The worst possible revenge that John ever exacted on Sherlock was the small act of hiding his bullets. To make the situation worse, for the last three weeks, Lestrade has refused to give Sherlock another case. Allegedly, Sherlock is being punished. John calmly watched as Sherlock paced the flat. He deserves this. John thought to himself. Although, after about 6 hours of nonstop movement, John had enough, "Sherlock, please, for the love of all that is holy, STOP."

Sherlock's only response is an icy glare.

"I do not know why you insist that I am your jailer" John's voice slowly grew louder. This argument was getting very old, very quickly. "Lestrade warned you about pushing Donovan. We already knew that things were rocky between her and Anderson. You just HAD to bring up the fact that Anderson's wife is pregnant…."

"She shot at me! What was I supposed to do?"

"She was aiming three feet in front of you. Don't even try to convince me that you were in any sort of trouble."

Sherlock flopped onto the couch, rolling into a fetal position and facing the wall. "My actions were with good reason."

With that, he closed his eyes and went to his mind palace. Typically, he preferred to stretch out, hands folded, but like every action he performed in the last three weeks, he needed to make a point to John. Slowly, all the noises from the street faded. Sherlock could no longer hear Mrs. Hudson puttering around downstairs, singing off-key to her favorite oldies station. He was at last focused. To alleviate the crushing boredom, Sherlock selected a door with a dusty sign with the words "Cold Cases" scrawled at an angle.

John stared at Sherlock in disbelief. How the hell did Sherlock know that John was planning to nap on the couch…more importantly, why the hell didn't John see that coming? With a heavy sigh, John retrieved his coat and started outside for a long Sherlock-less walk.

As soon as John stepped onto the sidewalk, a seemingly ordinary black car pulled up next to him. John rolled his eyes. Great, one Holmes brother down and the next just has to pop up.

Mycroft Holmes emerged from the backseat. Oddly enough, Anthea was not with him. John was struck by the absence of Mycroft's blackberry addicted assistant. "John, there is no time for our usual pleasantries" Mycroft stated, he continued after ignoring John's snort "Sherlock is needed, now."

John shrugged "I don't think you understand the level of pissed off Lestrade is. Sherlock is banned from cases for at least another week-and that's only if he apologizes to Donovan."

"Scotland Yard has nothing to do with this particular situation." Mycroft straightened the cuffs of his jacket, no longer meeting John's eyes. "This is more of a personal matter."

With that, Mycroft pushed his way inside and up the stairs. "Good luck" John drawled "He's in his mind palace, nothing short of a nuclear bomb will rouse him."

Mycroft stopped halfway up the stairs. "No John, there is one thing that will get him out of that state. I truly hoped that you would not be involved with this, but as time is of the essence, it appears that you have no choice."

John was torn. Even though he would never admit this out loud, he missed the excitement of a new case. Watching Sherlock work his way around a crime scene, spitting out deductions and coming to conclusions at a near impossible pace, was almost an art form. John shook his head. Sherlock really needs to apologize, here I am romanticizing murder cases and my thoughts are turning into something that an American girl who is attempting fan fiction would come up with.

From inside, John heard Mrs. Hudson. "For goodness sake boys, close the door! This cold snap is doing something awful to my heating bills."

John heaved a sigh and walked inside. Mycroft pulled him close and told him a story that had John pull back so quickly, he damn near fell off the stairs.

Somewhere, in the back of Sherlock's mind, Mycroft and John's voices were faintly discussing a "matter of most importance." Sherlock briefly looked up from a particularly promising case of a 1920's blues singer found hanging upside down, blood completely drained, from her dressing room. Dear Christ, Mycroft, when ISN'T something a matter of most importance to you? I guess that is the downfall of being the British Government.

The very fact that Sherlock could hear their voices did not alarm him. Sherlock has long trained himself to pick up John's voice, no matter where he was in his mind palace. John was safe. What was infinitely more concerning that somewhere deep in the corner of Sherlock's mind palace, a long-ignored door began to shake.

John, dazed by Mycroft's admissions, slowly walked towards the couch. Mycroft told me exactly what to say, why is this so hard? John cleared his throat and made sure that he was far enough away from Sherlock to be out of immediate reach. "Sherlock" he began, "Mycroft found her. She is alive, but that is all he knows for sure. Moriarty is also aware of her location and is on his way to get her. You two need to leave immediately."

Almost instantly, Sherlock rolled over and stood. Without a single word, he stalked out the door. John expected a quick response, but, Jesus, Sherlock did not even have an expression on his face. It is as if he is on autopilot. Mycroft specifically expressed that John stay at Baker Street. "You are not needed for this." he sniffed "Though, do feel free to make this flat more accommodating."

Based on Sherlock's reaction, John assumed that he acted with little thought or feeling. However, nothing could be further from the truth. With John's first sentence to Sherlock, the dreaded door shook harder. Sherlock watched in trepidation as that door finally burst open, bringing all the memories back.

A small baby girl with strange blue eyes. Another unwanted child that was merely tolerated in the house. Sherlock, only 9 years old at the time, staring back. She could be my family, he thought. We can leave Mother, Father, and Mycroft to their stupid bubble of self-importance. We could go on true adventures.

5 years old, running to Sherlock with a captured frog. "How on earth did you get that in the house?" asked Sherlock. "Easily" was her breathless reply. "I showed it to that ridiculous nanny. She started screaming almost immediately so everyone else stayed away. You were right, Lock, after a while, they just don't want to know."

12 years old, one of the few phone calls that he was allowed in rehab. "I hate this school" she bemoaned "All the girls care about is landing the most popular boy in class, who by the way, is dating the school drug dealer." Sherlock took a moment to look at the red marks on the inside of his elbow. "I know exactly how you feel. But please, do be smarter than I was. I can't be there to protect you anymore and there are far worse places that our parents can stick you in."

Finally, the letter that made Sherlock's world stop. "You are right, you can't protect me. No one can and, furthermore, no one wants to. I'm sorry, Sherlock. Please don't try to find me. Your sister, Amelia"

Madison Wisconsin

Jane Foster tipped her head back and smiled into the sunshine. Her dark and wild curls temporarily tamed by copious amounts of hair product and strategically placed clips. Global warming, be damned, I love these freak warm days. Looking down State Street, she began her argument on how to spend her first day of her well deserved vacation. Seriously, that last project was practically murder. "The Farmer's Market? That's exactly what I want to do, dodge snot nosed minihumans and idiot college students who are more interested in the hot cheese bread than the fresh produce. Besides, I already went with you two years ago, I doubt this trip will be any different."

Shay Monroe, her best friend, made a poor attempt at a pouting face. "It has changed more than you think. Come on! Let's just do something fun for once."

"Boring!" was her only reply. Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on Shay's face, Jane reconsidered. "Fine, I will go, but on one condition."

"Anything!"

"You let me refer to you by your proper name." Jane cackled at Shay's immediate response.

"Forget it. You win, I would sooner die by a thousand needles dipped in salmonella."

"A mix of H1N1 and rabies would be more fun."

"What?"

"Nothing, shall we head out to Devil's Lake? I would love to go on the Tumbled Rocks trail" Jane began walking towards the parking ramp, "Come on, we can stop at that little shop on the way to the car, I will even treat you to one of those cheap cats with the waving arm."

Slightly mollified, Shay followed. "There is karaoke tonight, can you at least do a drunken rendition of 'Don't Stop Believing'?"

Jane shook her head. "You know I don't drink. But sure, karaoke is always hilarious to be a part of after 11pm."

"Please, with enough sleep deprivation, almost everything is more fun after 11pm." Shay shook out her recently dyed auburn hair and stared after her friend. "Can we at least try to get a phone number while we are out?"

"No."

Despite the warm weather, hiking in a foot of snow proved to be more cumbersome than Jane wanted to admit. But seeing the open lake and massive bluffs that surrounded the state park, Jane felt like she could breathe normally for the first time since, well, she cared to remember. Shay had been unusually quiet during the hike, more observant, actually. Jane felt a small stab of panic. Relax, she isn't that perceptive . Turning around, Jane and Shay locked eyes. "You owe me the biggest whiskey you can lay your hands on when this is over."

Jane smiled "I thought you lived for this active outdoors lifestyle."

"Absolutely, I love it during the summer. With sunshine. And temperatures that aren't putting us at risk for hypothermia." Shay shook her head "I wish I knew what was getting into you. You seem more on edge, more restless. What happened?" Her dark green eyes seemed to peer into Jane's soul. Oh, this will not do. Jane deliberately looked nonchalant as she shrugged. "Just feeling like moving on, that's all. There is only so much to do in Chicago."

Shay nodded, satisfied with Jane's reply. "You do tend to hop around every few years. Where were you last? Houston?"

"Memphis."

"And how, dear friend, do you manage to thrive in every city you move to?"

Jane smirked "Just chalk it up to a particular set of skills."

Shay rolled her eyes and sat on a rock. "That's it, I give up."

"We barely started talking about my nomadic lifestyle, you're losing your touch." Jane sang out.

"Not about that, I give up hiking. Can we please go stuff our faces now?"

By that evening, Jane, much to her dismay, found herself at City Bar. What the hell? How did I get talked into going to a college bar at bro-o'clock? Speaking at a respectable volume was near impossible as the bartender turned up the music to an eardrum shattering level. Great, dodging frat boys and listening to some idiot going on about kissing a girl. Just my kind of night. Turning to look at Shay, Jane pouted and looked pointedly at the exit. "Oh, calm down" yelled Shay "This is the best bar for people watching. Let's play our favorite game, for old time's sake!"

"I will give it 15 minutes and then I am out of here, with or without you."

Shay grinned. "I'll take it! Now, who is hooking up and who is getting arrested tonight?"

Jane scanned the crowd. Instantly she saw an interoffice couple, trying to hide their relationship from their boss, who just happened to invite the whole staff out for a congratulatory drink. Nope. There was a thin blonde simultaneously keeping the attention of 4 football players. Impressive, too bad she was recently dumped and only wants attention. Jane's focus moved to a middle aged couple, talking rapidly. Bingo. With a nod in their direction, Jane started to put on her jacket. Shay, incredulous and gesturing frantically, was demanding to know the logic behind the Dr. Phil lookalike getting booked by the end of the night. Jane started up the stairs to return outside.

As the door closed, the music was muted to a dull throb, not unlike the sensation that threatened Jane's temples. Jane spoke quickly "It is quite simple, actually. That couple is celebrating their 20 year anniversary by returning to the town that they met-college sweethearts. They made the mistake of going into a bar 'for old time's sake' and quickly realized that their, once exciting, marriage has dulled into a routine of work and watching television until it is time to go to bed and repeat. The wife is determined to get her active life back and, as we were leaving, was trying to convince her husband to have sex on the docks. He has had enough to drink that it should not take long for him to agree. Once down there and preoccupied, they will forget about the nearby sorority house with the house mother with bad eyesight."

"Bad eyesight? You lost me."

"The house mother will be convinced that they are students, prompting her to call campus security. They will arrive and realize that they are now out of their jurisdiction and call the actual police. Well, technically, it isn't out of their jurisdiction, they just don't want to deal having to break them up."

Shay stopped in her tracks. "You cannot possibly know all of that with just one look!"

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"I have a twenty that says that tonight, you are off your game."

Jane chuckled. "Fine."

With that, Shay hooked her arm around Jane's. "Now, let's see who else is going to regret their choices by morning!"

Jane's smile faded. "You really don't give up, do you? Lead on, but just one more bar..."

It was half past 3 by the time Shay unlocked her front door. Jane immediately retired to the guest room. She shut herself in and leaned against the old wooden door. Savoring the silence, Jane closed her eyes and debated whether to indulge in a bath or to just collapse in her bed. Jane was not entirely sure what a Behavioral Specialist did, but Shay obviously did it well enough to afford some quality furniture. Dear God, memory foam, silk sheets, and a down comforter? I may never leave. Quickly deciding, Jane stripped out of her boots, jeans, sweater, and t-shirt. As she turned on her bedroom light, a deep voice with a posh British accent rang out "Please, before you go any further, I suggest you put on a robe."

Jane's heart stumbled as she quickly turned towards the voice. In the dark, she could sense someone handing her the dragon embroidered robe she picked up in Japan about 7 years ago. With trembling hands, she tied the knot and flipped on the light. Jane found herself looking at two tall men, one standing uncomfortably by the window-Mycroft. Jane immediately realized that he never did find a diet that he could stick to. The other man sat on the corner chair, knees tucked into his chin and looking like he wished he could be anywhere else in the world. Sherlock. Jane could feel her breath getting more shallow as anxiety began to settle in. How did they find me?

Mycroft broke the silence first. "Amelia, you need to come with us."