I sit at the kitchen table, sipping my cup of coffee. I managed to keep down what Sherlock offered me, but I'm still not sure it was actually edible. The room is quiet except for the clattering of pots and pans as Sherlock puts them away. He is still wearing gloves and goggles. I turn around and stare at him. He notices and locks eyes with me. His eyes are a beautiful turquoise color. He smiles at me.

He is so cute.

I stand up and walk over to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close.

"Sherlock..."

"John... Your hair is..." Sherlock reaches his hand up and moves the hair away from my forehead. I feel my face become hot. Sherlock smiles kindly at me. "I love this." he says.

"You love what, Sherlock?" I ask, smiling.

"Waking up knowing you're here. With me."

I lean in to kiss him. "Always," I whisper.

Sherlock is definitely not the kindest or most sentimental person in the world, so that statement coming from him means a lot. He cares about me and wants me around him. It makes my heart race at the thought.

Sherlock kisses me, and I slowly reach up and lift the goggles up over his head. My hands find their way into his curls, and his arms wrap around me protectively. As he does this, I hear someone running up the stairs to our flat. Sherlock pulls away.

"Greg. Urgent." Is all he says to me.

"How did you-"

"The sound of his feet on the-"

"Never mind." I smile. "I bet it's nothing."

"This early in the morning? It must be important." Sherlock replies.

Greg bursts through the door seconds later. He is out of breath. "Sherlock... John..." He bends over and tries to catch his breath. "I ran over as quick as I-"

"Why do you need our help? Is it one of your normal murders or something special this time?" Sherlock snaps. I put my hand on his arm, and he relaxes right away. Something seems wrong about this. Very wrong. "Well?" Sherlock asks again. Greg stands back up.

"It's Mrs. Hudson."

"What?!" I yell. "No, she can't be-" Greg interrupts me.

"We found her this morning. She was shopping." Sherlock hasn't said a word.

"Oh my God..." I whisper and fall back into my chair. Sherlock stands next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't feel a thing. I am numb.

"And..." Sherlock clears his throat. "What was the cause of... death?"

"Asphyxiation." Greg replies.

"What?" Sherlock asks

"There were no signs of a struggle, and there weren't any wounds that we could see."

"Greg. Repeat what you just said."

"What part?"

"How did she die?" Sherlock almost yells at him. I look up and see Sherlock's distraught face. He looks like he might cry. I don't know how to comfort him, so I sit in silence. I know Sherlock is on to something, but I don't know what.

"Asphyxiation, most likely-"

"Exactly, Greg, don't you see?!"

"No..." Sherlock's hand moves from my shoulder as Greg responds and ruffles his hair.

"Moriarty's followers are continuing their plan to..." Sherlock stops and can't say the next couple words. I know what is coming now. Silence fills the room. It is unbearable.

"We're going to die. Aren't we?" I say quietly. Sherlock quickly walks around and kneels down in front of my chair.

"John... John. Look at me." I slowly look up to see his face inches from mine. "I am not going to let anything happen to you. Understand? Nothing is going to tear us apart."

"But... but Mrs. Hudson..." My voice cracks as I say her name, and tears fall down my face. I can see a tear roll down Sherlock's face too. Sherlock's hand grabs mine tight.

"I know, Love, I know..." I close my eyes and focus on his voice. "I loved her too." Sherlock continues.

I hear Greg walk over and put his hand on my shoulder. I suddenly start crying harder than before, my body moving with my shuddering sobs. "Why did it have to be her?!" I yell. "Why couldn't it have been me instead?!"

"John... John, please... Listen to me..." Sherlock takes my face in both of his hands. I slowly open my eyes to look at him. His face is that of pure sadness. My heart jumps in my chest. "John, I miss her too- but don't ever talk like that.. Understand?"

"Okay..."

Sherlock moves his hands to hug me, but I can't find the energy to hug him back. I sit there; motionless. Sherlock kisses me on the cheek, but even that doesn't help fill the hole left inside me.

After a few more minutes of discussion, Sherlock and Lestrade leave to go investigate the crime scene. I stay behind. I feel sick.

I shakily get up from the chair and I make my way over to the couch in the living room. I sit down and stare at the fireplace in front of me. 'A sniper is probably coming to shoot me since I'm here alone...' I think. Surprisingly, I don't feel scared.

Let them come.

'I wonder what Sherlock would do if he came home to find me dead?' I shake my head and dismiss the thought. I pick up the newspaper laying on the table and skim through it. It is all dull and uninteresting stuff. I push it away and lay down, frustrated.

"Bored!" I shout into the quiet flat. I cover my mouth quickly. 'Did I just say that?' I think. I suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. I am laughing so much, that I almost don't hear my phone ring. I pick it up and try my best to sound calm and collected. It's Sherlock.

"Hello? What is it?" I ask.

"It's not Mrs. Hudson."

"What?"

"The body. It's not Mrs. Hudson's."

"How is that possible?"

"Someone took the time to make it look like her.. apparently."

"How did they.. Why did they-"

"No time to explain. There is something else going on."

"Wait, just... Wait."

"John, we can't-"

"Can you listen for just two minutes?"

"...okay."

"Is Mrs. Hudson alive?"

"Yes. She's with Mycroft now."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank God..."

"John, may I... talk now?"

This is one of the only times Sherlock has asked permission to do anything. I smile. "Sure."

"In the woman's pocket, there were two empty pill bottles."

"What?"

"Yes, John... The same ones used in our first case."

"Does that mean-"

"Someone is recreating our major cases. More people are going to be killed..."

"Wait, Sher, what was our next big case?"

"The Blind Banker."

"The one with the Black Lotus?"

"Yes, unfortunately…"

"Oh, God..."

I suddenly hear a lot of static on his end. I wonder what is going on.

"Hey, Sherlock, you ok?"

"... John! ...John... I... I have to..."

"Sherlock? Sherlock! What's going on?"

"John! I can't... hear you... John..."

"Sherlock?!"

The call ends. I start thinking the worst. 'What's going on?' Sherlock calls me back, and I answer immediately.

"Sherlock?"

I hear nothing on his end, like he accidentally called me. I'm so confused. Suddenly I hear his voice. It sounds muffled and far away.

"Now don't..." I hear him start, then I hear him call out in pain, "John!"

He is getting attacked. He is getting hurt. He doesn't know that I am listening. And he is still thinking about me. My heart breaks into a million pieces.

'What is happening?'

I suspect that it is the Black Lotus, but I wonder where Greg is. 'What if they got him too?'

I sit for the longest time on the sofa listening to Sherlock's screams coming out of the phone speaker pressed against my ear. I can't move. I can't speak. I can't do anything but listen. I don't even breathe. Finally, he stops. I hear rustling noises, and then the call ends. Sherlock must have known I was listening if he ended the call.

'What if he didn't end the call?' I think. 'What if he's unconscious, and the Black Lotus turned off the phone?' I put my hand over my face. My heart is beating fast, and I am rapidly breathing in and out. I should go to him, but I don't know where he is.

After a few minutes, I hear someone coming up the stairs. I look up to see Sherlock kick the door open. He is standing there with a few cuts on his face and a bleeding lip. He looks at me with a sad expression. He probably has a lot more wounds than I can see. I quickly stand and walk over to him. I silently remove his coat and scarf. He sighs and presses something into my hand. I look at it.

It is an origami flower. A black lotus.

I look up at him, and he stares at me- never moving his eyes from mine as I pull his shirt up and over his head. He has more bruises and cuts than I thought. I gasp as I see a deep knife wound in his side. He hasn't said a word about it.

He must be in so much pain.

"Sherlock..."

"John... They are coming."

"…they?" I ask softly, as I guide him toward the kitchen, and my medical supplies.

He sits down in a chair, and lets me clean him up. I grab my first aid equipment, and realize I need to stitch the bigger cut up.

"The men who.." He pauses, and winces when I start cleaning the cuts. "..did this to me. They are coming here."

"Here? Why?"

"They know how to really hurt me. They know inflicting physical pain doesn't work. They know what I care about the most in the world."

"Sherlock... That doesn't make sense. What does this have to do with our cases?"

"The case... after the Blind Banker... what was it?" He asks me.

"Umm..." I try to think. Then it hits me. I think back to the night at the pool. I was strapped to a bomb. Sherlock was talking to Moriarty. I remember him whispering in my ear... I remember thinking I was going to die... And that I would be okay with it, knowing Jim would be stopped.

I shake my head and come back to the present. Sherlock is looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"The Great Game. Well, that's what I called it, anyway." I say quietly.

"What was the most important part of that case?"

"Moriarty?"

"Besides that."

"Umm..."

"The bombs, John."

"So if they are going to recreate all if our cases... Then they are-"

"Going to blow up 221B."

"What? We need to get out of here then!"

"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock replies, sounding surprisingly calm.

I finish stitching him up, and I wrap a bandage around his chest. We don't say a word. When I am finished, I stand back up.

"Can you walk?" I ask him.

"You go, John."

"Sherlock?"

"It's you they want. To get to me."

"So, I'm the thing you care about the most in the world?"

Sherlock reaches up and grabs my hand tight. "No. You are the person I love and care about the most in the world."

I look down at him and smile. 'I am in love with this man.' I think to myself. I grab his other hand and continue to stare at him. He slowly gets to his feet and pulls me closer. I close my eyes as he hugs me. I know we don't have much time.

"Where are we going to go?" I ask.

"My old house."

"Where you grew up?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, it's fine."

"No one knows the address except Mycroft and I. We will be safe there."

"How long will we be there?"

"As long as you want, Love."

I look up, and kiss him. He puts his hands on either side of my face and brings me closer. I stand on tip-toe and push myself even closer. Sherlock moves away, leaving me wanting more. I sigh, knowing that we have to leave quickly.

"I called Mycroft. He will come with a car, so we can leave. He will get the bombers... taken care of."

"Sher-"

"Grab whatever you need. If things go wrong, we might never come back here."

"Okay." I let my arms fall to my sides. Sherlock is still cupping my face in his hands, and he starts rubbing his thumb over my cheek. I close my eyes and relax. 'Everything is going to be fine... It will all be fine...' I repeat in my head.

"I love you." Sherlock whispers.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

"I will not let anything happen to you. I promise."

"I trust you."

I feel Sherlock's forehead rest against mine. Sherlock whispers to me. "Go get your things, Love..."

"I don't... want to leave you..."

"I'll be right here... Go. And hurry.."

I rush over to my room and pull the suitcase out from under my bed. I pull open drawers at random and pile clothes inside. I remember my laptop, and try to fit it in among the jumpers. I look through my desk drawers, grab a few essential things, and then notice my gun. I tuck that into the secret pocket in the suitcase. 'That might come in handy..' I think.

Sherlock walks in calmly and leans against the doorframe. I look up to find him staring at me hurriedly packing my things.

"What?" I ask, suspiciously.

"Nothing." He says, smiling.

I smile back, then turn away to concentrate on closing the bag; it won't zip shut.

"How much are you bringing?" He asks me.

"What I need- oh, damn it." I say in frustration.

"John?"

"This.. bloody bag refuses to close!" I exclaim. Sherlock takes two strides over to me and brushes his fingers against my cheek.

"John. It's ok."

"Are you sure?" I ask. Suddenly, we hear someone moving around outside the door to the flat. Then we hear someone else. They seem to be arguing.

We have taken too long.

Sherlock looks at me, and he almost looks like he is saying goodbye. My heart lurches in my chest.

"The fire escape. Now." Sherlock says. He quickly kisses me, and then exits the room. I rush forward and grab his arm.

"Sherlock. If you think that I am going to let you risk your life for me again, you are crazy."

"John, I was just-"

"No. I'm not letting you."

"John."

"Hmm?"

"I was just going to get a shirt..."

"Oh. I... I just... I just thought that-"

Sherlock moves his other hand and puts it behind my neck, pulling me closer to him. He kisses my lips again, softly, and I hear the men again at the front door. I pull away and turn around toward the bed. My suitcase still sits there, open. Sherlock notices, walks over to it, and quickly zips it up. I don't have time to ask how, as Sherlock pushes me toward the fire escape. He dashes back to the kitchen and buttons up a purple shirt that looks a little tight on him. I blush, and quickly try to hide it.

As Sherlock and I run down the several flights of stairs, I hear the blaring sound of police cars. 'Mycroft must be here then..' I think. We end up in an alleyway between the apartment buildings. There is a car waiting for us. Sherlock takes my suitcase and opens the door for me; I smile as I get into the backseat. I don't know who is driving, but at this point I don't care. Seconds later, Sherlock opens the car door and sits next to me. He winces as he sits himself down.

"Baby, you ok?" I whisper.

"I'm alright, Love. Don't worry about.. me..."

I put my hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. He smiles at me. "I'm sorry about all of this, John. This shouldn't be happening.."

"It's ok."

"You don't sound ok." Sherlock states.

"Trust me, Sher... I'm ok.." I say. Sherlock makes a confused face, like he doesn't believe me.

"John."

"Mm?"

"I want you to be comfortable talking to me. I don't like when you say 'I'm fine,' when you are clearly not. I can see the sadness in your eyes.. I can read it on your face and your actions and I can hear it in your voice... What's going on? Have I... done something wrong?"