"I hate this blasted hair dye," mumbled Sherlock as Molly pushed his head under the sink and ran her fingers through his curls, rinsing out the excess dye. It was later the same day and the couple was working on their disguises at their hotel. Sherlock was currently sporting a blond do, with blond patches of facial hair to go along with it. When Molly was done rinsing and towel drying his hair, he sat forward and shook out his damp tresses before putting his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He sighed deeply and Molly felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach while watching him, the scars that graced his back and sides a reminder to the last time he had to do this.

But that's what she was here for, moral support, pushing Sherlock through yet another mission, trying to make sure he didn't get caught up in too much trouble, trying to avoid another torture incident. It was after the first time they made love that she mentioned it. She noticed the large red marks across his body and touched them carefully. They were long healed by then but to her they were brand new, yet another thing she didn't know about Sherlock. She thought she had memorized every curve, every mark, every scar, every freckle, during the time that she was patching up his bumps and bruises, but she hadn't done that in years.

"They're fine now," she remembered him whispering as he held her tightly, sweat cooling on his skin and his breathing returning to a normal pace.

"But they didn't used to be," she whispered back and he shook his head. She figured if she was going to get anything out of him it was now, while they were lying skin to skin, wrapped up in each other. "What happened?" she pressed and he planted a kiss on her forehead before lying back and letting his eyes drift shut.

"Tortured trying to hunt down one of Moriarty's men. The last one to be exact. Mycroft was there."

"He let this happen to you?" she questioned in shock and he shrugged. She was furious in those moments after. At Mycroft for letting this happen to him. At whoever it was who did it. At how easily Sherlock shrugged it off, the memory not seeming to affect him a bit. He must have sensed her anger because he peeled an eye open to look at her and then leaned up and kissed her softly on the mouth. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes," she whispered into the small amount of space between them as he hovered above her and his eyes glowed brightly.

"You are magnificent, Molly Hooper," he replied before wrapping both arms around her and falling asleep.

So now, months later, in a hotel room in Los Angeles, Molly vowed to bring him back to London with not a scratch on him. She had been the one to prevent so many of them before and she would continue that.

Her mind snapped back to the present, his words registering with her. "I have to use it, too, love," she said and held up a box of red hair dye but he didn't look at her. She lifted up his torso so he was sitting up straight and perched herself on his lap, her hands running along those scars. "You're going to be okay this time around," she said to him. "I won't let anything happen to you, Mr. Smith."

This made him smirk and his hand absentmindedly fell to her left hand. "You're not wearing your rings."

"Well I don't want to get dye on it," she replied and he smiled, stood up, and set her down in the chair, pushing her head back under the sink so he could do her dye as well.

"You've been protecting me for so long, Molly Hooper. Isn't it my turn to protect you?" he asked.

"We'll protect each other. Deal?" He nodded. "I love you," she added. For a second she almost thought he was going to say it back, his mouth opening up and the look in his eyes softening into something that looked like love to Molly. But he shook his head slightly, like he was clearing the words from his mind, and kissed her forehead instead. She could handle that for now.

The next day, Sherlock and Molly stood outside the bank after she insisted on going with him. He didn't want another fight so he obliged, making a plan for her to distract Wise's secretary while Sherlock snuck into Wise's office during the meeting. He would like to check around the office and see if he could find anything that would lead to information about the extent of Moriarty's network before Wise came back.

"By the way," said Molly before they entered the bank. "Did you ever find out who put the program on your computer?" He had showed it to her the night before as they lay in bed, the room quiet with the only light coming from the glow of the laptop screen. Sherlock reveled in the moment, knowing that it would be last time things would be that calm until they took down the rest of the network.

"I didn't. Mycroft is looking into it but so far we have no leads."

"Right." She nodded. "Just another mystery to solve then." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it before entering the tall bank building, a modern structure with more windows than walls sitting on the corner of a busy street looking out over the city.

Molly and Sherlock walked down the white tile of the the lobby, Molly's heels clacking with every step. She wobbled slightly, not used to the sensation of being up so high. She did, however, enjoy being almost eye level with Sherlock. Their friends probably wouldn't be able to recognize them with their different colored hair and hairstyles; Sherlock straightened his while Molly had it chopped off at her shoulders.

They got an elevator, riding it the whole way to the top floor. "Is my mustache okay?" Sherlock asked seriously but Molly laughed and smoothed it over.

"It's fine. But I like you much better without facial hair."

"Noted," he said with a deep breath. He grabbed the lapels of his suit and straightened it out. Shaking his shoulders in the process.

"Nervous?" asked Molly.

"No. It's just been a while." The elevator dinged, making them both jump slightly. He steeled himself before the door could open. "Ready?" he asked her.

"Ready." They walked off the elevator, her going one way and him going the other, sharing a look of reassurance as they separated. Molly, for her part, walked up to a large circular desk that sat at the end of the hall. Down the hall from the right side of the desk stood two large doors. The woman behind the desk must have heard Molly's heels hitting the floor because she looked up at Molly and gave her a small glare, probably for being interrupted from her work.

"Oh, hello!" said Molly brightly as she walked up to her.

"Can I help you?" asked the woman in a bored town, barely glancing at Molly.

"Actually, yes. I was wondering if you had a list of all the offices in this building." Molly followed through with her pre-thought dialogue, hoping that it didn't sound too forced.

"And who are you?" prompted the woman.

"Oh, sorry. My husband is here for a business meeting with Paul Wise. He just had to run off to the bathroom so I told him I'd take care of it." The secretary gave her a skeptical look so Molly smiled brightly at her until, finally, the woman turned around to sort through a bin. Sherlock took this moment to come from around the corner and sneak into Wise's office. He gave a wink to Molly before he slipped inside and she smiled back in response.

Once inside the office, Sherlock started poking through the shelves on the walls, his fingers following book bindings carefully as he searched for anything that could give him information on the web. The books were all dusty, none of them would have been picked up in the last few days, so Sherlock went over to the large desk, opening the laptop carefully and easily decoding the password. He then searched through his files, his eyes narrowing at the brightness of the screen and his forehead wrinkling in concentration.

His mouth opened in shock when he found one particular file that would change this entire game, adding yet another piece of evidence to the mystery. But before he could investigate further, the wooden door to the office creaked open and Paul Wise waltzed, his shoulders shaking back and forth and his head held high. The man stepped back when he saw Sherlock standing there by his desk.

"Um…hello?" Paul said to the blond detective.

"Hello, Mr. Wise. Don't you remember me? We met at that conference last year. The name's Smith." Paul raised his eyebrow for a second but then shook his head and stepped around his desk, not noticing that Sherlock had opened and closed his laptop.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" Now before, Sherlock would waste time when talking to a spider in Moriarty's web. He would dig for information, deduce everything about them. But that was then. This was now. And now all he wanted to do was get rid of this guy so he could move on. Getting into the bank was easier than most of the other targets. The only reason they chose to go to California first was because Paul was first on the list. They had yet to figure out the hierarchy of the web, so the number one spot made the most sense.

Sherlock hit the button on his phone before Wise even got the words out. In the next second, a team of three men entered the room, dressed in usual business clothes, trying to blend in with the rest of the building.

"Mr. Wise," started Sherlock. "You are under arrest for you involvement with the criminal James Moriarty. And I'm only going to ask this once so you better listen and you better answer correctly." By this point the men had Wise handcuffed, his head bent down. Sherlock walked over and grabbed the back of his hair, pulling his head up to look up at him. "How many of you are there?" he demanded.

Wise looked at him, suddenly coming to the realization of who he was, recognizing those blue eyes. He gritted his teeth and snarled before spitting out, "Twelve. But there's no way you're going to get us all."

"Get him out of here," said Sherlock before he grabbed the laptop off the desk and followed the new prisoner out. "I suggest you keep your mouth shut about this unless you want any trouble," Sherlock mentioned to the secretary on his way out before holding out his hand toward Molly. "Coming, honey?" he asked, enunciating the last word, sticking to his cover though it didn't matter now.

Molly grabbed his hand quickly and walked off with him, almost running trying to keep up with his long strides. "What's that?" she asked pointing to the laptop under Sherlock's other arm.

"His laptop. That computer virus or program or whatever it is is on here, too," said Sherlock as he pressed the button for the elevator.

"So what does that mean?" asked Molly.

"It means that whoever put it on my computer, is part of the network."