Author's note: Sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I never meant to go this long without updating this. This chapter does have a bit of a spoiler. I only own Cassandra, everyone else belongs to Doyle. Reviews are welcome while flames will be shown to the door.

Sherlock Holmes remembered the first time little Cassandra helped him. It was during a thunder storm and he had just gotten her to sleep. He had to play three songs before she finally fell asleep in his lap. He picked her up and tucked her into her blankets, brushing her hair out of her eyes and watching her for a few moments. Then he had gone to sleep not too long after she did.

He was running through the woods in the back of his childhood home. His little sister ran past him laughing.

"You will have to be faster then that, Locky!" She shouted in a playful voice.

He laughed as he chased her. "You wouldn't be ahead if I hadn't jumped over the log."

Eleven year old Charlotte Violet Holmes looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. They were almost to the the boulders when they saw another figure there waiting. At two and twenty, Mycroft Holmes was already considered for a job in the government. Charlotte and Sherlock Holmes both stopped.

"How could you possibly have gotten here before us?" She asked.

"He took the short cut."

Mycroft Holmes smiled and ruffled his sister's hair. "I still cannot believe you both race here as when we were all young."

She frowned and moved away. "That would be because you never have fun anymore, Croft."

The young man shook his head, but allowed his baby sister to hug him. "She is right, brother mine." The younger Sherlock Holmes said. "You are a very boring person. You do not deduct as you had before and now prefer to sit in an office all day."

"You shall soon learn, Sherlock." His brother said. "University is not too long away."

"Oh will you both stop that talk." Charlotte said frowning at her brothers. "It is holiday. No talk of the government, or university. We should not be fighting."

Mycroft chuckled. "Very well, little sister. We promise not to fight."

"At least not during this holiday."

This response caused Charlotte Holmes to huff, but her brothers only laughed and pulled her in between them.

He was twenty and racing through the woods again. But this time it was in a storm and he could not find his sister. He should not have left his sister with their father. He knew that when he was forced to leave things were not well between them. Now, she had ran off and no one could find her. But, he would. He knew he could, he had to find her.

"Charlotte!" He shouted. "Charlotte, where are you?"

"Locky!" He heard a scream.

He turned around and saw his sister trapped in the overflowing river. Her hands were reaching out for him.

"Lotte, I'm coming!" He shouted.

He ran to her and grabbed her hand. She was pulled away from him with the current. "Help me!" She cried.

Sherlock Holmes dived in after her, trying to reach for her, but never making it. When he had to come up for breath he saw a still figure washed up on the rocks. He raced over to her and scooped her into his arms, holding her to his chest. Her lips were blue and her chest was unmoving.

"No, please. Lotte, Lotte, please wake up. I need you to open your eyes." He whispered into her hair as tears poured from his face.

Suddenly, she was gone and he looked up, meeting her pale face. "You did not save me." She said in a cold voice.

"I tried to save you."

"But you were not fast enough. You are never fast enough." She said with anger.

"Charlotte-

"No!" She screamed. "You did this to me! You killed me!"

"No, Lotte I-

"You are a murderer."

He shot up breathing heavily. He covered his eyes with his hand and took deep breaths, trying to slow his heartbeat. It was a dream, only a dream. He knew his sister would not blame him for what had happened that night, not when he searched for her. No, Lotte was not that thing that yelled at him. Not his sweet baby sister. Not his sweet innocent little sister.

"Holmes?" A soft voice asked.

He looked over and saw the little four year old girl, standing next his bed with a worried look in her eyes. She had her blanket around her shoulders and her white nightgown reminded him too much of the pale skin of his sister from the dream.

"I am sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

"Are you all right, Holmes?" She asked sitting next to him. "You were moving about and sounded afraid of something."

"I'm fine, Cass." He said. "It's only a bad dream."

"Is it because of the storm?"

He tried to give her a small smile, but failed. "Somewhat. Now go back to sleep little one."

She nodded her head and walked over to her blankets. He sighed and laid back with his eyes closed. He hadn't had a dream about that night in years. He could not think of anything that might of bought this dream back. A moment later he felt the bed sink in. A rough fabric had been tucked around his neck carefully. She had given him her blanket, that thing was hers, she hardly went anywhere without it.

"It's all right, Holmes." Cassandra whispered petting his hair gently. "I won't let the storm hurt you."

The child laid her head on his chest. He buried his face in her still baby soft hair and breathed in the scent of lavender. He could not believe how insightful she was becoming. She had fallen back asleep and he stroked her hair gently. This child was certainly becoming something. He would not allow the same end that happened to Charlotte happen to her.