*9 years ago*

Moira was setting up the Christmas tree in her flat. She was angry and tired from a long day at work where a colleague had decided to argue her theories, and it didn't help that Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. A 17 year old Rory was playing Christmas music in the kitchen as she called a friend from school. Rosalyn was going to come over as well. "So much for a family thing," Moira muttered. Mycroft had claimed to be too busy with work, and neither Sherrinford nor Sherlock were answering their phones. It made Moira's blood boil.

It was about an hour later when the call came. Moira, Rosalyn, and Rory were sitting on the couch admiring their handiwork with smiles and hot apple cider. Then Lestrade had called. "Sherlock screwed up big time," the newly made detective had sighed.

"What's going on?" Moira asked as her heart dropped.

"Ford is dead," Lestrade replied. Moira dropped the phone, looking over at Rosalyn, a beautiful Romani woman who had been adopted into the Lestrade family as a child. The woman's wedding ring glinted in the light of the Christmas tree. Moira had never felt so sorry as she did in that moment.

"Oh Rosalyn," Moira sighed as tears blurred her sight.

*Present Day*

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE'S MISSING?" Mycroft roared as he stormed into the flat. Thankfully Moriarty had just left to grab some things. He would be staying with Sherlock and Moira. Moira insisted.

"She slipped away from Molly! How the hell is that my fault?" Sherlock snapped.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING HER!" Mycroft screamed.

"Both of you shut up!" Moira ordered sharply. They fell deathly quiet. "God, you haven't acted like this since Christmas nine years ago!"

"Funny considering the situation is very similar," Mycroft growled.

"Mike, shut the hell up," Moira snapped. She turned sharply to Sherlock. "The sad thing is, he's right. That doesn't help anything, but it doesn't make anything worse. We are going to fix this, and I don't care what the bloody hell it takes to do it."

"What's your plan then?" Mycroft asked.

"I'm still trying to find a lead," Moira confessed.

"This is hopeless," Sherlock sighed. Moira slapped him.

"No, it's not. They took her. Why would they just kidnap her? She's bait, Sherlock. They won't harm her until they get what they want," Moira explained harshly.

"I forgot how fiery you are," the Holmes brothers pointed out in unison.

"Look, you two can actually agree on something!" Moira remarked. "Mike, we need to have eyes on Rosalyn and Lestrade. They'll be on the list as well."

"Do you think so?" Mycroft asked.

"She's the daughter of a savassi priestess. I'm pretty damn sure," Moira growled. Mycroft threw up his hands.

"I'll be on it. What are you doing with Moriarty?" he caved.

"We're still figuring that out," Sherlock replied.

"Figure it out soon," Mycroft growled, leaving the flat.

"Do you have to be so mean?" Sherlock asked. Moira turned to him.

"I still haven't forgiven you for all the hell you've put us through over the years," she reminded him.

"I've changed!" he yelled. Moira just glared at him and began to storm off towards their bedroom. "Mo, come on. Don't be like this."

"I'm getting a shower! Leave me alone to think for once, damn it!" she called back with a growl. Sherlock plopped down in his chair. He wasn't going to argue with her when she was in that kind of a mood. Instead he sat there thinking, but not of the case, only of a December evening nine years gone.

John and Mary sat eating dinner in their flat. "I like her," Mary remarked.

"She's interesting to say the least. I wonder why Sherlock never said anything," John sighed.

"You're still caught up on him having a wife, aren't you?" Mary asked.

"It's just not like him," John argued. Mary laughed, shaking her head. "I just wonder why she left. I mean, drugs are one thing, but to leave for nine years, it had to be something bigger than that."

"Do some research," Mary suggested.

"Sherlock will probably have my head for it," John reminded her.

"Then the only thing you can do is wait for them to say something," Mary sighed.

"It's just strange, isn't it, to realize how different he is now?" John asked.

"You know, I bet Mo has a lot of funny stories about Sherlock," Mary laughed. John began to smile. Maybe he'd actually have a bit of fun with things. He finished eating and went into the bedroom to update his blog.

Moriarty sat across from Sherlock and Moira. "So you're sleeping with Rory," Moira mused.

"Yes," Moriarty coughed.

"I seriously think my family should just disown her," Sherlock muttered. Moira elbowed him.

"Shut up," she growled. "What he means is that you better take care of her."

"I hope to. We, um, we were starting a family, planning on it anyways," Moriarty confessed. Sherlock and Moira both fell silent as Moriarty leaned forward. "She was… she was ovulating the last time we slept together."

"You don't think she could be, do you?" Moira asked.

"Mo, look at how fertile our family tends to be," Sherlock reminded her. Moira leaned back into him. She couldn't forget.

"Yes, which reminds me," Moira muttered but now Sherlock elbowed her.

"Later," he growled. He studied Moriarty for a moment. "We have to save her at any cost."

"I know we do," Moriarty agreed. "I'm getting a shower and getting to bed. I, uh, thanks for letting me stay and help." The man stood and walked out of the room.

"We need to talk about them," Moira remarked.

"Where are they?" Sherlock asked.

"With my bloody parents, where else?" Moira snapped. She jumped off Sherlock's lap, turning to him with her hands on her hips.

"I want to see them, Mo," Sherlock confessed. Moira shook her head.

"Why the hell would I let you? I'm still trying to make sense of things. What the hell are we doing? Are we really getting back together? I can't let you hurt me like that again. I can't take it," Moira argued.

"Mo, I have changed. I have changed so much, and if it takes years to show you that and see them, then I'll do that," Sherlock sighed. Moira thought for a moment.

"If you don't prove that to me, then I will hand you those bloody papers, and you will never see me again," Moira warned with a low growl, pointing her finger at Sherlock. She sighed. "I'm going to finish my work now."

"Good luck," Sherlock called after her as she walked towards the bedroom. She froze, her body tensing, and gathering her senses continued to walk. Sherlock rubbed his temples with a heavy sigh. There were some days when Moira was just so aggravating that it drove him insane. This was one of them. He didn't know what all he could do, if anything. She was too stubborn.

Sherlock jumped to his feet, getting some more tea. His mind settled on the case. He hated not being able to do anything, but until Moira finished her thesis, they wouldn't really have much of a lead. He sighed. He could just go visit Moira's parents on his own. No, it would destroy any bit of trust Moira still had left for him. He'd have to be patient for once. Sitting back down, he frowned. He'd have to see Rosalyn eventually. It was only a matter of time. Still, he didn't want to. He wanted to be done with her, and all that she meant. What had happened was in the past, not the present. Yet it still kept coming up like a ghost haunting him.

Rory groaned as she came to. She was chained to a bed in a dimly lit room, her head spinning and aching. Her brain seemed to throb against her skull, making her curl into a ball. Nausea overwhelmed her stomach. She couldn't help but to clutch at it, shaking as she tried to fully wake. She could not quite keep herself together, or it would seem. With a sudden lurch she jumped off the bed and ran to the nearby toilet where she promptly choked up whatever was in her stomach. The chain around her ankle tugged at the sudden motion, and Rory flinched in pain.

Looking around as the throbbing of her head dulled, Rory studied the room. She couldn't tell where it was she was. A bed, a sink, and a toilet were all that was in the room. There was also a heavy door and a barred window, small and near the top of the back wall. She was a bit cold, and as Rory knelt there, what had happened came to her mind. She placed a hand on her stomach. "Damn it!" she yelled, her voice hitting the walls and echoing back to her. She began to cry, unaware that the little opening on the door had been slid back and that a pair of content eyes were watching her.

A/N: Yeah, this isn't going to be some easy happy plot. It never is. Lots of back and forth between Mo and Sherlock, everything with Rory, and lots more. That's the fun of it. So this is pretty popular. Wow. I didn't think it would be. I'm glad though. Keep on reading! As always, check my profile, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review!