Y/N P.O.V
It's been almost 2 weeks since I saw Jim and had my week off.
Now everything is back to normal, except Sherlock is in hospital and I'm throwing up.
I finished puking up my breakfast and freshened up, getting ready to go see the bastard that got himself shot.
I fucking hate being ill.
My phone began to ring and I answered it, after seeing Mycroft's caller ID.
"Mr. Holmes, what can I do for you on this dull London morning?" I asked and he sighed.
"Sherlock seems to have gone missing from his hospital room. Go find him." He hung up and I tucked my phone into my pocket.
I mumbled to myself, something about getting more respect, and left the flat.
If I was a stupidly clever man-child where would I hide?
I didn't bother to text or call him, it would be a waste of time.
I checked everywhere I could think of.
Lies.
What place in London is a lie?
Leinster Gardens.
I began walking through the dark street, passing Billy, one part of Sherlock's homeless network. He gave me a small smile and I rolled my eyes, walking down the road.
"Rosie." I sighed.
"You couldn't of hidden for much longer." I sighed looking up at the 'house' with the blonde's face printed onto it.
I moved towards the door, hearing voices, but I was soon knocked out of the way by John, who was angrily storming out as he knocked into me.
"Y/N, get back to Baker Street." He ordered and I raised my eyebrow at him.
Mary and Sherlock followed behind him in silence and I shrugged, tagging along.
~At Baker Street~
"This is your fault!" Mary hissed at me as I walked her down the stairs, showing her out.
Let's say John was less than impressed with their little 'talk'.
"No, my dearest Mrs. Watson, this is all on you. I kept my mouth shut the whole time. Honestly." I smirked at her, holding my hands up in defence.
I went back upstairs to 221B, where both boys were staring at me.
"Sit." John ordered, looking down at the client chair.
"Not a chance in hell-" I said, turning my back and heading towards the kitchen.
"Y/N Ashworth! If you don't sit down now you can leave Baker Street and not come back!" John shouted and I turned to face him, a look of genuine surprise on my face.
"Wow, Ok. Using my full name, I feel like a naughty teenager again." I walked over to the chair and sat down.
"Now you are going to tell us, your life story. All of it has to be true, everything." Sherlock spoke up for the first time since Mary left.
I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, Sherlock already knew about my murderous hobby, so why not? What will John do anyway?
"Sure. I was adopted by an American family when I was a baby, though I believe my parents were originally British. When I was 4 my adopted parents were killed in a car accident, leaving me and my adopted sister with her grandparents." I took a deep breath, reliving the memories inside my head.
"Y/N?" Sherlock asked but I ignored him.
"Everything was fine for a few years, but when Mika, my adopted sister, was 18, she moved to another part of America. That's when her grandparents became abusive and irrational. There wouldn't be any physical violence, but the emotional damage was unbearable and I did try to kill myself on multiple occasions." I lifted up my shirt slightly, revealing a large scar on my stomach.
"I was so unstable that I stabbed myself. However, they were too cruel. They wouldn't let me die." I wiped away a tear, feeling the pain again.
"A few years later, I left. I became healthy, training myself so I wouldn't be weak ever again. I ended up working for the American Government, Mika has a similar job to Mycroft and I worked under her as a Government assassin. They preferred the term 'asset'.
I left after a while, I went rogue. I earned my money on other ways and defended it well."
"That's why you murdered that man on John's wedding day." Sherlock concluded and I nodded my head, whereas the ex-soldier's eyes were wide in surprise and pity.
"I told you Sherlock, the past is what fuels me. Believe me when I say getting in my way is a bad idea."
