Authors Note: I do not own Sherlock as everyone is well aware. I want to thank everyone who followed and favorited this story. I look forward to hearing your personal opinions about the plot. What do you like ? What do you don't like ?

Rule #1: Never Outshine the Master

Selene observed the dark, dusty surroundings. After her rather snarky discussion with Mr. Holmes, she had been dragged to rather posh facility. Her ride from the government office to this forsaken place had been rather uneventful. She couldn't decide what was worse: this place or the mysterious building she had been brought from earlier.

After exiting the building, Selene had struggled to conceal her shock when a limousine – possibly worth more than 77,000 pounds – had pulled up to collect her and her guardian. Mycroft had barely batted an eye to her awl struck response. Words flashed through her head. He had said, There were others. What did he mean by that? And even so, was this reaction typical?

The inside of the car was custom furnished. Having been in one limousine prior for a family friends marriage party, Selene understood what the typical interior design consisted of. Selene immediately noticed this was not standard furnishing. It was far more luxurious, far more expensive. Meaning, this was not a government vehicle. This was Mr. Holmes's personal transportation unit.

An older man sat in the front. "Where do you want to go, Sir?" His English was impeccable; however, slight traces of Irish accent leaked into his voice. Mr. Holmes picked up a newspaper, almost content to ignore her. "The Diogenes, Sinead." Selene just sat there awkwardly, trying not to display her discomfort.

Her back was incredibly rigid. She didn't dare slouch in the presence of such a man. Sinead, the driver, spoke from the front: "So, what is your name, Miss?" She saw him give a smile though the front mirror. "My name is Alexandra Selene Huelsing."

The driver narrowed his eyes: "Huelsing? Your not from around these parts, are you?" Selene shook her head. "Hey, you don't happen to be related to a Samuel and Mariah Huelsing do ya?" Sinead asked seconds later. Mycroft placed down his paper. " Sinead, " There was firmness in his voice. "Do you have any idea how many Huelsings live in Germany?"

"Not very many." Selene blurted out. "Our last name is a bit of a rarity." She immediately wished she had stayed quiet after receiving a negative look from Mr. Holmes. "My father's English name was Mark." Mycroft then gave her an amusing look. Cynicism lurked in his next statement: "Your father's name was Mark? And your name was Alexandra Selene? How ironic." He then looked back down at his paper. He immediately looked like a serpent. Selene and Sinead were completely quiet for the rest of the journey.

So now, Selene sat in an office, observing her dark, dusty surroundings. She had apparently been dragged to rather posh facility. For the moment, Selene couldn't bring herself to decide what was worse: this place or the mysterious building she had been brought from earlier. She sat rigidly before Mycroft. At the moment, he was at his desk flipping through more files. Mr. Holmes looked as cerebral as ever.

How had this happened? How? This situation was utterly perplexing and yet incredibly traumatic. Her poor mother and father … She had found them dead, along with her two younger brothers, only a few weeks prior. Selene couldn't bring herself to think of them at the moment. She had cried every night since the tragedy.

Her parents, her mother, stepfather, and infant brothers had been murdered. From what she could deduce, her father had been tortured, her mother had been raped, and her younger twin brothers had been shot in the skull. The only thing that was more alarming was that her three younger sisters and her other brother had had to view the after effects of such a tragic event. They were so young, and so impressionable. Now, they would bear an irremovable scar for the rest of their lives.

A question burned in her. Where were her siblings now? After reporting the event to the police, child services had immediately shown up. However, shortly after, another government service had intervened. Selene and her brother Charlie were separated from the young girls. They were then taken away.

For weeks, they had been forced to undergo a series of tests. There had been other children. Each of them equally perplexed as themselves. While socializing among their peers was absolutely forbidden, Selene had managed to extract that all their stories were very similar. All of the other adolescents were victims of mysterious tragedies. Each of them had been held in the particular vicinity from weeks to months on end.

For weeks, Selene had undergone an immense amount of tests. She had met with various psychologists. Selene was somewhat perplexed: they were not there to discuss the murder of her parents. Instead, these psychologists were attempting to determine her emotional intelligence and what personality category she fell into.

It hardly surprised her that she fell into the most rare personality category: The INTJ. Her mother had fallen into this category. However, her psychologists were astonished; apparently such a personality profile was rare, but also was practically unheard of for women.

Selene had done additional side research on the matter to distract her from her current family tragedy. She knew who she was; however, she found it interesting to see how others perceived her to be. Her personality was regarded by many different names: the Mastermind, the Architect, or the Scientist. Her psychological profile had been addressed as well. Selene had not been privileged enough at the time to know the results of her evaluation. Mr. Holmes, however, had spilt the beans during their previous encounter.

Selene involuntarily sighed to herself as she looked up. She was so glad the tests were over. Selene could not recall how many doctors' visits she had had. She had adamantly attempted to convey to the physicians involved in her case she had been in no way, shape or form, been present during the murder of her parents. Selene was never physically harmed. However, none of them seemed to care. After a while, Selene briefly wondered if they were looking for something else.

She had been forced to perform a series of cognitive tests ranging from proficiency exams covering arithmetic, reading, and grammar, to puzzle exams applying theoretical knowledge, to loquacious exams testing her communications skills. Such events had perplexed her at the time. Mr. Holmes subordinates, who ever they were, apparently approved of her results.

So now Selene sat here. She had no clue why she had been separated from her family. She had no clue where her younger siblings were. She had no clue why anyone would ever want to murder her loving parents. And lastly, she had no clue who this Mr. Holmes was and what she was doing here.

Selene just continued to stare at the mysterious Mr. Holmes. He seemed far more interested in the documents before him than her. He just sat there. Selene scanned his body. There was not a hair out of place or wrinkle on his suit. The man was an utter perfectionist. She briefly wondered if he suffered from some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"Speak," Mycroft exclaimed rather bluntly. Selene looked taken back. "Sir," She spoke politely. "I can feel your perplexity in regards to this situation. So I ask you again. Speak!" He ordered across the desk. Selene's eyes narrowed for a second. "You can feel my perplexity? I wasn't aware a man of your status lowered himself to common colloquialisms when addressing people of the general public." She sat back in her seat, feeling somewhat defiant. Selene generally was never rude; however, there was something about this man that rubbed off wrong.

Mr. Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me," He smirked haughtily. A chill ran down her spine leaving a rather sickly feeling in her stomach. He inched slightly forward, murmuring under his breath: "I hope I have not degraded you anymore than I have already debased myself." He whispered with some cynicism. Selene knew his words were meaningless. Mycroft then shifted his head. "Only cowards lower themselves." Selene involuntarily shivered. Now she knew he was mocking her. After refuting him moments prior, she had inadvertently utilized an additional English colloquialism. Damn. She made a mental note to avoid further word play or a game of scrabble when dealing with this man in the future.

Selene looked away to the files on the shelves. When she looked back, Mycroft was still staring at her. Something deep, perhaps a question, was burning inside him. Selene shifted her head and mimicked his eye movements. He was like Cobra. She was his snake charmer. For a moment, just a moment, Selene thought she was in control of him for his eyes were entranced by hers. Then, her hypothesis backfired on her. Selene slowly realized his movements were influencing her more than hers were his.

Mycroft leaned back his chair and gave a smirk. He glistened like a king. "Never attempt to outshine the master, my dear." Selene looked confounded. " I beg your pardon?" Mycroft crossed his legs casually. He quickly raised his eyebrows once up and down. " Do you know story of the Sun King and his personal treasury secretary Fouquet?" Selene took a moment to think. She reflected upon the various texts her mother had read to her as child. Selene then nodded her head. " You would do well to remember that story … and how it ended." Selene paled.

Mycroft gave her a satisfied look. "Don't fear my dear, I would never hurt you." He then looked back down at his work. "But others wouldn't yield from hindering you." He added seconds later. Selene narrowed her eyes. She sensed there was a double meaning behind his words. The girl just couldn't figure out what.

"I don't have a criminal background." She replied. Mycroft nodded his head, but he refused to look or say anything. "Then why did you …" Mycroft cut her off. "You would do well not to ask too many questions." Selene looked puzzled. "Ask and you shall not receive. Seek and you shall not find." Selene raised an eyebrow. Who did he think he was now? The antagonist of the Apostle Mathew?

"What should I do then?" She asked him rather cynically. "Your asking all the wrong questions,." He said as he flipped through more documents. Selene just sat there. "Pray?" Selene asked incredibly. Mycroft shook his head and then grimaced. " I really thought you were brighter than that, my dear."

Selene was slightly offended by his tone of voice. "Who the hell are you?" Selene asked him rather impulsively. Mycroft looked up from his work. He gave her a knowing look. You would do well not to ask to many questions. His words rumbled through her head like a horrible rainstorm. But the statement Never outshine the Master scared her even more.

"You know who I am." Mycroft replied bluntly. Ask and you shall not receive. Questions flew around her like a massive twister trafficking debris. Selene stared at him for a moment. She replayed her childhood memories, looking for a memory – any memory- that may have contained him.

Selene could not remember. "Give up?" Mycroft goaded her. Forced to concede defeat, she nodded her head. Seek and you shall not find. Damn, she had lost. Mycroft looked back at his paper work, satisfied with himself. The young woman simply sighed and contemplated her very existence in the midst of the Diogenes.

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