After we found Clarke and Lestrade, it was a race against time; we didn't have a second to waste before it was too late and Moran would do something terrible to the children if he hadn't already. I had never run faster in my whole life. Not even the pouring rain could stop me; no matter how many times I slipped, I would get up and continue to run. The people around us would either move to the side, freeing the way, or be pushed by us. We had to get to the children.

The fear, the anxiety, the nerves took control over me. My hands and forehead were sweating and my heart was beating faster – and no, it had nothing to do with this current running marathon. My legs were shaking beneath my dress, but I clamped my hands together and then took a deep breath.

It took us a little longer than intended to get to the disused factory, and it had started to get cloudy again, but I didn't care that I forgot to put on my coat; I held it on my arm in case any of the children needed it.

As soon as we arrived, someone came out from one of the buildings, and for a second, I could swear that I saw John Watson because the tweed sweater he was wearing looked like something John would wear, but once I got a better look, this man was a little bit taller and his hair was more blonde, like the colour of straw. He glanced once at me, I couldn't tell what colour his eyes were, but from the way he was looking around frantically, maybe he was afraid of being caught. My suspicions were further confirmed when he scurried into another corner.

Together with Sherlock and I, Clarke ran inside the dark building, followed by Lestrade. Everyone switched on their torches. I was glad that I had brought one along, not that I was afraid of the dark, or afraid of dark, damp places where there could be bugs or snakes roaming around. It was like being back in that wine cellar, only this place was a lot less clean and it was much more likely that something was going to pop out at me.

"You, look over there," Lestrade instructed, and directed his officers this way and that. "Look everywhere. Spread out, please. Spread out."

As we made our way deeper into the factory, I noticed that there were several holes in the ceiling, it must have been the only source of light the children had, there were also some dried up apple skins, maybe they'd brought some apples in case they were hungry. I glanced to the walls seeing odd scratches, the same kind we saw when we rescued Claude's family.

"Nail marks," I said. "She was trying to resist , there must have been more than one; they tried to bring her out of the door, but then she used her strength to kick herself out of their grasps, you can tell because the marks here go backwards and upwards."

"You always manage to impress me," he smiled and added playfully, "and someday, you might be as brilliant a detective as I am."

"Right, if that's possible," I said, a little embarrassed.

There was a bottle on the ground and I picked it up, alarmed. The children wouldn't have been drinking wine, could they? Unless their captor gave it to them so that they would sleep.

"A truly diabolical thing to do," Sherlock said, and while we continued our search for any evidence, he found a large number of empty sweet wrappers scattered on the floor around a candle on a plate, then he touched the wick of the candle.

"This was alight moments ago," he muttered softly and then called out loudly, "They're still here!"

I picked up another wrapper and held it closer to the beam of my torch and sniffed the paper before touching the tip of his tongue to it and grimacing. I noticed my companion doing the same and a look of horror crossed his face.

"Did you taste that?" I asked.

"Mercury! The wrappers: they're painted with mercury. Very lethal. But it's not enough to kill them on its own. Taken in large enough quantities, eventually it would kill them." He paused. "He didn't need to be there for the execution. He could be a thousand miles away."

He began to say more when I spotted something in the light of my torch and I glanced over at him, making a movement for him to stay silent. I cautiously moved closer, shining my torch in front of me, and saw a little girl sitting on the ground with her brother's head in her lap. His eyes were barely open, the candy was starting to get to them, or was it the wine? Either way, they were here and they were alive.

The girl looked around at me. Frightened and exhausted, she looked like she could barely keep her eyes open, either.

"Over here!" I called out and then turned back to her. "Sarah? It's alright. Your mother sent us to come and find you and your brother and your father is on his way home. You're safe now." I turned to Sherlock, "You'll carry her?"

He nodded and gently picked up Adam, handing him to Clarke who had just joined us, and then brought Sarah out, holding her close as she started to cry. "I've got you. Don't worry." Once again, I was surprised that he could comfort a child so well, even the boys seemed to be shocked when he managed to get her to stop crying.

"He's not usually like that with children, is he?" Lestrade asked me. "Is this the same Sherlock Holmes that fell from the falls in Switzerland, or did he hit his head on the way down and that altered something?" I was about to snap back when Sarah lifted her head and said something I couldn't quite make out at first, but she said it again, loud and clear.

"Is he still here, the man who kidnapped us?" I shook my head and reassured her that he was gone, that he was probably scared of us. Just then, Adam woke up and glanced around frantically, and I could see that he was shaking. His eyes widened when he saw me. I glanced into both of their eyes, they were bloodshot and they weren't responding to the light of my torch.

"Shh, it's alright, we're not here to hurt you, we're here to help you." He screamed louder, squeezing his eyes shut and I tried to think of something, anything that I could say to calm them down. "You know that Adam means 'strong warrior' and Sarah means 'princess'? I read it in a book once." Which was true, one day I was reading a book with baby names, hoping that one day, it would come in handy.

"Keep going, Charlotte, keep talking to them," said Sherlock, encouraging me to go on, but I felt so horrible for these frightened children, that I couldn't think properly. Finally, I realized that I could just say nonsense, as long as I kept going.

"You know, when I was a little girl, my mother used to take my sister and I down by the river here," I pointed outside, though I had a doubt whether or not they could actually see me, but all that counted was if they could hear me, hear the reassurance in my voice, "and we used to skip rocks, and toss sticks into the water and see whose stick made it to the other side of the bridge first."

Adam had stopped screaming and was now taking short, shallow breaths in Clarke's arms and Sarah had rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder as he continued to pet her hair.

"These children need a hospital immediately," I ordered Lestrade as he immediately, yet carefully took Sarah.

"Is there any way we can contact their mother?" I heard Sherlock ask.

"Mrs. Hargreaves is aware of the plan," he explained. "She and her husband will meet us at the hospital."

"Thank you," I said and he looked surprised; it was as if he wasn't used to people thanking him. "We couldn't have done this without you, couldn't we, Sherlock?"

"Yes, yes; Well done, Inspector." He looked down with some discomfort, but I could see the smile growing on both gentlemen's faces.

"It's always a pleasure working with you, Mrs. Holmes." Without another word, he and Clarke took the children outside and brought them to the hospital.

Trusting that the children would be safe in their capable hands, we stayed behind a while longer, to see if we could find anything that would help us further.

Sarah had written this in the typical nine-year-old style.

"There was a knock at the door, it was loud, and Miss Mackenzie told me and Adam to hide in the wardrobe and we did what she told us to do, then I heard shouting, lots of shouting and a loud Boom. Boom. Boom. Over and over again. I closed my eyes and I told my brother to be very quiet so that the bad man wouldn't hear us. I peeked through the little hole and when I thought the bad man was gone, I told Adam that it was safe for us to come out," Then suddenly, he came out from behind the curtain and grabbed us; he was tall, had dark brown hair, and lots of hair on his face."

She had written in this journal for a total ten days, chronicling details about the man, including the clothes he was wearing. At first, I wondered about it, not seeing how it was relevant, but if it's one thing Sherlock taught me, it was to never leave out a single detail, even the most simplest details can be important. She also wrote about how scared she and Adam were and if they were ever going to get out alive. There was an entry from this morning, that read, "I hope someone finds us soon, my brother thinks that a detective will come and save us. Maybe, I say, because I have already lost hope."

"Ten days they were missing. Ten days ago, we could have found them, they wouldn't have been so close to death had we found them a day earlier."

"Hey, they're safe now, it doesn't matter how long it took for us to get here, as long as we got here," said Sherlock. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Now we just have to find our kidnapper. He could be anywhere by now and we must find him before it's too late."

A quick smirk passed his face. "To find him, we've got to think like him."

"He was here," someone said behind us and I turned my head to see a slender, blond man smoking a cigar. "He came by early this morning; an odd sort of fellow, if you ask me. He said that he was looking for you; I asked him where the children were, because I knew he'd taken them, and I would have ordered a guard to come but..." His voice faded as something dawned upon him. "Where are Sarah and Adam? Are they alright?"

"How do you know them?" I asked warily.

"Who doesn't know of the American Ambassador's children?" he replied simply.

"Easy," Sherlock interjected. "He and their mother are brother and sister."

"Sam Hargreaves," the man clarified, "I was supposed to pick them up from the boarding school, but before I had the chance, someone had taken them. You would think that they would do a better job making sure that it was family only."

"To be fair," I said, "He snuck in when no one was looking; it was the end of term, children and parents would have been spread out all over the place." I placed a careful hand on Sam's shoulder. "If it puts you at ease, Constable Clarke and Inspector Lestrade have taken the children somewhere safe."

"Where is he now?" asked Sherlock. "Did he tell you where he was going? Give any clues?"

"It was hard to tell, spoke in riddle; but from what I gathered, he said that he wanted to meet you on the hospital rooftop and that if I wanted to keep Adam and Sarah safe, then I should pass on the news to you. Oddly enough, I was on my way to Baker Street when you and Scotland Yard showed up. You will keep my niece and nephew safe, won't you?"

"They are at the hospital with their mother and father, they will be perfectly safe. If you'd like, we can take you to them." Normally, I would have been more wary of people, but I could tell that he was genuinely concerned about his family's safety and probably felt the same amount of initial distrust as we did, but nonetheless, it felt wrong to keep him and his family apart.

He agreed and all we could do was hold our breath as we walked away from the abandoned factories and a carriage took us to the hospital where the family and possibly Moran were waiting.

It was just the two of us now; under other circumstances, we would be asking the children questions, but for now, we would leave the family in peace; besides, stopping Sebastian was the much more important matter at hand.

We were standing outside the Hargreaves Manor; before us, stood a tall, wooden ladder. Sherlock scanned the area like a hawk, pulling his own gun from his pocket and I watched his chest carefully rise up and down. There didn't seem to be anyone else around; and why would there be? We were practically in the middle of nowhere. Maybe that meant that Felix wasn't here, either.

Regardless, I couldn't help but feel like there was something amiss. I certainly wasn't used to climbing to the rooftops, but then again, I wasn't that scared of heights, and if I was, I needed to think of the children we were here to save and put my fear aside; unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

"Wait, this could be a trap," I whispered into the darkness. "Who would leave a ladder unless they were expecting us to climb?"

"That means he's definitely up there," Sherlock whispered back, and grabbing both sides of the ladder, he began to climb.

"We have to at least think about this for a minute!"

"We don't have a minute!" He leapt from the step he was on and landed on the ground in front of me, probably so that he wouldn't have to raise his voice. "Those children are in danger and we have to help them; you don't have to come with me if you wish to stay on the ground. Just knock, and Mr. and Mrs. Hargreaves will let you inside, but I'm going up there."

"Well, I can't possibly let you go alone, can I?" I huffed.

"Probably wouldn't be the best idea," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll be right here. I'll go first, to make sure it's safe, just stay behind me."

Gulping back any fear I might have been feeling at that exact moment, I nodded and we both began to climb further upwards. The light wind from the rain was causing our hair to whip all over our faces. Angrily, I pushed it away so that I could see where I was going. The thought that I was helping to protect people comforted me and I kept going until I reached the top; there was just one problem.

"There's no one here," I whispered, but I was certain my words of warning fell on deaf ears; I felt something hard and cold in my hands and I looked down seeing a gun. Even though this wasn't the first time I held one or used one, just looking at it still made me feel uncomfortable: How could something so small be so deadly at the same time?

"We'll only use it if necessary," Sherlock explained. He paused a short moment, his tired eyes glued to the gun.

"Yet most of the time it is necessary." I said and took a step backwards.

"Come on," he said with a heavy sigh. "Sebastian could be anywhere."

"If he's here," I whispered. "He's awfully quiet."

As if on cue, we heard something click, and there he was; He stepped out from behind the chimney, still twirling the gun in his hand as if it were some kind of toy instead of a dangerous weapon.

"Ah, Here we are at last – you and me, Sherlock Holmes, and our problem," he said, and just hearing it brought an uncomfortable feeling, he seemed raving mad. He had a cheeky smile on his face. "Took you long enough."

"I literally crossed London by foot, now tell me: What are you doing here?" Sherlock inquired.

"You don't know? I thought it would have come to that funny little head of yours."

"Oh, it had occurred to me at the beginning of the case; I can see power can be an incredible motivator; the ability to strike fear into people is a dangerous weapon. Trust me, love, I know from experience that it's how psychopaths work. In their minds they have a motive, they always do. They want to make a scene, they want to go down in glory and by murdering as many people as possible, whether by his own hand or another's, he succeeds. But the thirst for vengeance can never be fully quenched. And who knows how many people they'll kill in order to satisfy it."

He paused, stretching out his arms. "But it's me you want, isn't it? I'm the man who drove your beloved professor to his untimely demise so go ahead, shoot me," Sherlock said darkly. "And leave the rest of these people alone."

I gasped, "No!"

Sebastian's eyes suddenly shot towards me. I saw nothing but a malicious grin on his face. "Perhaps I can make you suffer, and shoot the girl."

Holmes raised a delicate hand. "No, wait, I'm not quite finished." Sebastian turned his gun back to Holmes, narrowing his eyes. "You are a brilliant marksman; creating weapons for destruction and using them to your advantage; you've killed a great many people, but there's always been one person that you've been after the entire time. There's been one person that you wanted to get the attention of."

"I've said it before and I will say it again," Sherlock said slowly. "You can't kill me. You, like Moriarty, like the thrill of the chase. You both have had plenty of chances to kill me, but you haven't.

Sebastian laughed, still pointing his gun at him and cracked another grin. "You're right, detective. That's exactly right. I'm not going to kill you and you know that."

I raised my pistol higher and extended it closer to his head. "What if I was to shoot you now – right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." He opened his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking shock, then grinned at me. " 'Cause I'd be surprised, darling; really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long."

Slowly, he began to pace along the roof. "All my life I've been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you. And you know what? In the end it was easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary just like all of them." He lowered his head again and rubbed his face before looking up at Sherlock.

"I'm disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock. I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it. The end of the story. I love newspapers. Fairytales." Sebastian walked to the edge of the roof and leaned forward, looking over the side to the ground below. "And pretty Grimm ones too."

"Just kill yourself, again. It's a lot less effort," I heard him whisper ominously. "Go on. For me." In a sudden movement, I wanted to grab him by the collar of his coat with both hands and hold him so his back was to the drop, but instead, seeing my opportunity, I raced forward and slammed myself against his back, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his chest.

"Sherlock, run!"

Sebastian laughed in delight. "Good! Very good. Isn't she sweet? I can see why you like having her around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets."

Grimacing angrily, I pulled him even closer onto my chest. "They're so touchingly loyal."

"You're insane." I scowled round at him and my breathing became shorter.

"You're just getting that now? Let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't." Then in a whisper, with a delighted smile, he added, "Everyone. Ten bullets; ten gunmen; ten victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump."

My eyes darted to Sherlock; he gazes past him, breathing heavily and appearing lost in horror. Sebastian shook himself free of his grasp and smiled triumphantly. "You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only friends in the world will die unless you complete my story."

Sherlock slowly stepped past him and up onto the ledge and his breathing became more shaky as he looked down.

"Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it."

He moved away across the roof. Sherlock took several shallow anxious breaths, then he stopped breathing for a moment. I didn't say a word, I couldn't; flashbacks came flooding in and I thought I was going to collapse right there on that roof. He lifted his gaze and his expression became more like the Sherlock I knew while his eyes became thoughtful. Slowly a smile spread across his face and he started to chuckle then laughed with delight.

This is it, he's off his marbles.

Sebastian spun around furiously. "What is it? What did I miss?"

Sherlock hopped down off the ledge, grinning at me and then walked closer to him. "You're not going to do it. So the killers can be called off, then – there's a recall code, a word or a number." Now he was the one circling his prey and a sigh of relief escaped me. "I don't have to die (his voice became sing-song) if I've got you."

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out. Well, good luck with that."

"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you – prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you."

"You're ordinary. You're so ordinary – you're on the side of the angels."

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

"No, you're not. I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me. You're me! Thank you!" He lifted his right hand as if to embrace Sherlock, but then lowers it and offers it to him to shake instead. "Sherlock Holmes." They both looked down at the offered hand, then Sherlock slowly raised his own right hand and took it.

Meanwhile, I was putting my detective skills to the test.

What could the word be? Something not used much in conversation. A vegetable? A fruit? A made-up word?

Or is it something that anyone would understand? Suddenly, it came to me and I wondered why it hadn't occurred to me before.

"Reichenbach?" I said and both men turned to look at me, their expressions livid. Sebastian briefly closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation, his face full of fury.

"Sorry. Wrong day to die."

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" I said, casually. "Or are you mad because your diabolical plan didn't turn out the way you wanted?"

Sebastian slowly started to walk away. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock, and you as well, my dear."

Before I could think any further, someone pulled the trigger on their gun and two loud and quick blasts could be heard. Bits of red brick tumbled to the ground with a thud and I gasped. The smoke began to clear and when it did, I saw Sherlock standing, his gun perfectly placed before him and not flaming. Sebastian's left leg was bleeding. His eyes grew wide, his open jaw quivering. My eyes shifted down to my gun which was flaming.

I did this.

My own eyes widened in horror and surprise.

"Foolish girl!" He shouted, pulling a gun from his left pocket and pointing it at us. With a scream, he pulled the trigger. I felt a strong hand push me down on the ground. Another gun shot ran through the air. Quickly and without a thought, I flung my gun out of his pocket, aimed it straight at Sebastian's chest and pulled the trigger. All three of us sat in silence as we watched Henry grip his breast and slump over.

"What a surprise," Sherlock breathed, out of breath.

"Yes," I said, raising my brows. "What a surprise."

"How did you know he wasn't going to shoot you?" I asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"The gun he put to his head had no bullets in it. When he walked toward us, he had a slight limp, one side of his body seeming heavier than the other. He carried another gun in his left pocket, large and fully loaded."

Meekly, I crawled over to Sebastian. My fingers lifted up the murderer's wrist. After a moment, I nodded.

"He's gone."

"Brilliant deduction, darling, but there's still one thing we have to do."

Once we arrived inside the hospital, the children were recovering nicely.

"Thank you for bringing my children here safely," Mrs. Hargreaves said, tearfully as we met her and Mr. Hargreaves in the hallway.

"Susan's right, if anything had happened to them while I was away, I would be beside myself," said Mr. Hargreaves; the guilt was evident in his eyes.

"It's the least we could do; your children are very brave," said Sherlock, kindly.

"Now, don't take any more candy from strangers, yes?" I asked and the children nodded earnestly.

"Well done, you two," said Lestrade, "London will once again sleep peacefully tonight thanks to you."

"Miss?" I heard someone say, and Sherlock and I both turned to see a photographer standing behind his camera and before either of us had time to prepare, there was a blinding light.