A/N: Hello all! This is my first adventure into a crossover story. I REALLY hope you like it; I have been working this for about a month. I would love your opinions, reviews, thoughts, what you like, what you didn't.

-Summary: 13 years of pain, suffering, & a wish for death is suddenly taken away when a man with slate/blue eyes gently grabs my wrist and just gives me a smirk.

-Story revolves mostly in normal London, with some mentions of the WW, maybe an 'adventure' to it later on. Fem!harry, nonromantic john/sherlock, differentish Mycroft (to a point) and Greg just being Greg.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but original characters. Duh. That is all I will say.

So my devoted followers, this is a special chapter for you before the final one. This is a something I need to put out before I close out my adventures with Stella. I have loved every review and kind word from you all. This chapter is going to be devoted to Sherlock's homecoming, Stella's near breakdown, and John's anger at Mycroft and Sherlock. I cannot in good conscious leave this story without this. While you take this in, I will be working my bum of on Stella's finale.

"John cannot know, Stella"

Uncle Mycroft's words follow me every day after my discovery that dad was in fact alive and that Moriarty's spy network could possibly have a sniper watching me & da even now. I can barely sleep and when I do, I'm curled up in dad's chair or bed; my nightmares are increasing and now include dad trapped somewhere, unable to come home and dying. Da is always watching me, but I can't be around him long before the urge to just curl into his lap and spill everything roars awake, but I know that the minute I do, he'll change and if we are being watched by Moriarty's men, they will see his total change; I won't risk it, but that means I can't stay near him.

I know this hurts him and killing me to do this; my da is my world and to add a distant daughter after watching his flat mate and best friend jump to his 'death', I know he's as drained as I am. I've come close to telling him several times after he wakes from the nightmares, my brain fuddled from the pain and panic I swear I can feel through dad's closed door; but I've been able to stop myself as he just comforts me until I fall back asleep.

I've started lingering at school with Cadence after classes end, linger at shops and stay for hours in the library, barely eating and sleeping; unfortunately, the experiences of forced starvation at the hands of my ex-family still lingers. All this meaning I barely notice when I start losing several pounds and my clothes hang loose. I keep my mobile off, not wanting to deal with the constant texts from da & Uncle Mycroft, the constant calls from Cadence and Nan; I start neglecting my studies, skipping classes to hang out on the roof or in the library. All this spirals out of my own hands, the need to keep da safe until dad gets home; but with no timeline, I can feel my mind cracking.

Two and half months later, after again avoid da before leaving for school then spending hours in the library after, I'm shocked to see Uncle Greg waiting for me, leaning against his motor. His brown eyes were filled with a mix of concern and anger as he took me in; I can see the urge to yell at me drowned out by the need to shelter me.

"Why are you here?" I grimace at the rough, scratchy voice that rolls out of my throat.

"You're not going to waste away. Get in the car, now." His tone was not of my uncle, but the fierce DI Lestrade, a persona he did not use with me…ever.

I want to hesitate but the look in his brown eyes left no wiggle room, so I cross around and slid into the passenger seat, bringing my knees to my chest, my thinning arms wrapped tight. Uncle Greg says nothing as he gets in the motor and drives off; the silence permeating down into my skin. He says nothing, but his free hand reaches over and grips mine; that's when I start seeing things from an outside perception. My fingers were thin, my hands tiny in my uncle's as I had the bare minimum of muscle & fat; pieces of my mind were moving back into place, my sanity returning slowly. When the car stops, I slide out without looking around, but when Uncle Greg grips my hands again, my eyes snap up towards him; that's when the sleek building of Scotland Yard slaps me in the face.

I'm suddenly aware of how tired I am, how frail I know I must look and how empty I feel. I can't seem to make my legs work anymore, because when Uncle Greg moves towards the building, his arm is held back as I don't budge. When I do try to walk, my knees give out underneath me; forcing me to meet the cool concrete until I'm scooped up into my uncle's arms. His chin tucks my head into his chest as he continues into the building, to the silent elevators, & then the walk through his department; I can see and sense everyone's eyes on us as he walks, but I fail to respond to any of them…until we pass Donovan's desk. A wave of anger and hatred rises in me that I know is projected in my eyes as she flinches and shrinks into her desk, her dark hair soon obscuring the view of her face when she folds her arms over her head.

Uncle Greg puts me on my feet as he keeps an arm around my waste before he opens the door to his office, leading me to the nearest chair before finally releasing me. Instinctually, I pull my knees up until they are against my chest, resting my cheek on my knees as I watch my uncle move out of the room, soon reappearing with two steaming cups of what smells like coffee. But he doesn't offer me one, instead placing one on the desk in front of the opposite chair; he's expecting more company. I don't have to wait long before two separate footsteps march through the department until they stop in the doorway: Uncle Mycroft and da, both looking relieved to see me.

"Stella, are you alright? You just disappeared after school for seven hours!" Da asks as he kneels down next to me, one hand cradling my cheek.

But, before I can respond, Uncle Mycroft closes the door while Greg closes the blinds at all windows, even the one facing the street.

"This needs to end Stella; I will not lose you to starvation again. Do you not remember how long it took to get you healthy? I will not let you fade away anymore." Uncle Mycroft's voice is soft, but he still stands away from me, his eyes wary.

The anger that had previously been directed at Donovan crashes suddenly towards my uncle. "It's your bloody fault I'm like this!"

I jump out of the chair, da standing as I do, concern and confusion crisscrossing over his face.

"I wouldn't be like this, but I have to hide everything! I can't even tell him!" I yell out, my hand pointing toward da.

"Tell me what?"

But, I ignore da as I continue my rant. "If I could tell him, I wouldn't feel like I am dying inside because I have lie to my daddy every time I have nightmare! I can't tell him why I am frightened of going outside or ANY event that may force him to leave the flat!" My throat is raw, my face wet as the tears stream down my cheeks.

"Stella, you know why-"

"NO! I'm tired Uncle Mycroft. I'm tired of hiding and lying to my father! I have to tell him, if I keep this in anymore, I'm going to die. It is not fair that you asked this of me; why are we the only ones allowed to know? I can't…"My voice trails off as the sobs wrack my body.

"What do you need to tell me?"

"Dad's alive! I figured it out a couple months ago and Uncle Mycroft told me I could not tell you because there are snipers, possibly, watching us, waiting for any side of dad. I'm apparently a better actress and could hide it. Daddy, I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you so many times, but I couldn't lose you just because I wasn't able to keep us…safe. Please, don't be mad at me, I wanted to tell you."

Silence filled the office until

"I understand, sweetheart, I do. I'm not mad at you, never will I be." Da's arms wrap tight around me while I grip his jumper, crying into his chest.

Da's hands rub random circles on my back as the stress from the last couple months breaks loose and I release all the pain and fear that has been surrounding my mind. When my tears subside, da lowers me into my chair again, a box of tissues in my lap, before he turns to Uncle Mycroft.

"How dare you. How dare you burden her with that! She's 16 for god sake Mycroft! How in the hell did you think this was going to turn out? That she would power through it just because of her past experience in her old world or the training she received from Sherlock? She's not a flipping solider, she a kid! You let her walk out of your office, knowing she would just be paranoid until she couldn't function and LOOK AT HER! She's wasting away. MY DAUGHTER is fading into the scared little girl she was when we first got her because you just HAD to tell her that her life would be in danger. I should destroy for doing this to her. Sherlock would end you if knew you did this! I was frightened EVERY DAY that I would wake up and I would have lost her in the night, frightened that she wouldn't come home at night because she followed suit. The last two months, the best present has been her walking into the flat every night, even if it was to hide herself in her room. I've tried everything to keep her healthy, but she stopped eating at home; I just prayed ate at school. But I see now that she fooled all of us, but you…you see all. YOU could have let me know that she was…that she is…"

Da trails off, his body filled with tremors, tears racing out of his sky blue eyes.

"Daddy." My voice is hoarse and almost no existent. "I'm…I'm sorry."

He kneels and pulls me into his arms again. "It's alright sweetheart, I've got you."

He stands up before sitting, letting me curl into his lap. "Alright Mycroft, talk. Sherlock is…is alive?"

"Yes, he's been taking out Moriarty's extensive network. It's spread over three continents and is deeper than we originally anticipated. He couldn't do that safely with him 'alive'; that would give his enemies a chance to use you against him. It's taken longer than we've all liked to end this."

"I'm sensing a but there." Uncle Greg voiced from his desk, his tone unusually calm.

"He's close."

"Close to finishing it or close to being home?"

"Both."

My heart starts racing with Uncle Mycroft's revelation. 'Is it almost over? Can I have him back now?'

"But you don't know when he'll return?" Uncle Greg asked, this time, leaning against his desk. He stood moments ago, grabbing one of my free hands when he did; he now refuses to release it.

"No, but he's left coded messages stating that he's run most of the high powered members either to their deaths or arrests. There's just a couple more and then the web collapses in on itself."

Silence again fills the office before Da stands again, but I'm still curled up; his arms refuse to let me down as we exit the office, Uncle Greg opening the door, leaving Uncle Mycroft to stand alone in the still darkened room.

"I'll do what I can to prepare for his return, but I can only do so much without raising suspicion."

"Thank you Greg."

"No. It's the least I can do after…"

Da simply nods at him before moving into the taxi that Greg had hailed a moment ago. The ride back as silent as I listen to da's heartbeat, knowing that he will refuse to let out of his sights for a long time. But, now that he knows, it won't be so hard; I can tell him about my nightmares and my fear over dad being held against his will. When we arrive home, we sneak up to the flat and I stand in the living room while da puts the kettle on.

"Alright, down to the one layer of clothes. I need to get an idea of where to start for the diet." He says, walking back in, dad's notepad in hand.

Nodding, I pull my jacket off then my jumper, leaving me in my uniform button up & pants, the chill of the room seeping into my skill, a tremor building.

"Hmm, need another round of iron pills, your anemia is coming back. Oh Stella, you've lost at least two stones in just a couple month. We need to work fast, before this becomes permanent. Alright sweetheart, go get changed & I'll order something."

Nodding, I make my way up the steps, the neglect of my body coming back to haunt me as it hurts to walk to short distance. But I force myself up, quickly changing into warmer clothes before I head back down the steps. When I move back into the living room, I can hear da on the phone with the Thai place down the street, no doubt ordering at least three meals; this is the only food I can stomach when I'm sick, hence his decision to order it now. There's a large cuppa waiting for me on the coffee table, so I grab it while I sit, folding my thin frame into the plush cushions.

'I've been an idiot. All that work to make me gain the weight I needed, down the drain!'

I'm expecting a lecture when da finally sits, but he just pulls me to his side, the love radiating out of him; this only serves to make me feel worse, but stay silent as I reacquaint myself with my da's scent after two months of self-exile.

Da pulls me out of school for three weeks, stating that because of my health problems it wasn't safe until we can get my weight and muscles back, along with getting my eating schedule back on track. But it hasn't been easy; I'm having trouble keeping anything down, thus the quest to regain the two stones I lost almost a lost cause. We almost called Dr. McNamera, but da was determined to do this without her placing herself in my life again; so, we explored the local markets, trying to find as many natural products as we cold that I could stomach. It ended up being a seafood diet that clinched the weight gain: shrimp and catfish being my favorite, although Mrs. Hudson knew a great salmon recipe that toned tone the fish's overbearing taste. It didn't take long until my frame started filling out again, although I now have an addiction to coconut shrimp and almost demanded da show me how to make them before he reminded me that I was not allowed near the stove after the last time I tried to cook and burnt half the countertop and ruined the stove.

'Is it really my fault dad left his experiment in the oven? I've been able to cook since I was six; I think I can handle shrimp!'

That's the thought that runs through my head as I sit on my bed one late morning, looking up the variety of recipes for my new addiction on my laptop. I'm running through the ingredients that I know we have in the kitchen against what we need, jotting those items in the notebook at my side. Then, my mobile goes off and da's ringtone, 'The Gambler' fills the room as the item buzzes on my desk. The laptop forgotten, I reach the item as the song gets halfway through the first verse.

"Da?"

"Stella, get dressed and meet me outside in five minutes. I'll explain more then."

The line hangs up, leaving me to quickly dash around my room, almost jamming two legs in one pant leg before I finally dress like a normal human being. It's finally a decent day out, so I keep my sleeveless tee on before digging out the slip on shoes that Cadence had given to me for Christmas last year; she had ordered custom Doctor Who shoes covered in quotes from nine and ten & a TARDIS on each side.

When I lock the door, da is waiting by a taxi, his expression unreadable. He pulls me in once I'm near, the door barely closed before the driver takes off.

"Da?"

"He's back."

The world slows down in the instant da responds. Weeks of not knowing anymore then the months before it hadn't made the need for my dad to be home any less. Then, poof, times up and now it's okay to open the presents that are under the tree. Sometime during my inner monolog, the taxi stopps and da pulls me out; it's Uncle Mycroft's office. I blink and we're standing before the door that leads to the private rooms. I don't need anything to confirm that yes daddy is behind that door as his door is thrown open, his emotions spilling out and pulsing. Da turns to speak to me, but I rush forward, turning the doorknob and entering before I can run the other way.

His back is to me at first, but I know it's him; the same messy, inky black hair, the tall, thin frame, and the scent, OH the scent! His personal scent of pine and rain assault my nose. Then, he turns and my eyes are locked into his slate/blue, tears pricking my eyes. He's wearing a black button down, looking he could have just come from a case, not two years of isolation. His actions mirror my own as he takes me in, already not happy with what he's seeing; I still look and feel like shite, I know it. But he doesn't say anything as he moves one step towards me, but that's all I need before I almost fly across the carpet, burying my face into his chest, my hands buried in his hair; arms wrap quickly around my waist, holding tight.

"Oh poppet."

The mere sound of his voice rips the sobs from my chest, the tears now free as they are absorbed by his shirt. I try and pull him closer, afraid that I would awake and find this another painful dream. I can't tell how long we stood like this before he pulled back, resting his forehead, letting me see him up close; that's when I notice the pale pink scars along his chin and cheeks. He doesn't let me speak, only kisses my scar before turning his eyes up.

"John." A single word mixed with hundreds of thoughts and emotions.

"Let Stella go Sherlock."

Da's even tone throws both of us, but dad relaxes his grip and I move aside, in time for da to land a blow to dad's cheek, forcing dad back until he hits the back on the lounge. I'm frozen, not knowing how I should respond.'

"You son of a bitch, do you even know what you've done? How much heartache and pain came of this?! DO YOU even know what it did to your daughter, to me!?"

Da is glaring at dad, who had stood when da began yelling, but as quickly as the anger had come, it was gone as da hugged dad, who was unsure of how to respond. Da pulls back a second later, his blue eyes still lit up.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm pissed as hell. But, she needs you more."

Dad has me back in his arms quickly, but at an angle that allows him to scrutinize me. "How much weight have you lost and why?"

That's when dad is informed of what happened three months ago; his hands bury into my hair the more he finds out until he's pulled it out of the braid, the locks slowly unraveling now that the elastic band is missing.

"I'm better, dad."

"Stella." Dad's voice is stiff and cold, but when I look up, his eyes are directed towards my Uncle Mycroft, who has been silent this whole time.

"You let my daughter almost fade, Mycroft. You let her walk around with the fear of constantly dying over her head! I won't forget this." His words are icy, eyes sharp. The anger is in no way directed towards me, but the way it seeps out of dad is giving me shivers.

Uncle Mycroft only stares in response before leaving the room, hands gripped tight in his pockets.

"Let's go." Dad whispers after a moment, grabbing his coat as we leave the room.

We exit out the back, finding a black car waiting for us; Athena is leaning against the rumbling item. "He'll take you all straight to Baker Street." That's all she says before moving into the building behind us. Sliding in after the dads, the door closes, prompting the driver to begin the trip. I curl into dad's side, resting my head against his shoulder; his fingers wrap over mine, but his nose is buried in my hair. I'm afraid to close my eyes in fear that I will lose any time with him, but I feel drained emotionally and physically; I know this means this is one battle I'll most defiantly lose. When we arrive, dad pulls me out, hurrying into the flat, the door clicking closed.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but the next thing I recall is sitting straight up, shaking and covered in sweat; the tears raced down my face at the thought that I had only been dreaming of my dad holding me again. That's when I notice my laptop closed on my desk and my notepad on top of it; did da move it? I move to the desk quickly, my heart racing at the familiar writing that is scrawled under my shopping list, 'Coconut shrimp, really poppet?'.

I'm racing down the steps, finding the dads in the living room, but I focus on dad, whose tuning his violin. He looks up when I enter, sees my panic/joy filled face and opens his arms, which I run into.

"I'm home poppet." He whispers in my ear, holding me tight against him against. I only nod as I let the panic settle, the last few pieces of my mind sliding back into place. Dad was home, right now, that's all that mattered.

A/N: And here we go my lovelies. I hope this keeps you until I can properly bring you the finale for this wonderful story. Again, I love and appreciate all of you!

Oh- The Gambler is an amazing song by fun. that everyone should listen to.