YO I'm back bitches. January is almost over yay! Sorry, I really hate this month… way too stressful to be legal. But the important part was that I still found time to update! I'm so happy that y'all are loving this so much :3 it really means a lot to me, hearing from all of you. Don't hesitate to review or PM me or anything! I don't bite! I'm an insane fangirl with writing problems :) we can be friends! ANYWAY. Enough about me. Time for a certain psychotic character of mine to tell her story.

I don't own Sherlock Holmes. Le poop. Victoria is mine however! :D and a special thanks to my wonderful beta, A Pirate by Any Other Name. LOVE YA.

Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Before Dawn

A Knife in the Dark

Thwack. Crrraccckkk. Swish. Thwack. Crrraccckk. Swish.

The actions repeated over and over again in her mind, plaguing her own thoughts until her brain ached and pulled at the very fabric of being and knowledge. It didn't make sense, and she, yet again, had the feeling that something was missing. There was something that she didn't take into account. She closed her eyes, wishing that it would magically pop into her head, making her work a lot easier in the future. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort happened.

She threw her dagger upon the wooden table once more, dragging it back towards her. The horrible sound of the wood ripping from its place sounded again, and she plucked it out with ease, repeating the same movements. To anyone else, the gestures and noises would have been excruciatingly painful, but to her, it was almost calming. It made her lose her train of thought and develop some mental images that weren't exactly pleasing… but to her, they were nothing but brilliant. Her memories were not a burden; they were a gift, a gift to see the future and further tactics to come. It wasn't over yet. It hadn't even begun.

"Would you like to help me with something?" came a disconcerting voice, leaning over the smaller child.

The raven-haired little girl nodded up at the man tilting towards her, "Daddy, I would help you with anything."

The older gentleman, the little girl's father, smirked at the answer. He hated giving it to her, but she looked so innocent. Not for long, he would mold her into something of greatness and power, the time was ticking out. He had a plan for her, he always had a plan, but this time it was going to succeed.

If only she realized her father's true potential before it was too late, she might have saved him… and Sherlock Holmes. But that was beside the point. How was she to know of her fate when she was merely a young child? Her father was never clear to her, and that was her only regret.

Slightly older now, the raven-haired child sauntered through the streets of London, skipping in the cobblestoned streets. The sun was shining and the day had just begun, arising over the tops of the trees and shining through the cracks in between the houses. Unfortunately, the world around her along with being completely by herself blinded her from seeing where she was going. She tripped over a loose stone in the street and dropped her basket full of toys on the cold street. She frowned, biting back tears, and slowly began to pick her scattered belongings.

She didn't think anyone had noticed until an older, strange-looking gentleman bent down and began to help her. She frowned, tilting her head to one side. Why was he helping her? Slowly, wordlessly, the pair began to deposit the young girl's toys back into her basket. She stood up, opening her mouth to thank the man, but he had disappeared down the street already.

Frowning, the raven-haired girl began to give chase to the direction of which she believed the man had gone. She spied him eventually, kneeling beside a bridge and playing with the glasses on his nose. The man bolted to his feet when he locked eyes with her, and she gave him a small smile.

"I just wanted to thank you," the girl squeaked.

The man just coughed, bobbing his head up and down once.

But still, the dark-haired girl didn't leave. She wanted to make another friend, of course, like any young child usually does. "What's your name?" she persisted.

"I'm nobody," came the only response before the man turned and walked away.

How would she know that in the future their paths would become intertwined like no others? It wasn't probable that they should ever meet again and yet they did. Once again, she continued to defy fate and write her own future. Just like the way it should be…

A few years later and the raven-haired young girl had grown up to be something of a rebellious yet beautiful woman. Her father had been an influence upon her, reflecting every part of her in all of her actions and phrases. He was simply someone, something that she could finally trust in the midst of all of this chaos. She always wondered what happened to her mother, but every time she tried to bring the subject up, her father would change it again or walk away briskly like nothing had ever happened. There was something there that was missing. She needed the answers.

There was always a prick of doubt in her mind that her father wasn't telling her everything, but she knew deep down that her father did everything because of her. And that was all that mattered… right?

She crept down the stairs into the kitchen, feeling a sudden bout of braveness to work up the courage to ask him again. She hadn't brought up the topic in a couple of years, so maybe things had changed. There was a slight chance that she was holding onto.

"Papa?" she called out, heading into the kitchen of the old house.

There was no response and she frowned, realizing her father must have gone out. She noticed an open book on the kitchen counter and she slowly sauntered over to it, her curiosity getting the best of her. She opened it, frowning, noticing the engraving on the front of it. The minute she cracked open the novel, however, she instantly regretted it. After that incident, she would never be able to look at her father the same again.

The book was hollow.

And lying directly in a carved out spot within the book was a bloody knife. She quickly shut the cover of the book, shutting her eyes tightly and praying she didn't see whatever it was that was implied. But once more, she knew it was real and she couldn't take her eyes off of it. She peeked it open once more, her breath coming in shaky gasps as the sight of the knife reaffirmed her vision. It wasn't until then that she fully realized what her father was doing. He was killing people, for games, for fun. It was madness, and yet she wasn't exactly put off by the idea. Her father had already influenced her too much and now his thoughts were inside her head. It was madness indeed.

She flung the cover open wide and bit the inside of her cheek as she read more into the mystery of her father's goings and comings. On the inside of the cover was written, "To my love James," and instantly she knew it was from her mother. So he did remember… She didn't have time to contemplate the secrecy any further, for her father himself burst into the back door of the old house. She slammed the cover of the book shut instantly and scurried away from the table.

Her father narrowed his eyes, instantly suspecting something as he took in his daughter's terrified expression and the ajar book on the table. He hissed something under his breath, and the raven-haired girl took a step out of the corner in defiance.

"I trusted you," she whispered. "You lied to me. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

The memory faded away into the darkness as the words repeated over and over in her head. Why didn't you ever tell me? That was an understatement. Her father never told her anything and yet she repeatedly trusted him. What a mistake that had been… But nonetheless, she wouldn't be where she was today without him. But she couldn't know that for certain, after all; she might have even been better off. No one knew the truth anymore. The truth was overrated.

As the years wore on, she still continued to work for her father. After the revelation, things had changed and things had become more… complicated. She was trapped now, with no way out. Even if she had a way out, she wasn't sure if she wanted it. It was… extreme to say the least.

She wasn't sure why she stuck around; she had herself convinced that she would be better off on her own, especially now that she knew where to strike her father in the heart. She knew many things that she shouldn't have now, and she was absolutely going to use those to her advantage. Blackmail was the only thing going for her right now.

And betrayal was sweet.

Her father deserved a little taste of his own medicine. At the time, she didn't know just how far it would have gone, but all she knew was that she was doing something against her father for once… and she loved it. She sat down in a cold empty room of a warehouse down the street with only a quill, ink and a piece of paper in her hand. She had to do this; she had to have something over her father. It was now or never.

She dipped her quill in the ink and began to scrawl on the paper.

"Please, before you throw away this message from a woman you haven't even heard of yet, take the time to read this. You won't regret it. You are in grave danger. Just listen to what I have to say, and I promise that I will save your life."

She paused in her writing, the letter half written already. She knew exactly why she was doing this, and now she could only hope that it would work. Oh yes, betrayal was very sweet indeed.

That letter had changed the course of her life as she knew it. Oh how she knew it. That was her first act of defiance against someone that ticked her off, and she hadn't gone back since. That was the reason she was here today, not because of her father but because of her own will. This was her choice now. And now, the first step of the plan had succeeded because of that letter. It was all coming together perfectly.

There was a slight creak as the back door to the house opened slowly. She leapt to her feet, trusty dagger in hand, just itching to kill someone. She had been locked up in here for about two months now, and it was driving her absolutely mad. Her father had tried to protect her by keeping her here while he went off chasing the great Sherlock Holmes, another mind game for himself. It was ironic, however, that by trying to keep his daughter safe, he ended up getting himself killed. That was another reason she hadn't left. She didn't know any details, she didn't know anything except that he was murdered. And she was already vowing revenge.

She held her dagger up in the air as the unknown person entered the house stealthily. The stranger flicked on the nearest lamp and instantly jumped backwards as he caught sight of her, holding her dagger above her head and ready to plunge it into his heart. The stranger scurried back towards the doorway and the woman tossed the dagger to one side, clutching a hand over her heart.

"Sebastian!" she cried, sinking to the floor. "You scared the living hell out of me!"

Sebastian Moran took a deep breath of his own and sat on the floor next to her. He turned his head around and brushed her cheek. "Everything is going to be alright," he promised. "I'm here for you."

She shot to her feet like a rocket and bolted away from him, "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. I can do this on my own."

Moran laughed, "No you can't and you know it. You need his army, you need where he ended, you need your motives."

"I have them," she snapped, clearly torn between emotions.

The assassin folded his arms across his chest, getting up from his position on the floor. "And what exactly are you planning on doing?"

"Picking up where my father left off."

Supposedly, that was the beginning of the so-called friendship between them. Sure, they had met before but Moran was nothing more than her father's sidekick of sorts. That was then, and this is now. Now, he had become so much more than that. She hated his guts, she wanted to punch him every day that she saw him, and yet she couldn't live without him. Fancy that.

She knew she was screwed unless she built upon the foundation that her father had left behind. She had to find something else… someone else. She needed an extra boost to her already secure plans. Standing in front of the marketplace in her then unfamiliar black cloak, she waited for the right man to pass by. She had sent him a fake parcel about something that would intrigue him, a pocket watch of sorts perhaps. But now that she spotted him across the street, she knew it had to be him. Oh he was going to be perfect indeed.

She crossed the carefully placed cobblestone path with caution, her heels clacking on the stones as she walked upon them. No one took notice as she passed, and she sauntered right up to the carriage before the stranger realized someone was there to see him.

"Greetings," he drew out slowly. "Where is this grand mysterious -"

He was cut off already by her, clearly impatient and in rush. "Listen to me, I know you. I need your help and I know why you'll help me."

The stranger frowned, "Who said I agreed?"

She held up the fake flyer with a face of disgust and scorn, "Did you honestly believe this?" He shook his head and she let out a little trill of laughter. "And you came anyway," she continued. "That is reason enough."

"But -"

He tried to get another word and failed, for she was most definitely on top of things right now. "How would a little revenge taste?" she chose her words carefully, and by the grin that broke out on his face, she knew she said them right.

"Sweet."

Another relationship of sorts was formed because of that simple incident. The stranger still continued to influence her life, however much she tried to hide it, and she still owed him unfortunately. But that was the least of her worries. She would deal with him another time, when more current memories weren't plaguing her for the time being.

Touching the name on the pillar inside of the old church made everything seem so much more real than it actually was. She was returning to finally vow her revenge and stake her claim on this pitiful world. It was all within her reach, and yet there was just a nagging feeling that something was bound to go wrong. But she convinced herself to set it aside and keep thinking forward positively. She had to succeed this time, she wouldn't let herself drown. Not yet, not again.

The pillar did simplify and complicate things at the same time. It showed that there was hope for some, but not for most. And it certainly showed that some people can only cheat death so many times before it finally catches up with them. Perhaps it was a secret warning to her, but either way, she was prepared to do whatever was necessary. If that meant death, so be it.

"Shame to lose something so fine," she threw a smirk in his direction before sauntering off in the other direction, feeling the glare on her back.

Oh she was such an attention whore, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She was marvelous at what she did, and she wanted the whole world to see it and fear it.

Seeing the doctor for the first time sent a jolt of shock through her body, almost like she couldn't believe that her plans were becoming a reality. They were really going to work this time, she could feel it. She knew that this was her chance, this was her time.

Ah the doctor. How so many paths led back down to his road. He seemed to be complicated enough within her plot without adding the complex details to his own personal life, which she seemed to destroy just like always. That was simply her nature, simply her way. But Watson was different, and she didn't like it one bit.

Losing an argument was one of her ultimate worst things to do to become successful. One simply does not lose an argument, especially to one of your minions. So when the stranger and Moran were trying to show her up by telling her that she was wrong, she was not having any of it.

"That wasn't me," she finally blurted out, throwing her hands in the air.

How dare they accuse her of doing something wrong! How dare they mock her like a child! They would all pay later. And she would never forget.

That was both frustrating and eye-opening at the same time, she supposed. She refused to lose to people like them, her pathetic minions. Perhaps it was the determination inside of her, or even some of her father's genes pooling about? Either way, it was not a good sign to be losing strength as a ruler. At the same time, however, she discovered the truth about her imposter and that led to many more surprising helpful details to her already complicated plot. And that was simply marvelous indeed.

She supposed the mystery for her really began when she finally met the woman in navy blue face to face. She wasn't sure at first who exactly that meant, but she knew it had to be someone different. Someone she hadn't been expecting. And she wasn't wrong. It had turned out to be Irene Adler, the woman presumed to be dead for about a year and a half now. She had also been the very same person that she had been frantically trying to save, which had supposedly turned out in her favor. What had begun as a rebellion against her father's ways turned into something greater than she could have ever imagined.

"Last I checked, you were dead."

That single letter changed both of their lives, and now Irene owed her. And that was perhaps the greatest thing of it all. Debt was such an overrated, complicated and simply wonderful thing. Blackmail was even greater. With that letter, with that debt, with that simple life she had saved, she was on top of her game once again and she loved it.

The quotes and thoughts kept repeating over and over again in her head until she finally got tired of it all. She ripped her dagger out of the table she was repeatedly throwing and sliding it into and hurled it across the room into the wall. It stuck there like a needle point and swung for a few seconds before staying completely still.

She heaved a deep breath in and out, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't let herself get worked up over this; she wouldn't allow herself to get worked up over this. It simply would not help her in the slightest, let alone distract her from her overall plan.

The door behind her banged open, hitting the adjacent wall, but the person didn't enter. She sighed, knowing exactly who it was. That part was obvious. She simply did not need this right now.

"Why are you here?" she hissed, holding her head up with her hands.

"You need to find her again."

She sighed, "I already told you, she's no threat. Not without Sherlock." She was obviously distressed, and the stranger could see that but this was simply too important to ignore.

She could almost hear the sound of his eyebrow raising. "Oh really?" the stranger questioned out loud, and she didn't have the heart to say otherwise.

"She's nothing," she said. "Don't worry about it. This is my case and I told you, I can handle it. I can take care of it myself."

The shadow in the doorway wasn't having any of it however hard she tried. "She'll find the doctor and the gypsy," he added. "And they'll solve your case."

She swiveled around in the chair that she was sitting in, narrowing her eyes instantly. She shook her head, "Since when do I take orders from you?"

"Since I know the inside scoop, remember Victoria?"

The black-haired woman froze, realizing exactly what he meant. She still wasn't happy, she was still in a terrible mood but something struck home inside of her. She had people that could help her… but she didn't need any help. It was always an ongoing inner battle with herself.

"And why are you telling me this?" Victoria asked, raising her own eyebrow in response.

"He's back."

She stuttered, "What?"

"You heard me."

She shook her head violently, refusing to believe whatever he was trying to sell her. Why would he lie to you though? an inner voice asked, but she shoved that aside as well. It was too hard to give in now. "That's not possible," she finally managed to say.

"It's quite possible," the stranger replied almost instantly. "You knew it in your heart yourself all along, didn't you? You always knew that he was never really gone."

Victoria didn't have a retort to that, so the shadow took it upon himself to keep the conversation flowing. He had to convince her one way or another. "You need to find her before they do," he concluded.

She leapt to her feet, knocking over the chair in the process, and proceeded to push past him out the door. She didn't even bother taking her dagger out of the wall. She had plenty others to be concerned with and she needed out of that room as fast as possible. She felt like she couldn't breathe anymore. "Already on it," she hissed, leaving the shadow as far behind as possible. She didn't know where she was going or how, but she was going to find that damned woman if it was the last thing she did.

"You're welcome," the stranger smirked, before plucking Victoria's dagger out of the wall and pocketed it himself. This mission was turning out to be more dangerous than anyone would have thought.