Passing through the Diogenes Club, Alice got plenty of strange looks. Sure, she was used to working with that, but the gentlemen's club still hadn't gotten used to her presence, even though Mycroft had summoned her there a few times now. There were furtive hand gestures and people pointing at her, wildly gesturing to each other, all of them asking, "Who let her in? Why is she here?" Mycroft, of course, met her near the door and walked with her to a private office, the only room where they were allowed to speak.

"Really, we couldn't have met up at your office?" Alice asked, taking a seat and a drink. "It seems to disturb all of the gentlemen that I'm here, even if it's only to see you."

"You'll have a lot more to worry about than a curious gaggle of ambassadors and statesmen when this hits the presses in the morning." He handed her a newspaper headlined 'Sherlock Holmes - an Expose', allowing her to glance over it for a moment.

"This is rubbish. 'Close friend'? I've never even heard of Richard Brook. What would he want with Sherlock?" She cast the paper aside, looking over to where Mycroft stood by the window. "I've heard of the woman who's writing this crap, though. She's bloody desperate for a story."

"That's not why I really called you here, Alice. As you may have observed, there are a couple of new faces on Baker Street. I'm sure you're already familiar with them, given your, er, history."

"What, the Albanian hit squad leader?" Alice asked, thinking back to the days that she would much rather have forgotten entirely. She had known a lot of them, worked with them, seen how they operated. Seen how ruthless they could be. But once, she had been one of them, no better than the assassins that now crawled all over the street. In fact, some of them had probably recognized her. "And what's her name, Dyachenko, the Russian killer? Stefan Tribek, and Gauss, the Bolivian sniper? We've got four, at my last count, at least, top assassins moving onto our street," she told him, though Mycroft already knew this, judging from the files that he had stacked on the desk.

Carefully considering his choice of words, Mycroft turned around, correcting her. "Five."

"What? I haven't forgotten anyone."

"Five. Although one of them has been there for far longer, has gotten rather close to my brother, and she's on our side."

Realizing what he meant, Alice sighed. "I'm not in the running, at least not any more. When I stopped working for him, they took my spot."

"You're still pretty handy with a whole host of weapons, I trust."

Alice read his face, asking, "You think this is Moriarty?"

Mycroft nodded. "We both know what this means."

"Moriarty is obsessed with him. And Sherlock is obsessed with Moriarty. It's mutually assured destruction, unless we can get Moriarty first," she reasoned. "We have to stop one of them, before both of them get destroyed by this."

He nodded again, absentmindedly flicking though the files piled on the desk. "Exactly. Now I've already had this conversation with John -"

"You want me to watch out for Sherlock, got it."

Mycroft nodded a third time. "You're quick on the uptake. Yes, I need you to look after my brother. Make sure he doesn't do anything rash. Make sure he isn't baiting Moriarty in any way. Try to make sure he isn't doing anything stupid."

Alice leaned forward in her chair to stress her point. "You must realize by now that I would do anything to keep Moriarty away from him. I'd take on all four of those assassins at once if I had to."

"I see the way you look at my brother, and I'm sure, if it came down to it, you would. And you would win. But we do not want to rush into something like that unless we absolutely must. For now, I just need you to be aware. And do not, whatever you do, let Sherlock know that you're watching these people," Mycroft instructed.

When Alice got back to Baker Street, Sherlock was waiting for her. Immediately, Alice knew that something was wrong. "You look like something's happened. Sherlock, I haven't seen you like this before. You've got handcuff markings on your wrists… Sherlock, what's going on?"

He took her hands, saying, "I need you to listen to me very carefully and remember everything I tell you."

"Okay. But what's going on?" she pressed. "Sherlock, if something's wrong, tell me. I'll help you, not matter what it is. I've -"

"Alice, I don't have much time. You need to listen to me." She nodded, allowing him to explain how the world was crashing down around him. "Moriarty is going to shatter my media image in the morning. He's invented a fake identity, saying I hired an actor to play a master criminal so I could boost my image. He's claiming I'm really the one behind all of this, that I've paid him off. I'm going to deal with it - I already have a plan. It'll be fine, but Moriarty's going to try to convince the country that I've faked everything I've ever done. He will play on people's fears. He will be incredibly convincing. But Alice, I need you to believe me."

"Of course I will." She looked into his eyes, seeing the scared, fragile man behind the facade of the cold, uncaring detective that he had methodically built up over the years. It was slowly shattering before her, Sherlock pressing her to believe him, no matter what anyone else said. It must have meant something to him to be liked, even if he always said he didn't care. "Sherlock, of course I believe you."

"No, I need you to believe me. The rest of the world doesn't matter. As long as you and John know what really happened…"

Alice wrapped her arms around the detective who was desperately trying to rebuild the wall around him. Even though it was just her, he had to rebuild the front, make sure that no one knew he was falling apart. She saw through it - she always could. She could see things like only he could. So she saw right through it. "I will, Sherlock, I promise. I know you. I've seen what you do, and no one can fake that. No one could fake being you all of the time. No actor, however talented, could be someone as complex and as wonderful as you."

"Thank you." He kissed her, continuing, "Tomorrow… terrible things may happen tomorrow. I can't tell you exactly what, because you'd be able to unravel the whole plan. You're the only other person in the world who could. It's not real, though. It's all a trick, remember that. I'll be back here for you, no matter what happens. If everything goes right… well, we'll make the news. People will hound you for answers, but you don't have to talk to them. All you need to do is believe me."

"I already do," she promised, wondering what he was planning. "Do you have to leave now?"

He glanced over her head at the clock hanging in the kitchen. "Not yet."

"Come sit on the sofa with me. I can tell you're incredibly stressed out, and… I don't know, something tells me you've got a lot to do and a lot on your mind."

Sherlock obliged, wrapping his arms around her as soon as they sat down. "No matter what happens, remember, I love you."

"I love you too," Alice smiled, kissing her beloved detective. "Sherlock… he wants to kill you. Moriarty."

"I know."

Alice bit her lip, not wanting to voice what she had already deduced, mostly because she was terribly afraid that she was right. "You're meeting him later on, aren't you? You're going to talk to him, in some sort of final showdown. Sherlock, you can't. It's not going to end well." She knew there was no convincing him, but she tried anyway. "You can't expect him to honor anything that he says. You can't trust him. You've said it yourself, Moriarty is a spider, at the center of a massive criminal web. Even if he keeps his word, he can just as easily tell one of his thousands of contacts to kill you."

"I'll take care of it," Sherlock promised, not meeting her gaze.

"Don't do anything stupid," Alice begged, turning to look at him. "Don't get yourself killed. Please, Sherlock, for me. Be careful."

"For you," he nodded absentmindedly. "It'll all be for you."

They stayed together for hours, picking on leftovers and scarcely talking. Neither of them wanted to let go of the other. The feeling of dread wouldn't leave Alice's stomach, but she pushed it aside in order to keep Sherlock in good spirits. She could tell that his mind was churning with whatever plan he had concocted to foil Moriarty, but there was nothing she could do about it. Around midnight, Sherlock stood up, telling her he had to go. "Don't watch the morning news or read the papers," he reminded her. "It's all fake."

Alice nodded, following him to the door. She watched as he grabbed his coat and wound on his scarf. Sherlock took her hand and walked downstairs with her, stopping at the front door. He pulled her into a long hug, whispering in her ear, "Remember everything I told you. Whatever you see on the news, it's not real."

"You're crying." She raised a hand to his face, Sherlock brushing his cheek quickly. He had to keep himself together. If all went right, he would be home in a matter of hours. But with Moriarty, nothing ever went right. Lazarus might have to be launched. And that would mean years before it was safe to see any of them again. "Please, Sherlock, don't do anything rash." It was a last-ditch effort, but Alice had to try.

"I won't. Everything is planned out. Just... remember, okay?" She nodded as Sherlock added, "I love you."

"I love you too. So much."

Sherlock let her go, giving her one last kiss before opening the door and heading out into the darkness with a final, "I'll be back soon. I promise." She tried to watch him go from the upstairs window, but Sherlock had already faded into the darkness.

Alice woke from a restless sleep as the sun came up, looking around briefly before realizing that Sherlock had already left. Of course. He'd left in the middle of the night, to take care of whatever it was that he had to take care of. She'd fallen asleep on the couch, where they had been sitting together earlier. Glancing out of the window, she saw a few reporters waiting on the steps already, looking for a comment on the life-ruining stories that had been published earlier in the day. She shook her head, made a cup of tea, and took Chester for a walk, using the back exit. When she got back, Mrs. Hudson was awake. "Dear, have you seen the news?"

"I'm going to find Mycroft and see what he can do about it," Alice told her. "I might not be back for a couple of hours. Stay inside, and if you have to go anywhere, use the exit into the back alley. The vultures are already out looking for quotes that they can twist into more lies."

As Alice took a cab to the Diogenes Club, Lestrade was just getting to work at Scotland Yard, having stopped for coffee along the way. Mrs. Hudson was making more tea. Anderson and Sally Donovan were making their way into work. Molly was already busy in the morgue. John was also taking a cab to the Diogenes Club, where he would meet Alice at the front door by chance. And Sherlock was hidden away at Saint Bart's, preparing for his own death.