Chapter 1: It Begins

**I made a trailer for this fanfic on my YouTube channel: watch?v=U1hARj9D7iY***

What started out like any other morning quickly turned different. Inside the flat of the world's greatest detective, Sherlock was busy fiddling away on his Stradivarius. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. I went to answer it and it was none other than Mycroft Holmes - Sherlock Holmes' older brother. He tipped his hat at me in his usual way and asked me if he could come in. That wasn't the strangest part. William James Moriarty was with him. Many years prior he and Sherlock had fallen off the London Bridge together. While the two spent some time in the states and Switzerland, I never asked what events transpired other than the fact that William and Sherlock had made up as adversaries in a way. I suddenly heard the violin playing stop. The detective turned around and a big smile grew on his face.

"Liam!" He yelled the pet name with enthusiasm.

"It's good to see you Holmes," William said with a smile, but it soon faded as he added. "Unfortunately, this is not a social visit." He said, taking off his top hat.

I watched as Sherlock's smile faded as well. The air in the room suddenly turned cold as I watched three of the smartest men in London look serious but also solemn. After what seemed like a long time, one of them spoke.

"Yes…," Sherlock said. "Something is clearly wrong."

"Why don't you two sit down?" I asked our two guests.

"There is no need for that Dr. Watson, this shan't take too long." Mycroft said coldly.

I saw William's eyes shift from Mycroft to Sherlock. His face didn't look cold but concerned.

"Sherlock, your brother needs your help. He brought me along so that we can work together on this case. But from his tone of voice about this particular subject matter, I can tell that this may come as a shock to you," William said softly.

The two looked at the great detective as if they were waiting for him to sit down. Sherlock just stared at them with a confused look. I waited in anticipation of what this case could be about or more importantly it seemed; who it could be about.

"We seem to be having an issue with a particular man; a gentlemanly thief much like our Mr. Moriarty here. No offense," Mycroft said coldly.

"None taken. I have put all that behind me. Most of it anyway," he said with a smirk.

Sherlock huffed. I knew that a common thief wouldn't be the least bit interesting to him.

"You'll be interested in this thief dear brother," Mycroft said as if he could read Holmes's thoughts. "His name is A.J. Raffles."

There was a long quiet pause.

Sherlock fell backwards against the wall. I thought he was going to pass out. Liam and I gasped. I called out to him but he steadied himself, but I saw his hands form into fists.

"Honestly Shirley, you really need to calm yourself," Mycroft said firmly. "I knew this information was going to be hard for you but-"

"Get out!" Sherlock yelled.

William and Mycroft were taken aback; William more so. I could tell they just struck some kind of nerve with him and that whoever this man was that they just mentioned had some sort of importance or rather unimportance to Sherlock.

"I came here to help, not as the British government but as your brother. I wanted to-"

"Oh piss off you slick git!" Sherlock interrupted. "You came here to employ me on this case. Don't try and deny it. Now you and William can go!" He yelled angrily, but by the end of his demands his voice softened.

I noticed that Sherlock didn't call Moriarty by his nickname; so he was taken aback even more so by those last words. William put his top hat back on top of his head, and as the two were headed out the door he gave me a concerned look. Almost as if to say; "talk to him." Mycroft said no more words; that is until he was about to close the door behind them.

"I know how hard this is for you Shirley, but either you take the case or events could repeat themselves." The door closed. Sometimes I really hated their relationship. Brothers should never behave the way they behave toward one another.

"What was that about?" I asked; naturally I was very curious of who this person was and how they could have such an effect on my dear friend. Sherlock gritted his teeth and threw himself onto his chair. He looked as though all the breath had been knocked out of him. I didn't want to push him for information, but I had never really seen him behave this way.

"Well Watson…what do you see?" He asked me sadly. "What do you see in me…in this moment…here and now."

I didn't want to answer, but I knew in a roundabout way that Sherlock was testing me.

"I see a man," I began slowly. "A man who is sad and…afraid." I admitted to him. There was a long pause. "Why not talk to me about-"

"No. No," he interrupted me standing up from his chair. "I am not having this discussion."

He then moved toward his laboratory table and began staring at his test tube and beakers. I could still tell he was afraid. Almost as if he spoke about it that he would be reliving it. He raised his hand about to pour a liquid into another beaker. His hands shaking, I suddenly put my hand on top of his.

"Sherlock, it's all right. You can tell me when you're ready." I then turned away from him hoping this tactic would work.

"John." I heard a soft voice say. "Sit."

I took a seat opposite him and waited patiently for him to begin. In his eyes, I could see the thoughts and emotions churning inside.

Sherlock took a deep breath. It sounded like what he was about to recount to me was full of some painful memories. "Back in those days, I was still striving to be a detective but I also had some deep issues of my own." He took another sigh. "You probably believe Irene Adler was my first love, but in actuality there was another…"