Hello all! Glad to know that this has attracted so much attention and that you all seem to be enjoying it so much!

I am certainly enjoying writing it!

So intentionally I wrote this as an entirely fluffy story, but now my mind has decided to throw in a bit of drama.

Hope you like it, and that I've done a convincing job ...

Keep the reviews/comments coming! I love reading them! They really put a smile on my face :)

You Take the High Road and I'll Take the Low Road

The air was bitter, laced with fog, as they drove towards the air field where they would be taking a helicopter to Scotland. Baby Scarlett Watson was fussing; clearly picking up on the tension that the adults were filling the car with. If Mycroft had been with them she would have been wailing. Not that he would have shown it, but she would have been able to sense it. She was a rather intelligent baby, especially for a three-month old. One of the many reasons that Sherlock doted on her (as did Mycroft, but that was rather secretly).

Sherlock was grasping on to Molly's hand, her head resting on his shoulder. The night before he had allowed himself to fall asleep in her arms; the steady beating of her heart helping him to quiet and calm his mind. He had locked away every sensation, every rush of pleasure, the very smell of her into a room in his mind palace. He wanted to be able to remember it all. He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on the reason as to why he had done that.

An hour later they landed upon the grounds of the Safe House. Baby Scarlett had been given a low dosage sedative, administered carefully by Sherlock, so that she had slept through the entire helicopter ride. Molly had never been in a helicopter before and she wasn't entirely certain if she ever wanted to do so again. All thoughts of the helicopter experience fled from her mind as she stepped down and gained a full view of where they would be staying.

This is a Safe House? More like a Safe Mansion!

Molly turned to Sherlock, "This is where we are staying?"

He sighed slightly, "Yes. Sadly. I'd prefer something a bit less ostentatious but I suppose being the British Government can have its perks. This house is owned by the Royal Family."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Molly's mouth dropped open in shock and awe, "Let's get inside. There is work to be done."

The inside of the house was just as ornate as the outside. Sherlock ended up having to grab a hold of Molly's hand to lead her up the stairs and to the bedroom they would be sharing. She had been standing in the entryway looking at the swords that hung upon the wall and the Royal Family crest. The room that Sherlock brought her to was rather large, and yet cozy as well. There was a fireplace and a rather massive bed that looked quite inviting; inviting for a bit more than just sleeping.

Not that he'll be in the frame of mind any time soon for that sort of thing.

She made a face before turning her focus to Sherlock. He had opened one of his bags and was searching through it, "Refresh yourself Molly, if you need to. We'll be meeting downstairs with Mycroft shortly."

Nodding she walked to her suitcase and unzipped it in order to take out her bathroom bag. A good scrub of the face is what I need right now! I'm sure I look a right mess. Going in to the bathroom, which is almost made entirely of marble, she gawks for a moment before remembering to focus on the task at hand. After making herself a bit more presentable she was walking out of the bathroom when she let out a small squeak as Sherlock grabbed her about the waist. He had pressed his mouth to hers in a deep kiss. When he pulled away she blinked up at him.

"Wha-what was that for?"

He hadn't loosened his hold on her, "I don't know what these next few days, possibly weeks, will bring. You know how I get when I am on a case."

"A bit more dickish?"

"Don't interrupt me! You know what I mean. I don't want you to think that you're not important to me. You are, very much so."

She leaned into him, her forehead resting against his, "I know Sherlock, don't worry. I'll be here every step of the way, right beside you. You won't have to face anything alone."

His eyes fall closed, "Alone. I used to think that alone was what protected me." His eyes opened and met hers, "You've proven that belief wrong."

She smiled slightly before giving him a gentle kiss, "Come on; let's go see what Mycroft has to say."

Grabbing up his laptop they walk out of their room, down the hall to the large stairwell. It's clear that Sherlock knows his way about.

"Have you been here before?"

"Yes. We are ahh … rather distantly related to the Royal Family. But it is really all thanks to my mother that we have such a close ahh … relationship. Her maths thing." He swatted the air as if trying to dismiss the subject.

Guess that's the end of that conversation.

They walked into a large room, which Molly decided must be the dining room. A large dark wood table sat directly in the center, tapestry's hung upon the walls, a roaring fire filled the room with warmth and light. Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, his PA Anthea standing behind him tapping away on her phone. Mary and John were there as well. Molly and Sherlock joined them at the table "Where's Mrs. Hudson?"

John turned to Molly, "She told us she didn't want to know what we were going to be doing, that she was perfectly content with staying in her room. We left Scarlett with her."

Mycroft cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, "Enough of this tittle tattle, we have important things to discuss."

It is then that Molly noticed for the first time a large projector screen at the other end of the room. They have all turned their attention towards it. Upon the screen was playing several different shots of CCTV footage. Despite clearly being taken in different areas of London, the footage appears to be identical. Richard Brook, the exact replica of James Moriarty, is seen getting out of a black car, looking up and down the street before entering the building. The footage plays on a loop.

To think that I once dated his brother.

With an inward shiver Molly looked away from the screen.

"This is all we currently have of Richard Brook. There has been no other sight of him and he has made no communications. Every single time that my men have entered these buildings they have found them to be both abandoned and completely empty. He has disappeared entirely. He wants to be seen but it appears to not yet want to be found." Mycroft shifted through some papers as he says this.

"A spider." Sherlock muttered, "Just like his brother."

"What does he want?" Molly's voice sounds small, she cleared her throat, "He released the video of Moriarty, why?"

A pinched look comes upon Mycroft's face, "The man in the video is not Moriarty it is Brook. He wants our attention. But as to why, we do not know. He has not communicated beyond that video."

John at last spoke up, "Why would he allow almost a year to go by before letting us know who released and created the video? Isn't that what he did Sherlock? He kept you off the trail entirely."

Sherlock ignored the question, tapping away at his laptop; he was looking at his blog and emails. But not because he was bored, he was trying to find something.

"It's a game. James always liked to play games. So of course his brother would too." Sherlock spun his laptop around so that they all could see the screen. He had minimized a multitude of internet pages, arranging them until the content from his emails and comments on his blog formed a perfect I O U.

Molly felt herself grow cold. She wanted to reach out to Sherlock, to grab a hold of him but she wasn't certain that he would appreciate her touch at the moment.

Sherlock continued, "For the passed six months I have been receiving these garbled emails and comments on my blog. I ignored them, as I usually do when I receive spam, but there was always something that drew me back to them; piqued my interest. Now I know why. It's him."

Mycroft tapped his fingers on the table, "Are they traceable?"

"No."

"Then they are useless."

"Not entirely. This is the exact same message that Moriarty used to give me. Brook wants to play, and he is giving me the pieces, I just have to put them together."