A few days later, Lara still hadn't said anything. She was also going to Manchester Square every few days. Sherlock didn't follow her anymore, he thought (surprisingly) she deserved privacy after what she had experienced right in front of him. One day, while she was out, John and Sherlock were left alone discussing her. John's main point was that he had no idea what to do. Sherlock was trying to piece the puzzle together; he had three nicotine patches on. He was thinking of getting a fourth.

"Sherlock…" John needed to tell him, and now was as good a time as ever.

"Yes, John?"

"Well, I, uh…"

"What is it John?" He was lying on the loveseat, but turned his head so as to face John.

"When I'm around you, I feel a really odd, happy feeling. And when you were hugging Lara yesterday, I was really jealous, and I know it's stupid and you probably don't feel the same way, but… Ireallywanttokissyourightnow." John hurriedly finished, and blushed. Sherlock smiled.

"You what?" He said. John huffed, got up and knelt by Sherlock, then kissed him. All in one swift movement. When John kissed him, Sherlock smiled, and then said:

"I've waited for you to do that, John."

Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived, because they heard Lara coming up the stairs. John quickly returned to his seat, and was just picking up his tea as Lara ran in, breathless. She slammed the door behind her and locked the door.

"Someone's coming," she said, still catching her breath.

"What?" John asked, and Sherlock sat up.

"Someone's f**king coming!" She yelled.

"Who?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know, dark brown hair, brushed back. High forehead, dark eyes, and a bit of a stubble. He also had two men with him, one of them he sent running after me."

"Moriarty." Sherlock said. Lara let out a deep breath.

"My dad was with them."

Sherlock and John both leaned towards Lara. Sherlock smiled a bit. This was a twist he didn't expect. Lara's father, working for Moriarty. Oh, this was exciting. This was a case, if Sherlock had ever seen one.

"Lara, have you forgotten to mention something?" Sherlock smiled as he asked her this.

"That you were wrong about my dad dying in an accident?"

"Exactly that."

"Yes, well, my very alive dad and his friends work for Moriarty."

"Right, and-" John tried to participate in the conversation, but that wasn't going to happen.

"Yes, and remember the man you shot?" Sherlock continued.

"A friend of my father."

"Yes, and why did you shoot him, but not the others? Why did you say, 'never really liked him?'"

"Because he-"

"Because he what Lara? What made you hate him so much that you shot him on the spot?" A smile still tugged at Sherlock's lips.

"He was one of the friends my father let… My father let him…" Lara couldn't finish the sentence, she just couldn't. Her eyes watered, and she tried to blink back the tears but was unable. They strolled down her cheeks, slowly and silently.

"I know." Sherlock's smile faded. "I know what he let them do."

Lara's tears came quickly know, and she wiped them away with the back of her hands. She was showing too much emotion, her employer would not be pleased. When she came for her job, to watch and protect Sherlock, she did not expect any of this to happen, did not expect to feel so close to him; and John too, really. She was beginning to admire John's extensive collection of sweaters. She regained control, and then spoke.

"They will be here, soon, we have to prepare."

"No, when Moriarty comes in person, it isn't like that."

"What is it like?"

"Imagine if Mycroft was a criminal genius." John said. Sherlock smiled.

"Ooh, I like that," he said.

"I have to get out of here," Lara said, heading to the door.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"My dad is coming, and I haven't seen him since I left six months ago, and I really don't ever want to see him again. I want to forget about him, and that can't happen if he comes anywhere near me, because he might try again-"

"Lara, I won't let him harm you," he said.

She scoffed. "That's hardly your job."

Lara's eyes softened, and she smiled a bit. Then she quickly whipped out her tough attitude again; she was ready to fight a battle of arms or of wits. This was the Lara she was proud to be, strong, despite what had happened to her.

"There is no need to be so dramatic," she said. "Besides, I have a feeling you two will need your asses saved again."

Sherlock smiled, John rolled his eyes, and they all heard the feet on the stairs. Sherlock rose to his feet and opened the door for them. Moriarty smiled, then said, "You are always ready to please, Sherlock."

Sherlock smirked. "If you say so."

The three men- Moriarty, Lara's father, and another man- walked in, Moriarty sat in Sherlock's chair, while the two other men went and stood post at opposite sides of the room, blocking the exits. John sat on the couch, Sherlock sat in John's chair, and Lara stood next to Sherlock. Lara's father glared at her, and gave her a small, wave-like gesture that meant, beating time. He mouthed 'bad girl' to her, but Lara kept a strong stare at him, before turning to Sherlock and Moriarty, who were both looking at her.

"It appears that you and one of my men have unfinished business," Moriarty said to Lara.

"Well, it appears you're wrong. It was finished a long time ago," she retorted.

"I don't think so," Moriarty sing-songed. Speaking to Lara's father, "take her outside, do what you wish. She can't be allowed to continue anyways."

Lara's face turned pale and let out a breath as her father quickly knocked her to the floor and started dragging her to the door. Lara threw her legs over her head and kicked him in the face, but her father would not release her. Sherlock jumped up and pulled him off of her, and threw him to the ground, as John punched the other man, who had charged at him. With both of Moriarty's men on the ground, Sherlock and John turned to face him.

"Don't. Touch. Lara." Sherlock fumed.

"Touch her how? The way her father did? Or the way her father's friends did?" Jim Moriarty smiled at Lara, a menacing smile. A way of telling her that he knew about her past.

"What?" John was puzzled. To Sherlock, John was never puzzled, just in need of a clear explanation.

"Don't," Lara warned.

"What? Make you remember?" Moriarty was enjoying himself by tormenting Lara.

"I don't need you to make me remember, I have the scars on my skin, the images burned into my brain."

"What is it that you want exactly? Besides us?" Sherlock was sitting again, and sounded relaxed, but fierce and protective at the same time.

"I want to play a game, Sherlock. I want to see if you are as smart as me."

"A game? What are you talking about, a game?" Sherlock spit the words out.

"Just consider this my first move," Moriarty said, getting up. As he walked out the door, his men, who were just standing up, grabbed John and dragged him down the stairs. Sherlock ran after them, a bit behind because he was surprised, with Lara trailing him. Just as he got outside, though, they were driving away in a car.

"Shit, this has gotten out of hand," Lara said. "I am so in trouble!"

"They have John."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"They have my John!" he roared. Lara's eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, and then realized he was honestly scared for John. She saw the tears in his eyes, saw how scared he was. She walked towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders, looked up at him and said, "We will find your John."