*DISCLAIMER* I do not own anything in this, except the storyline! Song rights go to: Love Never Dies, and THE GOD THAT IS ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER. he also belongs to himself. Please don't sue me.

Better Run For Your Life

"Sherlock? " I opened my eyes to more darkness. My head hurt, and I had a feeling that there would only be more pain to come. Where am I? And who the hell was that woman in our apartment? She looked vaguely familiar. Sherlock would know who it was in a heartbeat, but I can't even recall what she looked like.

"So sorry, John. Not the Holmes brother you wanted. I do believe we are about to meet the notorious Mz. Hyde any minute. Would you prefer to talk to her, or would you rather I do? You'll most likely keep your head, whereas I, like my brother, will not." Mycroft's voice echoed from behind me.

"Did she tie you to a chair?" I was on the verge of laughter, when a pain shot up from my ribs. With a gasp, I remembered why I hadn't tried moving yet. Sherlock, if you don't save me from this, I swear to the God that is Andrew Lloyd Webber, I will never forgive you for taking me to the opera to watch Love Never Dies.

"John, if I were you, subliminally messaging my brother is a waste of time. He will never respond to that. We both have trackers, or at least I still do. You haven't been cut, have you?" Mycroft's voice was slightly louder now, and more pained.
"No, she just broke at least three ribs, and may have given me a concussion. Who is she to you and Sherlock? It's a curious thing, to be hated that much."

"She is someone who I have known for a very long time. She actually sings at the Royal Albert Hall sometimes, but her most notable performance hasn't happened, and never will. She was an MI6 operative, and her vocal cords have gotten damaged. So badly, in fact, that she will never be able to sing the aria for 'Love Never Dies'. Have you guessed who she is yet?"

"We were told that the diva had died. Mycroft, you really need to tell Sherlock that she's alive. When Anastasia died, I thought that he would never talk about his home life ever again. She's your SISTER, damn it! Does family really mean so little to you, Mycroft?" I knew it wasn't my place to shout at Mycroft, but I was getting really tired of his domineering crap. Just as I was plotting ways to make Mycroft pay for lying to us, the very woman in question opened the door. She flipped on a light, and the striking profile of Anastasia Holmes came into view.

"Untie John Watson, and bring him over to the closest mirror. He needs to see what I am going to apologize for." She gave this command to a man over her shoulder, and as he came into view, she stopped him. His face was badly scarred. "Look upon your work, Brother. This is what happened to us that day. This is what happened to us the day you left us all for dead, and gave up our names and operation. All for the 'Greater Good' of the country." Her face was twisted with rage, and the scar tissue at the top of her collarbone was white, raised, and looked painful.

"Why do you need to apologi-" I stopped when I saw my face in the mirrors that surrounded the entire room. It was bloodied and bruised, and I almost didn't recognize myself, except for the fact that I still had scars across my upper right eye ridge.

"When I sent out Erik and Sebastian for you, they forgot that you were to be unharmed. Sherlock couldn't have known that I was alive, so I can forgive this. But what Mycroft has forgotten about me, is that I have a penchant for revenge. And dear Mycroft, what happened to the begging me to stay away from the opera house? "Perhaps she won't go on. Perhaps she'll lose her nerve." I hope your blindness will make up for what you've done to me. And to Erik, as well."

"Anastasia Andromeda Holmes, I will not beg you to let us go, but I will request that you leave John and Sherlock out of this. Also, please let my death be the last of your killings. Dear Ana, you cannot think that killing all of us will result in anything except your eventual removal from society completely. I surrender to your charms, Ana."

"I always wondered how to make you watch. Well, watch me now. Bring the child in. Brother dear, how badly would you feel if your poor son were to suffer the fate I have in mind for you. I'll make you watch, and if you really don't want to have this fate befall him, you have to tell me one thing. Can you do it? Apologize for asking me to take a little trip to that island. A trip I took because you asked me to. I did as Mummy said, and followed where it led. But here's the way it worked on that island, they made you pay for every little crumb. I gave all they could take, and I did it for your sake. Now look at me and see what I've become. I am your creation, brother. And don't I just scare you to death?" Her eyes watered as she clung onto the nephew she never got to meet, officially. A knife appeared from behind her, Erik's doing I think, and she pushed it away.

"Mistress?" The other man had come back. "There are a couple of cars out front with a 'Sherlock Holmes' and a 'Gregory Lestrade-Holmes'. They're both outside, one is making demands, and the other is in hysterics."

"Ahhh, Sherlock with be here to collect John. But Greg? Why is Greg here other than to collect the son you both cherish? Imagine my surprise when I saw my own eyes in this precious child's face. Did Michael hand you the child I had left on his doorstep and tell you that you could have him?"

"Michael wanted nothing to do with the child, and I raised him the way we were. And more, because of Greg's upbringing. We take him to the opera. We've made sure he knew he's not ours, that his mother was a Prima Donna, and that she was my sister. And I've shown him the videos we took of you, when we were in Paris at the Opera Populaire. All this I've done out of respect for you."

"How very sentimental. Do you know what happened on that island though? While I was trying to stay alive, and I was trying to fix my voice, someone came to me and asked me for my help. He said he could help me make a new start, if I could be his muse for the new play he was writing. And now, the only thing stopping me from ever singing in an opera house is beauty."

"JOHN! John are you alright? I swear I'll kill whoever did this to…" Sherlock's fear for my life showed on his face, before draining of all color at the sight of his sister. "Annie? Is it- How can you- MYCROFT!"

"Yes, dearest. Mycroft. I was willing to make you pay for his sins as well, but when he told me you didn't know, I couldn't bring myself to do it. You two are free to take the child and go, but Mycroft and I have some business to attend to." With that, she passed the boy to me, and turned around to Mycroft.

"Annie, just remember that you can still come home. Mummy will be overjoyed that you are alive, and we could get you a spot in the Opera again. Please, Annie, think of the consequences of what you are doing." Sherlock's pleading hit a soft spot in his sister's resolve, and she turned to face him. Her face was tear-streaked, and her mind was at war with itself.

"Sherlock, he won't let me go. Until my revenge is complete, he can still take my voice. He owns my voice, and with it, my soul."

"Tell me who this is, I'm sure we can find a way to break his hold on you. Not hold is absolute, and if we can know who he is, we can help. Annie, please, let me help you. Let me be the big brother and save you. Let me do this one last time."

"He never told me his name, but I could describe him as easily as if he were standing here." The look of fear on her face made everything about her sharper, and that's the last thing I can remember before I woke up 3 weeks later.

A/N ~well my little minions, who feels they are deserving of the next chapter? Or shall I be as mean as our dark overlords Moffat and Gatiss, and leave you wondering?