Author's note: Holmes learns fear, terror, and rage. I only own Cassandra everyone else is Doyle's. Please review!

She was nine when his worst fear had happened, when Sherlock Holmes was not able to protect her. There was a man who would do anything to get to him, and he had found the detective's weakness. He had sent her away to keep her safe, to be certain nothing happened to her, but it was useless. The man found her.

He had just returned from a night in the underground and was planning on sleeping for a short time before going out again, when Mrs. Hudson rushed over to him with a telegram in her hand.

"Mister Holmes, I have waiting for you for hours. This came last night and is very urgent-

"Not now, please-

"A man gave this to me and told me that you were to see it and reply back."

"Mrs. Hudson, I have been out for the past two days working nonstop."

"But, Mister Holmes, it is about Cassandra."

He snatched the paper from her. "Sherlock, Cassandra has not been seen since this evening at six." His brother had wrote.

He had never ran faster in his life. He knew he would need help and knew the perfect person to help him. For the second time that week, the Watson household was disturbed by a visiter who slammed the door open. Dr. John Watson was having tea with his wife when his dear friend stormed into the room with a very tired, but panicked look.

"Holmes?" He asked standing up.

"He took her, Watson."

Watson did not need to say another word. He grabbed his coat, kissed his wife, and checked again to see he had his service revolver. When he returned, he found his friend pacing the hall, having refused anything from Mary. He followed his friend out and to the train station.

As they sat in the compartment waiting to arrive at the school Sherlock Holmes smoked and tapped on his knee. To anyone else, he seemed nervous, but to the few who knew him well, he was worried. He never should have let her go away. He should have tried to convince his brother otherwise. Now the child was in a very dangerous man's hands. A man who was desperate and believed he had been wronged by him.

As soon as they arrived, he got to work. The Headmistress said they were returning from Mass, when she noticed she was one girl short. She had gone back and tried calling out, but received no answer. Men from the town looked for the missing girl as well, but all they found was her dark blue cloak caught in the thicket.

He did not waste another moment. They went to the woods and searched around the area of the church. Finding nothing, he asked to be shown where the cloak was found. He used his lens and found two different threads. One from the cloak, the other was from a grey coat.

"Dogs, did they use dogs to try to find her?" He asked quickly.

The woman nodded. "Yes, but they went through the small pond."

For a week they spent trying to find her. Sherlock Holmes knew he was getting close and had heard of someone new who had moved into the small town and had paid the money for a house quickly, not moving anything in. The house was not far from the school.

Peterson was with them as they came to the house. They quickly made their way inside and had spilt off in search of any clues. A few moments later Peterson called out for them. Watson had arrived first and tried to calm the missing child down. When Sherlock Holmes entered the bedroom, his friend looked up from the huddled girl on the bed.

"Be careful of her wrist, Holmes." He said. "It's broken."

He nodded before taking the doctor's place next to her. When the girl noticed the change she curled herself tighter in a ball.

"Cassandra." He spoke the name gently as he placed his hand on her back.

Slowly she lifted her head and looked at him. With a dark purple bruise around her eye, she tried to blink away her tears. "Holmes?"

"Yes, Cass. It's me." She sobbed against him as he held her. "You're safe now." He said softly.

"Don't go away, Holmes."

He buried his face in her hair. He heard Peterson say something in surprise, but he did not care. He did not care if he was showing too much emotion. Nothing else mattered to him at the moment, but the little child curled into his chest. All he wanted was to see Cassandra safe again. The child that kept her uninjured hand around one of his with no intention of letting go.

He knew she was afraid and hurt, the man had hurt her. That monster had hurt his child, his little girl. It took all of Sherlock Holmes' control to not leave her and go after the man that gave her the black and purple spots on her body. The one who had broken her wrist and most likely had scarred her for life. He would make certain that the man would never get away with this.

"I'm here, everything is all right now." He told her gently.

"Can we go home?"

"Yes, we will."

She closed her eyes and rested against him as he carried her out of the house. He promised her they would be far from this place and home soon. He then handed her to Watson, telling him he should take her to the inn. He would be there later, hoping to catch the man behind it. Peterson had alerted Lestrade who was at the station and would be there in minutes.

It was an hour after Lestrade arrived, when the man returned. He had tried to escape them, but he had knocked him with his cane. He wanted to do more damage to him, but he knew he could not do it. Once the man was taken into custody, Sherlock Holmes went to the inn and watched over the slumbering child.