An ambulance pulled away from 221 Baker Street not long before Sherlock stormed upstairs, angry that the man who'd saved him from being hit by a bus was shot for protecting him. He ripped off his scarf and coat, moving to his laptop as Sam and John came upstairs in a calmer manner.

"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me. They have to keep me alive." He said as John moved to the window cautiously. "I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me…"

"…the others kill them before they can get it." John concluded; Sam flopping onto the couch and pulling out her own laptop.

"All of the attention is focused on me." Sherlock mused, looking at the wi-fi in the area. "There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now."

"So what have you got that's so important?"

"What do they think you've got?" Sam countered, Sherlock turning to her.

"Where is it?"

"Upper corner of the bookshelf." She said back and Sherlock began to climb up onto the furniture to get up at it, just as Lestrade walked in.

"No, Inspector."

"What?" Lestrade questioned, Sherlock not having turned around to see him as he pulled the spy camera down.

"The answer's no."

"But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking." Sherlock said, moving towards him, but Lestrade was frowning.

"Sherlock—"

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan." Sherlock replied quickly, giving Lestrade no room to speak. "Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head. That little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home…" He tapped Lestrade's forehead. "…there."

"I'm not here for you." Lestrade said then, making everyone in the room pause and Sam lift her head and pull off her headphones in confusion as he turned to her. "Sam, will you come?"

Her eyes went wide. "W-What? Me?"

Lestrade nodded, solemnly. "Just come with me and I'll keep it from your professor, your family, the media, whatever. It's just for a bit. There's no real evidence or anything, but—"

"No." Sherlock said seriously, having spotted Sam's shaking hands; a tell-tale sign that she hadn't seen this coming. "This is Moriarty's next move. He takes Sam from me, the only bit of help I've been getting and then what? Lestrade you remember what happened. Moriarty won't just let her off with that this time. Now get out."

Lestrade hesitated, but nodded, leaving the flat as Sherlock called out to John.

"John, get her some tea."

John looked over and winced, heading into the kitchen. "Right. Bit of brandy would help too, I'm assuming."

Sherlock grunted as he went over to Sam, placing a hand on her shoulder and making her look at him.

"You didn't expect this."

She shook her head, still panicking and trying to wrap her head around what had happened.

"What is it then? What's changed?" He urged.

"M-Me." She breathed out. "If I wasn't here, then you would have gone to see those kids."

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask about that. What's so important about the kids?" He asked, curious as John returned and passed her the tea.

"He's traumatized them. With a mask of you or dressed as you or I don't know. If you'd gone to see them though, the girl would have screamed bloody murder. Donovan would have had evidence that it could have been you who did the kidnapping. I stopped that, throwing a wrench in Moriarty's plans, but…"

"You were hinting to me in front of Donovan." Sherlock finished, making her look up in understanding. She hadn't even realized what she'd been doing. "She mentioned to me before I got the cab here, about you knowing to look under the boy's bed and picking out the Grimm fairytale book from the trunk. You've been rushing things along, Sam and now you've made a mistake. They'll be deciding."

"Deciding?" John asked, looking between Sam and Sherlock in worry as the man stood.

"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest her."

"You think?" John snapped.

"Standard procedure."

"Should have gone with him." John murmured. "People will think—"

"We don't care what people think." Sherlock argued.

"You'd care if they thought you were stupid or wrong." John countered, thrusting a hand at Sam. "And she's always cared! About you and herself!"

"It just makes them stupid and wrong." Sherlock bit back, making John whip around angrily.

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you or Sam are…"

"That we're what?"

"A fraud." He looked at Sam. "Or a kid."

Sherlock sat in his seat with a roll of his eyes. "You're worried they're right."

"Sherlock, shut up." Sam snapped then, some fire brought back as she shoved her feelings aside and forced herself to think around the problem they were dealing with. "You shut the hell up and listen, because John and I will never believe you are fake. Even if the world is thinking that, we won't ever believe it. Do you hear me?"

Sherlock couldn't help but smile a bit. "Loud and clear."

John's phone went off then and Sam stood up from the couch, tugging on a hoodie as John hung up.

"So, still got some friends on the Force. It's Lestrade. Says they're all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs. Every single officer you ever made feel like a git, Sherlock, which is a lot of people."

"Donovan must have spread the word that I'm his next favorite pet. They're hoping he'll snap when they try to take me, and will get the chance to take him too." Sam muttered, double tying her shoelaces before passing her laptop to John. "Keep that safe. Don't care how. I've reset the password, but you know."

John frowned. "What? You're worried about your laptop?"

"John." She said seriously. "I know things. Things I shouldn't know and you lot might have thought I was typing up that stupid paper I have due, but I haven't touched it. I've been looking at every possible way I can do something about this mess and what that action might do to either help stop it or move it along; a good chunk of which is tucked away on that computer. So keep it with you or find a damn good hiding place, because if anyone other than me gets a hold of it, we're in for more trouble than we are now."

Mrs. Hudson showed up then, spotting the tense room. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting? Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked 'perishable'. I had to sign for it."

"A burnt gingerbread cookie." Sam said as Mrs. Hudson handed it over and Sherlock caught sight of the seal on the package.

"Funny name. German, like the fairytales." Mrs. Hudson commented as they opened it and pulled out the cookie.

"Burnt to a crisp." Sherlock muttered as voices shouted from downstairs and someone began pounding on the door.

"Police!"

"What does it mean?" John asked as Mrs. Hudson went to answer the door.

"He said he was going to burn Sherlock." Sam answered. "It's just a message, is all, and I'm out of time."

"Are you going to run?" Sherlock asked and Sam snorted.

"Underground? In the homeless network or in the sewers? Please. That's what he wants. He wants to see me run."

John headed downstairs to try and hold up the police, but Sam looked at Sherlock.

"Your brothers won't be pleased."

Sam chuckled, managing a grin. "Honestly? I don't care. Call it payback for not showing up to Christmas."

Shouts came from downstairs and Sherlock smiled at Sam.

"Good luck."

"I don't need luck. I've got Sherlock Holmes."

Lestrade, Donovan and an officer came upstairs, demanding that Sam place her hands on her head and she did so before she was being handcuffed; Lestrade reading her rights.

"Sam Foxe, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping."

"She's not resisting." John cut in as Sherlock calmed him.

"It's alright, John."

"She's not resisting. No. It's not alright. This is ridiculous." John snapped. "She's hardly been involved at all!"

"Lestrade." Sam cut in before he could demand that she get sent downstairs. "One more minute, yeah?"

Lestrade hesitated, but allowed it, pointing at John and Sherlock. "Don't try to interfere, either of you, or I shall arrest you too. Donovan, stay here and make sure she's brought down. One minute only."

Lestrade headed out and Sherlock raised a brow at Sam's grin; a silent 'what are you up to?' drifting between them.

"Oh, I said it." Donovan smirked, looking smug as John bristled. "First time we met."

"Don't bother." John snapped.

"'Solving crimes won't be enough. One day he'll cross the line'." She quoted herself. "Except he got her to do his dirty business. Now ask yourself. What sort of person would kidnap those kids just so they can impress him by finding them?"

Mrs. Hudson gasped at her audacity, before the Chief superintendent strolled in, glancing around.

"Donovan."

"Sir." She said stiffly as he locked eyes with Sam.

"This our man?"

"Uh, yes, sir. Though, it's a woman." Donovan said hesitantly as the Chief locked eyes with Sam, scowling.

"Looks a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me." He scoffed as John looked at him furiously. "Often are, these vigilante types. Especially the reckless young ones who think they can get away with anything."

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulder as the Chief turned to see his angry face.

"What are you looking at?" He asked, but Sam spoke up.

"Possibly your face as he wonders what could have birthed your ugly mug."

"What did you say?" The Chief asked, whipping around to her angrily as Sherlock realized what she was doing as she looked him over.

"I mean, really. You must have pulled some strings to get to where you are. Overweight, have been for years. Couldn't keep up with the intense exercise of the police force, but were determined to stay in it and get to the top to run your own little empire. Settled for getting into the pockets of the politicians and higher ups. Sent the younger, fitter people to do your work, but always took credit for it. Still guilty though, judging by the smoking habit and gambling too, it looks like. Wife left you ages ago, for your pompous attitude. Made you bitter, didn't it? So now you take it out on any loose end you can get your hands on. Just cause you're the chief of police doesn't mean you can get away with being an ass. So, sorry." She smirked. "Not sorry."

The chief was hit hard between the legs, falling to his knees before Sam head-butt him and knocked him out cold. The people in the room looked at her in shock as she huffed.

"God, I've been waiting ages to do that."

"S-Sam?" John breathed out, suddenly seeing this new side of Sam putting him in a bit of shock.

Sherlock though, grinned; having always known that her little rebellious streak would come out sooner or later with the right motivation.

"Oh, almost forgot." Sam said idly, lowering her arms as best she could and jumping through them so her handcuffs were in front of her. "Donovan? I tried to be nice, but I'm just so tired of you."

Donovan was pulled out of her shock upon being addressed and went forward to restrain Sam, only to end up with a face full of fist and a busted nose. Sam hissed, swinging her bruising hand before grinning at Sherlock.

"I'll see you at Kitty's?"

Sherlock nodded and Sam rushed out of the room, leaving John there in confusion as Donovan struggled to try and go after her.

"W-What just happened?"

I dove behind a wall in the alleyway, panting and out of breath with a bleeding cut across my cheek from a nasty fence I had to hop. D-Damn. I really should have thought this through better. I looked around and spotted a man hole, grimacing, but seeing no other option when a car stopped at the exit of my little hideaway. I didn't have time to put bags on my shoes like before and slipped down into the sludge of the sewer with a curse. I pulled out my phone and used the light; grimacing when I saw my battery was dying as well. Not good. I need the light down here or I'll get lost. My hand throbbed from where I'd hit Donovan though, almost egging me on. I'd been piling on the stress for days and letting it out on her and the Chief of police was perfect for my rattled nerves. A bit out of character for me, but if it was my brothers who had saw, they wouldn't think so. I could be quite the rebellious punk when I wanted to be. Something Sherlock didn't know, was that I'd gone to jail before. Though it was for defacing public property and disturbing the peace, not for assaulting two officers.

I slipped then, cursing as my phone fell from my hand and everything went dark; my hand landing in a squishy pile of something. I groaned, searching for a second and finding my phone; wiping it off as best I could before finding the nearest exit out. I couldn't waste all the battery down here. It had the map to Kitty's place, after all. So I poked my head out, thankful that I hadn't popped out in the middle of the street, and I snuck through the allies to Kitty's home. My phone died partway there, but I'd glanced at the directions often enough to get there. It was breaking in that was the hard part. Padlocks are easier. I mentally grumbled, nearly jumping out of my skin when a pale hand slipped into view and I pulled out a pocket knife; aiming it at the person's throat.

"Excellent reflexes, Sam. Though I would prefer it if you didn't use them on my person."

I let out a shaky sigh, putting the knife away as Sherlock picked the lock. "D-Dammit, Sherlock. Don't scare me like that. And how the hell did you get here so quick?"

"Cab." He replied as the door easily clicked open under his nimble fingers. "Got dropped off a bit away from here and then snuck over to ensure no one followed us to find you."

He went in with me following and John behind, making a face.

"God, what is that smell?"

"Well, you try walking through the sewers at night." I snipped hotly, grumbling under my breath as Sherlock picked the next lock. "And I slipped, dropping my phone." I held up said item that was still dripping with sewer mess. "Barely got here when the battery tried to die on me. Probably best though. My brothers will be texting like mad when they see the news."

We walked into her flat and Sherlock flicked on the light and moved into the kitchen before passing me a grocery bag.

"Hoodie."

I pouted, pulling off the ruined hoodie and slipping it into the bag so he could tie it off and trash it. "That's my favorite one too."

He rolled his eyes. "It's your only one. Phone too."

I passed that to him and winced when he easily snapped it in half and tossed it in the bag; dropping both out the side window onto the bins outside.

"John, get the lights. Let's wait for Miss Kitty to return home."

The lights were flicked off and Sherlock and I took the couch as John leaned against a desk next to us. We were only waiting a few moments before we heard a car pull up outside and Kitty hesitantly entered after seeing the door purposely cracked open.

"Too late to go on the record?" Sherlock quipped, before lifting my cuffed wrists. "And do you have a hairpin?"

She didn't seem too alarmed, moving to sit down on the couch opposite of Sherlock and I before pulling a hair pin from her purse. Sherlock went to work on my cuffs for me as he spoke.

"Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes." He commented, unlocking one of my hands and making me attempt to unlock the other so he could get up and pace. "The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. bravo."

"I gave you your opportunity. I am on your side, remember?" She said, making me look up in surprise.

He listened?

"Yes, well not everything in that article is what I told you." Sherlock commented. "Someone turned up and helped you out. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?"

Kitty shook her head, but I decided to respond.

"Moriarty."

Everyone in the room turned to me.

"Richard Brook. Reichenbach Falls. It's a joke."

Sherlock groaned. "Oh, it's always a joke to him."

"But what's a joke to him, is very real to us, Sherlock." I countered, looking at him seriously as he frowned; glancing up when he heard someone coming and Kitty stood.

Jim Moriarty himself walked through the door with a bag of groceries.

"Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee, so I just got normal…" Jim trailed off as he saw who was in the room.

Sherlock did very much the same and took a step towards Jim, who dropped the bags and stumbled backwards in apparent fear.

"You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here." He accused Kitty.

"You are safe, Richard. I'm a witness. They wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses."

"I would." I argued, ignoring how Richard flinched. "I'm a fugitive, after all. Hitting one more person won't change the fact that I assaulted two police officers. So don't tempt me, Moriarty."

John cut in then, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. "So that's your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?!"

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been." Kitty pressed as John tried to hold back his anger and I continued to struggle with the cuff on my wrist.

Lock picking was never my strong suit.

"What are you talking about?" John hissed, though Sherlock remained silent.

"Look him up. Rich Brook. An Actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty." Kitty explained. "That's the story the public wants, so that's what I'll give them. Sorry, Sherlock."

It clicked then for me. Ah, he did listen. He listened, gave her dirt, played nice, but it wasn't as juicy as this. She doesn't entirely believe Moriarty's gimmick, but needs the story. She's desperate and his is simply better than Sherlock's. I mentally scoffed. Journalists.

"Doctor Watson. I know you're a good man." Jim said, trying to appease the slowly angering man. "D-Don't… Don't hurt me."

"No, you're Moriarty!" John shouted, glancing back at Kitty. "He's Moriarty! We've met, remember?! You were going to blow me up! You shot Sam!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Jim apologized, gesturing to Sherlock. "He paid me. I needed the work. I'm an actor. I was out of work. He assured me she wasn't supposed to get hurt. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry, okay?"

John turned to Sherlock, panting in his anger. "Sherlock, you'd better explain, because I am not getting this."

"Oh, I'll be doing the explaining. In print." Kitty said, passing him a folder. "It's all here. Proof."

Not conclusive, I noticed. I mused, spotting all the subtle differences that shouldn't have happened but did because of my interferences.

Kitty turned to Sherlock. "You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis."

"Invented him?" John questioned, upset.

"Mhmm. Invented all the crimes, actually." Kitty explained. "And to cap it all, you made up a master villain and had your little tagalong Sam there set it all up as an act to impress you."

I bit back a snide retort, uncomfortable with Moriarty in the room and knowing that nothing I said now would change anything. I did, however, notice Sherlock grow tense at her words. Did I miss something?

"Don't be ridiculous!" John argued and Kitty pointed at Jim.

"Ask him. He's right here. Just ask him. Tell him, Richard."

"Look, for God's sake, this man was on trial!"

"Yes." Kitty again pointed at Sherlock. "And you paid him. Paid him to take the rap. Promised you'd rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but I'll bet the money was good." She went over to join Jim. "But not so good he didn't want to see his story."

She shared a meaningful glance with Sherlock, as I gave up on taking off the last cuff; trying to had only chaffed my wrist further.

"I am sorry." Jim apologized. "I am. I am sorry."

"S-So this is the story you're going to publish?" John questioned. "The big conclusion of it all. Moriarty's an actor?!"

"He knows I am." Jim said. "I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something!"

"Yeah, show me something." John snapped and Kitty pulled more information from her purse as I looked at Jim.

His eyes locked with mine, smirking like the villain Sherlock, John and I knew, but switched back to his Richard persona as Kitty pulled out a folder.

"I'm on TV. I'm on kids' TV. I'm the Storyteller." He explained as Kitty showed him articles on Richard Brook. "I-I'm the Storyteller. It's on DVD. Just tell him." Jim urged Sherlock and I. "It's all coming out now. It's all over. Just tell them. Just tell them. Tell him! It's all over. No! No!" He suddenly shouted as Sherlock took a menacing step towards him and Jim cowered back onto the stairs. "Don't you touch me! Don't you lay a finger on me!"

"Stop it." Sherlock snarled. "Stop it now!"

Jim bolted upstairs and Sherlock and John chased after him, but he escaped out the bathroom window.

"No, no, no. He'll have backup." Sherlock said, moving back down the stairs as Kitty moved out of his way.

Another thing that's changed. I was beginning to get a headache with everything that was going wrong and I only hoped that it wouldn't get much worse than this. Small changes are fine, but if I changed the ending somehow. If Sherlock actually dies, then… then I don't know what I'd do.

"Sam!" Sherlock snapped, startling me out of it as he was already out the door and I hurried after him.

"Can he do that?" John was asking Sherlock as the man paced in the middle of the road. "Completely change his identity? Make you the criminal?"

"Yes." I said bluntly, mentally wincing when John almost seemed to glare at me.

"He's got my whole life story." Sherlock explained. "That's what you do when you sell a big lie. You wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable. I gave Kitty some of it, but that article was too detailed."

"Your word against his." John concluded.

"He's been sowing doubt into people's minds for the last twenty-four hours. There's only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that's to…" Sherlock stopped suddenly then and John looked at him in concern.

"Sherlock?"

"Something I need to do." Sherlock said then.

"What? Can I help?" John offered.

"No. On my own." Sherlock glanced at me then. "You'll be fine for the night, I assume?"

I nodded. "I'll figure something out."

"Here." Sherlock handed me some money and a paper with something scrawled on it that I couldn't see in the dark. "Go to the restaurant three blocks from our flat. Someone will be waiting there. They'll help you if you hand them this."

I bobbed my head, but looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

His icy blue eyes locked with mine and a small smile flickered onto his face. "No need. You've done more than enough already."

He did something surprising then, kissing my forehead before turning away.

"Good luck, Sam."

D-Dammit. I should be saying that to you.