A/N Hello all, welcome to my story. First some disclaimers. I make no money with this, this is purely because I love BBC's Sherlock. So, anything you recognise from BBC's Sherlock, comes from the hands of the great Mofftiss.

My story starts sometime after the great game, takes some time introducing my own character, Kyrie Ellison and then follows the different episodes of the show. Starting from 'The Hounds of Baskerville', I started using the scripts provided by ariane devere. FF won't allow me to post a link but if you google 'ariane devere sherlock transcript', you will find her website! Sometimes, to make things easier, I use some of her descriptions as well. Props to her!

English is not my first language, so beware of typos, grammar mistakes and stuff like that. I don't have a beta (yet) so, if anyone would like to volunteer, let me know!

Triggers: There's a pretty graphic non-consent scene, quite early in the story. It's not too long, but I do want to give fair warning for those who are sensitive to a topic like that. When I upload that chapter, I will explain in the A/N what you need to look out for when we get to that scene, just in case you want to skip that.

And I think that's it. So... without further ado, here's my story. I hope you will enjoy this and please... if you do, let me know with a review. Faves, followes and reviews will be greatly appreciated!

Guest Thank you for leaving your review. First one. Yay! I checked on my phone and I see your point. I cut the largest chapters in half and pretty much uploaded everything anew. Hope this will be easier on the eyes. Sorry if my long chapters scared off people! Thanks for the suggestion 3

Chapter 1

Heat and light emanated from the dancing and leaping flames in the fireplace. Tongues of fire lapped at the logs. The soft crackling sound from the fireplace and the soft tick-tocking of a mantel clock were the only sounds disturbing the quiet in the study. It was not a peaceful quiet though, not by a long shot. It was a heavy and expecting quiet.

A tall figure stood motionless in front of a Victorian mahogany pedestal desk, silently watching another figure seated near the fireplace in a large comfy chair.

"May I remind you that the life of a certain young lady is now resting solely in your hands, brother mine?" Mycroft Holmes asked softly. Though his voice sounded almost bored, people who actually knew Mycroft , would recognise the anxiety betrayed by his posture, belying the calmness of his words.

If Sherlock really wanted to stick it to him… Well, he would never get an opportunity like this again, practically offered on a silver platter. All he would have to do, was say one simple word. No. With one word, he would completely and forever beat his older sibling. Also, he would be condemning a young woman to a life of pain, humiliation and undoubtedly a premature death. Though, Mycroft suspected, that latter bit of information was now the furthest thing on his younger brother's mind.

"What if I say no?" The words were so evenly and indifferently uttered that Mycroft still had no idea what Sherlock's final answer would be. It could still go either way.

"You already know, brother mine."

"Tell me anyway."

Mycroft sighed. People who could claim a close personal association with him, would recognise the sigh as a sign of annoyance. A small crack in the otherwise emotionless façade, at the moment far superiorly mirrored by his younger brother.

"Nothing. Not to Mummy and Daddy at least, Kyrie has already graciously seen to that."

"What?"

Mycroft quietly rolled his eyes at the question, he doubted that Sherlock had even noticed himself asking that one worded question. Sherlock was far, far way and seemed in no hurry to return to the land of the observing.

"Her name, Sherlock. Her name," Mycroft berated Sherlock. Though his voice was still calm and collected, it had gained a sharper edge. "Kyrie Ellison."

"And this… Kyrie… She agreed to the marriage herself?"

Mycroft could feel his hands itching with the desire to slap his brother in the face. Though Mycroft claimed no personal attachment to the young lady in question, he did know the person who was so consumed by his obsession for her, that he was willing to destroy lives to get his wish.

Ah. Human sentiment and fickle desires. How they could cripple even the wisest of men, rendering them completely useless. Though in this case those desires had turned one of the most powerful and richest men in the world into a madman, driven by the oldest need in the book. Mycroft had already been treated to a sickening sample of what Gerulf had in store for his parent's little protégée if Sherlock said no.

If Gerulf didn't hold so many different strings he could pull to make things very, very difficult for Mycroft, or actually the government, Gerulf would have long disappeared himself. Left to rot in some unknown little place of malady in some unknown part of the world until there was no one left in the world to even remember that name.

"Yes, Sherlock," Mycroft said, this time unable to keep the loathing from his voice. "Kyrie did agree to the marriage. To keep OUR parents safe. Gerulf has made his intentions crystal clear. He CAN and WILL orchestrate the demise of one of our parents, or even both, in such a way it can never be traced back to him."

"Oh, so it is their fault some maniac is using them to get what he wants? And why would… she… agree to marry that man? I guess it is the honourable thing to do when someone is threatening to kill people because of you. But still… why would she throw her own life away for people she doesn't know all that well? She could have said no. "

Mycroft sighed again as he saw the look of genuine confusion briefly cross the features of his brother's face. "Human error. Sentiment. Her parents knew our parents for some years," Mycroft explained. "They were close. Friends apparently. For some reason she cares about them. Even to the extent that she is willing to sacrifice her own happiness, her life perhaps, so that our parents can go on and live their quiet boring life the same way they have done for years.

"The thing is, Sherlock," Mycroft continued as he took a few steps to stand still in front of his younger sibling, looking down at him as Sherlock was still seated in the same position. "The thing is, and much more important…. Mummy and Daddy also care about her. And they lied to protect her. They lied to Gerulf Schricken, knowing that yes, they could easily let Kyrie sacrifice herself by marrying that monster, but they said she was already married instead. To their second born son. To you. Gerulf buying into that ruse is the only thing that keeps her safe, for now."

At those words Sherlock seemed to return to this realm of reality. His eyes looked up, again devoid of any sign of anger or distress. Any feeling at all really.

"I don't do relationships, Mycroft. It's not my area. The emotions, the feelings that come with… relationships… They are abhorrent to me and keep me from what my brain was built for."

"Exactly!"

When Sherlock just stared up at his brother, Mycroft threw up his hands. "Sherlock, this marriage would just be a business contract between you and her. You don't love, we both know you don't have a heart for it. You would only provide her the safety of your name. Nothing else. And in a few years, when Gerulf has found a new victim to obsess over, you can simply divorce. It's not like you will suddenly find the love of your life in those few years. And think about it, mummy would finally stop pestering you about settling down. Come to think of it, I kind of wish I could have been the newly wedded husband."

Mycroft let out a wistful sigh as he allowed himself for a brief moment to fantasise about the ceasing of his mother's incessant querying about his love life, or lack thereof. As she grew older, she was resorting to emotional blackmail by saying she would love to see her grandchildren before she was dead. With this arranged marriage, they would know and understand the deal.

"Does she know what she is in for?" Sherlock asked softly. Mycroft inwardly smiled in triumph, though his face didn't move a muscle. He knew he had him now.

"Does she know you're a high functioning sociopath? No. Does she know she doesn't need to expect any declarations of love coming her way? Yes. Still, I dare say a life with you is far more appealing than what dear Gerulf has in store for her. But, knowing you, it really could go either way."

Mycroft ignored the cold glare that Sherlock sent his way. "If you don't mind, we have but a small window to make sure you actually are married. The papers are ready, falsified and ready for archive. Should Gerulf want to investigate, he will find no other information than that you got married two weeks ago. That small window is fast closing though. So, again. May I remind you that the life of a certain young lady is now resting solely in your hands, brother mine?"

Finally, Sherlock Holmes arose from his seat. He squared his shoulders as if going to battle, his back ramrod straight, and buttoned up his jacket.

"Lead the way, brother mine," Sherlock said and he followed his brother out of the reverend's study, to the hall where the reverend, his parents and his bride awaited him.

Sherlock walked to the front of the church and stood still beside a complete stranger to him, some woman who would be his wife for at least some time. He turned to look at her, all ready to deduce every detail of her everyday life, and found that he couldn't. He furrowed his eyebrows as he took in her appearance. Small, petite, blond. Curly? No, wavy hair but done up in soft curls. Long? Short? Definitely not short. Medium length? Long? Unknown.

Huge blue orbs stared up at him. Eyes the colour of tanzanite gemstones, way too big for her delicate heart shaped face. She was scared and apprehensive and tried not to show it. Brave then? Not prone to hysterics? Unknown.

Sherlock's eyes fell on her chin for a brief moment, there was a small cleft, hardly noticeable, but still there.
Her chest betrayed her nerves with its rapid falling and rising. She had very feminine curves and Sherlock could see how other men would find her attractive. She wasn't ugly. In fact, she was quite pleasing to look at. At least her looks wouldn't be a constant source of annoyance then.

Other than that, he couldn't for the life of him see what exactly about her could make a man so obsessed about her as this Gerulf Sherker or something. To be honest, she didn't look that special. She looked quite forgettable... pleasing yes, but forgettable. Except maybe for those strange eyes with that tanzanite pale blue colour with just a hint of violet.

She didn't wear a wedding dress. No, of course not, why should she? This wasn't a real wedding anyway. She did wear a dress though. A short one, mid-thigh. Cream coloured satin layered with a translucent chiffon falling an inch and a half past the hemline. The dress had a one inch bias satin strip at the neckline, crossing at the front and wrapping around a slender neck. Either she had picked the dress herself or it was picked for her. Whoever had picked it, had a good taste. At least he wasn't appalled by it.

There was nothing about her skin or jewellery that told him anything about her. Her skin was flawless, pale but with a hint of pink on her cheeks. Well, that at least told him she wasn't often exposed to sunlight and she had an inside job.

No jewellery at all. Either she didn't have any jewellery with her or she didn't care about it.

She had a subtle aura of some floral fragrance around her, tender and subtle. It wasn't a new fragrance, lacking the harsh green notes so popular in new releases. Older then. Her signature scent? If it was, he would be able to live with that. It was quite nice, not unpleasant at all.

When the reverend scraped his throat, Sherlock realised all eyes in the church were on him. He smiled briefly at the woman. "Hi," he quickly whispered to her, "I'm Sherlock." The smile dropped from his face the moment he had introduced himself.

"I know," she whispered back. Did he detect a soft lilt in her voice?

"Shall we get on then?" Sherlock suggested, hating the fact that everyone was just standing there wasting time. The sooner he could get this Kylie installed in his shared apartment in Baker Street, the sooner he could get on with his life. 221B Baker Street. Shared with his best friend, well, his only friend… John Watson. Sherlock smirked a little. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise when he suddenly turned up with a wife? If he didn't hate the entire institution of marriage so much, he would consider it a fine joke.

The ceremony was carried out quickly, all he had to say was 'I do' at the right moment. There was a moment of awkwardness when the reverend asked him for a ring. Of course he didn't have a bloody ring! Mycroft walked over to him and slapped a ring in his hand. The look on his mother's face told him he should recognise it, probably an heirloom, but he really didn't. He slid the ring on his almost wife's finger, her hand trembling slightly in his and he dropped it the moment the ring was on. A warning glare refrained the reverend from commenting about the lack of a ring for the groom. Finally the reverend finished the ceremony with those ill-fated words, "I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride."

The smirk on his brother's face didn't go undetected. Sherlock decided to not make a spectacle of himself and opted for a quick peck on his now wife's cheek, he then turned around and wordlessly stalked down the aisle, leaving his bride to fend for herself.

Kyrie released a breath of air she didn't even realise she had been holding. Thank goodness that was over and done with! Her eyes quietly followed her 'husband' simply walking away from the spot where they had just got married.

"I wish I could say congratulations, sister dear."

Kyrie turned around and saw her husband's older brother standing there looking quite untouchable in his expensive looking suit. He offered her a quick smile. "Instead I will wish you good luck and welcome to the family. I'm afraid it is what it is. There's a car waiting outside for you, to take you to your new… home."

"Thank you," she answered simply, and then, "Myrcoft?"

Mycroft, who had already started to walk away from her as well, turned around with a not quite genuine smile curving his lips. Kyrie had just known him for a short while and knew that, in his own way, he was making an effort to be 'nice'.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure Gerulf will just accept the fact I suddenly turned out to be married? Won't he retaliate and exact vengeance using your parents?"

"As long as you can at least keep up appearances for a while, and with you I mean my brother," Mycroft said, "there's no reason for Gerulf to carry out his threats. He wanted you, you are already taken and unavailable. And he's not fond of seconds. He will be churlish about it and probably deny me some toys, but my parents will be safe. Thank you, again. I know this can't be easy for you."

Kyrie just nodded.

"Oh, and Kyrie? Beware, Gerulf may eventually want to pay you a visit. You know, once the shock of not getting his way wears off. If he does and even slightly suspects the true nature of your marriage…" He didn't finish his sentence, just nodded at her and left her alone with her new parents-in-law.

She pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to alleviate the nausea, and felt her fingers tremble against her body.

"Come on, sweetness, time to go. I will have your clothes sent over as soon as possible. Mycroft will take care of everything else," Mable Holmes said quietly. Again Kyrie couldn't do anything else but nod. She could feel a fit of hysterical laughter bubbling up but managed to repress it. Suddenly Mable firmly gripped Kyrie's upper arms and looked at her intently.

"I am not going to sugar coat things, Sherlock is for many a challenge to get along with. Most people have problems just tolerating him and that's on one of his good days. He has many flaws and I pray you have the patience to put up with them."

Kyrie had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. If that's how her mother-in-law felt about her own son… "Sweetie, don't let my words discourage you. Like I said, I am not going to sugar coat, I know what an arrogant childish little sod he can be. But, he is worth it, Kyrie. In the end, I wouldn't entrust your safety to anyone else. And I am sorry… so, so sorry that this reptile tried to use us against you, to force you into marrying him. I am NOT sorry however, that his threats resulted in you marrying our son instead, because now I get to call you my daughter!"

Kyrie got pulled in a crushing hug and she immediately wrapped her arms around Mable. She didn't want to let go, she didn't want to leave the safety and love she felt in their embrace. The older woman soothingly stroked her back telling her things would be quite all right.

"Now, tell that wayward son of mine we WILL be visiting this Christmas. Can't wait to hear that lovely voice of yours sing again."

Kyrie said nothing to that comment. Singing… hadn't that been exactly what had put her in this current situation? Mable finally let her go with a sniffle and then her husband stepped in to press a fatherly kiss on her forehead.

"Don't worry, he's a good lad. Underneath that cold exterior there is a heart, no matter what other people may say. And if he gives you grief, just give me a call. I'll will give him a good old wallop," George Holmes said with a wink and Kyrie couldn't help but chuckle a little.

After a few heartfelt hugs and words, Kyrie was brought to her new home in the government car her brother-in-law had arranged for her. When she got in, Kyrie found a small valise sitting in the back.
A young woman who went by the name of Anthea, that probably wasn't her real name, was also seated in the back, keeping her company during the drive. Anthea was a bit preoccupied with her phone as she was texting away the entire time. Only when the car suddenly came to a stop in Baker Street, did Anthea lift her eyes from her phone.

"Good luck, Mrs Holmes," Anthea said, calling Kyrie by her new name. There was kindness in her eyes and pity as well. "You will need it," Anthea stated simply. When Kyrie stepped out of the car, Anthea offered a small smile and raised her hand in goodbye before she closed the door and the car drove off.

Kyrie looked around and took in her surroundings. She was dropped off right in front of Speedy's, a sandwich bar and café. The bright red canopy drew in one's attention amidst the white stone walls and black iron fences. Well, her new husband probably wasn't living in a sandwich bar, Kyrie thought wryly when her eyes fell on the small black door to the left of the sandwich bar. Number 221B.

She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply to steady herself.

"You, my dear, are utterly delicious. I think I shall make you mine."

Her eyes flew wide open at the unwanted memory and Kyrie practically ran to the door and pressed all three bells right after the other. Certainly someone was going to answer the door, she hoped. She violently rubbed her cheek in disgust, as she could vividly recall the feeling of Gerulf licking her with his tongue, before planting his fleshy moist lips against her skin. A guttural moan had escaped him, his hot breath tickling her skin in a vile and repulsive way. A frustrated sob escaped her own lips when she failed to rub that memory away. Suddenly a different, more recent memory surfaced in her mind…

During the ceremony Kyrie had not dared to study the appearance of the man who would be her husband. Just a brief glance when he had introduced himself. That brief glance had told her that he was quite a bit taller than her. Tall, slender, elegant. She recalled a pallid complexion that betrayed an unhealthy lifestyle, a mop of dark curls and piercing blue eyes. The cold glare in those eyes had been why she had quickly looked away.

There had been a brief pause, an awkward silence when the reverend pronounced them husband and wife. Thinking back to that moment, when that man who was now her husband had leaned in to chastely place a soft kiss on her cheek, it was on the exact same spot where Gerulf had touched, licked and kissed her. Even though the moment had been awkward and the kiss had been by a complete stranger, branding her his, Kyrie knew she vastly preferred that memory over the other. Actually, she welcomed that memory and allowed it to eclipse any thoughts of… No… Stop it! Don't even think about! Her hand still against her cheek, she looked up in surprise when the door suddenly opened and she found herself looking at the equally surprised face of a kind looking older woman.

"Hello, dear," the woman said in a pleasant tone, almost as if she was asking a question. Her mouth remained open in an expecting smile. A stylish short hair-cut, make-up a bit heavily applied, this lady appeared to take good care of herself.

"Hello," Kyrie stammered, "I'm… err …" She had no idea what to say or how to introduce herself. It felt way too weird to suddenly refer to herself as Mrs Holmes, even though that was who she was now. Also she felt quite embarrassed. Just married, her husband stalked off to God knows where, dropped off by a government car without ceremony. Not exactly how she used to imagine her wedding day. Suddenly she felt tears stinging her eyes and she bit her lip in an attempt to stop them from falling. The smile on the woman's face dropped from her face, replaced by a look of worry.

"What's this then? Why the tears? Come in, dear, no need to keep standing outside like a log! Come in! Come in!"

The kind woman practically pulled her inside the flat and ushered her further into the building.

"I'm so sorry," Kyrie blurted out while allowing herself to be gently pushed through a door ahead, into a small but cosy kitchen. "I just haven't had a very good day so far and… I'm afraid it's just a bit much."

"What is, dear? I am Mrs Hudson by the way. I am the landlady of this building. Here let me make you a nice cuppa tea."

Kyrie soon found herself sitting in wobbly and creaky wooden kitchen chair at a very small table in a corner of the kitchen that seemed to be meant for just one person. A cup of tea was quickly placed in front of her and she was offered a plate of biscuits. Kyrie declined with a smile as wobbly as the chair.

"There, that ought to calm your nerves a bit. Now tell me, what has got you all upset. And… who are you?"

Kyrie chuckled lightly at the question. Who was she indeed? Feeling the sudden need to accept the offered compassion, Kyrie just blurted out the entire story. From beginning to end, without holding back any details, well, apart from just a few. How she had visited old, close friends of her parents, wanting to see them after her parents had died in a plane crash a few years ago. How those people had been delighted to see her and had urged her to stay with them. Her parents had always praised her voice, had secretly hoped she would aspire a singing career, but her shyness to perform for large groups had prevented that. So, those friends of her parents were curious and wondered if she felt comfortable enough to grace them with a song. And she had. And they had loved it. Then one evening a son of theirs suddenly dropped by with a business associate and got distracted by her singing. That meeting ultimately culminated in that terrible moment where she got pinned against the rough surface of the stone wall in a dimly lit hallway. And then… and then…

Kyrie needed a moment to recollect herself and then she continued with the moment when that son and the business associate went away and she told her parents' friends everything. Kyrie then wanted to head home again, but her parent's friends refused to let her go and insisted she would stay at least for the rest of the week. Then suddenly that atrocious man had returned to reveal his desire and what would happen if that desire was not met. He had shamelessly used her affection for these two people who had such a deeply rooted bond with her deceased parents.

He had known that Kyrie would never want anything to happen to them and would be willing to do anything to prevent any harm to come to them. Even agreeing to marry him. That was when Mable, Mrs Holmes, who in her turn was anxious to protect Kyrie from that monster, had stated in blind panic that such a union would be impossible, since she had recently married their youngest son. Gerulf had stormed away in a fury. And just like that there was no time to think and no time to stop because arrangements had to be made. Quickly. And now she was here.