Author Notes: Thank you, everyone who's been reading. I posted the last few chapters in a flurry of hard-drive clearing, and I just realized I never added a disclaimer or notes. Obviously Sherlock Holmes and company are not mine. This story has been floating around my computer for a while now. I always imagined Moriarty would be back to settle the score, and I have a decided fondness for Molly, so this fic was born.

This has not been beta'd or Brit-picked. I have quite a few chapters if anyone would like to take up the challenge.

Thanks again for reading!

Sherlock was surprised by the number of people scurrying around Lestrade's office. Not just junior officers. Other DI's would appear at random to offer help and resources.

"Is this all for Moriarty?"

"No, you ass, this is for Molly."

Lestrade took a deep breath. "Sorry. No need for that. We like Molly. She has the highest conviction rate at Bart's."

Sherlock watched as the other officers all nodded. He tried to imagine awkward, stuttering Molly Hooper behaving impressively in the courtroom. Well, he supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch. Once they had moved beyond her silly crush on him she was eminently knowledgeable. He had just never bothered to think of her in court.

John was already filling Lestrade in.

"We found the first clue. Looks like coordinates. And something to do with pawn shops."

"Should we be looking into pawn brokers then?"

"No. The pawn shops are just a motif. He won't be keeping her somewhere so obvious. I've posted the first clue onto the blog. He should respond soon."

Sherlock turned to a spare computer, pulling up Molly's blog. Still nothing. He opened his own blog and John's just to be certain. Nothing. It had been twenty minutes since he had posted the response. He began to feel anxious. He pulled up Molly's work email and her personal account. Then John's and his own. Nothing. John came to stare at the multitude of tabs as he dialed Ana's number for the twelfth time. He opened his mouth to say something to Sherlock then his eyes widened with surprise.

"Hi-Ana? Yes, this is Dr. John Watson. Yes, that one, Thank you. Listen, this is about Molly. No, I got the number from Tom. Ana I need you to listen for a second. Moly's in, well, she in trouble. We need to find an old boyfriend."

The room had gone quite once John had started speaking. Sherlock opened his eyes wide and waved at John impatiently. Lestrade had pulled out his own mobile to start recording. John removed the phone from his ear and pressed the speaker button. Lestrade took over from there.

"Ana? This is Detective Inspector Lestrade with New Scotland Yard. Look, we need to know who Molly dated last. Before Tom."

The unseen Ana had gasped when she realized she was on the phone with the police. "Where is Molly? What happened? Is she alright? Let me speak to her."

The room shifted uncomfortably. No one wanted this kidnapping to become public. It could set off a mass panic. Moriarty had become a media boogeyman, the last thing anyone wanted was news of a mad man stealing young women from their place of work. Lestrade took a deep breath.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Ana. But we really need to speak to you we need to know who Molly used to date."

"Who are you? You could be anyone. Why would a Detective need to know that?"

"I am Detective Inspector Lestrade, badge number 675329. I assure you, I am only trying to help Molly. If you come down to Scotland Yard we can talk to face to face. But it really is urgent that you tell us whatever you can about Molly."

"It's Jim isn't it? It's that mad man on the telly. I told her, I told her she should just take a holiday."

There was the sound of someone holding back tears on the other line, then the increased sound of traffic. Ana had moved from an office back to the street. "I'm headed there now. What do you need to know?"

"Past boyfriends. Anyone who might have stolen or taken something from Molly."

"Molly doesn't date a lot. She hasn't seen anyone since Tom. Do you know about Tom?"

"Yes, we know about Tom and Jim. We need to know about the boyfriends before them. Friends from school."

"We met in Sheffield, in Foundation. But she did her surgical training in Derby, at the Royal. She didn't date anyone seriously once she moved to London. But there was someone in Derby. We lost touch a bit during that time. I know his first name was Isaac. They lived together, for a while I think. But when she moved back she didn't want to talk about it. She can be a bit private."

Sherlock eyes had widened at the name Isaac. He began pacing around, coat flapping. At last the turned to Donavan.

"Her bag. I need it."

With that he swept out of the room. "It's evidence. You can't-"

"Donavan."

Lestrade gave her a pleading look. Sally stopped herself from rolling her eyes, but she went to the processing area anyway. Evidence from the crime scene was still being cleared but she just shouted until someone gave it to her. She found Sherlock in an empty conference room, coat finally draped over the back of an office chair. He was checking Molly's blog again. Still no response. "He should have contacted us by now, right? Proof of life and all."

"He will."

He pulled the bag closer to himself discarding the evidence bag onto the floor. He gave a cursory glance to the outside of the bag. Coffee stain, a broken strap that had been repaired using a vertical mattress suture, washed frequently, fabric tears suggesting binders and files were often carried around. With that he undid the closure and poured the contents onto the table. Donavan made an angry sound, but Sherlock ignored her. There wasn't much inside. So she kept plenty of room for her files. Here was the usual- mobile, wallet, keys, a compact, lipstick, mascara, tampons, Paracetamol, a paperback (Frankenstein, well worn). There was also the debris that ends up in bags, old receipts, gum wrappers, a granola bar, loose change. Sherlock frowned. "What is the date?"

"What?"

"The date. The day of the month?"

"It's the eighteenth. What does that matter?"

"Her bills are due on the thirtieth. She is cautious. Always mails them in at least a week in advance. The stamps, the envelopes- they should be here."

With that he turned the bag inside out. There. A zippered side pocket, and yes, a crinkle of paper. He pulled out three envelopes. Two bills, and a letter, no, a card. A birthday card to a friend from uni. Sherlock set aside the card and the cheque to her dentist. ( A cleaning, hadn't even taken a half day. Went on her lunch hour.) He pulled his kit out of his coat pocket. He used the small blade to open the envelope. It was highly unlikely Moriarty had planted anything there, but no need to be incautious. There wasn't anything of note. Basic bill statement for a personal loan, ten thousand pounds. Molly had been paying it off for six years now. Sherlock did a few calculations. She had been paying thirty over the minimum for most of that time, barring two, possibly three instances. She would have it paid off in another year. Sherlock scanned the statement. There had to be more information. There. Molly was the cosigner. The original applicant, the true owner of the loan was a man. Isaac Gilson. Sherlock swept up the envelopes and left Donovan to deal with the mess.

"Lestrade. I need an address."

Ana Patel- tall, pretty, well dressed, affluent, married three years, no children, asthmatic, vegetarian, enjoyed gambling but not addicted -sat in yet another conference room, crying into a tissue. "Why can't you tell me? Where is she? "

"Ms. Patel, I am sorry but we just can't release that information. I can tell that a very dangerous man wants to hurt her, and we are trying to keep her safe."

Sherlock felt the tiniest stab of envy at the way Lestrade could reassure people. If he had been the one to tell a woman that her friend had caught the interest of a 'dangerous man' the woman would be in hysterics. But with Lestrade she was pulling herself together, and attempting to answer his questions. "We didn't meet till Foundation. We were at Sheffield together, but we didn't meet till O-chem. I think there was someone serious but I don't know. She didn't talk about anyone."

"What about not serious? A fling? Someone casual?"

Lestrade was a little taken aback when Ana let out a trill of hysterical laughter. She reined it in quickly enough. But she did start crying again. "Did you know Molly Hooper at all DI Lestrade?"

Lestrade nodded, his eyes a bit wide. "She wasn't really a fling sort of girl. She..she I don't know how to put it. She was shy, yeah? But she respected herself. I always liked that abut her. But the blokes she fell for. They were always kinda, broken somehow. I'm sorry. I'm not sure if this is helpful. I never even met Isaac. I think he still lives in Dury. "

Sherlock had paused outside the door to listen to this. He cast his eyes across the hall. John was in front of the computer monitor, looking for any contact from Moriarty. He made eye contact with Sherlock and shook his eyes. Still nothing. What was Moriarty waiting for?

Sherlock motioned for John to meet him in the hallway. "This is taking too long. Moriarty should have contacted us. I've found the boyfriend and what he stole."

"What did he take?"

"Money. Molly co-signed a significant number of loans. With him. I believe he depended on her financially for a significant time."

"Can we post that? Should we be posting somewhere else? How are we supposed to contact him?"

"No. Half the answer would just make him angry. We must find the card, find the coordinates."

"Should we post it on our blog? Maybe he hasn't seen it."

"He's seen it. He just wants to remind us that we are on his schedule. I just don't know what that is. I don't know what he's doing."

"To us? Or to Molly?"

Sherlock could only grimace in response.