y'all, this is super long and it was super hard. but i feel bad about ch 6 and I hope this makes up for it. It's literally a whole chapter of our elusive, Adelaide Holmes. Please be kind.

This morning Adelaide Holmes awoke in the small bedroom she had been allocated, to a light rain that pattered on the window. She had been there for months by now but the room was still neglecting any sort of décor other than a bed, wardrobe, and desk. It was fine by her. She really hadn't had the opportunity to decorate any place where she laid her head because there wasn't a point when you were on the move so often.

She had been restricted from watching any telly or receiving any news. No phones, no computers, no contact with anyone but her elder brother. She wasn't allowed to even leave the house she was more or less a captive in and it would have completely driven her up the wall if now for the weight room on the other side of the house with various exercise machines. She ran twice a day and lifted in order to not atrophy from being cooped up.

For her mental exercises, every Thursday, when one of her handlers went to the nearest village for groceries, they would return with ten to fifteen books in a package that awaited them at the small post office and were now creating a great wall of literature next to her bed. The volumes were mostly academic but she was always pleased to find a few novels in the mix. Thursday's were the best days in the house of course, groceries and books were a welcome sight and it was a lighter day that she would actually speak to the agents who were assigned here.

The two men were kind to her, they frequently asked if she needed anything to make her more comfortable. She had been told their names were 'Mark' and 'Collin' but she highly doubted those were their real names. Adelaide wasn't even being called her real name here. The agents were told she was Catherine Wilson and in a witness protection program due to an on-going investigation. Vague, but it was best to not lie too much. Too many details will unravel a false story. She mainly kept to herself, really only saying small niceties and any requests for their next shopping trip.

When she first came here, it was exciting. She was anxious for the promises that were made for her. She was going to be allowed to come home. Her real home that was denied her for so long. She missed her family, even with all the strife that might come from her return, she just wanted a break from it all. Her line of work was not what most people would consider normal…or safe. She had so many years to dwell on her homesickness and it never really went away try as she might. However, she wasn't supposed to have been here this long. This place had only been meant to hold her at the most a couple of weeks until she was moved to London to be with Sherlock. She had been excited during the week leading up to her planned move-date, only to have had it crash in around her when one of her handlers gave her a phone with Mycroft on the on the other end.

"The move is off. Sherlock was found in a drug den this morning by John Watson. I made plans to get you to London in the morning, but he has been shot." Mycroft sounded tired and strained, "He was breaking into a very dangerous man's office and he's in surgery right now. I cannot deal with this and you being here."

She had been heartbroken. Adelaide was mad at herself for getting her hopes up and with every call from Mycroft, all she received were excuses that continued to batter her expectations. First it was, "John Watson has moved back into Baker Street, it wouldn't be best for you to enter his life now" The most recent one from a few weeks ago: "Mummy is making a big fuss about Sherlock's injury, she's planning a big Christmas holiday, wouldn't want to upset her."

So now she had been in this ruddy, cold and drafty house near in the middle of nowhere had been hard adjusting in the beginning. Adelaide realized how many freedoms she did enjoy before coming here, even though technically she had left her punishment. At least then she could keep an eye on her family. Mycroft couldn't control all the Wi-Fi in the world. She had even half-wished one night to be back in the field. Her mind required more stimulation than this, although she guessed she was faring better than what Sherlock or Mycroft would in her situation. Sherlock would end up destroying the house and Mycroft would probably develop a nervous twitch from not being in control of anything. So, Adelaide looked to find what solace she could with her state of affairs. She had been running around the world for so long, she forgot the comforts of staying put, so she concentrated on enjoying a bed she could stay in and not worry about being shot in the middle of the night.

Adelaide decided it was high time to get the day started, even if it was just exercise and reading. She rose from the bed, and eyed the most recent stack of books, deciding which ones she would tear into today. She went into her en suite and peered into the mirror to poke at the circles under her light green eyes. Well at least they aren't as dark anymore. Steady sleep will do that. She grabbed a paddle brush and started brushing her hair out. It was much longer now, the russet brown waves now reaching past the top of her back. Even though middle age was creeping up, and she was becoming critical of the wrinkles that were forming on her face, she could still admire her hair. She loved the way it looked now, but hadn't had a real reason to keep it so long in ages. She usually kept it shorter because of how thick it was. Dodging bullets in Egypt and Iran was far easier without the densest hair known to man getting in the way. As the brush passed through her tresses, she remembered back when it was just at her shoulders on the morning Mycroft first called on her about coming here.

Adelaide Holmes was…well actually, not Adelaide Holmes, not currently. Not many times in the past decade had she been even called by her birth name. For the last three months she had been Elena Palazzolo, Italian photographer of cityscapes. She was on a balcony overlooking the Sicily skyline, snapping a few pictures here and there. Most would assume that she was capturing photos of the sunrise that was peeking out from behind the buildings, but she was actually gathering evidence for a raid that would be taking place in the next month. There was a large ring of drug trafficking in the city and it ran though even the beautiful dwellings here in the city.

Adelaide did find some enjoyment in this part of the job. In order to stay inconspicuous she preferred the 'hide-in-plain-sight' method. People tend to not be suspicious of those who choose to be visible. Her camera was not small, in fact it was a very expensive one with a huge lens that could gather detail from far distances. She sat in a lounge chair wearing a fuzzy lavender dressing gown with white slippers while sipping coffee from an oversized mug. Her short hair was a mess and anyone who spotted her would assume she had just rolled out of bed to capture the morning light. Well, she thought, I really just did roll out of bed, the no-effort look always looked best when you actually did not apply any effort. Who said that espionage required black cat-suits and balaclavas? She'd leave that for the CIA and their over-indulgence of embracing spy movies and television programmes.

A small lorry had driven down the street she was perched above, and then it had stopped at the building she had been surveying. Adelaide put down her mug and peered into the camera sight. Two men exited the cab and began taking out large crates from the back. She snapped the shutter a few times. "Ah, buon giorno, signore. I wasn't sure you would be making it in today. Grazie." One of the men was on her list of top three targets, but he had been missing for the past week. It appeared that he had been away obtaining these items they were unloading.

She took as many pictures as she could before the men left the building in the empty lorry. They were now someone else's problem. She was glad for this assignment. It had been many easy mornings at top a gorgeous city. 'Elena' had been allowed to take a few shopping trips throughout the district in order to mingle around suspects, buying dresses and shoes she never really intended to ever wear, but they were expensive and she was embittered and wanted to let her keeper know. He must have been noticing her frustrations because the last two assignments had been simple surveillance like this one. She guessed the incident in Poland was a bit too eventful for his taste.

With the men gone, Adelaide packed up her camera in its case and put it on her shoulder as she gulped the last bit of lukewarm coffee from her mug. Satisfied, she went inside her flat and casually put the case on the sofa and went to grab another coffee from the kitchen. With that, she shuffled back to the sofa and took out a newspaper. It was from a Belgian paper dated months ago, and it was written in French, but it was the first one she had seen with his face on the cover. She had been tailing a woman outside the village of Foy who had been tied to a ring of embezzlers. The town wasn't the biggest in news, and she hadn't had too much access to television, so when she walked past a newsagent's, the image of her little brother wearing a ridiculous deerstalker standing outside his flat with John Watson definitely caught her eye.

The article wasn't too informative, basically it rehashed details she already knew from speaking with Sherlock. He hadn't given away his true motivations for faking his death, nor the details of how he actually convinced the world he had jumped off a building to his peril. Sherlock was Sherlock and he would always play his cards close to his chest. Adelaide knew she shouldn't have kept the paper. It was a blinding clue that she might not be who she claimed. But she kept it anyway, reading the quotes from him, wishing that it had been printed in the original English to get the full effect from his sharp responses to the reporters badgering him at his door.

Really, the picture was the focus of her desire to keep the paper. She noticed that he shorn his hair that had been growing unruly while he was with her in Poland. The hat perched on his head was so amusing, it made her chuckle every time she laid eyes on it. She could see how much it irritated him to be wearing it. Adelaide hadn't possessed a picture of him since before her exile. Over the past few years, she had accessed the internet from pubic web cafés and dared to read up on his adventures.

It had become much easier to find information when he became the notorious consulting detective, and she had regrettably stumbled upon a few tumblrs that focused on more *physical* aspects of her brother than his accomplishments. Even stories in the papers were outrageous tales of criminals being brought down by the detective because of the mud on their shoes. She knew that Sherlock would have more reasons than the mud to why the man was guilty and would be more than happy than to let others know their idiocy; that his methods were far from supernatural, but reporters like to latch on to the outlandish than the science. After sorting through all noise, she had found that her favourite site was Dr. John Watson's blog. Through the small complaints that John made about Sherlock, it was evident that the doctor took care of him. It made her happy that Sherlock had found such a great friend who appreciated his passions and tolerated his oddities.

Adelaide was still admiring the picture when she heard the front door of the flat open and close ever so quiet. Footsteps were being placed as silently as they could, but she still could make out the footfalls. She made to remove one of her handguns from the sofa cushion, but stopped when she recognized the gait of her visitor. The steps entered into the living room and stopped about five feet away from her back.

"Good morning, Mycroft. Fancy seeing you in Italy." Adelaide calmly stated to her intruder.

She could hear the man let out a breath that was so irritated for correctly identifying him by the sounds of his shoes hitting the floor. "You should be more careful, Adelaide. I could have been a mercenary sent to end you."

"Mercenaries tend to not wear such exuberant shoes and they eat less cake. Tell me how is your diet progressing?" Adelaide placed the Belgian paper between her and the arm of the sofa as she smiled ever so sweetly up at her elder brother.

Mycroft scowled at her expression that was irritatingly identical to Sherlock's when he decided to be playful in an awful way, "Much easier to stick to when you spend six months in Serbia. Everything to eat there was repulsive."

Adelaide's eyes widened with a twinkle of glee, "Oh, could it be true? Mycroft Holmes, the mover and shaker of Great Britain, actually did leg work? And what pray tell, motivated you to ever do such a ghastly thing as mingling with people?"

A sick smile came across his face, "Extracting our little brother from a beating with a lead pipe. It wasn't the most entertaining of events to watch, but really the best Serbia can offer."

Mycroft's smug delivery of such a terrible thing, caused a swell of anger to make Adelaide stand to her feet, coming almost equal height to the man. "You watched your brother being beaten, and you have the audacity to label it 'entertainment'? You are a wretched man, Mycroft. He doesn't deserve you."

"He would be alone and dead in a frozen forest if he didn't have me watching everything he did. He has to be coddled, like he always has been. I just have to do it from a far since he dislikes me so much. I can't be the affectionate sibling, coming to hold him anytime he gets upset." Mycroft was on the edge of actually scolding her.

Those words stung in her heart deeply, "Yes, it's always my doing, my fault, isn't it? I'm either wrong for too much attention or not enough? I'm sorry that I actually seem to have a heart, or at least had one," she spit the statement at him.

"Sentiment is a weakness, Adelaide, but it can be useful when deployed carefully. Which leads me to what I came here for. You have a new assignment," the haughtiness that oozed from him was starting to make her ill.

She snapped at him, "What assignment would sentiment be required in? Another where I'm someone's plaything?"

"No! You know that incident was not in my control." Mycroft retorted louder than necessary. "No, this is a more personal mission. Sherlock has returned to London with his life altered to what he had accumulated to before. John Watson has married and moved away from Baker Street, leaving Sherlock alone to his own devices. I fear that he will fall into old habits without the 'friends' he has required for some reason."

"And you wish me to do what, babysit him to make sure he doesn't end up with a needle in his arm? I didn't think you forgave me from the last time that happened 'on my watch'."

Mycroft winced slightly. Iceman or not, she hit the nail on the head. The man took a clearing breath, "Desperate times, as they say. You will be leaving here at the end of the week to a safe house along the northern coast of Scotland, so I suggest you find something warm to wear."

Adelaide was shocked. Scotland? She hadn't been back to the UK since she completed her training over a decade ago. She was under strict orders to be exclusively a foreign intelligence agent. Now the man who enforced those orders was telling her she would be back in Britain in two weeks. "What exactly is this assignment? You've been telling me that it was highly impossible for me to even enter the country and now I get a 'mission' for your personal use? How did you swing that, Mycroft? Have the powers that be forgotten about me finally?"

Mycroft sighed, "Many of them have moved on, making this request easier than it would have been in years prior. Many of them were against Sherlock when he was defamed, and now they feel guilty since the truth has surfaced. They have a bit of egg on their face and now is the time to ask favours."

"Is this a favour to you or to me, Mycroft?" Adelaide wasn't sure of where he stood on this. Mycroft had been warming up to her lately but his past treatment hardly left an amicable tone between them.

"The way I see it, it is mutually beneficial. I have less worries with a drug free brother and you get to play dutiful big sister again," he smirked with a superior look that usually graced his face when he spoke with her.

"So that's all you want? A babysitter he will listen to? Why not Mrs. Hudson or Molly Hooper? He spoke of them in high regard. He lets them mother him more than he allows Mummy."
Adelaide was trying to contain the hopeful excitement that was daring to break her cool demeanor that she had adopted from her lifestyle. She wanted to leave, to go home and be with Sherlock, but the person granting her wish had been the one who denied it for so long that she was full of apprehension.

"Sherlock too easily dismisses their concern for his well-being. It seems that Dr. Watson was a major force for Sherlock to function properly. You saw yourself what he was like after leaving him."

Adelaide retorted, "That was far different, Mycroft. He left everything and was left with nothing but to dismantle a madman's criminal network."

"Exactly my point. Sherlock has returned to his life and has coped well with the new changes in it, but this major physical and emotional distance that will occur at no real fault to anyone, will leave him feeling neglected. He will start acting out again and fall into old habits."

"Aren't you keeping a look out on him?" Adelaide's façade was cracking just the tiniest amount. Surely Mycroft, the knower of everything would have a tail on their little brother at all times.

"Of course. I am the furthest away from stupidity, but you know how elusive he can be when he doesn't want to be found. Also the government doesn't give out too much time and capital on keeping eccentric detectives out of drug dens." Mycroft was distancing himself from the reasons of the heart that were the cause of him being there. She was still giving him a cold hard stare, not believing his front of being financially frugal. "Adelaide, you are the best and most qualified person to do this."

Adelaide gave a moment to let the rare compliment settle between them. "Fine. I will go. But this isn't for you or for me, it's for Sherlock. Understood?" She poked his chest with her index finger to drive the point home.

"Crystal clear." Mycroft brushed her hand aside and returned to his haughty self. "I will have you collected and brought to the safe house. You will stay there until all things have been prepared for you in London. Not everyone is entirely pleased with this arrangement and strings will need to be pulled."

Adelaide restored her usual temperament towards her imperious brother, "Well don't put out so much effort for little old me, Mr. Holmes."

"It's not for you, Ms. Holmes. Remember it's all for Sherlock's well-being." Mycroft putting her words back at her. "You will be briefed later with complete details, but you should know that your interaction will be limited to only Sherlock and my agents once you are in Britain. You will make contact with no one else."

"Are you going to tell them that I'm there? Do you trust Sherlock enough to not say anything to them?" Adelaide let a small twitch of her mouth go unchecked. She was thinking of her parents that had misconstrued ideas of her whereabouts that Mycroft had been feeding to them for years.

"He most likely will, but I can have something put together to explain your absence and presence enough to satiate them." He turned and began leave the room.

When he reached the front door, he heard the faintest he had ever remembered her sounding.

"Thank you."

Mycroft Holmes shut the door and left Adelaide to ungracefully flop onto the sofa again. She pulled the paper that she had ended up sitting on and looked at the picture again.

"See you soon, little one."

Adelaide finished brushing her hair before she felt a great shudder go up her spine. It was January and even the thick jumper she had worn to sleep wasn't enough to keep out the chills. She walked over to her wardrobe and put on an extra jumper along with a thick dressing gown to cover herself up as she shuffled into the hallway on the way to the kitchen for breakfast. As she walked past the living room she heard Mark speaking on the phone. He was broad-shouldered with light strawberry-blonde hair that never dared to grow past an inch lest it be cropped again into a harsh crew cut. She tried to listen to Mark's side of the conversation, but had a terribly thick Scottish accent and she amusedly wondered if the person on the other end was even understanding anything he said. Luckily his answers where usually contained to one word or short clipped statements.

"Yes…yes…yes…yeah, we can leave here. She's up and about now….We'll be there in twenty…bye." Mark hung up the phone and called for Collin who was now coming out of the kitchen.

"What was that about?" Collin asked his collogue while munching on some toast. Adelaide had determined that, while still Scottish, Collin must have come from further south due to his much less severe accent that was still understandable through strawberry jam and butter. The man was almost as tall as Mark, but leaner. Of the two, he had spent the most time with her, even if that time was mainly picking through the books she had already read and sitting in the living room together reading.

Mark gathered some of his personal items as he talked, a mobile charger and keys to the car they had outside. "We're to be moving out, now. Catherine, go on and get dressed to leave and pack your clothes quickly. We need to go to the airfield, there's a plane waiting to take us to London. You've been called in."

Adelaide didn't need to be told twice, she hurried back to her room and put on clothes more suited for traveling than a dressing gown and pajama bottoms. She fit most of her wardrobe in a suitcase and put her heavy coat on to head out the door and into the awaiting car. She settled in the back with Collin while Mark drove down the bare road on their way to the airfield they arrived in. Collin was messing with his mobile, watching a segment of the news when an image of James Moriarty caught her attention.

"What is that about?" she casually asked Collin. He had been the gentler of the two, letting her stand outside to look at the coastline as long as she was in sight of him while Mark had been a strong stickler to the rules and regulations they were subject to. He even would go out of his way to get her items she had missed having access to being outside the country. She wondered why he was sweet to her, probably had a sister or girlfriend that she reminded him of. No. Not girlfriend. He had been holed up here for months on end and most relationships strained under that stress. Must be a sister…

Adelaide stopped deducing the man when he answered her, "It's that Moriarty fellow. This message popped up all over the south. Even was playing on billboards and broke into the news broadcasts. Right mess that is." Collin leaned over and let her see the message. "Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" Mark gave Collin a stern stare using the rear-view. They were strictly told she wasn't allowed to see any current events. Collin looked guilty and put his phone away in his pocket, but Adelaide had seen enough to be motivated to arrive in London as soon as she could.

Once they were there, the smallest of planes was waiting for them. Oh no, this will not do, Adelaide thought. She needed something much faster. She looked over and saw a small jet prepping to take off with its pilot doing a walk-around the plane. Well that's better. When he made way to the cabin door, an older pilot relayed a bit of information that was delivered much more causally than it was received. The younger man gave an audible "Why?!" to the deliverer of his disturbing news and strode into the airport's main building.

Mark and Collin moved to speak with the pilot of the smaller plane about the take-off plan, and she was surprisingly left alone with the door to the pilot's seat open. She pretended to be situating her bag into the backseat of the plane when she reached over and pushed a couple of buttons and strategically pulled out wires that would cause warnings to appear until they were reset by a mechanic. This could buy her some time and if her plan didn't work out, she could easily correct the problem. Always have a plan 'B'.

Adelaide then walked past the men and she told Collin that she needed to use the loo before they left, he followed her, meaning to use the facilities himself and they both entered the small waiting room where a frenzied pilot wearing far too much gold braid had stomped in complaining loudly about his altered flight plan, and what looked to be his older first officer nonchalantly leaning on the counter, looking like he was ready to watch his favourite programme.

"What do you mean I have to be diverted though London?! We can easily make the trip to Monte Carlo without stopping there!"

The person at the desk defensively replied, "I told you, there is a customs check that can only be done there. There is a temporary sanction placed for the time being that we need to comply with, Captian."

That is when their own pilot came through the door with Mark not far behind carrying her case. "Looks like we aren't making it to London anytime soon. There's a problem with the sensors and I have to put it in the shop and have the boys look at it before we can take off."

…And here is my opportunity. In a not-too-overly dramatic fashion, Adelaide sighed loudly, "What? I've been waiting for months to leave this place and go home to London and now when I have the chance to leave, it is delayed? Isn't there any other way we could get there?" She had perked up the first officer that had been passively relaxed on the counter.

Their pilot looked sympathetically at her, "I am sorry ma'am. You could drive to the station and catch a train, but I doubt you'd be in London by nightfall."

"Well it seems that you are in luck, miss," the first officer had quickly come next to her. "I believe we will have a layover in London and could drop you fine people there." His flirting was more than obvious and Adelaide was happy her plan was going smoothly. "That is if the captain would be so gracious to let you on board."

The flustered pilot came to stand behind the first officer, "No. You know that we are not allowed to just pick up people willy-nilly and fly them to where ever they choose. There's procedures to be met!"

Adelaide decided to kick it up a gear and placed a hand on the younger pilot's forearm, "Oh, but could you, please? It really is of the utmost importance for me to get to London as soon as possible." She squeezed his arm gently and the man blushed. "Wow, you're the Capitan? I've never seen such a young pilot reach that rank before."

She found it. The man gained a bit of composure back and stood proudly, "Well, you know I am one of the youngest captains in the UK." Adelaide laid it on thicker. "Really? That is impressive. I bet you're one of the best too. You could probably wizz to London in less than two hours in that jet."

"If he didn't fly like a grandmother—," the first officer mumbled and was cut off by the young captain.

"Of course I could! I've done it loads of times!" He was sounding a bit overconfident to Adelaide's ears, but she soldiered on. "Well, do you think you could take us then? Since it wouldn't put you out that far? We're just three people, wouldn't take much room." She made sure to give him her most pathetic expressions of helplessness and the man broke.

"Well…I guess I could adjust the weight fairly easily—," he began, but was interrupted by the older, more suave pilot who offered her his arm and shoved his younger, more nervous counterpart aside.

"Welcome, welcome then!" he guided her to the back door that lead to the jet. "We will treat you very well on this flight, Miss?" He looked at her for her name, "Wilson. Catherine Wilson." The man smiled gently at her as he opened the door, "Miss Wilson, I am pleased to have had the pleasure of meeting you. My name is—," and the door slammed behind them.

Mark and Collin were left in the waiting room, not sure of what exactly just happened. The young captain looked about in the same state, but caught his senses up enough to follow his first officer, sprinting to the door. Collin gave a shrug to Mark, "She's something, isn't she? I'm impressed." He took out his mobile and updated their status to their contact, and they both exited the building to climb up the stairs into the jet's cabin. There they found one of the most entertaining sights this assignment had brought: the Capitan, the first officer and a dopy looking steward, all doting on their new charge for anything she might need. They were practically tripping over themselves competing for her attention.

"Shouldn't we be taking off soon?" Adelaide asked the pilots who were annoyingly not piloting the plane. "I hope to make it to London soon."

The captain gritted his teeth at his first officer and agreed with her, "Yes, we should. Now how about we head to fight deck so that Miss Wilson can get to her destination in good time."

The older gentleman gave one last debonair look to Adelaide, "Please let me know, personally, if you have any needs during the flight—."

The captain interjected awkwardly, "Or you can ask me, personally. I mean directly. If you need anything at all, I can personally attend to it."

The steward had been confused by this exchange, but it wasn't a hard guess that this was a usual state for him, "But Skip, isn't that my job? I take care of the passengers and you fly the plane, right?"

The captain looked embarrassed for this being pointed out to the group, "Yes, you are right," and with that he headed for the flight deck with the first officer closing the door behind, muttering something quietly and the last look she had of the two was the captain gaping at his co-worker and his ears and neck flushing red.

Adelaide sat down in a seat, pleased with herself and motioned for Collin and Mark to do the same. They all fastened their seat belts and Adelaide turned to look out the window and thought about what might be planned for her in London.

A/N: I can neither confirm or deny the identity of the flight crew or the airdot-I mean airline, they fly for.

It was just a bit of fun there at the end. But I hope you are at least the tiniest bit satisfied. IT WAS THE HARDEST CHAPTER EVER. which is why i sat on it instead of putting parts of it with the lamesauce that was chapter 6.

Danke to rycbar15 for being such a sweetheart and being concerned about Addy. Here's a whole chapter of just her. I hope you like her.