A/N: Hey, everyone, thank you for your lovely reviews and for following my little soap opera of a story. Only one chapter and the epilogue left after this one!


They have exactly thirty days to get used to the idea of being parents, of learning to deal with the two tiny but demanding human beings for whom they are responsible. Thirty days before Moriarty makes his presence known again. And in true Moriarty style, he announces it with a body - or rather, a series of bodies.

The first one is found inside a dumpster in a small town in the northern part of Scotland, about 30 km from the house where Molly was kept. It's the woman Molly nicknamed 'Mrs. Badcrumble' (for her thick Scottish accent) who was her overnight inside guard on weekdays. Late fifties, heavy-set, short gray hair, nothing remarkable about her features with one exception: she's undergone extensive plastic surgery on her face. Nothing so obvious as a facelift, just a few subtle changes to the shape of her nose and size of her lips. The surgery is fairly recent, and clearly designed to foil any attempts to discover her true identity via the use of facial recognition software. It's an effective method, and has kept the woman safe from discovery until Moriarty decided he had no further use for her and had her killed.

There is no question as to cause of death; her throat was slit and she bled out, although the original kill-site is unknown. When she's brought into the local coroner's office her photograph is automatically circulated to various law enforcement databases, including the one monitored by Mycroft's technicians.

Molly and Sherlock are flown out to positively identify her, leaving the boys in John and Mary's care. Molly frets visibly, while Sherlock manages to keep his own restlessness hidden from everyone but her. Once they arrive he puts his personal feelings aside (finding it more of a struggle than usual) and does what he does best: assess the evidence, reads the clues, learns what he can.

What he can learn, as it turns out, is precious little. No relatives have come forward to claim the body, and no one saw said body being dumped. Her throat was slit, and it's obvious from the lack of blood that she was killed elsewhere. No clues on her body as to where that elsewhere might have been.

"She won't be the last," Sherlock predicts after he's learned all he can from the body and dump site, and Molly has confirmed that she is, indeed, one of her former captors. "Moriarty's cleaning house."

His words prove prophetic when a second body turns up a week later, this time at St. Barts. Mike Stamford sounds shaken when he calls her up, apologizing for bothering her when on parental leave, but once he explains the situation she agrees to meet him at the morgue immediately. Her voice is steady as she explains to Mrs. Hudson and the nanny/bodyguard Mycroft insisted on employing for her, then she calls Sherlock and arranges for him to meet her.

"I called her 'Lady Bodiceripper'," Molly says when Mike pulls back the cloth to reveal the dead woman's face. "She used to read the most awful romance novels, really terrible ones, when she was on duty on the weekends, barely spoke to me at all." She bites her lip and her hand creeps into Sherlock's; he holds it tightly and steps subtly closer to her as he makes his own examination of the body. Late 30s, bleached blonde shoulder-length hair, teeth nicotine stained but otherwise surprisingly well kept...he files away all the pertinent details including the most important: like 'Mrs. Badcrumble', she's had her throat slit, and has undergone plastic surgery to alter her facial structure.

DNA testing from the two women will eventually identify them as fugitives with multiple warrants out for their arrests on charges ranging from prostitution to drug dealing to extortion, but that's in the future. Right now he has two bodies, each of them deliberately dumped in proximity to locations associated with Molly.

He doesn't like it, not one bit.

"Why kill them now?" Lestrade wonders when a third body shows up a week after 'Lady Bodiceripper', aka Phyllidra Tuppins. This one is male, late forties, one the two men who kept watch outside in case Molly managed to overcome one of her female minders and tried to escape, whom she'd dubbed Thing One and Thing Two because of their physical similarities: big, beefy caucasian males in the their mid to late 30s with dark, short-cropped hair and no necks to speak of. The tell-tale signs of plastic surgery are there, and his throat, like that of his female counterparts, has been slit - a more difficult job than for the other two victims, is Molly's awkward attempt at gallows humor. Any attempts at whistling in the dark end as soon as Lestade tells her where the body was found: inside her former flat, which is currently unoccupied due to renovations. Everyone involved understands the unspoken message: Moriarty isn't done with her, not by a longshot.

"I told you, he's cleaning house," Sherlock replies absently to Lestrade's question. He and John are studying the body while Sally Donovan urges Molly to drink the cup of tea she's brought her from the canteen.

"Yeah, I get that, but why now? Why not do it right after he let Molly go?" Lestrade persists, giving her an apologetic look as the words leave his lips. "Doesn't make sense, him waiting this long. What if one of them had cracked before now? And why space them apart like this? What if the other chap gets wind of it and decides to come to us for protection?"

"He doesn't care if he comes to us or not," is Sherlock's response. "He won't know anything of value even if he does, Moriarty's far too cagy for that. The only one who might be of use is the one he's least likely to dispose of, the bodyguard, Sebastian something or other. As for why he waited til now…" He flicks a glance at Molly, who meets his gaze squarely if somewhat fearfully.

"He waited for me to have the babies," she says, finishing his sentence. "He waited for me to be recovered enough to travel to Scotland to identify Mrs. Badc...Macy Steppenham's body." A shiver wracks her frame, and when she speaks again, it's in a whisper. "He's coming back for me."

oOo

Molly brushes off all attempts by the others present to console her or to tell her that she'll be safe, that no one will let Moriarty anywhere near her. He shouldn't have been able to take her away from them in first place, in broad daylight from a busy urban hospital; he shouldn't have been able to keep her hidden for five months and then deposit her back into London - into Sherlock's very flat! - without getting caught. And yet he's managed both these feats, and Molly knows that if he wants her, he'll simply waltz back into her life and take her.

Her, or someone precious to her.

Sherlock, as he always does, immediately notices when her thoughts fly ahead of the cab to their sons. "They're fine, I've just had a message from Mrs. Hudson." He shows her his mobile, and the picture of their landlady holding both boys and smiling happily at the camera. It's the nanny, Adella, who's taken the photo of course. She's wonderful with them, a much more comforting presence in the flat than Charlie or Henry, who alternate as night guards in the building.

"She'd never let anyone take them," Molly says, touching a finger to the screen and forcing a smile.

Sherlock frowns and she lets the facade drop; there's no point in it. "I'll kill him myself before I'll let him take them," she says fiercely, knowing what an empty threat it is even as she speaks it. But she means it; she will kill Jim Moriarty without blinking and step over his cold corpse if that's what it takes to keep her children safe.

"He'll never be allowed near either of them," Sherlock replies quietly, but just as fiercely. "Nor you." He shifts in his seat, resting his arm across the back, and Molly accepts his unspoken invitation. She huddles close to him, still clutching the phone and staring at the picture of her sons. Sherlock's arm drops over her shoulder, and she takes comfort in the warmth and solidity of his body as he holds her close.

She thinks back to the time John walked in on them and made that comment about domesticity. Yes, Sherlock's managed to fit her and the twins into his life far more easily than anyone (herself included) could have imagined ten months earlier, but even when he's holding her like this she knows he's still himself. He's still the prickly, moody man-child she fell in love with. She doubts he'll ever remember things like anniversaries or birthdays (well, except for Danny and Rob's of course), or be willing to take trips to the beach or go to the cinema with her, but he loves her and she loves him and their lives have never been what anyone would call normal. "It's all good," she murmurs, and smiles a genuine smile when he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"It is," he murmurs, and she allows herself to relax just the smallest bit. When Moriarty decides to make his move, this time Sherlock will be there to help her deal with him.

And God help him if he so much as touches a single hair on either of her son's heads.

oOo

Two days pass without further developments, and then Sherlock receives a call from Lestrade. "Guess who's shown up at the Met to ask for protection."

"Thing Two?" he replies immediately, glancing over at Molly. She's currently nursing Danny while Rob lies cradled in Sherlock's free arm. Both boys look very much like their mother, with brown eyes and hair, but Danny's hair has a hint of curl to it and Molly swears she can see his cheekbones sharpening beneath the baby fat, which is patently ridiculous. Which opinion he keeps strictly to himself, per John's advice about not annoying a nursing mother. Painful experience had taught him that one.

"Nope." Lestrade's gleeful denial catches Sherlock's attention; he frowns and is about to demand an explanation when the Detective Inspector continues, "One Sebastian bloody Moran, Moriarty's former bodyguard and the assassin who had John Watson in his sights the day you jumped of the roof of St. Barts. Care to sit in on the interrogation?"

Sherlock doesn't need to be asked twice. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He kisses Rob on the forehead before laying him in his Moses basket at Molly's feet. She's been listening to his side of the conversation of course, her mouth turned down and the faint line between her brows growing deeper and deeper as her tension rises. Danny makes a dissatisfied noise when she starts to stand up, and Sherlock quickly shakes his head and gestures for her to sit back down.

"You know he doesn't like you to move around when he's eating," he reminds her testily.

"Then tell me what Greg said," Molly shoots back, just as testily. However she also eases back onto the sofa while Danny settles back into his almost-interrupted meal, his little fingers kneading her breast while his mouth works.

Sherlock quickly details Lestrade's unexpected news, and Molly's agitation turns to excitement. "Oh, Sherlock, that's fantastic news! This could be the break you need to find Moriarty! I have to come with you to NSY," she insists. "I'll call Adella, see if she can come in today, or ask Mrs. Hudson or your mum to watch the boys."

He leans down, kissing first Danny's head and then Molly's forehead, knowing he's about to disappoint her. "Not this time, Molly. My parents are in Devon, remember? And Mrs. Hudson is at her hair stylists. John will be joining me which means Mary will have her hands full with Alice." At her rebellious expression, he crouches down so that he has to look up slightly to meet her gaze. "Molly, I promise I'll keep you posted if there are any developments." He hesitates before admitting, "And I'll feel a lot better knowing you're nowhere near him, that you and the boys are safe here with Chuckie guarding you."

He gets a half-smile at his (deliberate) mis-remembering of Charlie's name, but he can tell she's still not happy about it. However she eventually nods her agreement, even going so far as to lean forward a bit so she can kiss him. Danny squawks another protest at the change in position, his little fist waving furiously before Molly catches it in her hand and eases herself back so he can continue nursing. "Fussy little thing," she says fondly, then returns her attention to Sherlock. Mother love transforms into fierce determination as he watches. "You get every scrap of information out of him that you can, Sherlock, you hear me? You learn everything he knows."

"I will," he promises, knowing it's a promise he'll have no problem keeping. He knows Lestrade has already informed Mycroft, per their standing agreement, which means government experts will be on hand to assist in the interrogation.

And by 'assist' of course he means 'pretend not to notice when Sherlock does things not quite by the book'.

Which, for the record, he's quite looking forward to doing.