Mycroft swung his umbrella at his side, striding into his office after an extremely long and tiring meeting and letting out a sigh. Dealing with the idiots all day really wore him out and all he wanted to do was have his tea and finish up his work so he could go home. He turned to close the door behind him, but he took a double take into the office when he spotted two figures sitting in his chairs a few feet away. He let out a knowing breath and clicked the door shut.

"She has really done her homework, Miss Riley." Lottie said, sorting through the papers that Kitty had given to John, "I mean, these are things that only someone close to Sherlock would know."

"Ah." Mycroft took a seat across from her and was taken aback by her expression, hard and determined.

"Have you seen your brother's address book lately?" John said, seated in the chair next to Lottie, "There are three names, yours, mine, and Lottie's. And Moriarty didn't get this stuff from us."

"John, Charlotte…" he tried to speak, tried to explain, but John interrupted him.

"So, how does it work, then? Your relationship? You go out for a coffee now and then, eh? You and Jim?"

Lottie scoffed, "Your own brother and you blabbed about his entire life to this, this psychopath?"

"I never intended…I never dreamt…"

"No, you see, this," she shuffled through the papers again, holding up with a stern hand, "This is what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it? Look out for him, 'cause I've made a mistake."

Mycroft didn't respond, merely staring her down from where he sat. She returned his gaze with an intense fire that he was just now noticing. He wasn't getting off the hook very easily; he had messed with some very important people in her life, people that should've also been very important to him and she'd had enough with his cockiness.

"How did you meet him?" John asked, breaking the silence. Lottie sat back, crossing her legs and arms, waiting to hear this story. Mycroft took a deep breath, knowing he'd been cornered and there was no way out of it now.

"People like him, we…know about him, we watch them. But James Moriarty, the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pockets the ultimate weapon, a key code. A few lines of computer code that can unlock any door."

"And you abducted him? To try and find the key code."

"Interrogated him for weeks. He wouldn't play along. He just sat there, staring into the darkness. The only thing that made him open up…I could get him to talk. Just a little. But…"

"In return, you had to offer him Sherlock's life story."

"Let me get this straight," Lottie sat up, "So there's one big lie, Sherlock's a fraud. But people will swallow it because the rest of it is true." She held up her finger to indicate that she wasn't finished, closing her eyes with a thin, angry smile before leaning over to rest her elbows on her knees, speaking in a low tone, "Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect ammunition."

Her lips thinned so that her dimples showed, and even John was a little frightened by this side of her. He'd never seen her this angry, but she was right, and it looked as if Mycroft was beginning to understand that. Whoever he thought she was before, that girl was gone now. She had been involuntarily slung into this war and she was going to fight for the people she loved. She let her words sink in before getting to her feet and starting towards the door. John was about to follow but Mycroft's soft voice stopped them.

"Charlotte." He paused and they waited impatiently for him to speak. Lottie wasn't even looking fully at him, glancing at him over her shoulder as his tone changed and she furrowed her eyebrows at his words, "I'm sorry."

"You're what?" she turned around lowly, her voice barely above a whisper. He had to be joking.

"Oh, please." John stood with a disbelieving smile, not even giving Mycroft the time of day and Lottie scoffed, looking him right in the eyes and shaking her head.

"You are the sorriest excuse for a brother that I have ever seen."

"Tell him, would you?"

"That you're sorry? No, you can tell him yourself. I'm done being your messenger." She turned and slung the door open, stalking down the hall with John at her side; and when they got outside they both received a message from Sherlock to meet him in Molly's lab. They looked at each other and hurried to hail a taxi, asking the driver to go as fast as possible. John looked over at Lottie, doing his best to keep up with her - it was a lot harder than it looked, but one look at her and it wasn't hard to tell that even she couldn't keep up with her own determination, her emotion just now catching up with her. Her grey eyes were dark, rimming with tears but she didn't let them show. He debated on asking, but he knew now was not the time and when they got to the hospital they jumped out of the cab and ran inside.

"We got your message." John said, bursting through the doors to the lab with Lottie at his side. Sherlock was sat on the floor, bouncing a ball between himself and the cabinets across from him.

"The computer code is key to this." He said, "If we find it, we can use it, beat Moriarty at his own game."

"What do you mean use it?" Lottie said.

"He used it to create a false identity. So we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook."

"And bring back Jim Moriarty again." She smiled and Sherlock got to his feet, placing his hands on the counter he was just resting on.

"Somewhere in 221b, on the day of the verdict, he left it hidden."

John leaned his hands on the counter next to him, "What did he touch?"

"An apple, nothing else."

"Did he write anything down?" Lottie offered.

"No."

John tapped his fingers on the hard surface and walked away, thinking of any way that Moriarty would have left the key code hidden in the flat. Lottie was glancing around the room and when her eyes landed on Sherlock she noticed the sparkle in his eye that told her that he'd already had it figured out, but something was off. She furrowed her eyebrows as he slipped his phone from his pocket and sent a text, quietly so as not to attract their attention. If he'd had it figured out then why were they here? What wasn't he telling them? He replaced his phone to his jacket pocket, looking up and Lottie was quick to pretend not to notice his actions; surely he was doing this for a reason. She shook her head of the thoughts and leaned to fold her arms on top of the counter and rest her head. They were now in the early hours of the morning and the sun would be coming up in a few hours and it seemed like it had been so long since she'd slept; and of course, now that they'd slowed down she was starting to realize just how long it had been. She stood up straight with effort, fighting the urge that her body was so desperately craving, her head nodding and her knees threatening to buckle under the exhaustion. Sherlock watched her, thinning his lips in guilt, knowing that she was doing this for him and he took her hand to lead her to the cabinets where he was sitting when they first walked in, helping her to sit down. He took a seat next to her.

"Get some sleep." He told her. She looked over at John, who was already passed out at a nearby desk, his face buried in his arms and breathing even. She leaned her head on Sherlock's shoulder in defeat and was asleep in seconds.

"Oh, my god."

"Lottie woke to John's worried exclamations and she raised her head from Sherlock's lap, utterly confused but trying her hardest to seem alert and ready to go.

"Right. Yes, I'm coming." John was saying.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked and Lottie looked up at him. Had he even slept?

"Paramedics. Mrs. Hudson's been shot."

"What? How?" Lottie was suddenly very awake and jumping to her feet.

"Well, probably one of the killers Sherlock's managed to attract. Jesus. Jesus! She's dying, come on. Let's go."

"You two go, I'm busy." Sherlock started bouncing that ball back and forth on the cabinets again and John and Lottie looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Busy?" John said.

"Thinking, I need to think."

"Doesn't' she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her."

"He almost broke Lottie's whole rib cage." He defended, "Besides, she's just my landlady."

"She's dying. You," John was having a hard time getting his words out through his anger, "Machine. Sod this. You stay here if you want. On your own."

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me."

"Nope, friends protect people."

John stormed out, leaving Lottie and Sherlock alone. She stood watching him, never having been more confused in her life and he looked up at her and she knew something wasn't right. He let her eyes see right through him, but whatever it was she could not figure it out and he was not going to tell her. So many emotions were surging through her: hurt and confused and angry, and so many other things, all at once; and just like always, her eyes portrayed every single one of them. The dull ache that had been settling in Sherlock's heart with every passing second but he didn't break the contact, even as she stepped back, holding the door open. She looked back, wanting so badly to trust him, but something just didn't' seem right. She took a deep breath and ran down the hallway to catch back up to John just as he hailed a cab

They were silent, watching the people go about their days in the early morning light until they reached the flat, hurrying out of the car and up the two steps into the flat, but they stopped in their tracts when they almost ran into a smiling Mrs. Hudson just inside the foyer with the man that had come to fix their ceiling. She had jumped when they came barging in, giggling at her silliness but John and Lottie stood staring in disbelief.

"Oh, God, you two made me jump." Mrs. Hudson said, "Is everything okay now with the police? Has, um, Sherlock sorted it all out?"

"No." Lottie whispered. She knew it, she knew something was wrong. She knew she should've stayed with him. She pulled her hand to her mouth and took a few stuttering steps backwards.

"Oh, my god." He and Lottie had been staring at Mrs. Hudson with a white hot fear, but before they could explain they were right back out the door, all but running for a taxi back to St. Bart's. Whatever Sherlock was up to, it was not good, and it was not going to end well, but they just had to reach him, they just had to. At least, that's what Lottie continued to tell herself the whole way back to the hospital. However when they got there, she had never wanted anything more than for her suspicions to be wrong from the moment she stepped out of that cab and John's phone began to ring.

It was Sherlock.