I believe everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

-Marilyn Monroe

Over the years she always had a method to her madness, a plan, a reason to do what she was doing. For nearly her entire life that plan has been to stop Him. It didn't matter what he had done to her, she had seen revenge make people go crazy and she refused to die completely out of her mind. He had to be stopped and she was the only one who could do it.

She had accepted that she would most likely die before she could accomplish her goal but she refused to let Him have the satisfaction of knowing that. She was going to fight and if she died, she was going down swinging. She had accepted that there would be no happy ending if she brought His network down, sure there would be a rush of emotions ranging from accomplishment, to pride, and to joy, but then it would be over and it was over she would be empty.

And she was okay with that.

"John seems to think that you're some wounded animal, completely helpless. But there's more to you then that isn't there? You're relatively clever but I assume you don't want this to become common knowledge so John doesn't need to know just yet. I will warn you though, he's going to tip toe around you until her realizes that you aren't going to go on a murdering spree at any moment." She pulled away from her thoughts and glared at Sherlock. "I'm not completely helpless and I don't just go on murdering sprees, its self-defense."

"I've arranged for Molly to pick you up at Baker Street and take you shopping for new clothes tonight. You two are around the same age I think you'll get along quiet well. She works at the morgue at St. Bart's and I told her you're a friend of John's who just went through a rather traumatic event that has left you mute and physically scarred. This way you will be able to stay covered and quiet."

Syn tilted her head to the side and tried to read the man sitting across from her. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm a consulting detective, and you are a case that needs to be solved." He stated simply, not turning his gaze away from the window. He didn't want to admit out loud that he didn't particularly mind the woman's company. It was refreshing to have another mind that worked like his accompanying him to the crime scene today.

A tingling sensation ran up Syn's left side and turning her attention away from the man across from her she scanned the crowd and found one of His men. As her eyes locked with his he began to tap his right temple. 3, pause, 4, pause, 1, pause, 3, pause, 4, pause, 1 pause.

"Excuse me sir? I need out." Sherlock shot her a questioning glance as the taxi pulled to the side. "They're watching you aren't they?" Sherlock turned in his seat until he found the man. "Ex-military, with a rather large envelope in his left coat pocket." He pointed out as Syn began to readjust the scarf and glasses.

"I know, he's an informant. See in every organization there are men who have been injured but can still be useful so they're given the title of informant. They carry information between organizations, like messages from one leader to the next. The code he tapped out, 3-4-1, it means he has urgent information and he's alone. Don't follow me Sherlock, I don't need your blood on my hands." Stepping out of the cab, Syn took in every detail of her surroundings. It wasn't likely that another one of His men would be there, informants were protected and if one were to be killed it'd be full on warfare between organizations. As the taxi pulled away and she was sure that Sherlock wasn't going to follow her she began walking towards the man. As she neared him he pulled out a manila folder from his left coat pocket and as Sherlock had said it was rather full. The possibility of it being a bomb ran through her mind and she considered turning around as she stood in front of the man but before she could make up her mind two muffled gunshots were fired.

She instinctively ducked and waited for the pain but instead of hitting her she felt the man's blood spray her as the two shots hit him. People in the streets began to scream and panic when they realized what had just happened. The two shots had entered the left side of his back and exited though the front of his chest leaving a gaping hole. There would be too much chaos to try to find the shooter and she could already hear the police sirens nearing so she took the envelope and ran like hell.

Her heart was pounding in her ears as she sprinted down the street. She knew she was covered in blood but she couldn't stop. Why shoot the informant? She was right there! Hell she hadn't even sensed the shooter! Her mind was racing with possibilities but the one thing she knew for sure was that whatever was in this envelope shouldn't be in her hands.

A chill ran down her spine and she willed her legs to move faster, shoving aside people who got in her way. She was being followed and she didn't want to risk looking behind her and running into something or someone.

Her legs were beginning to ache and she knew there would be only one way to end this if she wanted to keep Sherlock and John out of danger. She ducked into an alleyway and hid behind a dumpster, making quick use of the few precious seconds she had before whoever was following her stepped into the alleyway. She pulled her gun out from its holster on her side and her hand came back bloody. Her adrenaline had been pumping so fast that she hadn't felt her wound rip open while she was running.

As the rapid footsteps grew closer another chill ran down her spine. There was more than one. She stepped out from her hiding spot, gun drawn and ready to shoot when she was sent to the ground by the crushing weight of her attacker's companion. She spluttered and coughed as she tried to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. Her lungs felt like they were on fire every time she took a breath and she had to stop herself from crying out at the pain. Her gun and the envelope were kicked from her hands as a pair of muscular arms wrapped around her neck and middle. Her glasses had fallen off when she fell and her scarf had come loose and sagged down around her neck leaving her completely exposed.

The clothes the woman in front of her was wearing was unlike anything Syn had ever seen any of His men wear before. She wore a skin tight navy cat suit and her face was covered just like Syn's. The only thing she could see being her bright blue eyes and brunette ponytail. "Who the hell are you?" Syn demanded.

As the woman approached, Syn lifted her legs and sent the woman stumbling backwards. Slamming her head back she connected with the man's face. "You little bitch!" His grip loosened as he momentarily lost focus and she used that to her advantage and sent an elbow flying towards his face.

Almost as soon as her feet touched the ground the edge of a plastic pipe connected with the side of her face, blood gushing from her nose and lip, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. A kick in the stomach from the woman and pain blossomed throughout her entire body. Survive. You have to survive. When the next kick came she rolled onto her stomach and reached for the first thing she could find. As the woman lifted her leg to kick for the third time Syn spun herself to knock the woman's leg out from underneath her and drive the shard of glass she found into her stomach. Kill, kill, kill! The woman's companion barreled into Syn from the side, face covered in blood from the gash above his eyebrow, before the glass could pierce her skin.

Landing on her side Syn twisted and drove her glass into the first body part she could find. The glass found his thigh and she managed to roll herself out from underneath him as he screamed out in pain. Who were these people? The woman grabbed a fist full of Syn's curls and threw her against a brick wall. Punch, kick, block, kick, block, punch, kick. Syn had recovered quickly and managed to block a few of the woman's blows, giving out some of her own until the man recovered.

Syn found herself back against the wall, this time with a hand constricting around her neck. She clawed at the man's hand as she kicked her legs, trying desperately to find anything to hit that would allow the man to loosen his grip. Her kicking only seemed to spur him on as she felt her body leave the wall and be lifted into the air.

"This was it," She thought to herself. "all these years and you're going to be killed by people you weren't even after." Her body went limp as the man's hand tightened even more. Just as the darkness seemed to have finally taken its permanent hold on her the hand around her throat vanished and her body violently connected with a brick wall. It wasn't until she fell to the ground in a limp pile that her muddled mind realized she had been thrown.

"Oni idut za toboy, ty yadovityye tvari."

Syn curled herself away from the woman as best as she could, a heel slamming down on her right shoulder with a dull thud before the duo departed.

-/-

"Alright, Sherlock where the hell is she?" The sweet melody pouring from the violin stopped abruptly as the DI stormed in and threw a rather large file onto the table. To put it simply, Lestrade was pissed. For the last 10 years he had been trying to find The Ghost, gathering very single piece of information he could find on her, and no more than 2 hours ago he had let her into a bloody crime scene.

"I don't know." To be honest Sherlock had not the slightest clue where Syn could be. After she had gotten out of the cab he had the driver circle back around only to find the place he had left her only moments ago swarming with police. After getting through and seeing the body he realized the gun the man had been shot with was a greater caliber than anything Syn owned. He searched the surrounding area and had been unable to find her or anything that could give him a clue as to who the shooter was.

John stood from his chair and began flipping through the file. His mouth agape with shock as he read through the file. "The Ghost?" He said more out loud than to himself.

"Yes, The Ghost. No one has a clue as to who she is. No one has ever seen her face and if they have they've never lived to talk about it. She's responsible for over 350 murders and possibly linked to over 100 more. Arson, murder, theft, blackmail, extortion, fraud, narcotics, the list goes on and on. Sometimes we'll be so close but then we won't see her for months at a time. A woman matching the description of the one that came with you to the crime scene was with a man when he was shot. A majority of the people are claiming it was her who shot him so where the hell is she!"

-/-

You are weak. You always have been and always will be. Who do you think you are trying to destroy His network? Look at you! You can't even fight without your pretty little weapons to hide behind! You're pathetic! Worthless! Tears rolled down her bloodied face as she drug herself through the streets, His voice echoing through her mind the entire way. The sun had set a long time ago and she was relying heavily on the shadows to conceal her. If anyone saw her in the state she was in there would be no getting away. Weak, weak, weak! Someone is unfortunate enough to take you into their home and help you and now you act as if you've never had to take care of yourself. Every fiber of her being was screaming out in pain. She just wanted it to be over.

A sob escaped her lips as she 221B came into view. Look how dependent you've become on the Doctor and the Detective. What have I told you about trusting people? Don't! You never listen you incompetent bitch! As she open the door she could hear voices coming from the flat but she couldn't find it in herself to care at the moment. She was tired of playing this game, tired of having to fear anyone who got the slightest glimpse of her face.

She drug herself up the steps one by one, fighting with herself to stay conscious. At the top she lunged for the closed door, desperate to have something to support her weight but instead the half latched door swung open and she collapsed in the doorway of 221B.

-/-

Syn's opened her eyes and immediately slammed them shut at the brightness of the room. Beside her machines beeped in a steady rhythm and she couldn't move her arms more than a few inches and oh god she was back in that awful room. Her eyes flew open as she began to panic, the machines shrill beeping becoming more erratic and the smell of antiseptics making her want to vomit. She tried to scream put the action nearly made her pass out from the pain. When Sherlock appeared in her blurred vision she gripped onto the sleeve of his coat for dear life. As long as Sherlock was here He wasn't here. Doctors moved around her trying to calm her down but she couldn't because there was needles in her and those needles were attached to bag with who the hell knows what running through her veins and she couldn't calm down.

The sharp, silver point of a needle caught her eye and she thrashed even more because she knew they were going to give her more and it was going to hurt so badly. She didn't want anymore, there had been a time when she had craved it, looked forward to the burn, but that had turned her into a monster and she didn't want to be a monster anymore. Sherlock why are you just standing there? Don't let them do this to me! The prick of the needle came and everything faded away.

-/-

"Bloody hell, Sherlock she shouldn't even be alive." John scanned the pages of the file Sherlock had swiped in disbelief. Sherlock handed him two photographs of the blood sample he had taken when they first met, the first was of a normal sample, and the second which was a picture of her sample. "Her blood cells are mutated, if I didn't know this was a blood sample I would have never been able to guess it. Wait until Lestrade sees this." "Question is," Sherlock began, turning his gaze away from the photographs to the unconscious woman who was full of surprises. "How?"

-/-

When she woke the second time John and Sherlock were at her side in an instant trying to keep her calm so the doctors wouldn't have to sedate her again. "Syn, you're at St Bart's hospital. You were admitted a day ago after you were attacked." After everything came back into focus she nodded numbly at the doctor. "They want to know what happened don't they?" John nodded. "They're going to arrest me if I don't tell them, aren't they?" He nodded again. She looked at her handcuffed wrist, and the blue sling her arm was in and screwed her eyes shut. "How bad is it?" Her voice was hoarse and her throat and chest felt like it was on fire when she spoke. "Your right shoulder was dislocated, you have stitches in your side, a few on your face, and some on your right hand, your lip is busted, you underwent surgery to stop the internal bleeding, two fractured ribs, and you've got pretty nasty bruising on your back and around your neck." Sherlock informed. She laid her head back against her pillow and tried to fight back the lump in her throat. She wasn't going to cry, she had done enough of that last night. At least no one had seen her and she'd be dammed if she sat here in front of Sherlock and John and cried.

So this was it. These were the options she had, there was no running, no getting away by some miracle, no fighting her way out. She was down for a few days and the police knew who she was, they couldn't be that blind. It's time.

"Bring Lestrade in, I'll talk to you two and him but no one else. Nothing leaves this room, nothing is recorded, and nothing is written down. Those are my terms." The door was opened and Sherlock informed the DI of Syn's terms. Agreeing he stood at the foot of her bed. "So the shooting-"

"Forget the shooting. I want to make a deal with you. I can tell you everything I know about the organization I worked for, about the people who I've killed and why, and I can tell you that I am the least of your worries right now. You haven't seen anything until you've seen Him and if you're smart you'll listen to what I have to say. I don't want any information leaked about what I say or who I am and I don't want any jail time for the shooting, I didn't do it. If you accept, I'd like to be uncuffed."

Lestrade crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his lips, looking completely unconvinced. "They poisoned me!" She gritted her teeth, her chest feeling as if it was on fire. A lifetime of secrets were on the tip of her tongue and he didn't believe her! Do you think anyone would believe a murderer? The only thing your good at is killing, lying, and manipulating people to get your way. "I-I know the doctors have told you about my blood, it's mutated I shouldn't even be alive. There is no medical explanation as to why I am still breathing, believe me I know. The man who is trying to kill me did this, all those people I've killed were men who worked for Him. You need me."

The DI pulled the small key from his pocket and she didn't think she had even been so relieved to be able to move her arm. This was it, no turning back. No taking back anything that was about to be said, this could either be the best or dumbest thing she had ever done in her life. "Who's after you?" With a cautious deep breath her eyes locked with grey irises and she began to tell the story of what it was like to live with the devil himself.

I decided to write a good portion of his chapter from Syn's point of view mainly because this is my first go with writing in third person and I'm not sure if I'm writing the other characters in a way that does them justice. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!