Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one. I tried to message you all back, but if I missed any of you I'm very sorry. I appreciate the time you all take to read my story and hope you enjoy what I have here for you now and will enjoy future chapters. Thanks again!

Chapter Two

I'm at Baker Street still going over the crime scene photos, frustrated because I can't seem to figure out what it is that I'm missing. What was it about that body that someone needed it to disappear? I have the photos pinned to the wall in hope that the different perspective will show me the clue, but it's not helping any.

Of course it also doesn't help that I keep thinking about Molly every few moments. Thoughts of her wearing my shirt keep invading my mind. I wasn't lying when I told her that she looked better in the shirt than I do. I shouldn't have said anything, but I just couldn't seem to help myself. I'm glad that she's finally found some happiness and I don't want to get in the way, but at the same time I do. Maybe I should have tried to stay in touch with her while I was gone, maybe then things could be different now. I can't change the past and now I've lost out on any claim I might have ever had on Molly Hooper.

What am I even doing? I shouldn't be thinking about any of this at all. I'll just delete it and everything will go back to normal. And yet, no matter how many times I've tried I cannot seem to delete even one detail about Molly from my mind.

Maybe I should phone John and see if he can stop by and take a look at the photos. I doubt that he'll be able to see anything that I haven't, but he always makes a good sounding board. Maybe I can casually pick his brain about Molly without him figuring out what I'm doing. Though his track record with women isn't that great, granted it looks like he's finally found someone worth keeping in Mary. I pick up my phone just as the text comes in.

Come out and play. She needs your help.

I wasn't sure where I should be going to help "her" whoever she might be, however, the only person that ever wants to "play" is Moriarty. If Moriarty is involved in this that could mean someone is primed to explode or something as equally as bad. With this knowledge I rush out the door and almost trip over her body.

Molly, my Molly is lying there on my doorstep in a bloody heap. My heart stops in the moment that I realize it's her, and doesn't start again until I comprehend that she's still alive. I'm on my phone calling for an ambulance as soon as my brain starts functioning again, and yelling at Mrs. Hudson to phone John and Lestrade.

"Molly. Molly. I need you to look at me please. Open your eyes," I said hoping that she'll wake up, but her eyes don't even flutter. "You're going to be alright. I'm right here," I whispered to her, saying the words more for myself because I know I can't lose her. Anger fills my gut with the realization of what this could mean for the game Moriarty has planned for me to play this time around.

I'm not sure if I was breathing the entire way to the hospital. I'm not sure I'll be able to really breathe again until I know for sure that she's going to make it through, and until Jim Moriarty is finally out of our lives forever. I need to get out there; need to find him, but I can't seem to move from the waiting room chair I'm occupying at Bart's. I vaguely register that John has rushed in with Mary right behind him, but still I don't move or look up in their direction.

Moriarty has figured out how I faked my death and now Molly is paying for my deception, I need to think. The board is set and the next move is mine.

"Sherlock. Sherlock," John practically yelling my name finally snaps me out of my thoughts, "what happened? How bad is it, is Molly going to be okay?" he asks once he notices that he has my attention.

"I don't know. She was unconscious when I found her," I manage, "I got a text asking me to come out and play. He left her on the doorstep. I almost fell over her on my rush out the door." I show John the text as I talk.

"And you think it's Moriarty?" John questioned.

"Yes. It's certainly his style. And if it is, it's all my fault that Molly is in there now," I motion towards the room they had taken her. "She helped me. She became something more, and now she's paying for it." I'm caught off guard by my confession about her being something more. Thankfully neither John nor Mary seems to have picked up on my slip.

"Okay, I'll find out what's happening," John said before heading over to talk to one of the nurses that had just exited Molly's room.

"She's tougher than she looks Sherlock," Mary said sitting down next to me. I nod knowing that she's right. She would have to be strong to carry the secret that I was still alive around for the past two years.

I just keep thinking of all those times that I told John that caring about the victims wasn't going to help save them. Things would be so much simpler right now if I could see Molly as just another one of Moriarty's pawns; if I could just walk out those doors right now and concentrate on the game he has laid before me. Problem is Molly means so much more to me. I can hear my brother's voice echoing in my mind, "Caring is not an advantage."

"She's going to be okay Sherlock," John said as he sat back down, "she has quite a bit of bruising, a few broken ribs, a broken wrist and cuts up and down her body. He worked her over pretty good, but I think most of the trauma is going to be psychological. They're stitching her up now. She'll be in pain for a while, but she's going to make it through. What's our next move Sherlock, what's the plan?" He's staring at me with determination. I know he's ready for whatever fight might lie before us.

"I haven't figured that part out yet. He didn't leave me any clues and he always leaves something for me to follow. Why is there no clue? And where is Lestrade, why isn't he here yet?" I asked letting frustration fill my voice.

"He was out front talking to the medics when we got here, so I'm sure he'll be making his way inside soon. Do you know if anyone has called Tom?" Mary asked.

"I told one of the nurses about him, but I don't know if they called him. I didn't want to be the one to call. I'm pretty sure that he doesn't care for me, and not knowing his contact information helped in my decision."

"Seriously Sherlock that's the worst excuse, you could have all of that information with one call to your brother if you wanted," John told me, a stern look set upon his face.

"Okay I've made no effort to call her fiancé because I really don't care to meet him. I would also like to avoid the inevitable confrontation that will ensue when he sees me here."

"What makes you think there will be a confrontation?"

"Something Molly said last night makes me believe he doesn't like me too much," I said deciding not to elaborate on my conversation with Molly.

The doctor came out moments later letting us know that we could go see her. John decides he should give Mrs. Hudson a call to update her since he knows I won't remember to do it. I get up and slowly walk to her room the whole time trying to prepare myself for the hurt that will surely be in her eyes; hurt that I know I've had a part in putting there. I don't know what I'm going to say. What can I say? I'm starting to wonder if I'll be able to make it through this game without losing everything I've come to care about and possibly even love.

"Molly," I said walking through the door. My voice doesn't seem like my own, but I decide to ignore it and focus solely on Molly. The bruises are more prominent now that most of the blood has been washed away. I notice the cuts the doctors stitched up on her face; one below right eye and another along her hairline. Every injury I catalog is like a punch to the gut.

"Sherlock, Jim said he had someone watching me, giving him information," she said sobbing slightly, her voice more of a croak. I surprise myself when I sit next to her taking her hand into mine. "I never thought, I must have said or done something. I'm sorry. I don't understand how he figured it out. I'm really sorry." Her tears were leaving streaks down her face.

"Molly, you have nothing to be sorry about. I put you in this situation, I should be the one apologizing. I thought I had finished off Moriarty and his network. I never would have asked for your help if I thought for one moment that you would get hurt."

"He said this game would have higher stakes; he wants to break you. I tried to tell him that I didn't matter to you, that he shouldn't use me. I told him using me wouldn't force your hand." Every word is accentuated by her soft sobs. "He said I was wrong. I don't want him to win Sherlock."

"He's right, you are the perfect weapon. I don't plan on losing this game of his. We've outsmarted him before and we can do it again. But I want you to understand something Molly, I'm not going to let him punish you for helping me. If that means that I have to die again then I will, but I don't think he'll let me get away with faking it this time."

She nods that she understands, her tears still silently falling down her face. As I lift my hand to wipe them away Tom rushes through the doors.

"Molly, oh my, what happened? I didn't want to believe it when the nurse called." He looks frantic. I make sure to keep my mouth shut knowing that I want to keep from upsetting Molly further. I am itching to say everything I see when I look at her damned fiancé and know that I will say something given the chance. I don't know why she's always picking men who are not deserving of her, myself included, and I don't know why I love driving them away. I decide that the best way to keep myself from saying or doing something I'm going to regret is to leave. I'm sure that Molly would appreciate some time alone with Tom anyway. As I get up to leave Tom finally seems to notice I'm there and takes the chance to punch me, his fist landing square on my jaw.

"I know this is somehow your fault! Was she helping you with one or your cases again? She was doing just fine before you decided to show up again," he's yelling loud enough that one of the nurses comes in to tell him that if he doesn't quite down she'll have security escort him off the premises.

"Tom." I'm surprised by how stern Molly's voice is. "Sherlock didn't do anything. It has something to do with the body that disappeared yesterday. I don't know why they targeted me, but lunatics operate under their delusions." She tried to sit up further in her bed as she said this, but winced in pain instead. "Do you think that you could ask the nurse if I could have something a little stronger for the pain?"

"Yes, of course. I'll be right back," he said before heading towards the door; his hatred for me clear on his face.

"Why did you lie to him Molly?" I inquired after the door closes.

"I don't want to bring him into the middle this mess, and I think…I don't know if things are going to work out between us. I chose this path, working with you, John and Lestrade. I like working with you. But when Tom sees me I think he sees just a boring pathologist, he doesn't see the difference I can make when I help you. He doesn't even like to talk about my job. He doesn't understand why I helped you fake your death. If he doesn't understand these things then does he really accept who I am? I'm sorry he hit you." She reaches her hand up to touch my jaw, but I stop her, taking her hand in mine.

"I think I might have deserved it a bit. I don't want to be the reason you call off your engagement."

"You might be the catalyst, but it's not your fault really. You coming home just made me realize everything that I had told myself didn't matter, mattered more than anything else." At that I couldn't help myself from leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"I should probably go before he comes back. I'll let John and Mary know you're okay, but I'm sure they'll be in soon to see for themselves. Lestrade will be here soon too to talk to you, and you're going to have to tell him the truth. If you don't want Tom to know…" I break off.

"I'll figure it out Sherlock. Please be careful. Jim is very angry that you bested him in his last game; that we both did." Her tear streaked face was causing my heart to clench in ways that I'm not used to.

"Bye Molly," I said, squeezing her hand before leaving.

"Keep someone outside her door," I told Lestrade who was walking toward Molly's door as I am leaving.

"Of course. John was saying that you think it is Moriarty."

"Molly confirmed my suspicions. He apparently wants to punish me for living. Um, Molly doesn't want Tom to know about him though, so it would probably be best to ask him to leave, or ask in a way that possibly connects the events to the missing body. Granted I'm starting to think that the stolen body may have been the opening move in the game."

"Why Molly, Sherlock? Is this because she helped you or is there something else going on that I need to know about?"

"Greg," I think the fact that I got his name correct told him everything that he needed to know because he responded before I could say anything further.

"I understand. We'll all get through this together this time. No more rooftop meetings and plans that you don't include the rest of us in," I hear the concern in his voice, knowing that no matter what I tell him he should expect me to do the opposite.

I nod before walking over to John and Mary.

"She's doing okay. She looks pretty beat up, but you know Molly, she'll try to hide all of the pain with a smile," I don't know when it is that I figured out this piece of information about her, but I know it's true.

"Why is your jaw red?" John questioned, his eyes glancing over towards Molly's door where Tom is walking back with a nurse.

"Oh, it's nothing. Tom just thought I looked like a punching bag for some reason."

John seemed to think this was funny, maybe because he reacted in a similar fashion when I revealed to him that I wasn't truly dead.

"Lestrade is posting an officer outside her room, and since Tom is here now I'd say she's in good hands. I'm sure she'd like to see you both, but if Tom is in the room don't mention Moriarty because for some reason she doesn't want him to know about him." Before either of them can ask further questions I turn to leave. I have a cigarette out before I reach the door.

I pace outside smoking on and off for approximately an hour before heading down to the morgue. I figure it will help me think, and I feel a bit like I'm with Molly here even though she's upstairs. I don't know where to go from here. There hast been any more contact from Moriarty, no clues left with Molly or anywhere else for that matter. I don't know what my next move should be without one of his damned clues. What is he trying to prove? If I were him, what would I be doing next? I know we are alike me and him, but he has me so off balance right now that I cannot even anticipate where all of this is going. Out of frustration I decide to text Mycroft.

At Bart's. Moriarty is back. – SH

I don't actually expect a reply because that's not Mycroft's style. He never texts when he can talk, loves the sound of his own voice a little too much. I don't know what I might be hoping for by sending the text, but know it needed to be done. Still frustrated and pacing the lab twenty minutes later, Mycroft walks in umbrella in hand and his personal assistant Althea on his heels.

"This had better not be some joke of yours brother dear! I…I…" apparently the look on my face renders him speechless because I've never heard him stutter before. "What happened and why am I only now being informed?" He questioned, his composure back in place.

"He sent me a text and left a beaten and bloody Molly Hooper on my doorstep. She's upstairs. And I wasn't calling you until I was sure that she would be alright," I said trying not to let my emotions show.

"Why do you need from me? You wouldn't have gotten in touch if you didn't need something."

"I don't know. He hasn't left me any clues as to what the game is yet, other than he plans on using Molly to get to me. Apparently he's very upset that I didn't die two years ago. Of course he isn't dead either."

"Why are you down here if Doctor Hooper is upstairs?"

"Don't feel like stepping on her fiancé's toes. He already punched me once this evening. Well, I let him punch me anyway. It upsets Molly, and I don't need to be the cause of any more pain right now."

"She knew what she was getting into when she decided to help you. You know that right?"

"Yes, of course I know that. I also know that we couldn't have foreseen any of this. The reason I 'jumped' off that roof in the first place was to keep this from happening. But knowing doesn't make it any less my fault."

"Brother need I remind you what caring gets you?"

"Where has not caring ever gotten either of us Mycroft? We both work so hard at shutting everyone out and it's leaving us bitter and unhappy. I'm tired of it all, so I'm sorry Mycroft if I've decided to care about Molly, John or anyone else," I'm practically yelling at him, finally getting a chance to blow off my frustration and anger. "Caring hasn't dulled my senses, if anything it's made me sharper. Working with John for those two years, I saw the world differently just because I decided to care about one person. So tell me again why caring is not an advantage!"

"Maybe you should go outside and smoke," Mycroft replied avoiding the subject.

"Already did that. I just want to know what the hell game Moriarty is playing this time. Then I can put an end to it and finally be rid of him."

"Go back upstairs. See Doctor Hooper. I'll see what I can find out," he said before leaving as quickly as he had entered, Althea texting on here phone as they left.

I stand at the door trying to decide if I should take Mycroft's advice and head back to Molly's room. I told him that I could care about Molly and it wouldn't change anything, but at the same time I keep telling myself that it would be so much easier if I didn't care. It might be easier, but I'm not sure I want easier any more. Moriarty wants to make this fight personal and always had. And this time around he's definitely found the pressure point that hurts the most.