AN: Hey guys! So this is just a semi-teaser chapter that looks back on James' past. I really hated waiting to give you this chapter, but I promise I will give you a full one as soon as possible with Christmas coming up!

Be prepared

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Past (still) - James Pov-

Her red lips. Her blue/gray eyes. Her captivating smile. The small gap in her teeth. I couldn't stop thinking about her. At least more than normal.

Sleeping became more restless, and the voices in my head darkened. The waiter I had killed haunted me, my conscience changing.

I felt it in my private jet. The transformation.

I remember running to the small bathroom, the pain in my stomach increasing. I began to sweat, and gripped my hands on the edge of sink.

No, I don't want to. Please.

Begging for it all to stop, the familiar speech began to recite itself.

'You're insane. You murdered your own brother. You deserve this'

The day rushed back to me, against my will, just like most of my actions in London.

The car. My little brother in the car seat behind me. Myself at the wheel. The anger I had boiled inside with my parents who decided they needed another kid. A better kid.

Because I was a failure. Because my mind was different.

I loved my brother, don't get me wrong.  I didn't love my parents, mark my words.

In fact, I hated them. And that very same hatred created Moriarty. I didn't even give him another name besides my own. He was part of me; he was me.

His first appearance brought me to the mental institution when I was eight years old, where I stayed until I was 'fit to be a member of society'. I was ten years old when I got out and found my mother and father were expecting, and I quote, 'a different child'.

Ouch, right?

They didn't say 'another child', no no. They had to let me know I wasn't good enough for them and they needed a replacement.

I became my only friend. I was the insane kid at school that everyone was scared of. I never smiled, never spoke. I just went through the motions, begging for it all to stop. But I needed Moriarty. Like I said, he was my only friend and I wasn't alright giving him up.

Now, I wish I had given him up. Then none of this would ever happen.

They had Benjamin when I was eleven years old, and although he was the favorite, the life of the family, they neglected him. Just as they did me. My parents decided the lavish dinner parties and keeping the business name in check were more important than taking care of their sons.

So I took him under my wing, no matter how much I wanted him gone. Moriarty told me it could help me to grow close to Benjamin, not aware of his own plan.

So for six years, that's exactly what I did. I fed him in the mornings when my mother was hungover and my father was at work. I made his bed and cleaned his room. I walked him to his daycare. And when he was old enough I drove him to kindergarten in my mother's car. Against the law.

But only when my mother was hungover from the night's previous dinner party. I only ever drove him to his school, because I was too afraid to get in trouble.

Back then, I was afraid to commit a crime.

I had my own system of doing things, and while Ben was young, Moriarty had settled down. Almost nonexistent. He didn't show up for six years.

But when he did show up, it was a grand and dramatic entrance. One I can never forget.

Benjamin was six. I was seventeen. He was my joy in life. And I guess the hidden part of me was not okay with that.

He was riding in my backseat to go to Kindergarten and was singing a song he learned the other day. As loud as he could.

Normally, I'd be fine. I'd learn to block it out and continue with my day, but today. Today I had a searing headache.

"Hey bud, can you please stop singing so loud?" I kindly asked him. I squinted my eyes to try to relieve it, but it wouldn't go away. It only worsened.

We rounded the corner, and Theo pretended he couldn't hear me. I let go of the blinkers and asked a little louder, every part of me wanting to scream in frustration and anger.

"Hey! Please, can you sing quieter?!" I shook my head quickly and looked back up to keep my eyes on the road.

The headache, now a roaring pain, pounded in my eardrums and made my heart race. I was so angry at my brother for not listening to me as he yet continued to sing, louder than before.

I lost the fight against myself. Everything caved on top of me, and because I had lost, I sent myself into a spiral of collision. I remember screaming at him,

"BEN! I could just KILL you right now!"

I remembered it sounding like a different person. I remember instantly regretting it when his singing ceased. I remember his soft voice whisper my name, concerned. I remember looking back to the window, ignoring his calls, my headache was gone.

And I remember slamming on the brakes. The car swerving backward, and the truck that hit the back first because of its swerving. The car flying off the street into the ditch.

And me, almost completely unharmed.

And Benjamin, his heartbeat disappearing just before the ambulance could show up.

My parents exiled me from the house. I haven't been in contact with them ever since.

But I didn't care. I hated them. I hated them so much, I told Moriarty to kill them.

The one thing I can't remember is whether he did or not.

The plane made its way 4,000 miles away from Greta, I felt myself slipping back into the insanity that was hidden for the week I had been with her.

"Welcome back, old friend," I whispered to myself. "It's been a while." An unnatural smile crept on the face that stared back at me from the mirror in the jet bathroom. Every part of me, except Moriarty, longed more than ever, just to run back to Greta and keep myself safe. I suddenly became scared of what was coming back for me in England.

"Let's have some fun. . ."

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AN: Wooh! Okay, so like I said, I'll try and give you more as soon as I can. I was trying to get a couple months of date night with Grames (the ship name for Greta and James, everyone thank Banana_tree ) so I can do a Christmas special on their first Christmas together but at the rate I'm writing at, it will most likely be...

summer of 2024 (which I think is appropriate for a Sherlock fanfiction, I mean what do you expect?)

Lol guys, I'm just kidding, don't get your panties in a twist. I'll try and get some stuff done during Christmas break.

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