NOTE: Thank you guys for reading! Hope you enjoy reading! I think I mentioned before English is not my first language, bit I hope you don´t mind. Trying my best

This part involves some talking about Gemma´s past, it is going to be quite rough so a little warning for mentioning of violence and drugs and suicide. Gemma is not exactly like Moriarty in the show and of course the past is made up by me ;) And we here some words from John and Mycroft!

Chapter 9: Sometime the past is something you cannot run away from

When John glanced at his buzzing phone he was more than surprised to see Mycroft calling. His eyebrows knit together as he finally answered the odd call.

"Mycroft." He sighed. "What can I do for you?"

"John." Mycroft was as stiff as ever and John could easily imagine him straightening his back in his office chair. "I am truly sorry to bother you, but I cannot reach my dear brother and it is urgent." The last word sounded kind of pressed.

John smiled to himself when he answered: "Why don´t you just use your surveillance?"

Mycroft made an angry noise that made John´s smile wider.

"If I knew where he was I would spare me the trouble of even considering talking to you!" He spat out through gritted teeth.

"Fine." John replied slightly annoyed now. "He told me he would visit your parents for a long weekend. He left early this morning."

There followed a long silence and John jumped a bit when Mycroft practically screamed.

"WHAT?!"

"Your parents."

"He never visits them." Mycroft struggled to regain his posture again and then muttered something under his breath what sounded a lot like a curse. "John, would you be so kind and try to reach him for me?" His voice now thick and sweet.

John sighed again heavily. "Can´t you just wait until he´s back? He said he would return Sunday."

"No, this matter is urgent as I told you! And he is certainly not with our parents!"

"So? If he wants to be left alone for a few days it should be fine!" John felt tired but he couldn´t ignore the slight concerned feeling in his stomach. The word drugs appeared in his mind.

"Please try to contact him."

And with that Mycroft hung up and the line went dead. John looked down on his phone thinking about it but decided it could wait until tomorrow. He leant back in the cushions on the couch and turned his attention back to the television show he was watching, some rerun of old Doctor Who episodes.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and realized that she was back. Quickly he climbed the stairs taking two steps at ones. When he came to a stop in front of their room he hesitated for a few seconds before opening the door. He would simply refuse to talk to her and when some time would have passed he would ask John (of course in a way that would have nothing to do with him personally), he did know this kind of stuff better. But on the other hand John messed up most of his relationships so maybe Molly was a better choice, she was at least a woman too. Slowly the wooden door opened and Sherlock stepped inside. The rug swallowed the sound of his steps so Sherlock caught a glance of Gemma sitting on the bed facing away from him with hanging shoulders and he couldn´t help but think she looked somehow tired, defeated even.

However it was only a brief moment before she turned to look at him. All signs of it removed from her body language, her face unreadable. Her lip was a little bit swollen and a blue and violet bruise started to form on her cheekbone. With a low thud Sherlock closed the door and it was the last sound for a long time of heavy silence.

Eventually he decided to throw his coat over one of the chairs and sit on the couch his hand in their usual position under his chin.

"What do we deduce about that?" Gemma finally said and her smile was weak and the fatigue returned to her features.

"I do have some suggestions but I would rather not tell you; I would prefer if you tell me." A flicker in her eyes told him a lot nevertheless he remained silent, because what he assumed was a hard and in fact hurting thing to tell. And if she would let her mask slip that much in front of him things would never be the same again. He admired her intellect, her creativity and she was intriguing. He felt drawn to her more than he would ever admit, but there was something else underneath something damaged. Gemma rose from the bed and grabbed her purse to retrieve a pack of cigarettes.

"Smoking is forbidden." Sherlock stated when he really wanted to ask for one instead.

Gemma rolled her eyes at the absurdness of his statement; to tell a criminal something he was about to do was forbidden was kind of hilarious. She lit the cigarette nonetheless opened the skylight wide and leaned on the window sill.

"Do you want to hear the whole story?"

"I suppose."

"Then it is going to be a long night. And I will certainly need a drink. Aaaaand you should know you will NOT like it at all. I am not a good person, Sherlock and I never was nor will be."

Sherlock shrugged, he knew already that he didn´t care enough to turn her in and that he was to drawn to her to resist right now. Later there will still be time, maybe…

She started with a glass of red wine in her hand and a comfortable cardigan wrapped around her black silk dress. Sherlock was still seated on the couch and she took the armchair on the opposite with only the small table between them. He had kept his hands stapled and his eyebrows furrowed while she seemed to consider what to tell. Finally Sherlock broke the silence no longer able to hold back his curiosity. It was still his first case and he never figured out the motive.

"Why did you kill the kid at the swimming pool?"

She looked up in his eyes a small smile on her lips.

"You are curious." She stated bemused. "After all this years and those hints I had to give you, you could never figure it out. Who´s smarter now?"

"So enlighten me."

"He was my first as you might have figured out. He laughed at me."

When Sherlock realized she wouldn´t offer more he leaned forward and asked again:

"You´re not going out there and kill a guy in school just because he laughed at you. Not even you are that crazy." Gemma frowned and then started to laugh her wine almost sipping over the edge of the glass when her whole body rocked with the laughter.

"Do not underestimate me, Sherlock!" And she went very still and spat the words at him her teeth bared: "Because he deserved it. That´s why!"

"No." Sherlock was all calm and controlled. "He did something, something that triggered your action. Maybe he was a bully but that would never make you act reckless, you could´ve handled that differently. He did something." Sherlock was lost in thoughts for a moment before he caught her eye again.

"Very well." Her eyes flickered to the table for a second then she shrugged leaned back and added: "Maybe because he did something to someone I cared about and maybe I tried to tell people but they wouldn´t listen and eventually I dealt with it myself." Sherlock nodded and seemed convinced but couldn´t let it go: "He was just a kid, only sixteen."

"He deserved it." Gemma´s eyes gone cold and her voice was gravely, danger and warning dripping from every word. Sherlock knew better than to push the matter.

"Is it going to be like that?" he asked calmly.

"What?" Gemma looked puzzled.

"I understood you would tell me, not me figuring it out by myself."

She smiled but her eyes were still cold they were still clouded with the memories.

"Fine. Ask me anything, I´ll tell you what I think suitable for your ears."

"When I first became aware of you I tried to find information but there was nearly nothing and I have access to every sort of information. Most people think you are a man. Tell me how you became a consulting criminal." Sherlock was eager to get that intel and store it for a later occasion.

"Oh Sherlock, really you think I am that careless to leave stuff about me lie around for anyone to find? Not even you or your dear brother will find anything, maybe Moriarty isn´t even my real name. Nonetheless I´m not giving you something you could use against me." She smiled genuine this time. "But nice try. Though some basic data shouldn´t hurt. Swimming pool guy was my first. When I turned sixteen I killed the second one. At seventeen I left the village I grew up in to go to university. I started dealing drugs, than producing them, developing my own little enterprise. I started to kill again, never got arrested for anything though. Finally I started to commit crimes for others. I dealt information and stopped dealing drugs. I still own a lot of the production though. And I know you have been one of my clients, well not directly of course, but still I was aware of you. I learned you´d looked into my first murder and I was fascinated with you ever since."

"You´ve been aware of me all the time." It was no real question. Sherlock was startled and Gemma liked to see him like that. She winked at him and whispered: "I´m kind of a stalker, you know. But I was always curious so tell me: You and the drugs, what is that about?"

Sherlock jaw tightened and his mouth was set in a firm line.

Gemma pouted: "I though this talk went both ways." She gestured loosely between them.

"Whatever then at least ask me something before I get bored."

"The second one. You mentioned it particular."

"Well I didn´t kill him to be honest. He killed himself because of me. He was a priest in my town and fell for me. Or better I made him fall for me. Literally." She giggled a bit at her own joke. Sherlock remained silent and she sighed annoyed. "You are no fun at all, are you? When he saw me for what I was and still loved me he could not take it. That morning on my way to school I passed by the church and he stood on the roof. He´d waited for me to see what I ´d done to him. He looked me straight in the eyes the moment he jumped silently accusing me. I remember the terror in his eyes as he saw my smirk before he landed in front of me on the cobblestone, smashed and bloody." Gemma hold Sherlock´s gaze while she spoke, she didn´t want to miss the reaction in his eyes but to her surprise he asked: "Did you sleep with him?"

Confusion was written all over her face. She answered anyway in a low voice: "Yes."

Sherlock had risen to his feet before she realized what he was doing. The glass of wine fell from her hand to the carpet and red liquid spilled over it. Sherlock arms were on either side of her grabbing the arms of the chair looming over her. His voice was low rumbling in his chest: "Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy making him fall?" Gemma hold her breath his face much too close and she made a decision a stupid one but who cares. "Yes."

Her hands gripped his stupid purple shirt her eyes focused on his when she spoke again.

"And I will enjoy making you fall even more."

Her grip on his shirt made it easy to pull him down the last inches before she pushed her lips against his the second time this night. Sherlock growled and he kissed her back hard.

Gemma was not certain that this was the right thing; she thought herself above these things for some time now, but Sherlock´s lips moving against hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, it was intoxicating. She could take it and she wanted to since the first time she´d laid eyes on him. She wanted to touch him, to have him, to possess him, to break him.