Chapter 12- Danger in the Night

Sherlock and John were researching the victims phone records. He had managed to have one of his contacts email him the records. None of the victims' cell phones had been found. Sherlock had a feeling the killer had kept them as trophies, which was very common for serial killers.

"So far all the victims have calls from the florist shop, Father Clark, Lady Thurgood, and the same caterer from here in the village. None of that is surprising or out of the ordinary," John said.

"Agreed," but this call stands out to me. Sherlock pointed out a call made to Sarah. "This call right here is from Charlie's mobile, not the main line from the florist shop. It was made the day Sarah died.

"True," John said. "But there is a very logical explanation for that. Odds are Charlie was the one doing the deliveries and the set up. It is totally plausible that Charlie called Sarah to confirm a last minute detail. The call happened at 3:37 pm. That would have been after the church ceremony but before the reception."

"It's possible, but I still find it strange." Once again Sherlock was feeling frustrated. The truth was there just wasn't anything out of the ordinary to be found in the records.

"Finally!" Sherlock checked his email to see that Mycroft had finally sent him the records he had asked for. The records were very thorough. Sherlock would need to print them so he could make the best use of them. He liked his information to be spread out in a certain way. The visual input was necessary for his deductions. It was too late to go to town or the main house now and print them. It would have to wait until morning.

Xoxo xoxo xoxo

Molly finished rinsing the shampoo from Rosie's hair. She lifted the little girl out of the tub and wrapped her with a thick towel and started drying her off. She had offered to give Rosie her bath tonight while John ran out and got some takeaway. Molly had offered to cook but Sherlock was insistent that he wanted her to take it easy.

Molly was beginning to think that today's accident might have scared him more than it had her. Even now Sherlock was standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a funny grin on his face watching her. It was becoming a bit annoying really, but Molly didn't tell him to stop. Emotions were still new to him and she knew she had to let him process them in his own way. Still, she didn't want Sherlock to think of her as being fragile or breakable.

"You are very good at this," Sherlock said.

"You aren't so bad either. I have seen you take care of Rosie on numerous occasions. I dare say you interact with her better than you do most adults."

"That's because I know she isn't judging me in some condescending way, or thinking that I am a freak."

"You are not a freak," Molly said. "I admit you have your own unique way of doing things, but that does not make you a freak."

"You would be hard pressed to convince St. Donovan of that fact."

"She doesn't like you because you rubbed her the wrong way. Pointing out her affair in front of the other officers while at a crime scene doesn't exactly win her over."

"Who told you about that?" Sherlock asked. "That was years ago."

"Cops talk. I may not be one, but I spend a lot of time with them. Really, though, you are not a freak. You have an amazing mind. It works in ways that most people can't understand."

"I don't really care what others think of me. As long as you, John, and Rosie, know the real me, that's all that really matters."

Molly finished fastening Rosie's nappy and then pulled on her Winnie the Pooh fleece pajamas. She cuddled the little girl under her chin and made soothing circle motions on her back. She stepped over to the rocking chair and sat down with Rosie on her lap. Sherlock handed her the bottle that had already been warmed up.

Molly rocked Rosie while she fed her the nighttime bottle. Sherlock enjoyed watching Molly take care of Rosie. There was something right about it. He wondered what it would be like if he and Molly had a child of their own, but then the timing wasn't right. With Mary gone John really depended on Molly to fill the gap created by her loss. It wasn't fair for Sherlock to think about him and Molly having a child of their own just yet. Maybe a year from now would be better. Rosie would be older then, and they would all be more settled.

"Penny for your thoughts," Molly said.

"A penny! Please, someone of my intellect should at least be able to claim an amount far more substantial than that."

"Fine, if a penny won't do, then how about three kisses."

"Only three? I'm afraid you will have to do far better than that."

"My Mr. Holmes, but what an ego you have."

Before either one could say another word John entered, loaded down with bags of takeaway.

"I hope you are all hungry because I think we may have gotten a bit carried away when we placed our order," John called.

"You best go help him set up. I'm just going to finish feeding Rosie," Molly said.

"Does that mean I don't get my three kisses?" Sherlock asked.

"I think perhaps I will give them to you a little later, when we have a bit of privacy."

"I will hold you to that, Molly Hooper."

Xoxo xoxo xoxo

Molly was warm and comfortable. That was the first thought that came to her mind. She was burrowed deep under the covers and Sherlock had his arm wrapped around her waist. She could feel his warm breath upon the back of her neck as he breathed out softly. The next thought to cross her mind was to wonder why she was awake. She didn't need to use the toilet. She wasn't having an unpleasant dream. She was safe in the arms of the man she loved. She should be asleep, yet she wasn't.

She blinked her eyes several times trying to see the time on the small clock that was beside the table. It was 12:17. She was about to close her eyes and go back to sleep when she saw a shadow move across the wall. Wait? What was that? She stared at the wall for several minutes waiting to see if the shadow would reappear but there was nothing.

Molly sat up in the bed, the blanket falling to her waist, careful not to wake Sherlock. Something had awoken her but she had no idea what. She blinked rapidly, letting her eyes adjust. The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtains, which were parted about two inches. The light illuminated the wall opposite the window, and that just happened to be the wall that the shadow had moved across.

She looked down at Sherlock. He was still deep asleep beside her, his arm now resting across her stomach. Molly wanted to lie back down, she was certainly still sleepy, but she had a feeling she couldn't explain. She picked up her mobile to confirm the time. It was now 12:19 in the morning. She put her phone back down.

She had just about convinced herself that she had imagined the shadow when she heard something. She listened intently trying to hear it again but the noise never came. She was sure it was a noise from outside. Suddenly Molly felt very exposed sitting in bed naked, her breasts visible to anyone who might be looking through the curtains, with only the blanket and Sherlock's covering her. Molly gently moved Sherlock's arm off of her stomach and slid out of bed.

She picked up the yellow nightgown Sherlock had tossed to the floor when he undressed her earlier. Also on the floor was her robe and Sherlock's own clothes, which had been quickly discarded when he claimed his three kisses, and then some. She quickly pulled on the robe and put on some underwear.

She padded across the room to the window and looked through the crack in the curtains. There was nothing out there that she could see. A gust of wind blew, making the trees overhead sway wildly back and forth. Maybe that's all she had heard, the wind. Molly shook her head at how silly she was for being scared of literally the wind.

She exited the bedroom and went into the kitchen where she got herself a drink of water. She looked out the windows at the snow covered ground and the moon shining down on it. It gave the world a silvery glow. It was beautiful. She was about to go back and join Sherlock when she heard Rosie give a whimper. Rosie was now sleeping through the nights but she figured she was probably off a little due to her schedule change. Molly quickly went up the stairs and entered Rosie's room. Rosie was asleep in her crib but fussing in her sleep. Molly placed a comforting hand on Rosie's back and rubbed it in small circles while making shushing noises. It worked like a charm. Rosie soon fell back into a deep and restful sleep. Molly smiled at the sight of her. She was so adorable. She tiptoed out of the room and quietly went back down the stairs.

Coming down the stairs Molly saw a shadow move away from the door. This time she was positive that she had not imagined it. The top half of the door was window with a thin curtain giving privacy, but the light reflecting off the snow had cast a shadow on the window. It had only been there for a second, but she was sure she had seen it.

She hurried down the last few steps and pulled back the curtain from the door. There was no one there but she was certain she had seen something. She looked down at the remnants of the snow from yesterday. She studied the footprints, trying to figure out if there were more than there should be. Unfortunately the footprints overlapped each other and they had been in and out so many times that there was just no way of knowing.

Without even thinking about what she was doing her hand reached up to unlock the bolt lock. She was about to unlock the handle lock when suddenly a large hand shot out and grabbed her to stop her.

"What on earth are you doing?" Sherlock demanded as he yanked her away from the door.

"My god, you scared me half to death," Molly gasped, her hand flying to her heart to help her calm down.

"Why were you about to go outside?" Sherlock demanded, placing his hands on her arms.

"I…I thought I saw someone," Molly said.

"So you thought you would go outside! Alone! In your nightie no less, and track down someone who could very well be a serial killer. What are you thinking?" Sherlock actually shook her slightly as he spoke.

"I…I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," Molly said.

"This man has lured four women to their death. You were about to walk outside and possibly make it five." Sherlock's voice was harsh and his grip on her arms was tight.

"Sherlock, you're hurting me," Molly said. Sherlock immediately released her and watched as she rubbed her upper arms where he had grabbed her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Forgive me. Just promise me, promise you won't wander off. What if something had happened? What if you walked out that door and I was still lying in bed asleep, not even knowing you were in danger?"

Sherlock couldn't stop himself. He reached out and pulled Molly into a tight embrace. Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock and buried her face into his bare chest.

"I'm sorry," Molly mumbled. "I'm so sorry." She placed her ear to his chest and could hear his heart racing. She had frightened him, badly.

"Stay here," Sherlock insisted. He released her and pulled on his coat. He was only wearing a pair of sweat pants and his Belstaff coat.

"You can't go out there," Molly said. "It's too cold."

Sherlock shoved his bare feet into his shoes. "I'll only be a second. Lock this door behind me!"

"Let's get John," Molly said. Now that Sherlock had pointed out the danger to her she didn't want him to go out alone either.

"No time." Sherlock said.

"No time for what?" John asked, coming down the stairs in his pajamas and robe.

"John, stay with Molly." Sherlock ordered.

"Where are you going?"

"Just stay with Molly!" Sherlock opened the door and went outside. Sherlock walked over to the Range Rover and inspected the vehicle. He saw nothing suspicious there. He then walked the perimeter of the house. He found what he was looking for. There, beside the window of his and Molly's room, were footprints in the snow. Someone had been spying on them. No, not them. Someone had been spying on Molly, the newest bride to come to Roane Hall. One thing was certain, whoever the intruder was, he was gone now. Sherlock turned to make his way back inside…back to Molly.

John opened the door for him quickly and then shut it behind him. Sherlock was almost knocked off his feet when the petite pathologist who stole his heart launched herself into his arms. Sherlock circled his arms around her and held her tight.

"What is going on?" John demanded.

"We had a visitor, tonight. There are footprints in the snow circling the house. Someone was spying on us while we were sleeping."

"Spying on us?" John asked. "Or spying on Molly?"

"I think we all know the answer to that question. After all, Molly is the newest bride to come to Roane Hall." Sherlock pried Molly's grip off and held her at arms length. "Molly, I need you to return to London. I want you on the next train out of Inverness. John will drive you personally to the train station and then return here to help me solve the case."

Molly was shaking her head no.

"Don't argue with me. The killer's attention has focused on you. I will not let you sit here and act as bait. You and Rosie will be returning in the morning."

"I don't want to go," Molly said.

"Darling, this is no longer a holiday or some kind of adventure. You are in danger. I was a fool for bringing you here."

"Stop it," Molly said. "I am not a child. I am not even your wife yet. You can't tell me what to do. Besides, thanks to the paparazzi everyone knows where I live. Am I really safer at my flat, all alone? Even if I stay at Baker Street, do you think Mrs. Hudson is enough to help me fend off a serial killer? What's to stop the killer from following me back to London?"

Sherlock was at a loss for what to do. Every fiber of his being was telling him to send Molly home, yet what she said was true. Serial killers, once focused on a target, were not likely to be swayed. She would be in danger whether she stayed here with him or returned to London. His feelings of helplessness overwhelmed him. He was in a situation where once again he felt like a rat in a maze, like back at Sherrinford. Without warning he pulled back his fist and punched a hole in the wall.

"Sherlock!" Molly yelled.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand to take a look at it. He was bleeding from all four knuckles. "Molly, grab a towel from the kitchen and some ice from the freezer."

Molly nodded and hurried to follow his instructions. John led Sherlock to the couch and forced him to sit down.

"Sherlock," John said. "I need you to hold it together. Molly needs you to hold it together. She is terrified and looking to you to keep her safe." Sherlock didn't seem to be listening to him. Molly returned with the towel and a bowl of ice. John wiped the blood away and shoved Sherlock's hand into the bowl.

"Molly, can you go and check on Rosie. I thought I heard her cry when Sherlock pounded the wall."

"Uh, yeah. Okay." Molly looked torn but finally turned to go upstairs.

"Sherlock," John said, lightly smacking the detective across the cheek. "Hey, look at me." When he still didn't get a response he tried a new tactic. "Soldiers today!"

John felt a sigh of relief when he saw Sherlock's empty gaze finally focus in on him. Sherlock tried to pull his hand out of the bowl of ice but John gripped his wrist firmly and held it in place.

"Mate, I know Molly is your weak spot. I know her being in danger is the fastest way to make you lose it, but I need you, no, she needs you to hold it together. Based on your reaction just now I am guessing that sending her back to London doesn't guarantee her safety. That means it's on us to keep her safe. Between the two of us we will make sure she is never alone."

Sherlock closed his eyes, took a deep steadying breath, and released it. "Thank you, John."

"That's what best friends are for."

Both men looked up to watch Molly come back down the stairs.

"Rosie is fine," she said.

"Thank you," John said.

Molly sat down next to Sherlock on the couch.

"Molly, you are not going back to London," John said. "You are going to stay here, but you are going to follow our directions. I know you are not a child, but you are in danger, and we have a lot of practice at doing this. So no going off on your own, no trying to protect us for whatever reason. Promise you will do whatever we say, whether you agree with it or not."

"What do you mean, whether I agree with it or not?" Molly asked.

"I mean exactly that. If we tell you to run, you run, even if one of us is in danger."

"But…"

"John is right," Sherlock said. "John and I can protect ourselves in a dangerous situation. You, Molly Hooper, are my greatest weakness. I can't do my job if I know you are in danger. Promise you will do exactly as ordered."

Molly leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. "I promise."

John examined Sherlock's hand. He gently pried the fingers open and felt each one. "None of them are broken, but they are going to hurt like hell. I need to bandage the middle knuckle. It is still bleeding quite a lot."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Then we all need to get some more rest. This needs to end tomorrow. We have to catch this bastard now."

Xoxo xoxo xoxo

Sherlock was up very early the next morning. He wasn't willing to waste any more time than necessary to solve this case. He called the main house on the landline. It was answered by one of the housekeepers.

"How can I help you Mr. Holmes?" the young woman asked.

"I need access to a printer at once. I have a great many files I need to print."

"I am sure Lady Thurgood would be more than willing to let you use Miss Lorna's office since…well, since no one else is currently using it."

"Thank you, that will work. I will be there shortly." Sherlock hung up the phone. He turned to look at Molly who was finishing her tea and toast. "Molly, please get dressed. I need you to come with me to the main house."

Molly knew he didn't really need her help. He wasn't letting her out of his sight.

"What do you need me to do?" John asked. He had just finished feeding Rosie breakfast.

"I need you to go to the funeral home and talk to Liam, the director's young, strong son. Where was he the night of the murders? Did he know any of the women personally?"

John gave Sherlock a look.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Shouldn't you be the one to question a suspect? After all, you are the one with the deduction thing. I think I would be more useful printing out all your files for you. Molly can help me."

"No! Molly will stay with me." Sherlock still considered Duncan a suspect. He knew John would protect Molly with his own life if necessary but he still wasn't comfortable leaving Molly behind.

"Fine," John said.

Xoxo xoxo xoxo

Molly climbed out of the truck and followed Sherlock into the funeral home once more.

"Oh, welcome back," Frank Drever said, looking up from his desk where he was doing some paperwork.

"Hello," Molly said. Sherlock just gave a quick nod.

"Mr. Drever, by any chance is your son Liam about?"

"No, he is currently at work. He's an accountant. His office is on the main street, right next door to the flower shop actually."

"Oh, that's perfect, I can pop in and visit Agatha. She is really wanting another visit," Molly said.

"I guess we can," Sherlock said. "But just a short one."

Sherlock's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the text from John.

Sarah Goodall, age 27, University of St. Andrews, taught in York, husband Jack St. Claire III, son of Jack St. Claire II who owns one of the biggest banks in London
Jessica Mott, age 24, Cambridge, accountant for J&S Accounting Firm, engaged to Philip Trott, also an accountant at the same firm
Veronica Marsh, age 31, married June 22, 2008, worked at Firefly B&B, volunteered at the cathedral
Lorna Grady, age 32, University of St. Andrews, Personal Assistant, engaged to Henry Thorn, banker at JP Morgan ~JW

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"John. He is just filling in some of the blanks." Sherlock passed the phone to Molly so she could read the text.

Molly read the text. For some reason she felt like she was missing something. Something here seemed familiar but it wasn't coming to her.

"Thank you for your time," Molly said as Sherlock turned to leave.

"Any time. Have you made any progress?" Mr. Drever asked.

"Some, but nothing definitive yet." Molly said.

Sherlock waited by the door for Molly to catch up to him while she said her good byes. After yesterday he would always be careful to not leave her behind again.

Back at the truck he opened her door for her and she slid into the passenger seat. Then Sherlock walked around the truck and climbed in himself. As he turned the key he said, "Molly, do you really need to see Agatha today? She can't provide any more information on the case."

"Yes, I made her a promise. I would feel terrible if I didn't keep my word and have a visit."

"It's just that I hate the idea of wasting time. I want this person found as soon as possible."

"How about you take me to Agatha's first. You can give the place a quick once over and then you go next door and talk to Liam and I will stay with Agatha and visit. Come get me when you are done."

"Molly, I am not leaving you alone for even a minute," Sherlock said.

"Do you really think an old lady is the serial killer? I will be perfectly safe."

"Agatha is most certainly not the killer, but her grandson Charlie is still on the list of suspects."

"Fine, if Charlie is there I won't stay. If Charlie is out I will."

Sherlock let out a long sigh. Why was Molly being so difficult? Her kindness and big heart was one of the things he loved about her but at the moment it was also being entirely annoying.

"Fine," Sherlock finally relented, but I will be checking the place out first.

"I would expect nothing less," Molly said with a smile.

Author's Note: Thank you to all who have left a review. I think there will only be about one or two more chapters left, and yes, our handsome consulting detective will have to save his tiny pathologist!