I OWN NOTHING.

Mycroft watched as his little sister, his baby sister, slept on his office sofa. Her face was relaxed, all the tension caused by the past days gone - for the moment. But the darkness of the material of the pillow beneath her rumpled hair only highlighted just how pale she was. How much the last few days had really taken out of her. He knew that deep down inside she was breaking apart.

He shut the lid of his laptop and pushed it to the side with a sigh of disgust and froze when a sleepy groan came from the figure on the sofa. He remained still until Sherlock's breathing settled to deep and steady once again.

She insisted on continuing with her self-appointed quest of dismantling Moriarty's network of associates and contacts, and he knew that there would be no one better suited to the task than his sister. Sherlock was tenacious when it came to achieving her goals – not that he was much different - and she would not stop until every last facet of Moriarty's set-up no longer existed. There was more than one memorable experience from her childhood that he could bring to his mind with ease. But this was no childhood muddle that he could easily pluck her out of it the need had arose –which it never did.

He worried for her.

Emotions and relationships were things both of them had issues with – of a sort – but, unlike him, Sherlock needed people in her life. She had few in her life it was true but she was loyal to them and the events of the past days had only gone to prove how far she was willing to go to keep them safe. Well, he was willing to go a lot further than that to keep his sister safe. John had no idea how close he had come to being wiped from existence on more than one occasion just so that Mycroft could be certain he would never harm his sister.

He regretted holding back now. Look where it had led to. Sherlock faking her death so that a maniac wouldn't kill the handful of people she had allowed close to her…the few people he had allowed close to her. He never should have let it happen. He should have taken better care of her.

Mycroft looked to the pile of half a dozen or so files on the side of his desk. They were mountainous. Not the bare bones of peoples lives. They contained EVERYTHING about the men they were about. From blood types to favourite drinks to one night stands.

He had told her there was no advantage to caring. Time and again he had told her not to get attached. And she listened to him as far as her cases were concerned. She remained cool and aloof with her clients, focusing on 'the Work'. For one so young she could compartmentalize extraordinarily well.

He only wished she would have exercised the same restraint with her personal life and spared herself this pain.

But despite her best efforts her personality did not lend itself to being alone. She needed the contact. He supposed he should be grateful she stopped at three. But now they were gone and it was back to the way things had been when Sherlock was a child. Just the two of them, with Mycroft watching over her.

Once again he was all that she had.

He had made all of the arrangements to get her to mainland Europe and he knew that like a hound on a scent she would home in on those who were guilty. Like an avenging angel she would strike them from the shadows. One by one she would find them.

Mycroft pulled the files towards him as his sister continued to sleep. Some of them sliding from the main pile. He sighed and rearranged them. One after another he lay them in a row across his desk.

He needed to find a replacement for John Watson and MI6's elite was the best place to start looking. Sherlock liked to joke about his being the British Government, but it had its perks. Countless people in countless agencies owed him countless favours and he was about to start collecting. With interest if necessary.

Sherlock had a lot to face in her future and he was only going to send the best along with her.

He flipped open the first file and began to read.

Only the best…

Sherlock looked at him as though he was going insane. And maybe he was. But it was the best solution he could think of.

While the travel arrangements had been seen to before she had even taken a step off that roof there were still things he wished to see in place before he let Sherlock out of his sight. And this was the best thing he could think of, and it would sharpen her skills in areas she did not often use. Sherlock would soak in the information like a sponge.

"It is settled Sherlock,"

He was standing over her where she was still sitting on the sofa, her hair sticking out at all angles from where it had escaped the confines of the braid she kept it in.

"Mycroft-" she began to speak but he stopped her, reaching out to tuck the stray hair behind her ears. She looked more like the child she used to be than ever.

"I want you as safe as I can make you before you leave Sherlock," his sister looked at him, her face pale, the shadows beneath her eyes a stark purple, "Besides, think of all the toys you will have to play with,"

A gleam came to her eyes at this and he tugged softly on a curl before walking away and retaking his seat behind his desk.

He looked at the files that still covered the table. One - the thickest of the lot with safety pinned doctors reports and notes sticking out at odd angles from his studying of it late into the night - was still in front of him. Shame the agent was dead. He wondered why M had included it in the selection, according to the last piece of paper to be included in the file he had died in action, his body never recovered…

"You're right. Working in bowels of Vauxhall may be fun,"

Mycroft sighed, feeling a headaches coming on.

Guess whose file was sneaked into the running? :)

I am so sorry for the long silence on my account. I haven't been keeping very well and this is only being posted because I found the misplaced memory stick. I have a few chapters ready to go and hopefully I will keep some momentum going and add on where needed.

I hope you enjoy this new Girl Sherlock story line.

xx