"H-how the bloody hell did you do that!?" Lestrade asked in a panic.
"You've had too much to drink," was Sherlock's reply.
"Sherlock!" Molly scolded him.
"I'm gonna need a drink," replied the detective inspector.
"You won't believe us even if we told you," Sherlock continued, hoping Greg would just decide that ignorance is bliss.
"After seeing a dead man sit up, I think I'd believe anything at this point," Greg pointed out.
"He's right, darling," Molly agreed.
"Oh, very well. You can explain it more gently than I."
Lestrade listened closely to what he was being told. If anything, it made sense to him that his friends were a witch and a werewolf. It definitely explained why Sherlock refused to takes cases during a full moon. Molly told him the entire tale of their séance with Moriarty's ghost and Irene's vampiric nature.
"A murderous ghost…that's a new one," Greg laughed nervously. "A perfect crime if ever I heard of one."
"You won't say anything, right?" Molly's worried expression was plain as the nose on her face.
"Betray you two? I'd sooner spend the day with Anderson," he assured them.
"And that's when you know he means it," Sherlock remarked, rather amused.
Later that night, Molly was in a fitful sleep. She tossed and turned countless times, unable to rid herself of the nightmare. Horrifying images plagued her mind; nails painted crimson red, a woman strangled in a back alley, and Sherlock bleeding just below his naval. A man's bone-chilling laugh could be heard during the latter image.
Sherlock woke to the sound of his wife's scream, thoroughly surprised it didn't wake Victoria.
"Molly, wake up," he urged her. "Look at me; it's just a nightmare."
"Sherlock," she breathed heavily. "You're okay. Oh thank God you're okay."
"Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?" He took her hand in his, immediately chilling him. "You're ice cold. What's happened?"
"I-I think I had a vision," she admitted.
"Of the future?" he asked.
"I assume so, though I hope that last one never happens." Her voice was tremulous at this point.
"Tell me; maybe it can be prevented," Sherlock assured her.
"You were lying on the ground; cold concrete," she began. "You were bleeding from below your naval. While not entirely fatal, it would've needed medical attention quickly."
"Is there anything else you remember?"
"A man's laugh; it was so malicious, it chilled me to the bone," Molly told him. "I've no idea what it means other than you're in danger. Before that, I saw crimson nails, and a strangled woman in a back alley of London."
Wrapping his arms around her, Sherlock comforted his wife as best as he could. Molly clung onto him, welcoming his embrace.
"What are we going to do?" she trembled.
"There isn't much we can do at the moment," he pointed out. "But we should at least tell John and Mary." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "After all, Mary is in your coven. We'll have more power on our side than we did last time."
Molly agreed. It was the most logical thing to do, of course. She settled comfortably in his arms, eventually lulled to sleep by her husband singing softly to her just as he did for Victoria. Tomorrow, they'd tell their friends what to look out for.
She followed a man to Leinster Gardens, keeping far enough away as to go unnoticed, but close enough to not lose the trail. Her light brown eyes kept an eye through the veil, watching as the adulterous husband searched for his mistress. Oh, he believed it to be another secret meeting, but never considered it was the night he'd meet his doom.
'It's time,' she thought with a sinister satisfaction.
"Who's there?" The man called out. "I demand you show yourself at once!"
That's when the singing began. It was too soft to make out the words, but it was alarming enough to send chills up his spine. Feeling breath on the back of his neck, he turned around slowly.
"You broke your vows," she whispered, raising her dagger high.
"Stay away!" he shouted.
A light turned on, distracting them both. When the man turned back to face her, she had disappeared.
Mary Watson set down Molly's cup of tea. John and Sherlock had been called in by Greg to take a look at the murder scene of Gwendoline Beauchamp, who had been strangled with nothing other than gloved hands.
"You're more experienced, Mary…there's gotta be something I can do to prevent my vision," Molly fretted. "The crimson nails probably belong to the murderer of Milton, and now this strangled woman I saw in my nightmare."
"I'm sorry, poppet, but there's nothing more to be done. The visions aren't there for us to prevent them; only to help prepare us for what's to come," Mary informed her sympathetically.
The sound of squealing, happy babies averted their attention momentarily. Rosie and Victoria were keeping themselves occupied in the playpen.
"The best you can do is making sure you're always prepared at a moment's notice if Sherlock should ever meet his fate in your vision," Mary continued. "I wish I could do more, but the most I can offer is helping you with a tracking spell once we find out who has a vendetta against Sherlock."
"Mary, there's so many people it could be," Molly pointed out. "I could probably write up pages of names."
"Well, supernaturally speaking, is there anyone who may want to avenge Moriarty or Irene?" she inquired.
"Kate was Irene's closest ally, but only because she had been sired by her," Molly explained. "As for Moriarty…it could be anyone. He never let on who his allies were."
"I've got an idea," Mary smirked.
Molly couldn't get a word out before her friend began setting out vials and a couple of herbs.
"This should help you focus your mind and allow you to control what your next vision shows you," Mary explained.
"How very useful," Molly remarked, her burden lifting off her ever so slightly. "Yes, this should be perfect."
Fingers drummed against the shabby wooden table in the old warehouse.
"About time you showed up," remarked a man with a slight Irish accent.
The man who had just entered to warehouse stood for a moment in silence before tossing his gun on the torn sofa.
"Bad time at the club?" the Irishman asked.
"Was caught cheating and this hotshot—Adair—threatened to expose me," he replied.
"So, what'd you do then?"
"What I'm good at—I killed 'im."
"Ah, well. I do hope you were conspicuous. Holmes is onto us, Sebastian."
Author's Note: Two different mysteries at play here...anyone guess the big bad was gonna be Sebastian? Oh, and did anyone catch the Easter Egg from The Adventure of the Empty House? Also, if anyone has any guesses as to who the two remaining unidentified villains are, don't hesitate to take a shot in your review, though I won't tell until the reveal chapter!
