Disclaimer: Let me just begin by saying that yours truly has not abandoned Johnlock. I will continue to ship my two little flat mates until they become canon. Also, Mary was epic, Anderson is one of my new favorite people, and I am slightly torn between staying faithful to Johnlock or branching off to Sheriarty. I always knew those two had chemistry, but I never thought the writers would include something like that crazy fan theory in the episode. The Empty Hearse was literally just every possible ship for Sherlock shoved in there for viewing pleasure. OK, done with my rant. So, I'm genderbending Moriarty, trying this out. Hope you all enjoy!

"So, Mr. Holmes," the kidnapper said conversationally. "Why do you think you're here?" Sherlock shrugged, and tried to find a way out of the ropes tying his hands behind a chair. "Come on, Mr. Holmes, use that brilliant mind of yours."

"My brilliant mind is irritated by the fact that you kidnapped me because you need to draw blood illegally," Sherlock snapped. Damn it, where was John when you needed him? Well, with Mary probably, and Sherlock couldn't begrudge him that. Mary was a wonderful lady.

"Bravo," the kidnapper said, clapping ironically, before taking out a syringe. "If you'll excuse me now, Mr. Holmes." He gently inserted the tip into Sherlock's neck, and the world went fuzzy. Next thing Sherlock knew, he wasn't tied up, simply sitting on the chair, completely alone.

"What the hell?" He wondered, standing up. And then he heard heels. And there were only two people he knew that he could identify by their walk.

"Sherlock Holmes," a drawling voice said, rolling the r in his name slightly longer than necessary. "What a marvelous surprise." She hadn't changed a bit. Her silky black hair was still in a high ponytail, dark eyes glinting with gold and mischief. And she was pale. Almost as pale as a corpse. How fitting.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded. Jade Moriarty stepped closer to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Can't I come visit?" She asked.

"No, seeing as you're dead," he answered. "You shot yourself." Jade clapped ironically.

"Bravo Sherlock," she said. "Brilliant deduction. But you aren't the only one who can do that… neat little trick of yours." She stepped forward, and Sherlock simultaneously wanted to back away and come closer.

"Really?" He asked.

"It's not that complicated," Jade said, and with every word, she took another step closer. "Take yourself, for example."

"Myself?"

"Yes," she said, starting to circle him. "Dilated pupils, quickening of breath, ever so slightly sweaty hands, pulse… dear God, racing? Yes, put it all together, the signs are quite clear."

"Signs of what, Moriarty?" Sherlock asked. And when her voice sounded, her hands were on his shoulders, and her lips next to his ear.

"You…want…me." Sherlock barely contained his shiver.

"Do I?" He asked, turning around to face her. Jade folded her arms across her chest and smirked up at him.

"Yes," she explained. "More than you ever wanted Adler. Because I, dear Sherlock, am you. I am as smart as you; I can beat you. And there's fear, an enjoyable fear."

"The fear of disappointing each other," Sherlock finished. She told him that before. Jade once again closed the distance between them, but this time she seemed more vulnerable. She took a breath.

"That was my one fear, Sherlock Holmes," she admitted, her Irish accent making her sound ever so slightly like a little girl. "Disappointing you." Sherlock bent down so that their foreheads were almost touching.

"That was my fear too," he whispered hoarsely. And then, he was sitting on that chair again as John was frantically untying his hands again.

"Oh, thank God!" The doctor breathed. "You were out like a light during my entire fight." Sherlock pierced the veil of grogginess and saw his kidnapper laying on the floor, unconscious, a bloody lump on his forehead. Mary Morstan was standing watch over him, and she waved at Sherlock. Sherlock nodded, trying to fight off the dizziness.

"Why am I dizzy?" He asked as John got his hands free.

"A mixture of the knock out drug and blood loss," John explained. "Was it a hallucinatory drug? You seem disoriented." Sherlock thought back to what was now clearly a hallucination, to Jade standing so close, to the whispered words they had shared in his fevered mind. Of course that couldn't have been real. Jade had died two years ago on the roof of St. Bart's hospital. John slung Sherlock's arm over his shoulder and hauled the detective up.

"No," Sherlock lied. "It wasn't a hallucinatory drug. I just fell asleep." He pulled away from John. "I can stand on my own." John and Sherlock walked past Mary, who was tying up the kidnapper and dialing Lestrade.

"I'll be at Baker Street!" John called. But Sherlock didn't need John right now. He needed to know either that Jade was certifiably dead, or that it was somehow possible she survived shooting herself in the head. Was it? Maybe it was like Cluedo, where Sherlock wished it were, even if it technically seemed impossible.