A/N: Hello lovely readers. I have re-posted this chapter after finding some mistakes and missing dialogue. I apologise. Thank you to my loyal followers, readers, reviewers! As always, a huge thank you to naturerocs, without you this story would never have happened!

Chapter 25 – Drowning

Burying my parents was one of the hardest things I've ever been through, and even with Angie band John by my side, they weren't who I needed right then. I needed Jim; I needed the man I loved to make the pain stop. I needed him to hold me as I cried myself to sleep. I needed him to tell me it would be alright. Mycroft and Sherlock couldn't be at the funeral, and their absence was so strong. Even though I'd only know Sherlock for a short time, he was as much apart of my life as Angie or Mycroft. I arrived home on Thursday lunchtime. I rang Angie to let her know I was home safe.

"Hey!" Answered Angie chirpily.

"Hi. I hate to bring this up, but...have you seen what Moran has done?!" I checked my e-mails for a way to distract myself and had seen an e-mail from Facebook, I followed the link and saw the ream of pictures Moran had posted of Angie, it was creepy to say the least.

"I know." She replied sounding fed up.

"I'm sorry." I said sadly.

"It's not your fault." Consoled Angie.

"I'm not sure. He cornered me after the funeral." I admitted, I had made him angry, maybe he did out of spite or as way to show the world he was in control.

"What?! I'm so sorry, I tried to get him to stay away, but he's so bloody stubborn." Oh Angie, always trying to save me. I smiled weakly at her words, tears forming as I remembered what Moran had said.

"He threatened to kill Jim, I had to beg." I could hear the fear in my voice.

"I don't know what his problem is. I just don't know what to do." Sighed Angie

"Me either." I replied glumly.

"I don't suppose Mycroft would have any ideas?"

"I hope so. I don't know where he is. It's like everyone is disappearing." I replied, feeling worse by the minute.

"Oh, great, so we're left to deal with him on our own. I could try contacting Jesse's old boss at the CIA? I know they did some work trying to nail Moran." Offered Angie. I felt like nothing would work.

"If you think it would work. I don't want to anger him. I can't lose Jim, it would kill me."

"We could take a 'holiday' to New York City and stop by D.C. so I can talk to him, off the record. We could have a shopping spree. See Phantom!" All these ideas were good, just none of them sparked any hope inside. I was too worried about Moran's threats towards Jim.

"Maybe. I don't want to be away if Jim comes home, I need to protect him."

"Yeah, I understand. It was just a thought; but I'll call, see if he can help. Moran would probably follow us there, anyway." Consoled Angie. She was trying; I knew that, I just felt wrung out.

"Thanks. I'm sorry; I'm just really scared. As soon as Moran is gone, we'll take a proper trip away, just you and me, I promise."

"That's fine. I completely understand. Maybe I'm just subconsciously trying to run away from it all." Said Angie.

"I feel the same." I agreed.

"I hate this. He is bringing up so many old memories and feelings." Exclaimed Angie, I could almost hear her frown.

"I really don't understand him. I swear, he was nicer when I met him." I retorted.

"Me too. I don't know, he was probably just lying the whole time. At least just keeping that side of him hidden. I've seen him get dark, and it's just scary; but he usually kept me away from that part of his life."

"We are a special pair, both loved by dangerous criminals." I scoffed.

"Oh, John would kill me if he knew." Moaned Angie. She was right, he would.

"If he knew Seb loved you, or that you used to love Seb?" I questioned.

"Both." She sighed. "You know Seb used to be in the Army?" That was interesting.

"Really? He doesn't seem the type."

"Yeah, well I guess that's how he got into the hitman business, I guess someone noticed him, probably Jim, I don't know. Anyway, he was dishonourably discharged because of him getting into that business, and John's the one who reported him, so they pretty much hate each other. Although, John doesn't realise that I know Seb." Explained Angie.

"Oh, well you can blame my husband for Seb's change in profession. Although, I'm sure that does not surprise you. The reason I started spying in him was because he was following Sherlock, on Mycroft's orders, he wanted me to seduce Moran for information." I admitted. It was all a mess.

"You were only 18! Seb's older than me, so he's like eight years older than you!" Said Angie. She sounded shocked and angry.

"That didn't bother Mycroft. Sadly, it worked a little too well." I paused for a second. "Seb got a bit clingy."

"Probably my fault. We spent every second we could together. Whenever I wasn't in class or studying, although sometimes he would just sit there while I was studying, whenever he wasn't 'working'." Offered Angie.

"Don't blame yourself, he's like it with Jim, too, they spend a lot of time together."

"I really hope he doesn't show up when I'm alone, because I'm afraid that I'll just turn to jelly and do something stupid." Admitted Angie, I understood her fear.

"You have Sherlock around, he's unlikely to turn up when there is someone else around. He likes undivided attention." I said scathingly.

"Sherlock's not always with me. He goes off on secret little covert meetings with Mycroft." There was a bitter tone to Angie's words.

"We need to have more secret meetings, just us, no boys!" I added, Angie laughed. "I meant to say, thank you for coming on Wednesday, it really meant the world you and John being at the funeral." I added sincerely.

"Of course! They were like second parents to me!" Replied Angie.

"Well, thanks anyway. Can I come over later?" I asked. I really needed the company. It would be nice to see Sherlock too.

"Sure! Please!" I smiled at Angie's words.

"I'll be home soon, I'll unpack then come over. I've oddly missed Sherlock." I said with a half smile.

"Okay! Can't wait!" Exclaimed Angie before we rang off.

The house was so quiet and empty; it felt more like a tomb. It was a gilded prison for me to reside in alone, waiting to be released. I spent the afternoon, trying to relax, I cleaned the house, which gave me momentary respite, but as soon as I was done, I felt restless and lost. I paced round the house, trying to find anything to occupy my mind, but nothing would work. I needed company. I grabbed my coat and went over to see Angie.

I knocked on the door of 221b; I really wanted to see Angie, and hoping that Harry wasn't in. I couldn't take any of her insults, I felt like a teenager again, bullied and alone. Jim was on the other side of the world; I was alone in our big house, rattling around with nothing to do. Sherlock still hated me, my interfering with his life, and Harry was just there, her voice always echoing in the back of my mind. Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"Hello Percy dear, go on up, I think Angie's in."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." I trooped up the stairs to Angie's flat. It was oddly quiet, so Sherlock isn't in, that calmed my nerves a little.

"Ang, you in?" I called out, sadly answered by the one person I wanted to avoid more than anything.

"Oh look what the cat dragged in." Sneered Harry.

"Hello Harry. Is Angie in?" I asked, not in the mood for Harry's jibes.

"Still following her around like a lost puppy, at your age, its pathetic."

"No, we're friends. Is she in?" I said flatly.

"She's busy and doesn't need you tagging along. You think your friends? Ha! Why do think Angie moved to America, to get away from you. John used to moan about you all the time, the annoying kid who wouldn't leave him alone. What is your obsession with my family?"

"She moved because she got married. John was, I mean is, my friend too, he still is. I'm not obsessed with your family." I had to keep believing, don't let her win.

"Is it because you're an adopted orphan, is that why cling to my family?"

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You didn't have many friends at school, did you? Not surprising really, you were a strange one, always alone and too quiet, when you did pipe up you spouted gibberish."

"It wasn't gibberish, you just didn't understand it."

"Are you calling me thick?" The tone in her voice made me flinch, I was scared she would hit me again.

"You always did think you better than everyone else though, just because you were clever. Well you never were that special, the teachers just took pity on the freak."

"No-one took pity on me, I worked hard."

"I heard that you cheated, you're Mum slept with the headmaster to get you through early and not report your cheating."

"None of that was or is true." Why was she saying all these horrible things, I never understood why she hated me so much.

"From the sounds of it, not even your own brother wants you. How does it feel to be rejected by another family?"

"We're just having a disagreement. What do you mean another family?"

"Well your real mother obviously didn't want you and now neither does your brother, you're adopted parents scarpered as soon as you were out of the house, my family never wanted you hanging around, you were a bad influence on Angie, but you lingered like a bad smell."

I didn't know how to respond, I suppose she was right. My birth mother didn't want me I was a mistake. I knew Sherlock hated me, I was interfering and annoying and Mycroft was currently the air of cold indifference. Mum and Dad had gone travelling around the world as soon as I was old enough to look after myself, not a word, just upped and left me alone, then as soon as they arrive home are found dead; deaths that feel like they are my fault, like they are a reminder that I am powerless to stop anything in my life. Angie and John had left, they had their own lives and relationships, and they didn't need me messing everything up. Even Jim had left. Every time I thought of Jim my heart broke a little more, the pain coursing through me.

"You got married recently, didn't you?" This made my head snap up and I looked Harry in the eye, seeing the cruelty shining back at me. "Yes, Angie told me all about it, a secret wedding, not pregnant are you?"

"He's away on business, overseas, and no I'm not pregnant." My voice cracking, the last of my strength was waning. My hand slowly wrapping round my abdomen, the scar across my lower stomach now throbbing, a violent reminder of what I'd so stupidly lost.

"Oh he likes the exotic, well I suppose an adopted freak like you could be from anywhere. I wonder what he sees in you? I heard the rumours you were good for one thing, oh but I forgot, you're damaged goods. Can't even trap your husband with a child. You know what they say, when the Cat's away the mice will play."

"He loves me, he would never hurt me." I said back. I had to say the words, if I heard then maybe I could believe them. My mind racing at the possibilities of happiness Jim could find with a real woman, a proper woman, not a failure like me. We hadn't spoken in weeks; he was hiding things from me. Even as he broke my heart I clung to the memory of our love. I needed him so much.

"Love you, why would anyone want to do that? All you've ever done is drive people away. I don't think anyone would even notice if you died."

Her final comment was the knife into my heart, I just looked at her in stunned silence and cold tears streamed down my face, her evil cackle filling my ears, I ran. I ran as fast as I could, I needed to escape, to disappear, and to not be me. The tears blurring my vision, I tripped in an alleyway, and lay on the ground sobbing. The cold, damp dirt of the alley an odd comfort in my broken state. I don't know how long I stayed there. I was oddly aware of the light changing, getting brighter. I heard voices, men. They came towards me, their gravelly voices filled with words I didn't understand, but their intent was obvious. The adrenaline pumped through my body as the taller of the men pinned me against he alley wall, he grabbed at me, but I pushed him away and again began to run, but the shorter man caught my arm and pulled, I tripped again and fell to the floor. I kicked and screamed against the men, eventually breaking free. I had to keep running. As I ran, the tears flowed harder then before. I could feel myself shaking. I stumbled again on paving stone, and stopped, catching sight of my reflection in a shop window, I looked horrendous. My tights had ripped and torn, the sleeve of my coat had also been torn and was missing its buttons. My scarf was gone, lost in the alley. My skirt was covered in mud and green slime. I wiped my eyes with the less dirty sleeve of my coat, sniffed and tried to stop the shaking in my hands. I looked up, my feet had automatically taken me to the one place I could escape and hide. The neon sign still flickered the same way I remembered, 'Dukes'. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling safer by the second.

Sherlock came home to a quiet flat, finally that infuriating drunk had gone. John and Angie Watson, he had accepted into his life, gladly, but meeting Harriet Watson had been dull. She was predictable and stupid. Her addiction made her needy and manipulative. Good riddance, he thought. He hung his coat on the back of the living room door, took off his gloves and walked into the kitchen to make some tea. He caught sight of Angie, sat in John's chair; she was tense, her fingers twitching, a sure sign of an argument, but with whom?

"Angie, who did you argue with?"

"I finally removed Harry from my life, you should have heard what she's been saying. She was so rude to me, I caught the tail end of her diatribe against Percy, and she just wouldn't stop. So I made her leave."

"Finally, she was insufferable. Where is Percy, did she go home?"

"I don't know, she just ran out of the flat, in fact I haven't heard from her since yesterday afternoon. She hasn't been doing so well, especially as Moriarty has been away. I'm worried about her."

"She'll be fine."

"I think we should go and see her."

"You go over and see if she went home and text me."

"She's not just my best friend, she's you sister Sherlock."

"Mmm."

Angie walked short distance to Percy's house in record time. The door was still locked, she tried round the back, that door was also locked. She picked the lock and entered the house. She searched high and low, but the house was empty. She sent Sherlock a text telling her findings. It was as though Percy had vanished. She was worried; so much had happened recently, Percy was struggling.

"Persephone, welcome home."

"Hello Duke."

"The usual?"

"Yes, and please, please don't let it stop."

"What's chasing you?"

"The past, everything."

"You know you'll be safe here."

"Thank you Duke."

After my brief interaction with Duke, I looked at the two needles lying on the table next to me. Images of a crumbling life flashing through my mind, my need to stop, to not be me was so strong. I needed these drugs like I needed to breathe. I had to stop the pain and the bitter heartache consuming my body and mind. I had to erase the images of my parents' dead bodies. I had to halt the crippling pain every time I though of Jim, the man I loved with all of my soul, stop the pain of knowing he didn't want me. I had to block out the constant buzzing of my brain.

I picked up the cocaine, the liquid glistened in the low lighting, and a spark of excitement flew through me. I tensed my arm, the nano-second of pain as the needle broke my skin and the relief as the drug took effect. As soon as the haze fell and I started to slowly let go, lose my self in the sensation of the drugs; that sudden rush of cold and then the escape. I had no idea how much time had passed, all I could feel was the numbing bliss of freedom. I felt as though I was floating, lighter than a cloud. I never wanted this to end.

The case of the vanishing sister, how dull; although he better check she was still alive, Angie would be annoyed if he didn't do something.

Sherlock entered the Diogenes Club and walked straight through to Mycroft's office.

"What do I owe the pleasure Sherlock?"

"Our little sister is missing. Do you know where she goes? She, according to Angie, is very upset."

"She did not return home?"

"No."

"I'll put an alert out to the airports, she may be off to join her husband?"

"No, apparently she's not in a rational enough state. Apparently they've not spoken in weeks."

"Interesting. Well, out of the three of us, she is the most like you brother. What do you do when, if, you lose control emotionally?" Something clicked in Sherlock's mind, he liked to deny their similarities, but he and Percy were very similar. The last time he'd truly lost emotional control, which he reflected wasn't very long ago and Percy had been the one to pick him up and get him clean again, he'd turned to drugs, he'd wanted to escape, be removed from the feelings, and he had wanted to stop thinking. A memory started to surface, a long buried memory of a young girl, a raven haired girl, no older than eighteen, asking to make it all stop, asking for her brain to stop. He then realised; it had been Percy, a very young Percy. He was horrified; he knew where'd she'd gone. He had to hurry.

"She won't have gone further that a mile from Baker Street. Let Lestrade know what's happening, she may get picked up by the police." A swift nod from Mycroft and Sherlock was off, he hailed a cab and gave the address for Duke's.

Breaking into my escape a voice, a deep voice that I knew. The voice was worried, and angry. I shied away form the noise. Again that voice, I felt a pulling; I fought it with all my might, I would not be ripped away from my haven. There was no pain or suffering her, just bliss, quiet freedom. The struggle stopped as the light started to fade into darkness.

He barreled through the door and down the stairs; the sight that met his eyes was harrowing, seeing Percy so still and pale, a blank expression on her face, her eyes unfocused. He took her pulse, her heart rate was dreadfully slow, and she looked like a corpse. Sherlock turned to Duke.

"Tell me now, what is she on?"

"Client confidentiality." Sherlock pulled out his gun and pointed it at Duke.

"What. Is. She. On?" He ground out.

"A mixture of Cocaine and Heroin, for about 12 hours."

Sherlock pulled out his phone and dialed '999' for an ambulance, and picked up Percy bridal style.

Not quickly enough in his mind, an ambulance arrived, Percy was laid in the back and Sherlock sat next to her, he text Mycroft and Angie that he'd found her and to meet him at the London Hospital. Percy was rushed into A&E to have her body fully detoxed of the drugs in her system. If anything could keep him clean, seeing his little sister close to death for abusing the same drugs as he did, would make him never touch drugs again.

First Angie and then Mycroft joined Sherlock waiting for there chance to see Percy.

"Where was she?" Asked Angie.

"A private club called Duke's. He's a dealer; the club is a venue to take the drugs safely. She was on a potent mix of liquid cocaine and heroin."

"I knew she had taken drugs in the past, but I didn't realise they were such hard substances."

"She wanted her mind to stop, to escape. Something that harridan of a women said to her made Percy lose control."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"He is Miss Watson." Added in Mycroft. Coming to sit next to Sherlock, worry actually gracing his features.

"She promised not to do this again." He sighed.

"You know it's not that easy." Replied Sherlock, remembering similar promises that he broke, at least twice.

"Has anyone contacted Moriarty? I think he'd want to know Percy's in hospital." Asked Angie, a sense of pity for Moriarty, there was so much he didn't know at the moment.

"We'll get Percy through the worst of it first." Said Mycroft.

A doctor emerged from the trauma room with a chart in hand; he looked grave.

"Percy Moriarty?" He enquired, all three stood up.

"Are any of you next of kin?"

"We are her brothers. Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. This is Miss Watson, Percy's best friend." Mycroft indicated. "We'll be contacting her husband once we've spoken." He finished.

"Very well."

"The potency of the cocktail of drugs in Mrs. Moriarty's system has sent her into a coma. Her body is very weak from recent trauma and her heart is struggling from the drug abuse."

"Recent trauma?" Asked Sherlock, both brothers intrigued and concerned.

"Yes, the extensive tissue damage and recent miscarriage have left Mrs. Moriarty's body very weak. Her body shut down to heal and deal with the withdrawal from the drugs."

"How recent was this trauma?" Asked Sherlock again, worried Moriarty had harmed Percy.

"In the last month, maybe two. The doctor's answer didn't ease his mind, but Moriarty had been away. "We are moving Mrs. Moriarty to Intensive Care for the next two weeks, and then we'll work on a rehabilitation program."

"Thank you doctor." Replied Mycroft. All three of them were quiet; the news of Percy's medical state was very severe, both Holmes brothers were thinking along the lines of abuse. Angie wondering when she should get in contact with Moriarty and if she should tell Sherlock and Mycroft that she knew all about Percy's ill health.

"If that devil has laid a finger on my sister, I will kill him." Spat Sherlock, breaking the tense silence, his outburst taking both Mycroft and Angie by surprise.

"It wasn't Moriarty."

"What?"

"It wasn't Jim, it was Sebastian Moran."

"How do you know this?"

"I…I…I was the person who found Percy after Moran had beaten her and thrown her down two flights of stairs. I was going to visit John, I saw them on Bart's roof, Percy had Moriarty's gun with her, and Moran threw it off the roof. Percy was trying to help, she wanted stop Moran, she never told my why, but he did something to Moriarty." Angie paused taking a deep breath. Saying the next part was so hard. "She was twelve weeks pregnant. The fall caused her to miscarry. You have to keep this secret, Percy never got to tell Moriarty about the baby." Angie's voice tailed off as he finished, the sad memories of her own lost child filling her mind.

"Is this why you've been staying with Percy?" Asked Sherlock, his voice so much softer than normal, compassion filling his voice. Angie nodded in response.

A quiet fell over the group. Angie's revelations were a lot to take in. John had been contacted, he arrived as soon as his shift at Bart's had finished. No one had yet found the courage to tell Moriarty. All present felt so conflicted, but he had the right to know, Percy was his wife. Percy's transfer to intensive care felt like an age. When they were called and told that Percy was stable enough for visitors the sight that met them was grim. Percy looked so small and pale. Her body covered in tubes and wires monitoring every fluctuation in her body.

Mycroft sat by his sister's bedside all night, memories of years past coming back to haunt him. He had always hoped that Percy was stronger than Sherlock, not succumbing to the pull of the drugs. His thoughts kept asking how could've missed the signs; he was always there to look out for his younger siblings. Although, he'd let his gaze stray, Percy had her own life now and someone to look after her. One of the reasons he supported Percy's relationship to Moriarty was because it made her happy, but he kept her strong, they were the perfect team, pulling each others strengths to overcome everything, when apart they both made mistakes.

After two weeks and Percy still hadn't started to recover Angie knew they'd have to call Moriarty soon. Every night for two weeks Mycroft Holmes watched over his sister. He wasn't a man of religion, but he prayed for something to happen, that she would wake up soon and be her usual bundle of energy. Angie and Sherlock returned, giving him the chance to go home. He noticed a new side to Sherlock emerge, the fiercely protective brother who loved his sister. This whole experience would resonate deep with in Sherlock; he'd never forget it.

"Miss Watson, may I have a word?" Mycroft asked. She nodded and followed him outside. "Would you be kind enough to contact Moriarty, I think he needs to be here."

"I was thinking that too, I'll call him this afternoon." Replied Angie.

"Thank you." Mycroft turned and left for home.

A while later, Angie went for a walk and pulled out Percy's phone. This was going to be a hard conversation. She pulled up Percy's contacts and tapped the call symbol next to Jim's name. He answered after two rings.

"Hello Love, how are you?"

"Jim, it's Angie."

"What's happened?"

"It's Percy, she's in hospital."

"Is she okay?"

"She's in Intensive Care, she's in a coma."

"Which hospital? I'll be on the next flight to London."

"The London." He hung up, without another word.

A familiar sensation of waking up disorientated and alone, except this was a hospital, not some country house. All I could feel was pain, my throat was raw, my eyes stung from the fluorescents and the room spinning. Beeping and strange noises filled my ears. I couldn't swallow or breathe properly; wires and tubes hindered my movements. I was starting to panic. Echoes of voices knocked around my head, salty tears started to fall, and all I could feel was waves of bitter loneliness, darkness pooled and dragged me under once again.

James Moriarty was an expert at keeping cool and calm in stressful situations. Very little fazed him, except when it came to Percy; she brought out his most honest emotions. Hearing that his Percy was in a coma sent him into a flat spin, his anger flared like fire and people in his way got burnt. He would tear the world apart to get back to her.

Landing in London he got a taxi telling the driver he'd pay double if he could get to the hospital in forty minutes. The cabbie managed it and Jim just handed over a wad of money, not caring about the amount. He rushed up to Intensive Care arriving at the nurse's station.

"Can I help you sir?" Asked one of the nurses.

"I'm looking for my wife, Persephone Moriarty."

"Of course, follow me." The nurse replied, and led him through the maze of corridors. He reached the room and his heart stopped. There she was, his beautiful wife, so broken and fragile. He slowly opened the door and walked into the room, he sat next to the bed and took her hand in his, he couldn't help it, his strength had left, and the tears began to fall.

Outside Sherlock and Angie returned to find Moriarty, the world's only consulting criminal, the maniac that had tried to kill them so many times, crying. Crying at his wife's bedside. Angie guided Sherlock away, leaving Jim to have some privacy.

Light was filtering through the dark, I was finally ready to wade through the haze. I let my eyes flutter open and slowly focus on the world around me. It didn't feel so scary this time. I felt calmer. I didn't feel so constrained, I could move, but one hand was wrapped in something. I turned my stiff neck to look down and saw my angel, Jim, fast asleep, our hands entwined. He was sat next to my bed, slumped forward, his head resting on the bed. That would explain the feeling of calm. I always felt safe around him. I felt relief. I felt guilt. I had no idea how long I had been here, but Jim must've been going through hell. Bits and pieces were coming back to me, shadowy memories of how I had ended up in hospital. Unconsciously my free hand gently started stoking Jim's hair, I wanted to soothe him, and even asleep he looked stressed. I let myself fall back to sleep, knowing I was safe, I could wake and he'd be there next to me.