law. Moreover he saw a man who felt, whether he admitted it or not. A shame he saw this as the man was led away in cuffs.

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Mycroft took Mark and John back to the Holmes'. The women were all still asleep. Sherlock had left strict instructions to Wiggins to keep them sedated until they were able to return. Mr. Holmes had been awakened by Mycroft who refused to leave the druggie alone with the ladies.

"I have to go to a meeting," Mycroft said coolly leaving them all.

When they walked in Wiggins stopped the IV lines. The women began to wake. Mary first gently fluttering open her eyes. Mrs. Holmes next jerking awake with a bit of drool on her face. Noelle stirred fitfully lashing out several times until finally her eyes opened and she saw the room filled with grave faces. The story was told. Mary nodding to let them know to share all the details. His parents cried. Mary and John cried. Hell Mark was fighting tears. When Mycroft returned with the verdict and a stoic Sherlock even the British government cried. Noelle just stared, face impassive. No mercies on the verdict but he was allowed a visit home for his last night. They said there was no death penalty in Britain. Apparently they lied.

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Six months. Noelle knew better. John and Mary and Greg and Molly, even the older members of the room may have thought this was just an out of state assignment but Noelle knew better. They had called those who couldn't be there for him last time and the one that could. John, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly, Noelle, Mycroft, the Holmes, and Mark. They all stayed there that night. They sat in the cramped living room as Bill Wiggins brought tea (no one drank it) and told stories that bored the Holmes brothers out of their minds. Of course they didn't mind. Bored and in denial was better than the alternative.

She sat on one side on her brother, Molly Hooper on the other side. Each had one of his hands as the night went on. They didn't sleep. Eventually around daybreak Sherlock got up and went to the kitchen pulling Molly Hooper behind him. No one followed. They knew it was time for him to say goodbyes.

Molly Hooper was with him for almost ten minutes. She came back crying, flushed, and Noelle could have sworn her lips were swollen from something other than crying. Greg went next. He took about two minutes. When he came back he ran his hands through his hair and sat down next to Mr. Holmes with whom he got on surprisingly well. He had to walk Mrs. Hudson back into the room she was crying so hard. Mrs. Holmes took her from her son giving an understanding nod. Sherlock just nodded towards his brother that was all that was needed. Likewise he shared a look with Mark that said something but she wasn't sure what. Noelle was last. John and Mary would go to the airstrip so they would get their goodbyes there. She didn't move. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up and out the door, out where they could see the stars lighting up the dark sky. Noelle leaned against a tree and stared off into the abyss of space.

"You haven't said two words all day," her brother commented.

"I don't know what to say," she responded honestly, "What are the last words you should say to someone? Should I share stories or cry or laugh or say something profound?"

"It will only be for a little while," he tried.

"Bull."

"It was worth a shot."

"So what do I say?"

"What does it matter what you say? It won't change anything. I don't get why it should be any different from usual."

Noelle laughed, "Okay then normal. Did you just 'snog' Molly Hoper?"

He blushed and didn't respond, "I am a selfish man Noelle."

"So you didn't? You did? You didn't?"

"Some things should remain mysterious," he raised his eyebrows.

"So then a goodbye. You are going to return a hug at least."

"I always return your hugs!"

"Do not."

"Okay I don't but I do sometimes."

A smile tugged at her lips, "Yeah, yeah you do."

A deep breath showed he was ready for his speech, "When you told me years ago that I was like your bother I took it seriously. Despite my sociopathic tendencies and the relationship with my own sibling family has always been important to me. That someone would want to see me as family voluntarily was shocking. Anyways I thought you should know I took it seriously. You have been my sister since that day. Always."

Noelle threw her arms around him in a hug, "and you have always been my brother."

"Did you ever regret it?" he asked into her hair, "Do you regret it now?"

"No and no," she said pulling away and looking him strait in the eye, "You are a great man Sherlock Holmes. You are a good man. I have always been proud of you."

That was that. There was nothing more to say. They looked out to the sky for a couple more moments but Noelle shivered and Sherlock grabbed her hand again pulling her into the house once more.

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It was almost time. Mycroft had gone to meet the transport and the Watsons and Sherlock were waiting. They were all waiting. The silence was deafening. So Sherlock broke it. Picking up his violin he decided to play a contemporary piece, one of the ones Noelle had given him years ago. The tune was sad and conveyed all the sorrow of the day. He had forgotten the words, they weren't really his forte, but Noelle hadn't. Her voice caught the tune and joined in a way that conveyed the emotions that her face didn't.

"Today is gonna be the day

That they're gonna throw it back to you

By now you should've somehow

Realized what you gotta do

I don't believe that anybody

Feels the way I do about you now"

If he was one for emotion he might have felt moved but of course he wasn't. Instead he was carefully watching the faces around him.

"And all the roads that lead you there were winding

And all the lights that light the way are blinding

There are many things that I would like to say to you

But I don't know how"

Mycroft was here. He didn't stop the song. He sat silently listening to the last song of his brother. Sentiment at its' finest Sherlock smirked.

"I said maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me

You're gonna be the one that saves me

You're gonna be the one that saves me"

The last lines faded out and Noelle's voice drifted out. Standing he passed his instrument to Noelle and pulled on his coat. They all followed him out to the car and watched as he drove off. He knew they wouldn't stay at the cottage. Molly would still go to work. Mrs. Hudson would distract herself with laundry. Noelle would probably end back up in California by the weekend. Greg would be bag=ffled by another case no larger than a 5. Life would go on though. It may take a while but it would go on. Just not his.

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Noelle was at Blair's beating the crap out of her fiancé turned opponent. The TV in the corner was turned onto NPR as usual when the picture flickered.

"Damn thing," the owner muttered as Noelle put Mark on the ground again.

She looked up and he knocked her feet from under her with a grin. She smirked at him and leaned forward for a kiss when she froze midair. Everyone in the gym looked up at the screen at the same time. The professions that took advantage of the gym all knew that voice. Particularly the regulars who knew Noelle. The face leered obscenely as the distorted voice played.

"Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss-"

"What does it mean?" Mark asked.

"That we just spent a mournful night grieving a hit we won't take."

Her phone rang directly. She answered and didn't get to say a word before the other side hung up. She beamed at Mark.

"That was a curtesy call," she grinned, "Sherlock is on his way back."

Next time Did you miss me?

Stay tuned and please review!

{It is my birthday Wednesday. (21 woot woot) A review would be a great gift. Just so you know! ;) … I know shameless. I am surprisingly okay with that. :)}