Danielle blinked then suddenly it was morning. John invited her to a café, saying that Sherlock would come along. Danielle just wanted to stop moving for five minutes. She'd been so worked up last night that she hardly got any rest.

At the café, Danielle ordered herself a nice warm cup of cocoa. She just wanted sugar right now. Sugar would help her. Well sugar or maybe going out for a drink with Felix, that could work too.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asked them.

"No." Danielle grumbled.

"You realize we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?" John asked Sherlock.

"I can feel it." Danielle sighed. She lowered her head to the table. She felt like her gym teacher had made her run extra laps. She took another gulp of cocoa. Already it was going cold. "Everything is falling apart."

"Ah. Lestrade called you too." Sherlock reasoned.

Danielle glared at him. On a better day, she would play along with his behavior. Not today.

"Why? What happened?" John asked.

"The latest hostage is another former antagonist of Danielle's." Sherlock explained.

John turned his head to Danielle. His eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion. Danielle sighed, lowering her drink. "Matthew Drummonds. A friend of Carl's. He at least had the decency not to know my name, or accuse me of murder." She looked at Sherlock. "You said they weren't meant to matter. They shouldn't matter. What is happening."

Sherlock could find her no answers. He was turning it over in his head, again and again. The emotional connection between them all was so long ago, it shouldn't even matter. Sherlock checked- the two current hostages weren't in contact with each other after finishing their A levels. Aldernay had no memory of Powers, and Drummonds held no more affection for his fallen friend.

None of it mattered. Sherlock deduced that the connection was only meant to cast doubt, to distract everyone from the Game. Perhaps to encourage Sherlock to stay away from the police, who loved this connection and thought it meant something. The voice over the phone wanted Sherlock to solve these puzzles, to play with Sherlock and only him. Everybody else made it boring.

Even John and Danielle were taking some of the fun out of it. John would get all rigid and emotional whenever Sherlock admitted to having fun or enjoying the game. He always wanted to keep a morally upright position.

Danielle ruined it with her face. The downturn of her lips, a worried frown constantly stuck on her features. Shadows under her eyes from restless sleep.

"Has it occurred to you-?" John began.

"Probably." Sherlock answered.

John glared, unamused. See? Ruining the fun. "No-has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoes, all these people that knew Danielle- it's all meant for you."

Sherlock grinned. He told John it occurred to him, even before he asked. "Yes, I know."

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?" John asked.

Sherlock could only hope. "Perhaps."

Danielle shuddered. The shake of her shoulders in time with the buzz of the phone. Sherlock quickly grabbed it. The pips played, showing a picture.

Sherlock had no idea who this woman was. By Danielle's blank reaction, neither did she. It could rule out another former teacher (the woman was clearly too old to have been a classmate)- then again, Danielle might have forgotten the face. The woman in this picture wore so much makeup, it's a wonder it managed to still stick.

"That could be anybody." Sherlock huffed. How was this supposed to be a clue? This told Sherlock nothing. It was infuriating.

"I don't know her." Danielle admitted. She didn't seem any relieved. "That probably means our next hostage will be a classmate. Dammit-"

"Well, it could be, yeah." John stood himself up. "Lucky for Sherlock, I've been more than a little unemployed."

"Is this about the hostages or the lady?"

"The lady." John answered. "Lucky for you, Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much telly." He walked over to the remote for the café's telly.

Danielle looked to Sherlock. He was just as confused as her.

John switched on the telly. To Danielle's shock, the lady on the photo was there. She was a hyper woman on the screen.

"Thank you, Tyra! Doesn't she look lovely, everybody, now?"

"That's scary. He didn't even have to change it." Danielle praised.

The pink phone started to ring. Danielle jumped back. Sherlock just moved to answer it.

"Anyway, speaking of silk purses and sows' ears-"

"Hello?" Sherlock set the phone to speakerphone.

An elderly woman started speaking. Danielle tried to think of anyone from her childhood who matched the voice.

"This one...is a bit...defective. Sorry."

Danielle wanted to meet this 'Moriarty' then stab him with a rusted spoon. Then poor hot water on his face to get the spoon out. How dare he make this woman do this- do any of this!

"She's blind. This is...a funny one."

John came back to the table by then. He too looked horrified at the speaker.

"I'll give you...twelve hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked.

"I like...to watch you...dance."

The phone call ended with the woman's fearful gasp of terror.

Sherlock dropped the phone onto the table. He looked over to the telly. He noted that Danielle was wringing her hands out over a misplacement of guilt.

"...and I see you're back to your bad habits." The woman was laughing.

The screen changed to a news reader. Make-over Queen Connie Prince dead at 48.

Finally. A name. Sherlock could work with a name.

"...continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programmes, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead-"

==NKMHLY==

Danielle was happy to see Molly again. Molly was a bright light in her suddenly shitty life. She waved at Molly as Lestrade led them into the morgue.

"Connie Prince, fifty-four. She had one of those make-over shows on the telly. Did you see it?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

"No."

"Very popular. She was going places." Lestrade praised.

Danielle was smiling at Molly now. Molly smiled back- bright and delighted despite the corpse between them.

"Not any more." Sherlock corrected. Lestrade wasn't so pleased by that comment. Sherlock carried on. "So: dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound."

Danielle looked at the wound in question. There was a jagged cut in Prince's hand between her thumb and finger. Danielle rubbed the spot on her own hand, fearing what an injury like that must feel like.

"Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream– good night Vienna." Sherlock explained.

"I suppose." John agreed.

"Poor woman." Danielle was still rubbing her hand.

"Something's wrong with this picture." Sherlock stated.

"Eh?" Lestrade prompted.

"Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it. Something's wrong." Sherlock explained. He knelt in front of the body, checking the arm and head with a magnifying glass. "John? The cut on her hand, it's deep; would have bled a lot, right?"

"Yeah." John answered.

Danielle pitied the person who had to see that outfit. The lady in pink flashed in her head, all the pink washed out in red.

"But the wound's clean– very clean, and fresh." Sherlock pointed out. Or maybe he was just thinking out loud. Danielle noticed he did that a lot. "How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?"

"Eight, ten days." John reasoned.

Then Sherlock smiled. Danielle didn't feel any happy feelings with that smile. It made her feel stupid. She knew what Sherlock was trying to say- that the tetanus couldn't have killed her from that cut- it didn't make her feel smart.

"The cut was made later." John realized.

"After she was dead?" Lestrade asked.

"Must have been. The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman's system?" Sherlock wondered.

Danielle couldn't imagine how else it could've happened. That cut was just too ugly. That was the point, apparently. It was supposed to be ugly enough so no one criticized it.

"You want to help, right?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course." John answered.

No

I wanna take a nap

"Yeah." Danielle answered.

"Connie Prince's background– family history, everything. Give me data." Sherlock instructed.

"Right." John obeyed. He walked to the door. Danielle tiredly went to follow.

"Danielle, with me." Sherlock instructed.

Confused, Danielle looked at John. He gave a confused shrug, but then gave her an assuring nod. Danielle walked to Sherlock's side.

He looked over Prince once more before making to leave. Danielle smiled again at Molly.

"There's something else that we haven't thought of." Lestrade began.

Danielle really hoped Lestrade didn't bring up Moriarty. She was too focused on wanting to scoop out his eyes with a fork. Yeah she didn't want a spoon anymore, time for forks.

"Is there?" Sherlock questioned, brushing the detective off.

"Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?" Lestrade questioned.

Catherine Aldernay's accusing cries

The man on the phone crying.

"She's blind."

"If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it out?" Lestrade continued.

Sherlock gave a half hearted shrug. "Good Samaritan."

"-who press-gangs suicide bombers?" Lestrsde countered.

"Bad Samaritan." Sherlock corrected.

Danielle shuddered. She pulled away from Sherlock, wrapping her hands around her mid section. Sherlock paused in his rush to leave to look at her.

"Please don't joke." Danielle heard enough pleading cried to last the rest of her laugh. "It's real, Sherlock. All those people- that poor old woman- they can die. Okay? I don't like you laughing about it. Please stop."

"Okay." Sherlock replied. "Yes, right. Lestrade, what else did you want?"

Lestrade was glancing at Danielle. She was scared. Did he think she was guilty? Did he think this was all her- like Aldernay was saying? Like all the hostages were implying? Danielle hated all of it. She wanted them to be okay.

"Lestrade?" Sherlock prompted, impatient.

"Just tell me: what are we dealing with?" Lestrade asked him.

Sherlock looked away from Danielle's line of sight. Danielle hated that she still heard a smile. "Something new."

Danielle walked over to Molly. "Hey! I wanted to ask-"

"Danielle we're going." Sherlock instructed. He turned dramatically- his coat flaring up with him.

Danielle wanted to hit him. She shrugged helplessly at Molly. Molly waved her goodbye, understanding. Danielle just wanted to know how her date with Jim went.

She would find out later, she guessed.

==NKMHLY==

Hours passed. They made little progress. Or so Danielle was told. Sherlock went with her to her flat the moment they arrived on Baker Street. He watched her mind her pets. Danielle realized she really needed the affection of her cat and dog.

Sherlock used her telly for research on Connie Prince. He used his laptop as well, they both of them sitting on her couch. Danielle petting Nightwing, Erika at the heels of Sherlock with him petting her head, the click of the keys as Sherlock typed away.

Danielle only knew she fell asleep in that because she woke up three hours later. Sherlock was still there. Erika was on the couch, her head on Sherlock's leg. Nightwing vanished. Danielle was cuddled up beside Sherlock- her head on his shoulder.

He hadn't moved for three hours. Later, ages later, Danielle would assume Sherlock just went off to his Mind Palace. It would surprise her to find out Sherlock did no such thing.

Instead he spent those three hours perfectly still to keep her from waking up. No one had ever fallen asleep on him before. As Danielle fell asleep, so did Erika. The biggest of them on Sherlock. Sherlock was happy his laptop was close so he could research what it meant.

All the results were telling him the same thing. That it was a sign of great trust. Unless Danielle and her dog had narcolepsy...

Sherlock preferred not to think about it.

Danielle flushed pink with embarrassment.

Sherlock decided now was the time to head back to his flat. Once there, he revealed he was printing things from his laptop. With Danielle's help, he pinned everything to the wall. Danielle saw that only a half of the pictures involved Connie Prince. Some contained Carl Powers. Sherlock tapped on notes too- Danielle saw some containing the names of the hostages.

Lestrade came by the flat too. Danielle was actively trying not to think about how she woke up on Sherlock's shoulder. He was certainly acting like it hadn't happened.

"Connection, connection, connection. There must be a connection." Sherlock hissed in annoyance. "Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber knew him; admitted that he knew him. The bomber's iPhone was in stationery from the Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall; the second from London; the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing– working his way round the world? Showing off?"

"Not really around the world." Danielle noted. "More just round-"

She was cut off by the ringing pink phone. She sat herself down in Sherlock's seat, trying again to place the woman's voice.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the...dots." She was crying. Danielle couldn't imagine any of her former teachers crying. "Three hours: boom...boom."

Sherlock looked over to Danielle as the phone call ended. He tucked the phone away in his pocket before coming to Danielle's side.

Danielle let out a shaking breath.

"She'll be fine." Sherlock told Danielle. Danielle nodded, wanting so badly to believe it. "I will solve the case, and keep her safe."

"Yeah?" Danielle hated how scared she sounded.

Sherlock nodded in promise.

==NKMHLY==

Sherlock summoned the best resource on hand. John was still out for interviews at Prince's house. Danielle was lost on crap telly, so they brought in Mrs Hudson. She was eyeing the wall. Danielle was able to get it by with the promise of cleanup after- including filling in the holes.

Sherlock was on the phone. "Great. ...Thank you. Thanks again."

"It was a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colors." Mrs Hudson explained.

"Colors?" Lestrade asked.

"Like...what clothing looks best on you?" Danielle asked. She heard a lot of that growing up. Her mother and sister would talk for ages about the stuff. Danielle tuned it out. She knew the basics. That was enough to get her by.

"I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me." Mrs Hudson explained.

Lestrade was only more confused. Danielle wished she had a guide. Should she call Lilly Kelly? No, that would only make her feel worse.

Sherlock stepped up, ending the phone call.

"Who was that?" Lestrade asked.

"Home Office." Sherlock answered.

"Home Office?" Lestrsde asked.

"Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favor." Sherlock explained.

"She was a pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much." Mrs Hudson remarked, meaning a photo about Connie Prince. "They all do these days. People can hardly move their faces. It's silly, isn't it?!" She laughed. "Did you ever see her show?"

"Not until now." Sherlock answered. He went to get his laptop.

Mrs Hudson turned to Danielle. Danielle politely shook her head. "Oh no, it's not my thing."

Sherlock played a clip from the show. Connie was cheering loudly, the man beside her looked none too pleased.

"You look pasty, love!"

"Ah. Rained every day but one!"

"That's the brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers." Mrs Hudson explained.

"Oh." Danielle hadn't figured the man was her brother. It made sense, she should've guessed.

"So I gather." Sherlock replied. "I've just been having a very fruitful chat with people who loved this show. Fan sites– indispensable for gossip."

"There's really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don't you think, girls? Off! Off! Off! Off!"

Connie started taking off her brother's clothes at the behests of the chanting crowd. She beat her brother's back while doing so. The brother looked pained at the action, still smiling for the crowd.

==NKMHLY==

John called them over to the Prince house. Sherlock brought Danielle along. She was to hold a professional photo camera case, nothing else. Danielle was fine with it. She just wanted to save that poor old woman.

Sherlock and Danielle were welcomed into the house by Raoul. Once they entered the home they spotted John standing with Kenny Prince.

"Ah, Mr Prince, isn't it?" Sherlock greeted him.

"Yes." Kenny replied.

"Very good to meet you." Sherlock lied, smiling too brightly.

"Yes, thank you." Kenny replied tersely.

Sherlock shook his hand. "So sorry to hear about-"

"Yes, yes, very kind."

John looked to Danielle. "Shall we, er-"

Danielle nodded. She lowered the case, pulling out a camera. She handed it to Sherlock. She also pulled out a camera flashgun.

John walked up to them both. "You were right. The bacteria got into her another way."

Sherlock grinned. "Oh yes?"

"Yes."

"How?" Danielle asked John.

"Right. We all set?" Kenny asked, interrupting John before he could answer Danielle.

"Um, yes." John told Kenny. He glanced at Sherlock and Danielle. "Can you...?"

Sherlock stepped closed to take the picture. Danielle raised the flashgun.

"Not too close. I'm raw from crying." Kenny requested.

Danielle heard a cat. "Oh my!" A hairless cat appeared at her ankles. She handed the flash gun to Sherlock, kneeling at the cat. "Oh and who is this precious thing?"

"Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess." Kenny explained.

"Was that the one of healing, or of torture?" Danielle asked.

"What?" Kenny asked.

"Well Sekhmet was a goddess of something. Was it healing or torture? I know it was one or the other." Danielle explained, holding her hand out. The cat bumped it, rubbing their head along her hand.

Kenny hesitated. John brightened, preening like Sherlock after a case. "We named her a power goddess, that was it."

Did they name her after Connie too? Like, in her memory? That was nice of them. "Ah, that makes sense." Danielle replied.

"How nice. Was she Connie's?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." Oh, even better! Kenny knelt down, picking up the cat. Danielle let the transition happen. She wanted to pet the cat but if Kenny needed to be distracted, a cat was the best way to go. "Little present from yours truly."

"Sherlock? Danielle? Uh, light reading?" John prompted.

"What?" Danielle asked.

"The light-" Sherlock explained.

"Oh right!" Danielle took the flashgun. She used it. She winced in sympathy to Kenny.

"Two point eight." Sherlock supplied.

"Bloody hell. What do you think you're playing at?!" Kenny rubbed at his eyes.

John ran his fingers over the cat's paws. Sherlock elbowed Danielle. She flashed the light again.

"I'm so sorry!" Danielle replied. She flashed the light again.

"Do you think this is funny, you three? What's going on?" Kenny demanded.

"Actually, I think we've got what we came for." John stated. He nodded at Danielle. She lowered the light. "Excuse us."

Kenny blinked, probably trying to get sight back. "What?"

"Sherlock. Danielle." John prompted.

"Yes sir." Danielle tucked the flashgun into the bag. She strapped in over her shoulder.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

John was already ushering Danielle out. "We've got deadlines."

That finally got Sherlock into action.

"But you've not taken anything!" Kenny called out.

The three of them still left his house. John was laughing, bouncing on his feet. "Yes! Ooh, yes!"

"Yes! Why are we excited?" Danielle asked.

"John thinks it was the cat. It wasn't the cat." Sherlock answered.

"No! Not the cat!" Danielle held her heart. That sweet cat, being used to murder? She couldn't imagine.

"What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant." John argued.

Sherlock smiled brightly. If Danielle's heart filled with light, that was her business and no one else's. "Lovely idea."

"No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet– bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable." John explained "She wouldn't have-"

"I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and too clever for the brother." Sherlock told them.

Danielle was so confused. "So it was the cat then it stopped being the cat. And Kenny killed her because...of-"

"He murdered his sister for her money." John answered.

"Did he?" Sherlock asked.

"Didn't he?"

"No. It was revenge." Sherlock corrected.

"For the cat?" Danielle asked.

"Revenge? Who wanted revenge?" John asked, sounding as lost as Danielle.

"It has nothing to do with the cat. Forget the cat." Sherlock ordered. "Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so-"

"Oh! The video- Connie wasn't very nice. Revenge makes sense." Danielle nodded.

John was still confused. "No, wait, wait. Wait a second." He stopped in the path. Sherlock and Danielle stopped too. "What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?"

Danielle wasn't even going to bother asking. Sherlock was already insistent that it wasn't the cat. Any questions she could ask would probably frustrate him. That woman's life was at stake. She couldn't afford for Sherlock to get frustrated.

"Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now." Sherlock reasoned.

John smelled his coat to check. Danielle leaned over too. She did catch some bleach coming off him.

"No, the cat doesn't come into it." Sherlock started walking again. Danielle and John followed to keep from being left behind. "Raoul's internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here."

Danielle turned to John. Her friend looked incredibly frustrated and annoyed. Danielle thought it was a decent try. John just missed the information they learned at the flat, about how Connie treated Kenny.

"You were right about it being for money." Danielle tried. John shook his head. "No you were. Just got the person wrong."

"And the method." John narrowed his eyes on Sherlock's back.

"What?" Danielle asked.

John shook his head. "Nothing. He's just being a prick."

"Yeah..." Danielle bit her lip.

==NKMHLY==

Danielle fretted the whole way back to Scotland Yard. The countdown was so close to over. That blind woman didn't have much time.

Sherlock held up a folder. It has all the information he took from 221b and from Molly. Everything there was enough to put the killer away. Sherlock held off on telling until they were at NSY.

"Raoul de Santos is your killer." Sherlock explained. "Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince– it was botulinum toxin." He handed Lestrade the folder. "We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself."

Lestrade took the folder. He walked towards his office. The trio followed him. "So how'd he do it?"

"Botox injection." Sherlock answered.

"Botox?" Lestrade asked, surprised.

"Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases." Sherlock explained. "He's been bulk ordering Botox for months."

Something awful was settling in Danielle's head.

"-I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm-"

"-Raoul's internet records do, though."

She wasn't liking what her brain was saying.

"Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose." Sherlock finished.

"You sure about this?" Lestrade asked.

"I'm sure." Sherlock answered.

"All right– my office." Lestrade nodded his head towards it. He walked off.

Before Sherlock could join, John grabbed his arm.

"Hey, Sherlock. How long?" John asked.

No

No don't say it

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"How long have you known?" John pressed.

Sherlock "Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake."

You-

You knew what-

Danielle grabbed his coat. Sherlock stood still.

"Sherlock." Danielle warned. "You promised me- you promised me!"

Sherlock put his hand on her shoulder. He stated his clear blue eyes into her vivid ones. "I am keeping that promise. I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him!"

Danielle didn't think that a victory. That woman spent hours longer with a bomb on her chest for this. She didn't need that. That woman deserves to be free more than they deserved answers.

==NKMHLY==

Sherlock was given access to Lestrade's computer. He logged into his blog, typing out the solved puzzle.

Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.

He pressed enter. Two seconds later the phone rang.

Danielle's heart hammered in her chest.

Sherlock answered the phone on speaker. "Hello?"

"Help me." The old woman pleaded. Danielle couldn't get herself to breathe.

"Tell us where you are. Address." Sherlock prompted.

"He was so...His voice-"

"No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing." Sherlock looked up at Danielle. "Talk to her, make her socialize. The old like that."

"Wha-"

"Do it!"

Danielle took the phone, shaking. "Hello- ma'am? I'm a former student."

"Oh- oh you are?"

"Yes. I- I would've been...uhh...around 1989?" Danielle explained. Sherlock nodded, encouraging her to get on with it. "I'm Danielle-"

"Nolan! Danielle Nolan. I remember you. Oh you were an odd girl- your mother was- she wasn't very nice."

Danielle was finding it easier to relax. "Ma'am. Ma'am I need you to tell us where you are. Please, anything you can-"

"I remember her. She kept yelling about you that boy-"

Danielle froze.

The line went dead. She- she wasn't ready for it.

"M-ma'am?" Danielle's voice was shaking. She- she couldn't have. The woman had to be fine. She had- she couldn't be-

"Danielle?" Lestrade asked.

Danielle helplessly held up the phone. "I-"

Soo Lin's blank eyes

The old woman's painful agonized cry

"What's happened?" John asked.

"I tried to stop her." Danielle explained, pleading. "She- she didn't stop."

Danielle could feel the tears on her cheeks before feeling them in her eyes. The phone fell from her hand in a clatter. She didn't care. It didn't matter.

She failed again.

Sherlock put a hand on her shoulder. Danielle should've pushed him away, or yelled at him. Instead she squeezed that hand tight as she cried.

==NKMHLY==

AN: I originally was going to let the lady lived. But then...I considered...yeah but wouldn't this cause pain which would make Moriarty giddy? So that's why this happened.

Thanks to CandiLover, Maddie91, for favoriting

Thanks to CandiLover, Ncook0012, Andrianna2016, MischiefManda, for following