A/N - 20k reads...wow...just WOW - I can't and don't know how to thank you all enough! ❤❤❤

Just so many thanks for your dedication to and love of the story!!! 😄

Perhaps now we are at 20k reads we could do a special lil Q&A? Maybe you'd be interested in hot-seating Elizabeth (& Co?) and asking the character/s some questions (anything from what they fear most to their favourite chocolate)? Or you could ask me a question if you have one?

If you do have any questions, feel free to send me a PM and I'll try and write them up by the end of next weekend!

At the end of the day it's up to you fabulous readers - and if you have better idea to celebrate with then please do share 😄❤

For now though, lots of socially distanced hugs and love 💕💕💕

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"How is she?" Mycroft asked as he saw Elizabeth leave the room.

Then it clicked that something was wrong, and it didn't just click with the elder but with the detective more so as they saw her reddened face and intense need to get away from the room.

"Elizabeth?" Sherlock spoke up, "Elizabeth what's - oomph - "

Without a word, she had cut in between the two brothers (intentionally knocking their shoulders or not would be left a question) as she continued storming away down the hall. The men shared a look with each other and then back down the hall after Elizabeth.

"Go to Rita." Sherlock instructed before hurrying after his other half.

* * * * * * * *

Pushing the glass door open wildly, Elizabeth continued out onto the London pavement, surrounded suddenly by the ebb and flow of a crowd of workers and mothers and fathers and people who simply continued with their daily life. She gulped in a breath of fresh air (well, moderately fresh air, as fresh as London air could be). Bringing a hand to her chest, she kept trying to breathe slowly and muttered:

"Not again...not again..."

Stress was a funny thing, particularly to her since she had chosen Sherlock.

Send her into a high-stress situation, being one where she needed to infiltrate and thieve from some people Moriarty disliked or had ticked off and she would be fine - regardless of the guns and the one-hundred-and-one horrible ways she may die. Send her on one of Mycroft's missions and, provided Sherlock wasn't being inconvenient, she would be fine -perhaps a little panicked if being caught seemed imminent but nothing to the extent of this. Send Moriarty's past enemies or Americans after her and she would be fine.

However...mention her ignorance with Jim, mention her inability to keep herself from stealing, mention lying in a one-off comment that may not have even be aimed at her or mention getting rid of Jim (who no one could deny was a bad person) and the stress would build, would begin whistling like one of those old kettles until it just took that one extra little overthought thought to push her over the edge, hot water bubbling over the top in a short spill of emotional chaos.

The little things truly did get under one's skin.

"Elizabeth!" Sherlock called over the top of the strong river of people, just catching the top of her head near the road.

The thief turned around, remembering where she was and who she had been with. She was about to head over to him, ready to apologise for leaving without a word, ready to explain what had triggered her so when she heard awful skidding behind her. Barely getting a chance to turn around, a black van's side door swung open, and two masked individuals leapt out, the one's hand wrapped around Elizabeth's mouth and torso, who gave a muffled shriek, eyes rounded with shock as she met her gaze with Sherlock who began pushing his way through the stunned crowd.

"No! Wait! Out of the way! Elizabeth!"

A gunshot went off, courtesy to the other person who had gotten out of the van, startling the crowd back as Sherlock got to the front. They had fired a warning shot in the air as the other pulled the struggling thief into the van. At seeing this the detective jolted forwards into action, but they shot the ground just in front front of his feet. Elizabeth's muffled, high-pitched protesting rang in his ears as he stopped. Sherlock met his gaze with the gunman who kept the weapon aimed on him. Then, without a word, they jumped back into vehicle too, slamming the door shut with a heavy metallic rumble as it picked up speed instantly, with Sherlock bolting after it. It was no use though. He wasn't fast enough.

Sherlock stood in the road, staring after the speeding vehicle, panting. Onlookers watched quietly. Traffic continued, swerving to avoid hitting the detective.

He knew one thing and one thing only: the kidnappers were women.

* * * * * * * *

"She's gone." Sherlock announced, quiet wrath lacing his tone as he flung the door open to Rita's hospital room, "What did you say to her?"

Mycroft frowned, "What do you mean she's gone?"

"I said what I felt." Rita paused, still feeling her own ferocity course through her, "I said I would kill him for what he did to me."

"Rita - "

"Don't Rita me." The doctor spat at Mycroft, "You know what he's done - what he's taken from me."

The vexation that scarily shone in her eyes as she looked at the elder Holmes threw him. Mycroft had never, in all his time of knowing her, seen her like this. Rita had always been the happy one, the one who was always joking, the one who never seemed to carry an irritable bone in her body. Of course, people changed and especially after a trauma like this.

As Sherlock stared at her the only word that came to mind was liar. He could see it, he felt it in his gut that there was something more to this. What could she be hiding?

Sherlock clarified, "Elizabeth was kidnapped."

"What?" Both looked at him in disbelief of what the detective had said.

"Elizabeth was on the verge of a panic attack so she headed outside. An unmarked black van pulled up and two masked women," As he said this, he looked to Rita to gauge her reaction, "Jumped out, the one grabbing Elizabeth, the other firing a warning shot into the sky and at me. She's gone."

"Go find her then." Dr Rahat commented, "What are you still doing here?"

"Because I'm trying to work out what you're not telling me."

"I told you what I said: that I wanted Moriarty dead."

"Sherlock, I doubt she's hiding anything from you." Mycroft tried to mediate between the two, "You're upset - "

"Upset?" Sherlock looked at his brother, incredulity written into his expression, "Mycroft, Elizabeth's just be abducted after she went out for air because of a conversation that clearly pushed her over the edge. I'm telling you that Rita just saying it was because she wanted to off Moriarty is a lie or she is at least omitting some piece of information."

"Sherlock, you're being absurd."

"No, Mycroft, your love is making you blind." His fiery gaze met with Rita's, "Fine. Don't tell me. But don't think I won't work it out. And, brother," He looked to Mycroft again, "If you want any ounce of respect from me again, I'd keep questioning her when I'm gone."

With a dramatic flick of his long navy coat, the detective stormed out of the room leaving a simmering, secretive Rita and an uncomfortable Mycroft behind.

* * * * * * * * *

There was just darkness, shuffling, murmuring. Elizabeth had a bag put over her head. Who were these people? Enemies of Moriarty's? Enemies of Sherlock's? Enemies she had made without even knowing? What would they do to her?

A muffled creak of a door could be heard, then footsteps, few, fast and steady. She heard another scrape of a chair being dragged, the footsteps overlapping as they neared her. The snap of the chair legs (on what she assumed to be concrete) made her flinch.

Then off came the bag.

"What. The hell."

"You'll have to forgive us for the sudden meeting." Cleo said in that velvety voice of hers as she took a seat in the chair opposite, "But it was done to assist you in keeping our little secret."

"You almost shot him - "

Cleo raised a hand to silence her, "Almost was intended. The instruction I gave to the girls was to ward him off but leave him alive. Why would I break a bond with one of my newest members when I know what's at stake?"

Elizabeth was unable to challenge this thought process and so silently agreed.

"We abducted you. At least that's what your detective believes as of now or will do soon once he's worked out who we are. There shouldn't be any doubt of your loyalty to him - after all, who in their right mind would ever think of joining the gang that had you brutally beaten and/or almost drowned? I'll leave that choice up to you though." She smiled, but there was a hint of irritation in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," The thief blinked, perturbed by Cleo's words, "What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Beaten? Drowned? You don't need to do any - "

"We do." The leader cooed, "We have to set this up right, make it look like you would never even dream of working with us. Think of it as a...mini-initiation prior to the more important one."

"Initiation?"

Cleo laughed at her surprise. Cleo laughed at how Jim thought that he was the only person who could harm people others cared about. Cleo laughed at her, knowing full well that she would greatly enjoy and intend every ounce of pain that she inflicted on the thief. She stopped, standing to approach Elizabeth and stroked her pretty head of brown hair.

"My word, Moriarty really has kept you sheltered from the criminal underworld, hasn't he? Elizabeth, you have to understand, we don't just take in anyone. And while I admire your work, I have to ensure that you will be devoted to us and our cause. That means some sacrifices have to be made." She paused, gently brushing a hand down the side of her cheek, "So - beaten or drowned?"

"Neither." She swallowed, having experience one and half-experienced the other.

Cleo sighed, moving back to her chair, and without sharing a look at her, asked, "How's Rita?"

"You know about...?"

"Yes. How is she?"

"Angry. Upset. Wants to kill Jim. In fact," Elizabeth laughed, "She wants me to kill Jim, who is supposedly behind your decision to take me on."

Ms Black gripped the back of her chair tightly. Family was everything. She had to protect hers and so she had to turn this around.

"Is that true? Because, you know, I thought I was joining out of my own accord."

Cleo turned around with a wide, thin smile, displeased with what Rita had revealed but thankful she hadn't said anymore and thankful to herself for not revealing the whole plan to anyone other than Amber. The leader nodded. There wasn't much else to do. Admitting that wouldn't hurt their plans.

"Moriarty provided incentive to keep you under our watch."

"So this was never about liking my past work, was it?"

"That wasn't a lie. I'm impressed by how well you've kept out of trouble. Had Moriarty said nothing though, I wouldn't have dreamt of speaking with you."

"He wants me to betray Sherlock. I can't do that."

"But you also can't stop stealing."

"I - "

"It's just sad when you try to defend yourself so don't." Then she shook her head, amused, "And it's funny how you mention betraying the detective when, in already agreeing to join us, you've done that - "

Now Elizabeth had to keep her prospective boss unsuspicious of her intentions, "Fine. You're right. I can't resist. It's the thrill of it."

The thrill of taking an entire gang down on her own and proving herself to the people who doubted her most.

Cleo nodded, as she had expected, "Personally, I don't care what Jim wants - you're with us now. You get to choose how we fit into your life but you have to let us help you fit into ours. So, I'll ask again - beaten or drowned?"

* * * * * * * *

The official inspector massaged his temples as he rested his arms on the table in front of him. The light in the room dark with the mere dim glow of the hospital CCTV in front of them. He had paused it.

"Listen, Sherlock, we're doing the best we can - "

"WELL IT'S NOT ENOUGH, GAVIN!" Sherlock yelled, stressed about where his partner could be.

Greg Lestrade sat back in his chair in the CCTV office at once again hearing the wrong name, "It's Greg," He said although he knew it was no use.

"Play the video again. There's something I'm missing. There has to be," The annoyance laced his tone, "Something small, something important, something I skip over every time."

With a sigh, Lestrade had the footage played for him again. Both men watched. Both men waited. Lestrade's eyes were on Elizabeth and the kidnappers, evaluating her reaction and the way these people conducted themselves. Sherlock's eyes were scanning the van. No number plate. But there had to be an identifying feature. Through the grainy footage, the detective spotted a white mark on the van, just above where the number plate would have been.

"There." He pointed, "Have the footage rendered. It can't be just a mark. They want me to find her or else they would have shot me."

"Sherlock - "

"Have it rendered. It's something. It has to be."

* * * * * * *

After having been called out on being blinded by love himself, Mycroft Holmes felt somewhat colder towards Rita. He had stood, staring out of the hospital room window, out at London below, wondering if it had all been a lie, if his deductions truly had been maimed by the sight of a long time friend and potential partner.

"What's wrong, Mycroft?" Rita asked.

She couldn't bear the silence between them for she truly liked Mycroft, not just for his position and how beneficial a contact like him would be to the gang but because she could see the human in him. Yes, she was livid, but seeing Mycroft doubtful of her now overrode those feelings with uneasiness.

"I'm thinking..."

"That's never good."

He tried to fight back a smile, tried to fight back the want to look at her in the fear of having the veil pulled off of his eyes. Mycroft Holmes thought he finally had something good in his life.

"Rita?" He still didn't look at her.

"Yes?"

"Are you - "

"In pain. Yes." She said quickly, sensing where the conversation would be headed, "It would be nice if you could find a nurse, ask for some pain killers."

"Rita, are you lying?" Mycroft still asked.

"No. Imagine being burned with bleach. It really does hurt - "

"No, Rita, don't be obtuse with me. Are you lying about what you said to Elizabeth?"

"No." She answered honestly, hoping they could move on the conversation.

"Are you keeping something from me?"

"I - "

"Be honest. I can't bear it when someone close to me believes they can hide something without me finding out about it eventually."

"Mycroft," She said, her brows forming an eagle of concern as she forced out the lie, "I'm not hiding anything from you."

There it was, he thought, that little condescending intonation in her voice as he said her name, trying to pass it off as though he was being silly. He wasn't being silly. And he didn't even need to look at her to tell now.

"I want to believe you." He paused, "But I can't."

"But - "

"I don't know what it is that you think you can keep from me and my brother, but know that we will find out."

"Mycroft, Myc, I - "

But the conversation was over. The walls were back up and the glances were still nonexistent. The Iceman didn't care to look back at her and bid her farewell or a good day but simply walked out. A stunned shine shimmered in her dark eyes when he left.

Had Rita ruined what they had?