It didn't take long for John and Sherlock to storm through the corridors of the ward where Molly was lying.

In no time at all they reached Molly's room.

Molly was lying in her bed like the days before. She looked exhausted but this time there was something else. Her eyes were glistening from the tears she was trying so desperately to hold back.

Mary stood at the side of her bed and looked anxiously at the two men entering. Even though Sherlock disregarded the feelings of others now and then, he still sensed that something was wrong.

"John, Sherlock? What are you doing here?" asked Molly in surprise, looking back and forth between the two.

But before either of them could say anything, Mary was already speaking.

"I called her, Molly."

Molly sighed heavily and stroked her hair with shaky hands.

"Mary, no! Why did you do that!"

"Sorry Molly but I think they should know too and most importantly they can help"

"Find out what?" asked John now with a questioning look.

She put on a small smile, probably to reassure him. Then her gaze roamed further around the room and stopped at Sherlock. His expression was unreadable but inside he sensed equal concern, panic and fear.

Molly quickly released her gaze from him, tried to straighten up a little and then began to tell him.

"It's nothing more. The doctors have finished their tests and Mary thought it was something serious as I was...well let's just say...a bit tense..."

"Pff, something is good" Mary muttered to herself.

"Well?" now asked Sherlock from across the room.

Molly avoided his and the others' gaze and stared at her hands. Slightly nervously she fiddled with the sheet of her blanket.

Then quietly she began to speak again.

"They've found out what's wrong with me. But it's nothing. They'll treat it and I'll be out of here in a few days"

"Molly!" warned Mary.

John and Sherlock too looked at her with wide eyes and then at Molly. Something seemed to be hiding Molly.

But Molly did not answer.

Mary heaved a deep sigh and rubbed her hand over her face.

"Okay, if you don't tell them, I will," Mary then told her forcefully.

"Molly, what are you not telling us?" asked John now. His tone was demanding.

"Nothing. It's just that I don't want to burden you with it"

"Molly. We're your friends. No matter what, we're here for you and we'll get through this" John then explained in a soothing tone and lightly squeezed her hand. Sherlock, meanwhile, remained quiet the whole time, watching the whole scenario in front of him closely.

"I appreciate it very much and I am grateful for your support..."

"But?"

Sherlock continued to watch Molly. Every now and then she would cast a quick glance in his direction. There was fear in her eyes and she was nervous. Even more nervous than usual.

'What did Molly have to hide, what didn't she want to say?` he then asked himself and slowly moved to the end of her bed and took her file in his hand. He skimmed the most important data. And all at once he realised where that fear in her eyes came from.

"Molly hasn't been completely honest with us about her condition. In addition to her fainting spells, she continued to complain of vomiting and temporary onset of paralysis. She was also found to have increasing dysfunction of her liver and kidneys. Her symptoms were all caused by -" he then explained in a monotone.

"Sherlock! No! Stop it, please!" Molly interrupted him frantically.

"By what? Sherlock?" John then asked anxiously.

Sherlock glanced briefly at Molly to make sure he was allowed to continue but her gaze avoided his. The tears she had been trying so desperately to hold back were now slowly making their way down her face.

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

The latter swallowed hard, then closed the file and put it back. Slowly he moved away from her bed but not without giving her another worried look.

"Sherlock?! Don't you dare leave now!" shouted John, stopping him at the door.

"I was right in my suspicions. Molly was the victim of a crime. She was poisoned!" he explained briefly.

"What?" asked John, stunned.

"If she really was poisoned, then we have to tell Greg and -"

"John! There's no need to do that. I'm getting better already, aren't I? The doctors did a good job," Molly stopped him.

"But Molly, this is a crime. Someone tried to kill you and will certainly keep trying"

"I'm under 24-hour guard here. And now that I know, I will be more careful. I promise"

An uncomfortable silence spread. Everyone seemed to be caught up in their own thoughts. It was silent for minutes. John was the first to break this stifling silence.

"The secret letter writer! He must be behind this!" John yelled and turned to Sherlock.

Both Mary and Molly looked up in surprise.

"What do you mean by that? Why would he target Molly?" asked Mary then.

John had told his wife that Sherlock had been receiving mysterious messages for several days, but he hadn't told her about the last letter and his suspicions about it.

"In the one letter stood-" he began but Sherlock stopped him in a harsh tone.

"JOHN!"

"I'll take care of it. No need to drag others into it!" he retorted and turned on his heel.

After locking the door behind him, he almost ran out across the corridors of the hospital towards the exit. He just couldn't stay there any longer. He had to get out. His thoughts turned to Molly and the threats he had received.

`So it is really happening. I'm going to lose the person I love. He's making good on his threats.`

Then he remembered what he had read and also the information he withheld from John and Mary. Her symptoms are all signs of poisoning, caused by thallium (also used as a chemical weapon). And it is possible that this was administered to her on the day of the wedding. In the meantime, 10 days have passed and if Sherlock remembered correctly, the poison would take full effect after 13 days. There is no known antidote. If detected early, all that can be done is to combat the symptoms and damage. Even though Molly was feeling a little better, she was not out of danger yet. The perpetrator could administer something to her again at any time without being noticed. That meant he had to find out who it was as soon as possible and stop them.

Sherlock's chest constricted and he felt a thick lump in his throat that took away his breath. As quickly as he could, he made his way back to Baker Street. He simply had to find this mysterious letter writer. Because only then could he save Molly's life.

Determined to find this stranger, he walked the rest of the way and was at his door just a few minutes later. He opened the door, took a step and immediately stepped on a small envelope. Without looking at it closely, he knew immediately who it was from. Carefully he picked it up and felt that it was heavier than usual. Gripped by curiosity, he opened it and revealed a small pocket watch. It was one of the usual pocket watches. It was a little older and worn. On the back was written a dedication:

"R.H.-the best dad in the world. Love, your son."

`Why would he send me these?" asked Sherlock inwardly.

Then he wondered if the initials would tell him anything, but his thoughts always seemed to return to one person. Wildly, he shook his head. He just had to focus. Then he turned his eyes back to the watch in his hand. But when he couldn't find anything else, he examined the envelope further. At the bottom, was a small note.

TICK TACK. TIME IS RUNNING OUT!

`So it wasn't over yet. And now that the doctors could figure out what was wrong with her, an even bigger bull's-eye adorned her back'

The letter writer would not give up until she was finally dead. Time was of the essence.

Immediately Sherlock set to work. In his makeshift lab, he first took a closer look at the pocket watch, picking it apart into its component parts. He examined it for fingerprints, skin particles or other substances. But as with the letters before, he could not come up with a result.

Frustrated, he dropped onto the couch. Again and again he went over the past days and the information he had been able to gather.

At some point, however, a strange tiredness overcame him and before he knew it he was asleep and dreaming.

This time he found himself on the evening of the wedding. Leaning against the wall with Molly. He dreamt of their kiss together. Then he leaned his forehead against hers and breathed in her scent. Softly he breathed her name and looked deep into her eyes.

Molly returned his gaze before slowly turning away from him.

"I have to go now" she said then.

Sherlock urged her not to, but she only replied, "I have to. Tom and I are invited to a Robert's birthday party tomorrow and we have to leave very early"

Then slowly she moved further away from him but Sherlock stopped her by her wrist.

"Don't leave me, Molly."

With a slight smile on her lips, she came back to him and gently stroked his cheek with her hand.

"I'm not going to leave you. Ever. I'm always here for you, waiting for you. You just need to wake up!"

And then Molly was gone.

Just like the first time, Sherlock was startled out of his sleep but this time it dawned on him. In his dream, Molly had mentioned something about a Robert. Could it be that the initials on the clock and the Robert from the dream were the same person? And could it be that Tom could be behind all this? he continued to think.

There was only one way to find out. For that, he just had to jump over his shadow and ask a certain person for help. Sighing slightly, he then reached for his phone and dialled the number.

It didn't take long before the other end picked up.

He dispensed with the usual greeting and immediately began to tell the story.

"Lestrade, run Tom through the database. I need all the information on him. Starting with his family and relatives. It's urgent"

"Tom? You mean Molly's Tom? Will you tell me what this is all about? What about Tom?"

Sherlock sighed. While asking him again to look up his name in the Yard's system, he briefly explained the situation. The secret letters and Molly's condition. He said nothing of his dream, however. Briefly he thought that he would have to expect reproaches from the DI but nothing came except a loud sigh.

After he had finished his story, Lestrade explained the available information.

Tom was adopted by an Anderson family at an early age and was a regular clean boy. No criminal record, no parking tickets or minor offences.

Not once had he run a damn stop sign. Sherlock was about to give up and end the call until Lestrade mentioned a certain and familiar name. And now it all fitted together. The letters, the threats, the pocket watch and the dream.

He ended the call, quickly put on his coat and scarf and then stormed out the door.