Elizabeth couldn't stay in that room. She had left the bedroom, locking the door and heading down to the bar where she knew there would be people. She had pulled her blazer back on and taken to sitting in the corner of the country pub, a lemonade in one hand and her phone in the other as she kept on listening to the recording she had made through her headphones.

The fall. What did that mean? What was he on about? She tried to piece it all together, her mind working overtime as she attempted to decipher the message. She had no idea if she was working right or if she was getting the wrong end of the stick. She ignored her phone as it bleeped, alerting her to the fact that Ben was messaging her.

She didn't want to reply to him at that moment in time.

It was in that position where Sherlock found her when he returned that afternoon. He had let his brow furrow as he prepared to walk straight through the pub, but he soon took a detour when he saw her. Moving over to where she sat in the high back chair, Sherlock pulled her earphones from her ears as she startled slightly.

"I thought you would be sleeping," he told her, but she shook her head and stood up, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she looked between John and her father.

"I need you to come with me," she mumbled and began to lead the two of them back to their room.

Sherlock remained stoic while John arched a brow, intrigued as he followed them. Once they were back upstairs, Elizabeth turned to lock the door and pulled her phone out, letting the recording play loudly as she handed the phone to her father and began pacing the bedroom while Sherlock and John watched with intent.

Elizabeth did her best not to feel ill at the sound of Moriarty's voice as it echoed through the room and relief coursed through her when he had hung up, the sound of the phone call ending entering her ears. She looked over to her father and began to explain her theory.

"I think you're the King," Elizabeth said, knowing how crazy it all sounded as she spoke and her father held the phone to his chin, watching Elizabeth as she began to explain everything. "And I think that he…well…I think he intends to pull you down from whatever pedestal you have put yourself on. I think that is what the fall means. I think it means the fall from grace."

"But why would you, if I assume you're the Princess, replace him?" John asked and Sherlock continued to frown, but he sat down at the desk as Elizabeth conversed with John.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's not as if I can be like him, is it? I mean; we are nothing alike at all. And how can I succeed him?"

"If I die," Sherlock spoke and Elizabeth cocked a brow and scoffed as her father looked between her and John. "A Princess becomes a Queen once the reigning monarch dies."

"Don't be absurd," Elizabeth demanded from her father. "He cannot possibly mean that, can he?"

Sherlock said nothing and Elizabeth wondered if he was being serious. Did he honestly think that Moriarty could kill him? Shaking her head back and forth, Elizabeth moved over to her father and placed a hand on his suit-covered forearm as he looked up to her, his eyes clearly full of wonder as he searched her stare.

"In the phone call," John began, trying to stop the two in front of him from thinking of Sherlock's demise. "In the phone call he talks about Elizabeth not having a normal childhood. How does he know that?"

"It isn't difficult to work out," Elizabeth muttered and John shrugged, but agreed with her on that one as she continued to hold onto her father's arm.

But then he suddenly moved, standing up tall and placing a hand in the small of her back as he bent down to peck her on the top of her head.

"You don't need to fret," Sherlock told her. "He isn't here in Devon and he won't get to us. He was just trying to wind you up. You know what he is like, Elizabeth. He enjoys the game."

"But it's not a game," Elizabeth said and Sherlock regarded her curiously. "Dad, none of this is a game now…it has never been a game…you know that."

"It is to him," Sherlock emphasised. "Now, John and I have to go out for a little while. I should be back this evening. Henry Knight is taking me to see where he found the hound. Just stay here…go down to the pub…I think John brought a few books with him. For some reason he thought that he was going to be on holiday."

"You asked if I fancied a break in the countryside," John defended himself.

"You're going?" Elizabeth asked him. "Can't I come?"

"No," Sherlock said, preferring not to take his daughter with him on a case ever since the trouble that had been caused earlier on in the year. "I'd prefer for you to stay here, Lizzie. Nothing will happen to you. I will be back before you know it."

She sighed, but shrugged as Sherlock gave her another quick kiss on the top of her head and swept from the room.

Sitting in the car, John knew what he wanted to say to Sherlock as they made their way towards Henry Knight's house. Sherlock was driving, his eyes focused on the small road in front of him as John drummed his fingers on his thighs.

"You don't mean what you said earlier, do you?" John asked from him. "I saw you. I saw that you were worried by the phone call he had made to Elizabeth. You changed your tune pretty quickly when you saw she was worried."

Sherlock shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but he struggled to do that when he had an incline as to what was coming. One great criminal mastermind could not live while another great sleuth lived. He suspected that was what Moriarty was trying to tell him, but Sherlock could not think like that, nor could he particularly say it when he saw Elizabeth look so worried.

"There might come a time…" Sherlock began, wondering if he should tell John what he wanted to say. "There might come a time when Moriarty and I clash. I don't know when or where, but I think it is coming. I think that…if anything happens to me…then I need you to make me a promise."

"Stop the car," John demanded, unable to comprehend what was coming out of Sherlock's mouth.

The sleuth looked confused. "What? Why?" he asked.

"Just do it," John demanded through gritted teeth and Sherlock complied, stopping the car.

John climbed from it, slamming the door behind him as Sherlock did the same, walking to the front of the vehicle with his hands in his coat's pockets as he watched John pace, his hands running through his hair hastily, tugging at the short locks.

"You need to stop this," John demanded from Sherlock, pointing at him. "Whatever is going on between you and Moriarty needs to stop, Sherlock."

"I am not actively seeking him out, am I?" Sherlock demanded from John. "He is always the one to make the first move."

"Then don't make any other move," John said. "Let him do what he wants, but stop this. Do not play his game if what you are saying is true."

"Life does not always work that way," Sherlock reminded John.

"Then make it!" John snapped. "Sherlock, if you are telling me that there is a chance that you might not live because of him then make it stop. Tell him you're not interested anymore."

"And you think men like Moriarty work like that, John?" Sherlock demanded; growing irate with the man he classed as his only friend. "Men like Moriarty do not stop. They do not go away. Has he not proven that to you? So long as he is around then he will do what he can to terrorise us…me…you…Elizabeth…"

John groaned lowly then, doubling over slightly as he struggled to keep his breathing even, Sherlock's words doing nothing but make him feel sick to his core.

"Elizabeth," John spoke her name in a whisper. "She's your daughter, Sherlock."

"I know," Sherlock said.

"How can you keep going on with Moriarty if you know what you know?" John wondered. "If you think that you might not come out of this…alive…" John struggled to say the final word, his voice a mangled whisper. "Then stop…stop for her sake."

Shaking his head, Sherlock moved closer to John, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't you see?" Sherlock asked, as if it were perfectly obvious. John suspected it was to Sherlock. "I keep going for her sake. I keep going because I know that he will never leave us alone and Elizabeth deserves to be left alone. I do not want him terrorising her."

"You need to talk to her," John said. "She deserves to know the truth."

"No," Sherlock said, his voice adamant. "You saw her earlier. If I tell her the truth then there will be no telling what she will do. She is unstable, John. She is seeing a psychiatrist. She barely sleeps. She has been pushing Ben away judging by the way she hasn't replied to any of his texts. I am slowly losing her and if she knows the truth then I worry I will completely lose her."

Guilt engulfed Sherlock as he spoke and he moved back to the car, his hands ruffling his hair as he thought back to his daughter who he had left in the pub. He couldn't think like he was doing. It was too dangerous, yet he struggled to think anything else.

"Perhaps," John said, calling to Sherlock before he could climb back into the car. "But you will definitely lose her if you keep the truth from her."

...

There had to be a rational explanation for what he had seen. How could there not be a logical explanation? The hound that he had witnessed was not real. Creatures like those did not exist. It was not possible. Yet Sherlock sat by the fire that evening, sweat dripping down his forehead as he waited for Elizabeth to return with a whiskey after she had seen him look so shaken up.

"Drink this," she spoke, handing him the small tumbler as she watched him down the liquid without a second thought and she took the seat across from him. "Now, are you going to tell me what is going on?"

"I saw the hound," Sherlock admitted to her, but she shook her head.

"That's impossible," she told him, holding a bottle of water in her hands. "Giant, monster hounds don't exist and you know that."

"Then why am I shaking?" Sherlock asked from her. "My heart rate is ridiculous and I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. Why am I having such a reaction if what I saw was not real? It makes no sense."

Elizabeth chuckled then, her eyes closing as Sherlock glowered over to her, but she knew better than him about being scared about something that lived in the imagination. She looked to him again.

"Is it not obvious?" she spoke. "You might not have imagined it, but it was not real. Are you certain you haven't been drugged to imagine it? If not…well…let's just say I know what it is like to be scared of things that aren't real. My nightmares make sure of that."

How had he not seen that? The answer was so obvious and it was straight in front of him. That had to be it. He felt like a fool for even thinking that he had seen a hound. Perhaps his daughter was not as daft as he sometimes thought. He placed the empty glass on the table before sitting back, his hand wiping his sweat from his forehead as Elizabeth looked to her phone as it made another noise.

"You should reply," Sherlock spoke when he saw her place it back onto the table in front of them by the fire.

She shook her head. "I can't," she admitted to him.

"Elizabeth, he is clearly interested in you," Sherlock said. "Despite the fact that I would prefer for you never to date, I have to say, he seemed…well…unremarkable, but polite."

"Because I don't want him to get hurt," Elizabeth finally admitted, peering over to her father as she let her cheeks turn red. "If I start dating him…going out with him…then it is just someone else for him to use against me. I can't risk him. I don't want to risk him."

Sherlock's brows knitted together. "You're pushing him away." Sherlock stated and Elizabeth nodded.

"It's safer."

"But not what you want," Sherlock told her.

"What I want doesn't matter as long as Moriarty is around," Elizabeth said. "This is best for me and for Ben. I just can't tell him…it's easier not to reply…he will eventually get the message. I know he will."

Sherlock shook his head, struggling to watch on as his daughter wiped away a solitary tear and then ran her hand underneath her nose before peering into the fireplace.

"I will stop him," Sherlock promised her, leaning over to take her hand inside of his, shocking her with the motion as he squeezed her fingers tightly. "I will do anything, Elizabeth, I promise you. I will stop him."

….

A/N: So, let me know what you think!