Here's the next chapter...thanks for reading :)

Molly did not notice the car following behind her several yards back as she walked toward her grandfather's house. She was too much looking forward to the visit. She hadn't seen her grandfather or her brother much for that matter since becoming Mrs. Holmes. She no longer begrudged her husband for this as she understood that Charles Magnussen had to be stopped, no matter the cost.

She barely gave the car a glance as it passed her and pulled to the curb across the street from Nathaniel's estate. Her mind was beyond preoccupied with her thoughts. She was feeling a dizzying array of emotions. She felt elated that all of this nasty business with that horrible man would soon be over. She felt immense pride for her brother, Sherlock, and Sir Henry that so many women would be saved and many families would be allowed peace. She also felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of being able to return to University soon, but the excitement she felt was undermined with uncertainty and a sense of unease. Sherlock had given her the impression that he expected to stay married once Sir Charles was arrested. She didn't know how she felt about that.

She had discovered that Sherlock was indeed a good man. He was very clever and kind, even if he was a bit pompous. His family was a good one and Molly knew she would have a hard time finding a better one to be married into. He also seemed perfectly keen on her continuing her education and even supported her desire to become a doctor. He didn't believe her gender would hold her back in any way. All of these were desirable qualities for a husband, but marriage…that was so much more than finding desirable qualities. Even though they had become friends throughout this ordeal and she felt safe with him, trusted him. She could admit to herself that she found him very attractive and enjoyed the times when he had held her in his arms. But they had been thrown together under such terrible circumstances and she still truly did not know him and yet he seemed perfectly content on spending the rest of his life with her.

So intent on these thoughts was her mind focused that as she turned to walk past the gate and onto the walkway which would lead to her family estate that she didn't see or hear the movement behind her. She had no time to react when the hand closed over her mouth and she was dragged backward into a large body. She was lifted from her feet and carried across the street toward the black car that she had failed to notice earlier. She was shoved roughly into the backseat as her abductor slid in beside her closing the door. He tapped on the glass inside of the car to alert his driver to take off.

Molly turned with a look of horror to see the face of Sir Charles Magnussen leering at her. "You have no idea how I have dreamed of this moment Mrs. Holmes," he said. "But I would never have dared before when I believed your husband to be my ally. Now that I know the truth, that he is a spineless coward who betrayed me, I will make him suffer. I will do to you everything that I have wanted to do to you since you first dared to be insolent with me. I am going to destroy you Mrs. Holmes and when I am done, I am going to string you up in the city square and make a martyr of you."

He reached out and gripped her chin painfully. "Your foolish husband and confederates wished to bring me to justice, to save those worthless, pathetic whores that I keep in my clubs. Well they will see what it will cost them. One life for the many others they have taken from me. When I have raped you and beaten you to the point of death, I will bring you into the city square. There I will string you up and burn you alive for all to see. Then they will all know what the true cost is of their defiance to me. I hope Sherlock finds it all worth it in the end."

Sherlock flung the door open and ran inside, calling for Leonard. James followed behind him with Miranda in his arms and John Watson bringing up the rear. John motioned for James to carry the lifeless girl into the study where he could work to try and save her.

James laid her on the sofa and John knelt down beside her, sitting his medical bag down on the floor. He opened it and removed several items, shouting over his shoulder for warm water and rags to stop the bleeding. He heard James leave the room to retrieve the items. Sherlock entered looking even more disheveled. "Leonard is upstairs unconscious. He's been attacked and I've laid him on the bed," he said.

John nodded, sparing him only a glance as he set to work on the bleeding girl. "I have never attempted an operation such as this away from hospital," John said as James entered the room carrying a bin of water and several rags. He sat the water beside John and held out the rags.

"What shall I do?" James asked.

"Try and keep the wound as clean as possible while I work," John said. "The amount that is pouring from it will make it difficult for me to see and I am not certain that this will hold. I don't have the proper tools."

"There are very few doctors with such a skilled hand, John," Sherlock said gently.

John smiled a grim smile. "Yes but sewing up a slit throat, especially one that has been slit from ear to ear and so deeply is not a house visit procedure," he said as he finished threading the needle and began to sew. James did his best to wipe the blood away with the water, trying to keep his hands from getting in the way of John's. Miranda was relatively still, only moaning and gurgling when the needle would pierce her skin. Sherlock stood ready to hold her still if the need arose.

Not another word was said until John finished his task. He then cleaned his hands as best he could in the bloody water and removed a needle and bottle from his bag. He injected Miranda with a clear solution and sat back on his hunches, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. ""I need bandages to wrap her neck," he said to no one in particular and Sherlock left the room.

James looked to wound over, noting how John took such pains to make the threading as small as possible while still being able to hold the flesh closed. "The scaring shouldn't be too horrible," he said softly.

"That is the least of my concern," John said. "If she lives through the blood loss and the wound doesn't become gangrene, then she'll be lucky."

Sherlock returned with the bandages and John wrapped her neck gently. "I'll see to Leonard now," he said standing. "James will you stay with her?"

James nodded and watched Sherlock and John leave the study. The two men climbed the stairs quickly. "Where is Mrs. Hudson?" John asked.

"She went to visit her daughter today," Sherlock said with obvious relief in his voice. "She will be there for several days."

Sherlock lead John to where Leonard was. John quickly surveyed the room and knew that his ever observant and always clever friend had already deduced what had happened. He knew Sherlock would tell him as he attended to Leonard. John sat down on the side of the bed and began his work.

"The only thing that I can't work out is why Leonard opened the door," Sherlock said. "He would never have opened the door to Magnussen, so it must have been her, but why? I told her that she was not to go out without Molly or myself."

"Where is Molly?" John asked as he cleaned the large gash on Leonard's head.

"She went to visit Nathaniel," he said. "Magnussen forced his way inside obviously intending to attack Molly. He ran upstairs, Leonard naturally followed. Magnussen came in here looking for her with a gun in his hand. When he heard Leonard behind him, he turned and fired his gun, missing him."

John glanced just as Sherlock pointed out the bullet hole beside the door. "Leonard attacked him," Sherlock continued. "They fought, Leonard is elderly, but he is strong, served in the war, he wouldn't be an easy man to subdue. Magnussen fired again, the bullet grazed Leonard's shoulder," he said just as John tore the sleeve away to look at the shoulder wound.

Sherlock began to pace. "Leonard struck Magnussen and he went down hard, knocking Molly's writing table over. Leonard pinned Magnussen down on the floor with his knees, but Magnussen was able to reach the candlestick from Molly's table. He struck Leonard once across the chest and then across the head. The blow was so forceful I am certain Magnussen thought him dead or he would've shot him."

"You should've been a private detective," John mused as he finished showing the shoulder wound closed.

Sherlock scoffed. "What rot," he said. "An absolutely ridiculous profession, one that simple feeds one's own ego."

"Yes," John said. "You should've been a private detective."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at John's teasing, but he was thankful for the attempt. Leonard moaned and slowly opened his eyes. "Stupid girl…" he said softly. "Told her sir," he said. "Told her not to open the door, sir."

"It's alright Leonard," Sherlock soothed.

Leonard shook his head. "Tried to protect her sir," he said. "Such a sweet, lost little thing she is. Wh…where is she? Where is Miranda? I fought him off as best I could, but he got the better of me."

Sherlock paused a moment and smiled, refusing to distress his valet and longtime friend. "She is downstairs with James," he said. "She is resting."

Leonard tried to swallow and nodded as his eyes closed once again. "Get him some water, Sherlock," John said as he injected the same clear liquid into Leonard as he had Miranda.

Sherlock left and returned with a glass of water and John made Leonard sip the water before allowing him to sleep. The two men left Leonard alone to rest and went back down to the study. James sat beside Miranda stroking her hair gently.

Sherlock poured the three of them a drink and had just finished his in one gulp when he heard the front door open. He turned as he heard male voices coming down the hall and recognized the one of his brother's.

Mycroft and Henry Knight entered the study. When Henry's eyes fell on Miranda, his already pale pallor became an almost sickly color. Sherlock was stunned to see the wide, anxious eyes of his normally stoic brother.

"Sherlock…" Mycroft said gravely and Sherlock's shock turned to a cold fear, a fear that seeped into every bone in his body, almost burning him. His stomach dropped and he felt his breath hitch. He knew what his brother had come to tell him before Mycroft could even say the words. "He has taken Molly, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Nathanial called me. Magnussen took her from the street, in front of her grandfather's house."

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