Molly could not see. She could barely breathe under this bag. She felt ropes were wrapped around her wrists and ankles onto a cold, metal chair.

"Hello..." She called out in a raspy voice. She had just come to, and she didn't know how long she had been unconscious.

"Oooh. Nice to see you are awake. I can finally call Sherlock. Don't mind me then."

Molly's chest tightened. She thought she might have a panic attack. She forced herself to breathe normally in the bag's tepid air.

Think. This man has kidnapped you to get to Sherlock, assuming he cared enough to find her himself. Oh God, what am I going to do?

Sherlock was holding back the deluge of emotions as he looked at Molly's wrecked apartment.

He was trying to think without letting his feelings getting in the way. Damnit Molly. What did you do? No, it couldn't have been anything she had done, it had to be connected with him. He added guilt to the list of things that clogged his mind.

Lestrade came up to him. "We can't find anything that substantial. The perp burned everything. We can't even get a hair."

Sherlock swallowed, "Yes, I didn't really expect you too. I would like to have a look around, just with John if you don't mind."

"Oh not this again, I can't let you break any more rules, Sherlock. I'm pushing them just letting you in here."

"Fine. Just make Anderson leave the room. That's all."

Lestrade sighed. He tapped Anderson on the shoulder and whispered something to him. Anderson started to protest but Lestrade nodded at Sherlock and whispered something again. Anderson reluctantly left the room.

Sherlock started to inspect the apartment, almost by the molecule. Silent, he stalked about the room, muttering to himself then and again. Lestrade and John watched with patience, while all the other investigators wondered why they had such an insufferable lunatic looking around there crime scene.

In the middle of his investigation, Sherlock's phone rang.

He looked at it, no caller ID. This is exactly what he had been fearing. Reluctantly, he pushed accept.

"...Hello?"

"Hello Sherlock, fancy me getting your attention finally. I knew something would do the trick."

Sherlock stalked out the door.

"Sherlock, wait-" Lestrade called.

But he was already gone.

"Do you have Molly?"

"Of course."

"What do you want then? Money? A favor? An autograph what?"

"Oh nothing at all. I just want to play a game."

Sherlock's eyes closed. Why did psychopaths always want to play games?

"Well then, what is the gameyou want to play" He spat

"I just want to see if you can find her."

Silence.

"That's it?"

"Yes. I am quite fascinated by you really, I guess you can call me a fan. I just want to see how you do it. Like... do you need clues, or is it just that the people you go after give them to you to make it more fun? Is it a gift what you do? Or can it be learned? What-"

"Fine. Done. I'll come find her."

"Oh, well then. In such a hurry. Don't you even want to talk to her?"

Sherlock heard the phone being moved around, when she spoke he couldn't breathe.

"Sherlock?" sayhello"hello just wanted... to say hi... hope to... see you again.." Molly burst into tears in the last few words.

Sherlock's face screwed up. "I swear to God, if you hurt her you bastard-"

"Let's not be so hasty, shall we? Oh, just to let you know, If you don't find her in the next few days, she dies."

"What-"

"Lets just say, we don't really have much supplies here."

Sherlock breathed to compose himself. "So what do you want me to do then?"

"Like I said, find her. Without help from me. I warn you I am very meticulous in destroying evidence. I do have a few Cold Cases to brag about. Unless you want me to send you a clue? Maybe a toe, or a finger-"

"No, I think I can manage."

"Great. Can't wait to get started, just one more thing: You can't have anyone else's help."

"...Fine."

"Alright then. Let the game begin."