Hello! I've almost finished the last chapter of Gaps, so I think I deserve to post a new fic.

I've actually had this one in the works for a while and have almost finished chapter 3. I've created an entire world around it that I call the Vila!Verse, and I'm quite proud of it. I may use the Vila!Verse in other fics. But for now I'm keeping it to Sherlock.

And yes, I know. I'm actually writing something other than Doctor Who!

I may have written Sherlock a little more emotionally obvious than he usually is, but I really think that things like that are starting to show through at the end of the season. It's part of what gave me the idea for the verse.

Hope you like it.

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Have Fun

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Sherlock looked at the body on the morgue gurney. He'd already figured out the exact cause of death, but now he was looking for something more.

There had to be something more about this corpse. Of course, it wasn't going to be easy. This was no ordinary case. This was the first body. The first murder victim to arrive since Moriarty's message went out across London. But that alone wasn't why he took the case. Apparently the tip was from the man himself. All the TVs in Scotland Yard started playing a video of him. The video gave them exact co-ordinates to where they found the body. A note was found at the site simply stating 'Have fun!'

He was examining every little bit of the man's body for any clue, although he was yet to try the clothing and samples from the scene. They were up in Molly's lab. Still, he had to leave no stone unturned... and he had to be missing something!

His head snapped up when the clash of a metal tray resounded loudly around the room. Molly stood opposite the table, her fingers turning white as she gripped the tray.

"Why does he have to do this again?" she hissed. "Everything is a fucking game to him!"

Sherlock was taken aback by the venom in her voice and the language. He had barely ever heard Molly Hooper swear, and he'd lived with her for a year.

"Sorry?" he stuttered.

"He's always... First with that horrible bombing game of 'guess how'. Then what he did to you. That was a game to him, and bloody hell, did he enjoy it." Once again, he was taken aback by the look of hatred that crossed her face as she said this. It was just so strange to see sweet, kind Molly's face distorted into a loathe-filled sneer. "And now he's setting up a bloody scavenger hunt!"

Sherlock blinked as her words sunk in. She was right. Moriarty had told him where to find the body, and it was likely to lead him to another clue. He was sending them on a scavenger hunt. To what? Him?

"He's a psychopath and insane. What would you expect. I'm still stumped on how he managed to fake his death. I have a few highly plausible theories, but none of them could be pulled off that perfectly within such a close proximity of me."

Molly pursed her lips grimly. He was right. There was no way he could have. She had performed the autopsy. She had seen exactly where the bullet had gone through his brain. She of all people should have been able to... She wished that she could have personally set fire to his corpse when she had the chance.

She shook her head to get rid of those horrid thoughts. She was shocked that she could even think such vile things. Then again, the man was a threat to Sherlock. He was a threat to her, to everyone... and especially to Sherlock. She couldn't allow that.

She was okay with death – she was a pathologist after all – she was fascinated by it, even. She respected it. But given the choice, she would protect those from it. Not many people actually deserved to die. But when they did, they always deserved the respects and rights they were owed. It was in her nature. And those thoughts... those had crossed the line.

"Molly, are you alright?" Sherlock's baritone voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm – I'm just worried is all."

"I won't let him get to you."

"Huh?"

"You have... history with him. He didn't target you last time, but there is every possibility that he will this time. Especially since..."

"I helped you fake your death?"

He nodded in response, but there was something else in his eyes. He was looking at her with those eyes. Those bright green-blue eyes. A smile was on his face, but it didn't touch his eyes. His eyes were sad... just like when she had first told him about Tom. It was the same look.

Memories of Tom came back to her, memories of the last few times they'd talked. She coughed and looked down. It was rather needless to say that Sherlock had been the reason they were no longer together. But she understood why, and really it was for the best. There was no way that she could have carried on with Tom. Not with the way things were.

"Well, I'll be okay," she gave him a small smile.

"Molly, he's a dangerous psychopath. You need-"

"With you, I mean," she said a little louder, cutting him off. "I'll be safe with you looking out for me. If there's anyone in the world that I trust unequivocally, it's you."

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth, seeming to be at a loss for words. He stared at her, his eyes wide. And for a second, she could have sworn that his eyes flashed. It could have been the florescent lights reflecting, but she knew exactly what that looked like, and it wasn't that. They seemed to get brighter for a split second, the blue-green intensifying. Almost glowing.

She blinked and shook her head. She was tired. If she was being honest, she hadn't really slept since Moriarty had come back. She wasn't sure what it was that was keeping her up. The fear, the guilt, the anxiety. All she knew was that things were going to get very bad.

"So, erm..." she stuttered. "The, um – the big question is, do we play?"

"Sorry?"

"Moriarty's little game. Are you going to play it. I mean, on the up side, you'll probably meet him again, and the sooner we get to him, the sooner we can get him in custody. But, on the down side, if this is what the clues are like, then he's possibly going to kill more people, or worse. At least with the other games there was something in it if you played. You saved someone's life. This one he might just kill people as the clues, like this poor guy. And then again, he might do something worse if we don't play."

"Good," Sherlock smiled. "Very good. You're getting better at this."

"Unfortunately, I think I just know Jim Moriarty. That's not a good thing."

"Quite the contrary, currently is a very good thing."

Molly bit her lip, not comfortable with that statement. She despised everything about Moriarty. She only knew so much about him because she was wary of the safety of her friends. "So, what are we going to do? Play or not?"

"Well, you're right that he could do something worse. I think that we should work this case, but ask him what happens if we don't. It's better to have it ready to go with an answer. The question is, how do we get in touch with him?"

"Um... reverse broadcast? Or... something. You can bet he's watching us somehow. God knows, he has been other times."

"Very unsettling, and very true. Molly, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I just don't like this. If he's back, you're in danger again."

Sherlock smiled at her, his eyes warm and... glowing again... "Oh, Molly Hooper. Always looking out for me." He went around the gurney and placed a hand on her shoulder. She had to stop herself from shaking as he leaned in closer and placed a small kiss on her cheek. As he pulled away, she also had to force herself to breathe again. "I think this is all we can do here. What do you say we back up and start on the tests up stairs?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll just finish him up. I'll only be ten minutes."

"Can't you leave it for someone else?"

"I really can't. I got in a bit of trouble last time. You go on, I'll be there soon. Everyone here knows you, so I promise they won't bug you."

"Alright, then," he said. She may be imagining things – god knows, she already was – but she could have sworn that he looked put out. He turned to leave, but quickly she stopped him, feeling the need to make him happy again.

"Do you want a coffee? I – I was thinking of passing the cafeteria on my way. I could get you one too?"

"Actually, that would be rather nice, thank you, Molly." He smiled at her and she grinned in return. Then he turned and walked out the door, circling his shoulders as if his back was sore. Hmm... perhaps he wouldn't currently object to a massage...

No! Bad Molly! Bad thoughts! She'd promised she wouldn't do this anymore. If she couldn't have him the way she wanted, she would do what she was able. Her face turning firm, she stripped off her gloves and grabbed her phone. The number she needed was on speedial and she held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" a sweet voice chirped from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Nora, it's me," she said. "Would you be able to get in touch with a certain psychotic ex of mine?"

"You.. Do you mean Jim? I thought he was after... Why would you want to get in contact with him?"

"I have a message for him."