AN: Hello lovely readers! Firstly thank you to all my new followers and favourites...they make me smile. So do reviews if anyone wants to leave one?!

Sorry for the delay, this took some writing. I apologise for any mistakes.

Inspiration and any similarities, are taken from, As We Are, As We Were a brilliant story by CreativeWorlds. I am really taken with her story and loved the scene so much I wanted to play with it. No plagiarism was intended.

Flashback: How things Change

October 10th 2007

Hi Ang,

That sounds more cheerful than I am. Today I had the hardest conversation of my life. Conversation is the loosest term. It was a huge argument. I walked out. I left Jim. I've come for a while. I needed the space, but it's brought up even more memories.

Firstly the screaming match, Jim and I were talking about the future. We were planning and deciding what to do with our lives. I asked a simple question…

"Do you want children?" I asked.

"What?" Jim replied confused.

"Kids, do you want them?" I asked again.

"No." He replied bluntly.

"Oh, okay then." I sighed in relief. Jim took it as disappointment.

"You want children?" He questioned distastefully.

"I don't know. It's not really an issue anyway." I dismissed.

"What do you mean it isn't an issue, you brought it up." He pressed.

"It doesn't matter. Forget it." I brushed off. I really didn't want to talk about this. I wasn't ready.

"Percy, just spit out will you." Jim snapped. I sat up and looked at him.

"I said it doesn't matter, will you just drop it?" I replied tersely. "You know, I think about having children until I met you. In fact I was quite happy with my life until I met you. I wasn't interested in babies or marriage or any of that crap, you come along and bang I want all of it." I said quickly, more harshly than it was meant.

"It's not my fault you turned into a hormonal mess." Jim quipped.

"No, its so abnormal to fall in love and then want to procreate and spend your life with that person" I ranted sarcastically.

"Oh God, you're pregnant aren't you?" He asked and stood up swiftly muttering and pacing. Before I could answer Jim fired more questions. "Are you going to keep 'it'?" "Is it mine?" I just stared at him bewildered.

"What? No I'm not pregnant. If I was pregnant, course it would be your child." I scoffed. He was unbelievable sometimes. "And, if I wanted to keep the baby it would be just as much my decision as yours, and if you left me because I wanted to keep my baby then you'd turn out to half the man I thought you were. It's not an issue anyway I can't have children. That's why I asked." I sniped.

"Thank God." He breathed and looked more relaxed. I was about to slap him.

"What?" I spat.

"Look, I hate kids, I find them odd and creepy. Why would I want children? I knew I loved you for so many reasons." Jim said casually with a smirk.

"Is this a joke to you? You love me because I can't have children?" I asked confused and shocked.

"It's one of many reasons I love you." He smirked again. "We have nothing to worry about. You really had me going for a second." He chuckled. He really thought this was funny?

"How are you okay with any of this?" I asked, really confused.

"Simple, I don't want brats, you can't spawn them, we're safe."

"You actually are a heartless bastard." I said icily.

"Percy, you're over-reacting." He replied, still nonplussed by this issue. I just started at Jim. I couldn't deal with this.

"I'm not over-reacting, I'm leaving." I grabbed my phone, handbag, slipped on some shoes and warm coat and left with a sharp slam of the front door. I felt cold inside.

I let myself into Mycroft's house and curled up in one of the plush leather wingback chairs in the library. I started at the empty fireplace and let the tears fall. Mycroft's reaction to my situation was that some men don't want the burden of children. He was treating me like a child.

The next morning I travelled to work with Mycroft, I knew he had a big meeting to attend so I waited. I could see the stressed tension in his shoulders, it was the opportune moment, and I literally threw my firearm on his desk with my memory stick and left without a world. I gave in my ID badge and told the receptionist to shred it.

Essentially, Jim's stance is it's a miracle that we can't have children; well likelihood is so small that it'll probably never happen. He didn't have to be so cruel.

All of this has brought up memories of why. I was born able to have children. Something happened. It was after you left for Cambridge. It was just after I got my exam results and left school. I was going out with this guy, Rob, I was totally head over heels for him. Let's just say we met on one of my escapades to escape boredom and he essentially became my partner in crime. We were driving back, he was 19 and had his own flat and car, from Cardiff, and the weather was appalling. It was the night I got my leather jacket, I'd also naughtily kissed this guy at the gig that was how I got his jacket, anyway the roads were wet and the rain was torrential.

I don't remember how it happened, it was so fast, but suddenly the car was swerving and we were out of control, we crashed head first into the crash barrier and down a slope, it was dark and were being thrown around. My side of the car took the worst of the impact, and we crashed into a fallen tree. We both were hurled through the already broken windscreen, Rob landed on the grass, and he dislocated his shoulder, but otherwise just had a few cuts and bruises. I was less lucky. I landed on the splintered mass of the tree trunk; the splinters impaled me six inches into my lower abdomen. At the time I was three weeks pregnant, I hadn't even realised. I was stuck on the tree for two hours until the emergency services could reach us. The damage done by the splinters and the subsequent loss of the foetus was too much for my body.

Unsurprisingly I didn't cope with everything that well, Rob and I broke up not long after I was released from hospital. Mum and Dad were just so understanding, it's why I decided to move to London. The looks of pity and sympathy were killing me. Mycroft offered me a job and a fresh start. At first the fresh start worked, it jolted me out of my rut, I thrived in London and loved my job, but eventually the memories came back and the nightmares started. So I started drinking, it was easy enough to procure; I had fake IDs from work anyway. I started partying and staying out all night; it wasn't a difficult or far leap to experimenting with various substances.

So now alone, Mum and Dad are away in China. I've left my boyfriend of two years and I don't know where you are.

I don't know what to do…

I need you Ang…

Mycroft was tired. It had been a long and arduous day. He'd been in back to back meetings with personnel and ministers from GCHQ throughout Whitehall and all their infighting; frankly it had given him a blinder of a headache. He scanned over the open plan office and saw the recently vacated desk. Percy had simply walked out, she'd chucked her gun his desk and handed her ID into reception as she stormed out. He's heard nothing from her in days. Just as he was locking his office, his phone rang. He could hear the phone through the door; it kept ringing which I made him pause.

James Moriarty walked into his flat; it had been a productive day. He flipped the lights on in the kitchen and something caught in his peripheral vision. The fluorescent light flooding into the open plan living room illuminated a scene that even unnerved him. In the middle of the living floor were two used hypodermic needles and a nearly empty bottle of gin and various bits intravenous drug paraphernalia littered the coffee table. What made the scene worse was the deathly pale girl unconscious on the floor, the tourniquet still half tied around her left arm. Percy, his darling crazy girl, he rushed towards her and quickly took her pulse, thready but still beating, she could barely breathe. He carefully picked her up, got her into his car and rushed towards the nearest hospital. He dropped her at A&E and fled. For the fist time in his life he felt real guilt.

He glanced at his watch, it read 11pm, and he rubbed his hands over his face. It could wait, couldn't it? His voicemail would pick it up a nod he could deal with it in the morning. Just as he made the decision to leave the phone started ringing again. Mycroft sighed, turned around and unlocked the recently locked door and hurried towards his ringing phone. This had better be very important. There was a chance it was Sherlock or a slimmer chance it was his young ward Percy.

"Mycroft Holmes." He answered tersely.

"Is this Mycroft Holmes?" Asked the expressionless voice of a young man on the other end.

"Yes." He confirmed, already irritated, he'd just answered the phone with his name.

"Mr. Holmes, can I confirm that you are the listed as legal guardian for Persephone Richter?" The voice asked monotonously. Ignoring the tone, Mycroft froze, for a nanosecond his mind stopped. He caught a glimpse in his minds eye of a distressed and unhappy sixteen-year-old Percy; she'd changed so much in recent years, she was happy. She was now legally an adult, but he she always remained a little girl in his eyes. Was that a statement or a question his mind threw up? Suddenly he was back in his lavish office.

"Yes, I am." He confirmed.

"Miss Richter was brought in to casualty this evening suffering from respiratory depression. She appears to have overdosed." The young man informed him.

The steely cold control, he was so famous for, asserted itself. He could feel it starting to trickle down his spine and extending out into his numb fingers and down is legs and rushing up his back into his torso, a glacier of ice-cold efficiency and refined control that steered him through any and every crisis.

"Has the drug been identified?"

"Not yet, the toxicology report hasn't been run." The boy faltered. Mycroft sighed silently. How incompetent could these people be?

"She is known to use cocaine and mix it with high levels of alcohol, mainly spirits. She may have tried something new. Crack cocaine perhaps." Mycroft paused thinking, and interrupted himself. "If it's respiratory depression, it is most likely an opiate based drug, correct?" He inquired.

"The doctors are treating her now." The young man replies, confirming Mycroft's suspicions. There was a hint of forced politeness and possibly annoyance in his voice. "Will you come?"

"What's the address?" Mycroft asked. He was determined to sort this out. He'd made a promise to his Mother a long time ago and he was determined to keep it.

Mycroft directed his driver to the Westminster Hospital. He exited the car smoothly and made his way to the reception desk. He was directed to ICU. There was a nurse and doctor waiting to show him to Percy's bedside. The plaid and lifeless body of Percy lay unconscious. Mycroft assumed relief was the correct emotion to feel seeing as doctors and nurses weren't panicking and rushing to keep her alive, but he wasn't sure how to feel. His mind was still keeping any emotional reaction at bay; he was still assessing the situation and planning for any eventuality. The medical staff vacated the area giving them some privacy. Mycroft scanned over the twenty year old girl. She seemed to be breathing on her own and to a regular rhythm, a good sign, and the oxygen mask aiding this steady rhythm. In the back of her left hand an intravenous drip keeping her hydrated as the heart monitor beeping steadily in the background. The track marks in her left arms a stark reminder of why she was here. Mycroft found himself making towards the seat on the right hand of Percy's bed. He sat down laying his umbrella carefully next the chair and even daring to take off his coat. He cast another appraising look over the scene before him; this was nothing that couldn't be sorted, not unlike the recent Chinese elections.

Unlike diplomatic and political machinations, looking at the young girl lying so still and pale was unnerving. Percy was normally so vivacious and full of life, now with a faint charcoal stain around her mouth and on her chin, she looked so small. A flicker of guilt sped through him; he wasn't doing a good job of protecting his sister. Oh, known about his estranged sister for the last fourteen years. She had no idea of her relation to him, and Sherlock had been also kept in the dark. When their father had died, his mother had taken him aside and charged him with her protection now she could become a member of the family if she so wished. In his charge to protect her, perhaps he'd pushed her too far?

He pulled out a folder he'd been planning on working on at home. MI6 had failed and it had now been passed to his department, they'd been working on a series of encoded messages that seemed to have originated in North Korea and were being dispersed to several key cities in Asia and Russia.

In this overtly suspicious time, it appeared that anyone and everyone was spotting a terrorist behind every statue in every doorway, but this, at least, appeared to be legitimate. When this file had appeared on his desk it came with a note attached, it was as close to begging as he'd get outside of an emergency situation, that if he had the time, perhaps he could have a look and see if anything jumped out at him. Now seemed a good time to start.

Mycroft stared at the messages, but nothing clear was coming to the fore. Maybe Sherlock could help? Percy would probably be bale to see it, she denied her skills as a cryptographer, but she was very capable.

Both his siblings were in desperate need of intellectual stimulation. Sherlock had originally turned to the drugs out of boredom, another experiment to pass the time. Sadly he'd become hooked quite dramatically and now he'd graduated it was worse than ever. Percy was running from her nightmares and from her mind. She was still scared of what she could do. Hadn't she met a boy? Shouldn't she be happy? Unlike Sherlock, Percy was one to do something intensely and then she'd get bored and move on, but sadly cocaine abuse wasn't something she seemed to be able to stop.

He'd been sat in the now dimly lit hospital ward for nearly two hours before Percy began to stir. Her eyes fluttered open and she took a minute to get her bearings. Mycroft just watched as the young woman woke. He barely let lose a breath, waiting to see Percy's reactions. As her vision cleared she momentarily panicked which could be heard as the heart monitor raced and calmed within seconds. She became aware that someone was near her she looked to her right. Mycroft looked over the papers and eyed his secret sibling. He gave her a small smile, she knew him well enough to know it was one of warmth. Percy's returned expression is less warm, more of disappointment. Disappointment, not there for the reasons Mycroft thinks, but disappoint none the less.

"You might like to know that it's early on Thursday morning, 3am," Mycroft explained, looking at his Rolex. "According to the nurse at the desk, a suited man dropped you off at A&E at 10pm." He adds. Percy looked at her Godfather, a man she's known since she was five, a man who'd taken her in after so much had gone wrong and didn't know what to feel beyond deflated expectations. She carefully used her left arm to remove the oxygen mask.

"That was surprisingly fast." She quipped dejectedly, a wheeze audible in her speech. Mycroft shot the young woman a look and flicked his wrist indicating she reapplied the mask. She did, she was being unusually compliant.

"Next time you try and overdose, perhaps somewhere less public or within close proximity to a hospital." Mycroft rebuked.

"I'll keep that in mind." Percy said drolly. She coughed violently and took a good few minutes, even with the aid of oxygen, to get her breath back. Her body telling its' own story of abuse. Mycroft closed his eyes to regain some composure and think out his next move, when he opens them he sees Percy inspecting him with a knowing quirk of her eyebrow.

"Is it rehab this time or are you bored with my antics too?" Percy asks bluntly.

"You've not left me with much choice my dear." Mycroft replied, logging, but ignoring, the last part of Percy's scathing question.

"It would save you time, money and bother if you just left it." She said unenthusiastically.

"No." Mycroft replied quickly. He wasn't giving up on her, not now or ever. He hadn't lost hope with Sherlock and he wouldn't with Percy.

"I'll jus try this again as soon as I leave." She goaded. The only problem Mycroft had was if she really wanted to kill herself she would, she was more stubborn than Sherlock. He needed to call her bluff, but could he take the risk? Mycroft leaned back in the chair and stretched out his legs in front of him. He knew butting head would get him nowhere; a gentler approach was called for.

"The first time was different, you responded well and swore you'd never do this again. I knew you occasionally dabbled, but this was deliberate Percy. The last facility was voluntary; the programs were about making you well. This time I think you need a stricter regime. I don't trust you to not to take your own life."

"Trust? That's a new one. Why is it your choice if I live or die?" She spat back.

Her words stung and she had a point but she didn't know the whole picture, now wasn't the time to reveal all. Mycroft brushed off the jibe.

"Have you thought that perhaps you life means something to others? What about your parents? Your friends? You are invaluable to me Percy." Mycroft said, somewhat impassioned. Percy wasn't good with emotional detachment; she felt everything to the extreme, practically the opposite of her brothers. Her similarities to Sherlock were uncanny, they looked practically identical and both could severely petulant, like now.

"Parents who are always away and I have barely seen in three years or the ones who abandoned me? My friends would get over it, I only have one real friend and she'd been gone for so long. He doesn't…" She stopped herself before adding, "They all leave eventually."

Mycroft sighed. There was no getting through to Percy when she was like this, the black cloud hovering over her could last for weeks. Considering the haze of the drugs still in her system, it was a miracle she could form a coherent sentence. It wasn't worth battling against her sorrows.

Two minutes of total silence falls between them. Barely any movement made except for steady breaths from them both.

"How do you make it stop?" Percy asked. She sounded like the child she still was. It wasn't an accusation or the start of an argument, just a simple question than was a lifetime's struggle. Mycroft looked at the girl and let her continue to form her thoughts into words. "You make it all appear so easy, how do you not let it consume you?"

"I work." He replied simply.

Just as Mycroft was about to elaborate, the curtain being pulled open interrupted his thoughts. In stepped a young male doctor. Mycroft surveyed him, scrutinising every detail. Late twenties and newly qualified. Worried about debt, tired. Trouble at home, his partner not enjoying the long hours. A mild rash on his right wrist from his partner's cat, he's allergic to cats. A neat hair cute and expensive clothes, ah the real debt, trying so hard to be taken seriously. Trying to prove himself to his father; so dull. The doctor's hidden look of distaste and tiredness was enough to annoy Mycroft. A prejudiced and tired doctor wasn't going to be treating his sister.

"Let's see now you're…" the doctor began.

"Could I speak to privately, Doctor?" Mycroft interrupted casually. As they left the room he caught Percy's minute smile. Mycroft left the coded page on Percy's bed.

"Yes, of course. Who are you?" The doctor asks brusquely, confused who this man was.

"Mycroft Holmes, I'm her legal guardian. I'd like to discuss a few minor details."

"Alright." The young doctor replied warily. He had no idea who he was dealing with, but by the end of his orders he would.

A nurse came to Percy's bed and checked the IV, added another saline drip in preparation and noted her vitals for the last hour. She smiled at Percy warmly. The nurse worried about these young patients who came in so determined to take their own lives; some privileged, some not, but wondered what must've happened to make them hurt so much. The nurse knew better then to ever voice her opinions, but a kind smile and good old-fashioned care always seemed to be enough. She occasionally lent an ear, but only when asked, she'd never impose.

Percy knew she'd be staying over night at the very least, probably two nights. As soon as she was fit enough to walk or swallow any form of nourishment she'd be moved to some facility. It was inevitable, was it worth fighting?

Percy had apparently mixed a combination of prescription painkillers and cocaine along side nearly a litre of gin. She was very lucky to be alive. Apparently she couldn't have been unconscious for longer then thirty minutes when she was found. Mycroft arranged for Percy to moved to private room for the next three nights. She'd need to care when the come down hit. It would take about 48 hours for her to sober up. She'd be a mess and incredibly wrung out when she really came too. He'd made sure a new, more experienced and an acquaintance form his university days was now looking after Percy, he made sure the nurse he'd observed taking her vitals were to see to Percy's care too.

As he came back towards Percy's bed he saw she'd fallen asleep again, the folder open on her chest. The sight was almost familiar and calming, were it they were at his townhouse, not the hospital. The many times he'd come home to find Percy finally asleep with a book on her chest or in hand and her glasses still perched on her nose. Mycroft carefully extracted the folder and saw a pencil mark, where she'd got a pencil from was unknown, she'd circled the first letter of the first seven words and the last letter of the last seven words. Mycroft scanned the letter, they were forming words, the code wasn't broken, but it was beginning to make sense. There was a word scrawled in her looped hand 'Enigma'. He'd only been gone ten minutes. He directed a rare proud smile at his sleeping sister. She was quite remarkable. She'd managed so much with a drug-addled mind where experts had been dealing with the unbreakable code for weeks.

"I told you, Percy," he says quietly, he meant his next words to be kind but they came out in a hurt and angry diatribe. A talking to that Percy would never hear or know happened. "Have you ever thought that maybe I push you to work for your own good? Your 'little habit' as you like to call it is far worse than Sherlock's. You don't think I've ever wanted a break from the world. I'd like to switch off too. Work, it focuses the mind, keeps you sharp. I need you safe, you'll understand one day."

October 10th 2011

Dear Angie,

I can't believe I haven't seen you for ages. It's been a very long and strange few years. Time seems to speed by these days. I miss you like crazy, but you're living your life and I'm living mine. So much in my life has changed. I realised earlier that we haven't seen each other since the wedding. I hope you're still happy?

I should probably tell you what's been happening here.

I paused in my writing and looked over at the sleeping form of Jim. I'd finally persuaded him to get some sleep. He always gets on my case about not sleeping enough or eating regularly, but he's just as bad. He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. My darling man, what would I ever do without him?

How would I explain my life now? It was so vastly different from Brecon, not that that was much of a challenge, that place was the land that time forgot. They still had problems getting any form of Internet, until it reached the 21st century; I wasn't going back for longer than a night. In the last few years I'd been arrested six times, kidnapped twice and committed more crimes than most criminals and that was just working with Mycroft. When I helped Jim out, well let's just say it was rarely legal. It was so much more fun than an ordinary job.

I suppose the big news is that I've met the man of my dreams. He's wickedly clever, wildly funny and he's drop dead gorgeous. I love him so much. He knows how to argue, it's a godsend. We've just bought a flat together in Central London. You know me well enough, that when I tell you this you'll understand the gravity of my statement, if he asked, I'd marry him in a heartbeat. He's changed my life in so many ways and saved me so many times, but that's another story. The flat is gorgeous. It's a converted factory loft, so it had huge windows, but it's all been done up. I have room for my baby, my piano actually fit, and Mycroft had it moved for me. I wonder, do you remember Mycroft, my Godfather, old friend of Dad's? He used to visit over the holidays a lot?

I finally graduated university. I went to Art College and studied theatre design and spent all time making and designing costumes. It was amazing. I still work on the odd show and make the occasional costume when I have time. Between work and home I don't get a lot of time to be creative, although I still take my camera everywhere.

I shifted position and winced slightly. I was covered in bruises from my hips to my shoulders. It's a lot less fun than it sounds. At work our new body armour had arrived. It was ultra light and flexible whilst still being super strong. It fit well and could be work under clothes without too much bother, which was a change. Sadly I drew the short straw and got the joy of being the live test dummy. I was shot at for the afternoon. The armour worked really well, but it felt like you being hit with a battering ram every time a bullet was stopped. Jim had been less than impressed as I limped through the flat door with a singed and holey shirt. He'd hit the roof when he saw the bruises. I won the argument with better bruised than dead, but he still wasn't happy. He really worried too much.

Jim turned in his sleep, his hand finding mine and entwining our fingers, this simple gesture made me smile. Even when we were unconscious we searched for each other.

What else has been happening? Mum and Dad have basically torn apart the house and redecorated the whole of downstairs, new kitchen, new bathroom, new floors, you name it they've changed it. They've also decided to go to India for four months. I don't think they're ever home now for longer than a month. I'll probably be house sitting soon.

Oh, I ran into someone really unexpected the other day. Do you remember when I came up to Cambridge when you were taking your finals, just before your graduation and I met that guy in the library? The tall, pale guy with dark hair and greeny silver eyes? Uh, his name was Sheldon? Sherlock? I literally face planted into his chest the other day, he was coming out of Mycroft's office, and I meant to say Mycroft gave me a job. Of all the people to see! He just looked at me oddly and left. Apparently he's Mycroft's younger brother. Who knew? Sherlock Holmes, does that ring any bells?

Oh, if you do ever come and work in London, search out a lovely man called Gregory Lestrade, he's a DI with New Scotland Yard. I end up taking files over to him for work, he might have been at crime scene that I was arrested at to, but again that's another story. I bet he'd help you out if you were ever looking for a job with the police. Yes that is a hint Angela, for you to come home! Although, if you do ever work with the Yard keep clear of a slimy git called Anderson. He's creepy and thick. He could lower the IQ of a street by breathing.

Okay, I better get some sleep. Yes, I'm tired; it's not totally unheard of.

Speak soon,

Love you

P x

I shut my diary and placed it in the draw of my bedside table, whilst carefully removing my hand form Jim's. I wish I knew where Angie was; I really needed to talk to her. I wanted her to meet Jim. I wanted my best friend back I missed her. It was lonely and boring without her. I sighed as I turned out the light and snuggled closer to Jim. His arms automatically snaking around my waist and holding me close to his chest. I had Jim in my life and in my heart, and he was my life now.

January 21st 2012

Dear Angie,

I nearly throttled my boyfriend recently. He managed to get himself arrested for simultaneously breaking into the Tower of London, the Bank of England and Pentonville Prison. He is genius and he does get bored, I sympathise there, but really?! He got caught! If you're going to be bold, don't get caught. He's been kept in custody for the last two months. Apparently it helps his case. This barrister was costing more money than he was worth, but oh well. Today is the beginning of the trial. I did get to see him this morning; very briefly, I had to drop off his suit…and I think we made his barrister blush. Which made us both laugh.

I sat in the public gallery of the Old Bailey docks and watched the farce of a trial. I mean seriously, an expert witness who's met Jim once, that's ridiculous. I may be good at reading people, but five minutes isn't enough to be an expert witness in a court of law.

I saw John sat in the public gallery, what was John doing at the trail? Have you read his blog, its really quite good, and rather amusing! When did John leave the army? He looks really well. I should call him and catch up but I doubt he remembers me!

So back to the trial, Sherlock Holmes, the 'expert' witness made a royal arse out of himself by showing off, he was right, but that's not the point. The jury were quite a bunch, especially the two having the affair. The judge was just grumpy and the prosecution were asking really dim questions, I could've asked better questions. I expect they'll find Jim innocent, he may have broken in, but he didn't actually steal anything. He wanted attention, and he got it.

January 22nd 2012

Hi Ang,

I was right the verdict was not guilty. Once everything was finalised and Jim was formally acquitted, we tried to make our way home. There was some snotty tabloid reporter flirting with Jim, she obviously wasn't that good at reading body language, but Jim took her card and we were finally able to leave.

It's so good to have him home. I've missed him so much. Hopefully you'll get to meet him one day.

Miss you,

P x

Little did I know that in a few months I'd run away again, but in running away I'd find two of the most important in my life.