The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.

-James A. Garfield

-/-

Drip.

10,652.

Drip.

10,653.

Drip.

10,654.

Her entire body ached. Whether it was from the cold or sickness or withdraw, she couldn't tell. Sores had festered on her body from where she had mindlessly rubbed and scratched while she counted. Blood had caked onto her chin and chest from where her lip had become so dry it has split, each coughing fit sending more blood rolling down her face. She had disobeyed. She had been given a child to watch over, a little girl with big hazel eyes and a curly mess of brunette hair no more than 5.

She had been told to keep her fed and cleaned and clothed and that's exactly what she did. She tried to make Chloe, as she later found out, as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. She had gotten down on her knees so she could be eye level with the girl and taught her how to defend herself as best as she could. Chloe soon became attached at Syn's hip, never leaving her side no matter what she was doing.

2 months passed and ransom had yet to be paid. Syn found out that Chloe's birthday had passed during her time in the organization and that night she smuggled in a piece of cake and a tiny stuffed bear. They sat on the floor that night and shared the piece of cake and Syn told her stories she thought to be appropriate for a child until Chloe fell asleep curled up in Syn's lap.

It was a few days later that Syn found out they were going to kill Chloe. She had sighed heavily at the news and felt disappointed that she was going to lose the little girl she had grown close to but that's how things work at the organization. When she returned to her room Chloe curled herself up against Syn, her entire body shaking as the child cried for her parents. She couldn't let them kill her. It wasn't fair. She was just a little girl. She was innocent. That night after Chloe's body had given out from exhaustion Syn was told she was going to be the one killing the little girl.

A coughing fit doubled her over in pain, blood not only coming from her lip but her throat now too. They were going to let her die down here all because she set an innocent life free. She snuck out that night with Chloe stuffed into a duffle bag and took her to the nearest police station after making her promise that she wouldn't tell anyone about who Syn was.

The fire that ran through her veins concentrated itself on her chest, her legs and arms going numb to the point where she felt as if they were no longer even attached to her body. Something hot began rolling out of her nose and ears and from the side of her mouth, the metallic smell and taste of blood soon becoming overwhelming. Her head lulled to the side and her eyes drooped shut, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

She was dying.

She wasn't sure if she should be sad at the thought or relieved that it would finally be over. In all honesty everything in her mind seemed to melt away into nothingness. A blinding white light flooded her vision and had her mind still been with her she probably would've laughed at how cliché it seemed. A white light and someone pulling, why was she being pulled?

"Syn! Syn, hey stay with me okay? I'm going to get you out of here." She knew that voice. Who was he? His name was on the tip of her tongue but she just couldn't remember. She forced her eyes open and let them trail lazily over the features of the man carrying her. Her hand moved on its own accord, trailing up the man's face and into his dark hair. His green eyes looked down at her, filled with worry and tears and then she remembered.

"Sebastian."

-/-

It was storming when the ambulance reached St. Barts.

She had stayed by his side for as long as she could until she was ripped away. "Sebastian!" She watched helplessly as they rushed his body through the double doors of the ER, his back arching up off the stretcher as his body convulsed. She began to pace up and down the aisles of empty chairs in the small waiting room until her back ached and her bare feet throbbed. When she couldn't stand to walk anymore she sat in front of one of the windows and watched the storm rage outside.

This is all your fault! All of it! When will you learn all you can do is kill those around you? Did you think he would stay forever? Idiot! Of course not! He signed his death wish the moment he decided to help you! She curled herself up in the stiff chair and ran a hair through her thick locks. This had to be a nightmare, this can't be happening. How many more people was she supposed to lose? Hadn't she lost enough? Her friends, her family, the few people over the years who had dared tried to protect her, and now possibly Sebastian?

She let her mind wander back to the adoption records she had found at the Queen's mansion, thankful her photographic memory had yet to go. Raleigh Marie Queen was born a month early in Ashville, North Carolina on July 9th, 1988 to Felicity Lyn Queen and Oliver Scott Queen. A week later she was adopted by Felicity Queen's sister, Anna Marx, and her husband, Jackson Marx. When the paperwork was finalized the Marx's returned to their home in Westminster with Raleigh. Syn let her head rest against the cool window with a sigh.

She used to have a plan.

She always knew what she was going to do and why she was doing it but now? She had no idea what she needed to do. Tonight she had gone against everything she had been fighting to stop. She had taken orders from Him, she had obeyed His commands and killed in cold blood again, and liked it. She had listened to Him instead of rescuing the man who had risked his life to save her once before and now he could possibly die.

"Is blonde your natural color?" She jumped in her seat, never once hearing anything to indicate anyone was approaching. Sherlock drew his brow together in confusion as he sat across from her. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a name; Moriarty."

-/-

Moonlight filtered in through the balcony doors, washing over the queen sized bed and the figure bundled in blankets. The murmuring of the crowd along with the occasional laugh could be heard from downstairs. It was Christmas Eve and her parents had thrown a party again this year. She had mingled with the businessmen and their wives, using her manners and trying not to speak unless spoken to.

Around midnight she informed her parents that she was going to bed for the night and after wishing everyone a merry Christmas she raced up the grand wooden staircase to her room. The smell of gingerbread and cinnamon wafted up through the air vents from the kitchen below as she slipped out of her red dress and into more appropriate clothing. She slid under the flannel bed sheets and clutched her mobile in her hand, waiting for his signal.

10 minutes later her phone vibrated and she silently slipped out of bed, almost forgetting to grab the present she had managed to keep hidden from her parents on her way out. A light snow had begun to fall as she jumped from her balcony to the tree beside her. With practiced ease she climbed down the tree without disturbing the drooping, snow covered branches.

Her boots crunched as she ran through the backyard and into the arms of her only friend. She never understood why her parents would never let her have friends or let her go to public schools or even play with the neighbor's son. She thought maybe her parents considered her too smart to go to school and that her skills were more important than friends. But she would get lonely at times.

She would go wandering through the woods in the early hours of the morning, long after her parents had fallen asleep, climbing trees and practicing her archery. That's how she met him. The only person who thought like her, the only person who didn't shy away as she rambled or twirled her knives. No, he would simply smile and join her.

He was her little secret.

"Merry Christmas darling," he pushed a stray curl behind her ear and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "I've missed you." She mimicked his brilliant white smile and brushed away the white flecks of snow in his jet black hair. "I've missed you too James."

-/-

She was jolted back to reality with a gasp, her skin as cold as the night in her memory. Sherlock's eyes scanned over her trying to find a hint of recognition in her unfocused eyes but found nothing. His lips were moving but Syn couldn't hear passed her racing heart.

Tears prickled in the back of her eyes because that couldn't be real. But everything felt so familiar and real. She had known things she would have no way of knowing without having been there. "Syn?" She cringed inwardly at the sound of her name passing through his lips. It wasn't hers, it never was. It was always His name. It was always James Moriarty's name.

"I knew him," she caught her bottom lip between her teeth to try to stop her quivering lip. "He-he used me." Sherlock watched helplessly as the woman in front of him, who hadn't shown any signs of fear in the face of an unknown force or any pain after being beaten within an inch of her life, struggle to keep her composure.

He didn't know what compelled him to get on his knees in front of her and take her face between his hands. He gently brushed the stray tears away from her face and when his mind had finally caught up to what he was doing he hesitated for only a moment. "Syn, look at me," His voice was soft as were his hands and she knew it was so unlike Sherlock but that didn't stop her from leaning in to his touch. How long had it been since she had any sort of friendly touch?

She lifted her eyes to look at Sherlock and found an entire different person behind the gun metal gray eyes. This wasn't the man who solved murders with a single, uncaring glance, this was the Sherlock Holmes that had been buried a long, long time ago. "I'm going to help you stop him, do you understand? You aren't alone anymore." There was so much more she wanted to say but the words bunched up behind her lip and her tongue felt like a brick in her mouth so she nodded and he made sure to catch the tears that slipped out.

-/-

Syn had ended up curling up against Sherlock's arm once he took the seat beside her. The emotional exhaustion had caught up with her and she dozed off, startling Sherlock for a moment before he just accepted it and tried to make her as comfortable as possible. As he mindlessly drew patterns on her skin he tried to think where he began to feel so human.

An hour later a young nurse with short bleach blonde hair stepped into the empty room with a white file in hand. Sherlock gently woke Syn from her slumber, a light blush playing across her cheeks as she realized where she had fallen asleep. Mary Morstan was the closest thing Syn had to a friend. She didn't trust the woman but Syn knew about the mission she had been assigned to and knew she wouldn't risk her cover being blown. "How is he?"

"Mr. Moran is in recovery, the doctor said he'll pull through but there's been a...startling discovery if you will." The relief she had felt at the news dissipated immediately. She knew the serum enhanced certain senses and she also knew the serum could have side effects. "What happened? What's wrong?"

-/-

She didn't bother knocking when she found the room she was looking for. However once the door had slammed shut behind her she wished she had. "James Moriarty, get the hell out of here. This is private." He stood from his chair beside Sebastian's bed with a stupid shit eating grin plastered across his face. "I see Sherlock told you who I was." "You wanted me to find out about this didn't you?" Jim shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "Well..." She glared at the two men, Sebastian giving her a pleading look.

"This was another test wasn't it? You wanted to see if I would still follow orders. Bloody hell." She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a frustrated sigh. "Syn he was protecting you." She laughed out loud and Sebastian's remark. "Protecting me! You mistake me for an idiot, Moran." Jim smiled at the woman in front of him. If only she knew. If only. 'Soon,' he reminded himself. 'Soon she'll know everything and she'll come crawling back.' He stood in front of her, reveling in the way her body tensed as her twirled a strand of blonde hair around his finger.

"This," he said pulling a solve thumb drive from his pant pocket. "Might change your mind." She plucked the drive from his hand with obvious disgust. "Goodbye for now darling."

As soon as the door closed behind him she shifted her glare to Sebastian. "You lied to me." "Syn-"

"We're you ever planning on telling me about this? You set me up Seb. This whole entire mission was a setup, wasn't it? You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything we could find on Raleigh Queen is on that thumb drive."

She scoffed. "Right, because that is so much more important right now. You lied to me! God I can't believe this! I trusted you! How could you do this to me Seb?" He remained silent, his face expressionless against the emotional war raging within. "Fuck you! Stay away from me Sebastian Moran. If I ever see you again I will not hesitate to kill you."

And with that she was gone.

-/-

After returning to Baker Street, showering, and throwing on whosever clothes she could find, she collapsed on the couch and slept for three days. When she woke during the evening of the first day to use to bathroom the flat was quiet save for Sherlock's rambling on about a 'pool' and 'nuclear missile plans'.

The second day after using the restroom again she didn't miss the way they looked at her differently. She turned her back to them and fell into a fitful sleep. They knew.

During the third night she tossed and turned, her dreams filled with snippets of a life she yearned for. When she woke in the early hours of the third morning a black button up and a pair of khaki pants were neatly folded on the table beside her. The flat was silent as she gathered the clothes in her arms and locked herself in the bathroom. Her body ached and her scars were swollen and puffy, the hot water doing absolutely nothing to help.

Her mind was blessedly quiet as she dried and dressed herself. They know about you. It's time to leave. She considered leaving them a note of some sort as she made sure everything was still safely tucked into her bag. Perhaps a thanks you note, or I-hope-the-crazy-psychopath-doesn't-kill-you note, but she decided not to. Maybe they would learn to leave the trash on the side on the road where it belonged. A loud cough as she passed by the kitchen nearly made her jump out of her skin. Both Sherlock and John were sitting at the cleaned kitchen table, three cups of steaming tea set out on the table. Two in front them and one across from them, nearest to her. She glanced back at the door that was just a few feet away. She could make it if she ran, easily, but looking back at the two men sitting at the table she knew she couldn't leave just yet.

"I suppose I owe you two an apology and a bit of an explanation, now don't I?" She sat down across from them are wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug. "You're leaving. Why?" "I don't want to know what Moriarty told you about me however, if he told any sane person a fraction of the things I've done anyone would be repulsed, Sherlock. I knew he told you two by the looks you gave me yesterday when you returned."

"You've been working for him this entire bloody time haven't you?" John crossed his arms over his chest as she lashed out at him. "No! I swear to you everything I've told you has been the truth just-not the whole truth. When I told you a contact reached out to me and told me James Moriarty was back in London that was the truth. Sebastian was that contact and he told me Moriarty's attention was shifting to more promising prospects. A Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. I took the first flight out of Australia to York and walked the rest of the way here. I was only trying to protect you."

"Why protect us?" John questioned. "I thought maybe I would get close enough to finally be able to kill the bastard. When I researched you two I found your blog and Sherlock's website, which is absolutely brilliant by the way." She didn't miss the way Sherlock's face lit up a bit. "Anyways, When I started reading your blog, John I realized I was too late. The Study in Pink, the suicide cases, I knew it was Moriarty. He takes in clients like that, dying desperate people, and gives them what they need. Instructs them. Sure the cabbie was smart but Moriarty made him smarter. He gave him the ammo he needed and Moriarty was able to take out people who had crossed him without even getting his hands dirty. You and Sherlock thought the suicides weren't connected but that's only because you didn't know what you were looking for."

It was Sherlock who spoke this time. "When you speak of Moriarty you mention your hate towards him yet you didn't kill him at the hospital. Why?" She wasn't surprised that he had known she had just hoped that it wouldn't be brought up. "Truthfully I don't know. None of this feels right anymore. He gave me this," she pulled the thumb drive from her pocket and set it in the middle of the table. "Sebastian said it has everything the elites could find at the mansion on Raleigh Queen."

"You haven't read it yet." Syn smirked. "Sherlock is beginning to rub off on you John."

"Why didn't you kill him at the hospital?" She wasn't surprised that he had known she had just hoped that it wouldn't be brought up.

"I don't know. None of this feels right anymore. he have me this," she pulled the thumb drive from her pocket slid it across the table. "Sebastian said it had everything the elites could find at the mansion on Raleigh Queen."

"You haven't read it yet?" John observed.

"No I haven't."

"Why?"

She chewed her bottom lip. "My mind has been racing since the hospital, trying to make sense of the mess that's seemingly become my life and," for a moment she considered telling them the truth. "And I think I have enough to worry about right now. She's probably dead anyways."

From the chair pushed underneath the table beside him Sherlock retrieved his laptop and she can't help but wonder if he planned this entire thing out. "I wish to know what your previous team is capable of. This information could prove useful in the future."

Syn's heart was hammered in her chest as the thumb drive was plugged into the computer. "Sherlock," he hesitated for a moment, considering her silent plea to stop. She was completely vulnerable, on the verge of shattering with a single word but he had to know. It wasn't just because it could be useful, it was because he truly wanted to help her and this was the only way he could.

Sherlock almost laughed out loud at himself. Here he was in front of this woman who he knew hardly anything about and he wanted to help her. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of himself. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he could not deduce anything about her that she didn't want known. Their first encounter had been easy, she had been passed out and vulnerable on the couch. After that he found himself unable to find out anymore about the woman. She was proving to be a very interesting case.

She watched John's jaw go slack as he glanced between her and the computer screen. This has to be some sort of twisted, horrible nightmare. Her gaze shifted to Sherlock, waiting for him to deny her worst fears but he hesitates and her world comes crashing down around her.

She bolted out of the flat suddenly finding it far too small and stuffy and dear god the bloody awful truth was in there. She fisted her hands in her hair as she sobbed, not caring as people stared at her as they passed by. You stupid girl, why are you crying? You always knew what you were. Does it genuinely surprise you that you're Raleigh Queen? She cried even harder because it didn't. Her life had been fucked up the moment she was born. But deep down she wished it hadn't been true, that her family was normal and it was just a sick twist of fate that had brought her to where she was today.

The door beside her opened and simultaneously four gunshots went off. Look at you. Sherlock or John is dead because you've gotten so weak you don't even know when there's danger around you. What a waste of space you've become. What use are you if you can't even protect them anymore. Around her four people dropped dead and chaos broke out on the streets.

Find the source. You may not sense them anymore but you can still track the projectile of the bullet. Her hazy mind noted the direction in which they all fell and was able to locate a building within a matter of seconds. The glint from a rifle barrel caught her eye a few levels above where she was looking. It was one of the assassins that had moved in just down the street. When he saw her looking he nodded and suddenly things were making too much sense.

Please let me know if you have any suggestions or comments! Thanks for reading!