Chester woke Alice up one spring day, barking at someone going by on the street on a scooter. She smiled as she yawned and got out of bed, looking forward to grabbing a cup of coffee with Sherlock before she had to head off to work. But her hopes would soon be dashed, since she found a note placed on top of her glasses. Sherlock had already gone, and wouldn't be back for a bit.

John and I are going to Dartmoor on a case. We may be gone for a couple of days. Don't worry, I'll call when I can. We're working on the case that Henry Knight brought in. I'm sure you remember it. Something to do with a hound. Keep that word in mind, 'hound'. It seems peculiar that he would use it. Either way, there should be a decent mystery here. I'll be home soon enough, but for now, enjoy the peace and quiet. Goodness knows you deserve it. X - Sherlock

So he would be off in Dartmoor for the next few days. Alice took Chester out for a walk, returning to the flat to get ready for work. There had been a lot of lower-level crimes coming across her desk lately, but there would be a bit of a break today. Lestrade had texted overnight saying that they had captured someone important and they needed her assistance. He didn't offer many details, but whoever it was must have done something infamous, since he was locked away in Pentonville. She would be meeting Lestrade out there soon enough.

The prison was a large white building north of London, surrounded by razor-wire fences and staffed with guards who looked like they could kill with a glance, and they were certainly prepared to do so. Alice made her way through security, checking her weapon in the office before meeting with Lestrade and the warden, who walked with them down to the high-security level. Mycroft was waiting outside of a cell, glancing into the room through a tiny window. He turned to block it when Alice and Lestrade arrived, however. "Good morning, Ms. Reilly."

"Morning," Alice offered, wondering who was behind the door as she shook his hand.

"We've brought you here because of your connection to this case," Mycroft explained, looking stern. "We've captured someone who may be of interest to you, but we need your expertise in this case. And given your, er, history and prior experience with this matter, we thought you may know how to get information from him."

Alice took a breath before asking, "Who is he?"

Mycroft simply stepped aside to let her look in the window. She peered into the semi-darkness, seeing the distinctive silhouette of a man. He was facing the other way, but she could tell who it was, just from the dark hair and the way he carried himself. She took a step back, looking between Mycroft and Lestrade. "He isn't talking," Lestrade told her, "but we have him."

"Do whatever you want. Break him." She tried to keep her own voice from breaking, the bitterness and contempt she held for him leaking through. They'd finally captured the man who had been taunting Sherlock for months, who threatened them with the strength they knew could be carried out if he felt like it. "Make sure he pays for everything he's done."

Mycroft was about to reply when his phone rang. He stepped aside, Alice listening in to his conversation. "Ministry of Defense base at Baskerville? No, I - ah, I see. No, they are not a threat. Yes. Let them be. Let them be. Do you understand me? Alright. Good. I will deal with them later." He hung up with a sigh, turning back to Alice and Lestrade. "How do you recommend dealing with him?"

"He's going to try and trick you," Alice warned. "But don't let him. Don't give him what he wants. Lie to him, manipulate him, do whatever you have to to get information, but do not give in to what he wants."

That night, Alice was sitting in 221B with Chester, working on a report for a case that Lestrade had assigned her long ago, when her phone rang. Thinking it was Sherlock, she picked it up without looking at the number. "Hello, darling."

Alice froze. "Sebastian? How… how are you?"

"Our mutual friend wanted me to pass along a message. He's out of the game for now, but he sends his regards. He also says to be a good little girl and keep Sherlock nice and healthy. He will need it." The man on the other end of the call hung up, leaving Alice slightly paranoid. She dialed Sherlock, afraid that something had happened to him when he didn't pick up on the first few rings. Finally, he answered, sounding like he had just experienced the fright of his life.

"Are you alright?" was his first question, which made Alice smile a bit.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" Sherlock sighed, Alice waiting for an answer. "You're pacing, Sherlock. What's wrong?'

"I saw it," he admitted through gritted teeth. "It's real."

"Saw what? The hound?"

"The hound," Sherlock confirmed. "I didn't believe it either. But once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." She heard him drop down onto his bed or into a chair. "Alice, I'm afraid. I logically am not, but… my hands are shaking. I've always been able to keep myself distant… it's interesting, isn't it? Feelings. Being afraid. Alice, I -"

"Sherlock, you sound like you're hyperventilating," she observed, sitting back on the sofa.

"It is a giant hound. I can't admit it, but there is a giant hound out in Dewer's Hollow."

"No," Alice contradicted. "There must be another explanation. I know that, and you know that. Sherlock, you're the most brilliant person I know. You can figure this out."

With a child-like nervousness, Sherlock asked her, "And what if it turns out to be real? That means everything I've trusted, all of science and reason… it all led to nothing but a giant hound."

"Sherlock, listen to me," she said gently. "There has to be a reason for this. If there's no physical explanation but a giant hound, then maybe you've been drugged. There has to be a logical explanation, since we both know there are no giant hounds in Dartmoor. It's just a laboratory out there. And nothing would have escaped. Any animal would have to get through the minefield, right? That's not an easy task for a giant dog."

"I've been fine for so long. And now I'm terrified. This shouldn't be happening."

"It's okay," Alice assured him. She stood to close the curtains in the flat as she kept talking. "Setting emotions aside for your work can get to you at times. It's okay, though, being afraid. It means you're alive. But I wish I could be out there with you."

"Me too."

"I promise I'll be here if you want to talk when you get back."

"Thanks. I should probably let you go, since you have to be at work in the morning," Sherlock sighed. "And I have work to do. If there really is a rational explanation… well, I have a theory to test. Goodnight, Alice."

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

He paused before hanging up, adding, "I love you."

She smiled, wishing she could be there in Dartmoor. "I love you too."

Lestrade had gone out to Dartmoor the next morning, supposedly sent by Mycroft to spy on Sherlock. He had left instructions with Donovan to tell Alice that Mycroft was looking for her. So Alice went across London, meeting Mycroft in his office. He was waiting for her behind his oak-paneled desk, looking serious. She took a seat in silence.

"Jim Moriarty is demanding information about my brother. And he is requesting to meet with you."

"No." Alice's reaction was immediate. "You can't tell him anything about Sherlock. He already wants to hurt him. Please, you know what this will do. They're already in some sort of a smoldering conflict. You don't want an all-out war between the most brilliant detective and the most cunning criminal in London."

"I will think about it," Mycroft told her, "but you should meet with him. At least over a webcam. He is asking to talk to you, which is an easy demand to satisfy. We need information."

Alice sighed, finally assenting. Mycroft, in turn, opened a program on his computer and made a call into Pentonville prison. He turned the camera to face her, Alice biting her lip as Moriarty's face appeared. "Hello, there," he smiled. "How are you, dearie? I've missed you."

"What do you want, Jim?"

"Like I said, I've missed you. And now that you've got this pet detective, I really want to check up on you," Moriarty told her. "It's sooooo boring sitting in here. I can't talk to anyone, and I miss my favorite detective. Tell him I say hi, will you?'

"Of course," she said through pursed lips. "But why did you want to talk to me?"

"I just wanted you to know that I'm coming for you both. Now you, I won't hurt. No, no, no. I wouldn't hurt an old friend of mine. I'll rip your heart out, though. As for your precious Sherlock, well…" Moriarty mimed cutting his throat, "I'll deal with him in my own way. Just sit tight, dear, and watch. Watch him burn." The screen went black, the call ending.

Alice turned to Mycroft, begging him, "You have to make sure he can't do anything. Please. He's going to kill your brother if he gets the chance."

"I know," Mycroft nodded, turning the monitor back to its original position. "Jim Moriarty is dangerous, but not while he is locked away. Sherlock will be fine. Now, about this conversation. Sherlock is currently away in Dartmoor, so he won't notice that you've been here. And you will not tell him. You won't breathe a word to him about Jim Moriarty, about your conversation with him today. Let me handle this, and it will all work out. You may not like it, but I will handle this."

Alice assented, with the assurance that Mycroft would not let him get to Sherlock. For now, at least, Moriarty would be locked away in Pentonville. When he returned a few days later, Alice held up her end of the deal and didn't tell Sherlock anything about her conversations with Mycroft and Moriarty. Instead, she listened to him retelling the entire case as he unpacked and made a pile of laundry to do.

He described the hound, and how it had morphed into Moriarty's face as they were all drugged. He even told her how Dr. Frankland had stepped on a mine when they were trying to chase him down, about the brilliant flash that ended the case with a bang. Alice listened, asking questions at a few points, but really just taking him in. He was safe. Moriarty hadn't gotten to him yet. And he wouldn't.

That evening, they sat together on the sofa, watching the news. Alice finally turned to Sherlock and asked, "I know the hound got to you. But are you afraid of Jim Moriarty?"

"I'm not afraid of Moriarty," Sherlock told her, pulling Alice closer. "I'm afraid of what he might do to you, to John, to Mrs. Hudson. I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets to take all of the chances that he wants. And about how things will play out if he manages to get his way. Alice, promise me something. If he comes for us, promise me you'll hunt him down, even if I can't."

"Why wouldn't you be able to hunt him down?" she wondered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Just in case."

"Okay. I want you to promise me something too. No matter what happens with Moriarty, remember that I love you."

"I love you too." He gave her a kiss and held Alice close to him, knowing that there was a possibility, however remote, that he would have to leave her, leave them all, in order to keep them safe.