AN: I'M GETTING A UKELELE!!!! I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!! XDDDDDDDDDDD IT"S COMING ON MONDAY AND SO IS MY PHONE YAAAAAAAAS MONDAYS ARE AWESOME! Okay, back to the story...

Hola! So...apparently last chapter was...depressing...so I'm making this chapter more...not...depressing...HAPPY READING! Oh, and for some reason, my pictures won't load into the story so...it's at the top for this chapter! now you can HAPPILY READ!

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*Song of the Chapter* : Bennie and the Jets- Elton John

Sherlock POV-

I was a little upset I didn't get a picture of her. I learned a lot about her past, but not a lot about her in general.

Exiting out of both articles (The third article was about a state-wide singing contest she had won through her high school when she was a teen) I decided to risk it a bit with the face-book page.

"Hey," John walked into the flat, "What did you find?"

"Oh! Back so soon?" I teased, turning around in the chair to face him before the page even loaded.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "yeah, the suspense really bothered me. What did you find while I was gone?" He repeated. The screen turned black.

"Well, she's an orphan. Her parents died in a church shooting and was killed by some past church member, an old man, after confronting the man to to what they were doing ." I explained as John nodded every now an then.

"Was that the accident I thought she caused?" He sheepishly asked.

"Yes, yes it was." I gave him a look, "and she was a part of another accident a couple years ago."

"Really? Was she hurt?" He peered down at the laptop that was now shut off.

"Yeah, it seems she was hurt pretty badly. She was rushed to a hospital in another town with a large amount of blood loss from a huge gash on her abdomen and arm."

"Oh. Ouch." Watson flinched. I believe 'Ouch doesn't even cover the amount of pain she was in, physically and emotionally. Losing her parents one year and her friends the next. And then she had those children who lost their mother that she couldn't save, even though it was pretty much inevitable. "Did anyone die?"

"Three adults. Two of which were her friends, and one she tried to save from a car that was about to explode."

"Oh my Gosh, wow! That must have been a really bad accident!"

"It was rated number Five in Utah for the worst accidents to occur." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Well at least she's okay." He walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

"I don't know if okay is the right word for her state..." I mumbled. John didn't hear me.

"Did you find a picture of her at all?" John spoke from the kitchen, "Anything that gives us a hint about her and not just her backstory?" He began to walk back into the room I was in. I smirked at him.

"Just her backstory? Just from her backstory, I can tell she deals with immense guilt because she feels she should have done more for Alexis Lilledelchi, the mother who died. I can tell she has PTSD from all the experience she has had with death. Most likely, she can trigger a panic attack from either guns, cars, gas and fire. Of the four it is most likely fire because it is more rational to deal with and because of the way she talks to the reporters, she is a rather rational person. I am still on the hunt for a picture or address of some sort. We already have her number. So, I guess in some ways Facebook is useful." I shrugged my shoulders. Watson sighed.

"Why on Earth are we even doing this? I say, if Moriarty does get in trouble we contact the girl. Not go searching for her! So, why even bother with this?" Watson sat down in his chair, slumping in the living room.

"Well, I'm bored." I said, obviously.

"No. No you're not bored." He snapped. "You're Sherlock Holmes, and you have to know everything. Anything that you can't figure out is an insult." He raised his eyebrows.

"Well...I don't like not knowing." I pouted, crossing my arms. He rolled his eyes.

"There's no point to anything we're doing. There's absolutely no point." He repeated for his own effect.

"Watson, sometimes you can be a bit dramatic..." I rolled my eyes at him as he glared at me. "Well, my theory is that she is his sister, cousin, some sort of family that he isn't in direct contact with at the moment. Its impossible for him to feel anything, from what we've seen of him. So that rules out anything but family."

Watson's facial expression never changed.

"Oh please, save the applause for later." I said sarcastically. There was an awkward silence between Watson glaring at me and me, aimlessly looking around the room. I sighed in defeat.

"Fine..." I groaned. "I'm done now, no more searching for Moriarty' sister," I tried.

Watson shook his head.

"Cousin?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Aunt?"

"Okay, now you're being a bit ridiculous." He gave me a look.

"Am I?" I challenged. "Second-Cousin? Three times removed?"

Watson chuckled. "I'm going to bed..." he sat up from his chair, walking to the kitchen.

"Mother?" I asked finally. Watson raised a finger in the air.

"Bed!"

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I awoke at the exact time I needed to, that night. I practically sprung up to my feet, and made my way to the laptop quietly.

Not knowing who Greta Levine is...I didn't like it. And I needed to know.

I circled the mouse on the keyboard, and the blinding white of the screen pierced my eyes. Well now, I was definitely awake. The usual start-up screen popped up as I typed in the password, lazily. Apparently, it had exited out of everything that I had researched. I typed in her name again, rubbing my eyes and trying to get rid of the sleep that still made my eyelids droopy.

Again, one by one links to different things showed up. I clicked on the Facebook page once again. Once it came to full show, all of her pictures including her actual profile picture were still in the process of loading. My mouse suddenly spazed, making me groan in aggitation as it brought me way farther into her page then I wanted to.

There were posts from other people about her, but it looked like she was hardly ever on social media. Either that, or she made her page private, which is a smart thing to do, especially if you want strangers looking for more information on Greta Levine.

Wait a minute, that's me.

I finally got to the top and was able to see her profile pictures and such. I can honestly say I was not expecting what I saw.

"Bloody hell..." I murmered.

I honestly felt so...stupid. I tried to look for anything that would prove her pictures were fake somehow. It couldn't be so.

How could he? My entire mind palace was crumbling down. All the theories were all for naught. I was about to shout for Watson to come down and see hat u was seeing just in case I was hallucinating, but a cloth was pressed to my face, and my hands shot up to the figure holding it against me, and tried to pry him off, but my eyelids began to drop and I felt everything go black.

All I could see was the picture. The picture of what I know to be Greta Levine in lip-lock with Moriarty, the camera focusing on her outstretched hand which held a single diamond ring on her finger.

It wasn't fake. And the relationship certainly wasn't either.

AN: I know what you're thinking, "But Lyza! You said you weren't going to make it sad!" And I didn't! I just made it suspenseful!

So, I hate to leave you on edge, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to update until Monday-ish...whoops. BUT IF YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER:

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AND ILL SEE YOU ON MONDAY! woOOO...maybe sooner...maybe later.