"Lestrade! I need to talk to you!" Sherlock yelled, walking into the man's office.

"Sherlock, we talked about this… I'll let you know when there's a case and we need you." Lestrade said, heaving a big sigh. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"It's about Isabel." He muttered. Lestrade's eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly. He cleared his throat, changing his expression to one of curiosity.

"What's wrong with Iz?" He asked, leaning forward a bit. Sherlock sat down, and folded his arms across his chest.

"I was talking to her yesterday, and she said Anderson wouldn't leave her alone. She's told him multiple times—she's actually lost track—to leave her alone, but he hasn't stopped. He keeps flirting with her, and she's feeling as if she's being harassed. I suggest you talk to Anderson about this situation and set him straight before I do. Because we both know how that will turn out." Sherlock said darkly. Lestrade cleared his throat again, thinking about what to say. He simply nodded, letting the tall man know that he'd talk to Anderson.

Isabel walked into Scotland, sighing. She knew that Anderson was most likely going to harass her again, so she was surprised when she didn't see him running up to her. She walked over to Lestrade, who was talking to Donovan.

"Um, Greg, where's... Where's Anderson?" She asked, hoping he wasn't here. Lestrade looked t her, grinning, while Donovan frowned a bit.

"Iz, Sherlock told me about Anderson. And I told him to leave you alone, because, considering this is a police department, he shouldn't be so... Consistent." Lestrade said, not able to think of a better word.

"And, I may have told him off myself. That's not right." Sally said, her lips a thin line. She looked down, and Isabel knew that she'd have to thank her when she got the chance. Right now wasn't exactly the best time.

"I didn't actually think Sherlock would tell you." The secretary said, staring at Greg in amazement. "That's the last thing I'd expect him to do."

"Well, you never know with that man. I'll admit, he's a bit of an odd one, but, he's extremely helpful when it comes to the cases." He said, smiling, "I have to go and check to make sure there isn't anything else I have to do." Lestrade walked off, knowing what was about to happen.

"Sally, thanks. I honestly wouldn't have expected that. You telling him off, I mean. It helps a bit." Isabel said, not quite sure how it helped, but feeling like it did. Donovan nodded and walked away.

Another uneventful day was upon the horizon.

Sherlock heard the door to Isabel's flat opening, and noticed it was only noon. He opened his door and slowly walked out, descending the stairs two at a time. He saw a cascade of brownish-orange hair flowing down a woman's back, and realized that, for some reason, Isabel was home early. She looked back and saw him. She smiled as she opened her door, gesturing for him to come in. As soon as he closed the door, she hugged him tightly, breathing in the earthy scent of him.

"Thank you." She murmured, and he reluctantly wrapped his arm around her waist, confused abut her actions.

"For what?" He asked, and she pulled away, blushing.

"You told Lestrade about Anderson. And he didn't show up today." She said, smiling. He tried not to smirk as he noticed she was embarrassed. She walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine.

"It's not 10 AM, Sherlock." She winked. "To Anderson not being at work!" She shouted, raising the glass and sipping it quickly. He sighed, and walked over to her, pulling the wine from her grasp.

"Doesn't mean it's not too early, Isabel." He said, pouring the wine down the sink.

"It's always five o'clock somewhere!" She said, a big smile upon her face, making the skin around her eyes wrinkle. It made her look younger to Sherlock. For a few minutes, she didn't look like the 28 year old woman who had lost most of her friends a week before; she didn't seem like the anxious woman that sat around waiting for her brother to come and... murder her. Just so he could have the money he thinks he deserves.

"Lestrade, Derek... He's my brother."

"And I think he's going to kill me. I don't know when."

"Sherlock? What's wrong?" Isabel said softly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt like he was convulsing, like his bones were bound to shatter from him shaking while standing. He took a few deep breaths in, relaxing himself somewhat. She slid her hand slowly to his neck, caressing his jawline with her thumb with a feather-light touch. "Are you okay?"

"Do you remember the day I took you with me for the case, and you found out the suspect was your brother?" He whispered. She dropped her hand slowly, wringing it with the other one. She took a sharp breath in.

"Yes. I do... Why?"

"What did you tell Lestrade about him?"

"That I believe he plans on killing me." She said, looking down. Sherlock told her he'd be right back, and walked out, running to his flat to get John.

When he came back, John walked in, looking annoyed. Sherlock sat on the couch, along with his blogger, and Isabel just sat on the edge of the coffee table. Sherlock told John about the whole case. When John asked Sherlock why he was down here with them, they both looked at the woman.

"John... The suspect of the murders... Is my brother. And I-I think he's planning my demise." She said, wishing this could all be over with. She didn't want to worry, but what choice did she have? "All because he thinks I owe him 20,000 pounds."

"He's your brother. Yet... He wants to kill you?" John asked. Sherlock nodded.

"I find it odd that he's her brother, because he looks kind of like Moriarty." Sherlock said. "Oh my God." He looked at John, with a look of shock on his face. John's eyes widened, and he ran a hand down his face.

"He can't be Moriarty, though, Sherlock! The man's been dead for 3 years!" John yelled. Sherlock looked back at Isabel, who looked like she was about to cry.

"Isabel, when did your brother move to the UK?" He asked, firmly grasping her shoulders. She looked at him with tears starting to run down her cheeks.

"3 years ago." She said, beginning to gasp for breath.

Her brother was Derek Marshall. His alias was Jim Moriarty.

And Isabel was going to kill him herself.

Even if it killed her.

A/N: Ooh! Cliffhanger! I really wasn't planning on bringing Moriarty into this, but I just had too, at this point. I will start writing the next chapter and hopefully have it up by tomorrow. Monday at the latest. If you ever have any suggestions, feel free to say them. Or... Type them. Please review, it makes me all giddy inside!