Gideon had taken off to look for Jenny again by inspecting Reid's apartment. The minute he opened the door, he turned away, sick. He was overwhelmed by an immense feeling of déjà vu as he looked at the message on the wall. Elle Greenaway . . . the Fisher King. . . "Rules". This was too damn familiar. Gideon wondered if anyone remembered that case. If they remembered Elle at all. The Fisher King was the reason that Elle had . . . left. Would the same thing happen to Spencer? He had been through way too much. It came with the job. Maybe Elle couldn't deal with it. . . Maybe Spencer could.

Spencer had been held hostage thrice, fallen in love with an actress being stalked by a dangerous psychopath, blown up, blamed himself for Elle's behavior, kidnapped and tortured, drugged, addicted, had to get over his addiction on his own, and that was before Gideon left. Since then, he had been held hostage-again- with Emily Prentiss in a religious cult and had to watch her being beaten and blamed himself, led to believe his father had killed someone, shot in the leg, lied to about a colleague's death, and had to watch the woman he loved shot right in front of him. And now this! Gideon was surprised Reid hadn't quit by now. All the crap seemed to happen to him. But then, the rest of the team didn't have the best of luck either. Gideon was glad he had left. It didn't do any good. Every time they caught a serial killer, two others seemed to appear. It just didn't help to stop them. It only hurt them. Gideon wished that Reid had just quit just like him. If Reid was his protégé, he should follow his example.

Gideon entered again and walked over to the blood smeared wall and flicked the light switch. The power was still out. The moonlight filtered through the windows and illuminated the message like a spotlight. Gideon stopped when he heard something. There was a slight whishing of wind. The CSI team had come- not finding any prints, indicating the UNSUB had worn gloves- and Hotch, Garcia, and Morgan had been to the scene, but in their shock and fear, they must have missed something. How unprofessional of them.

The window was open. Was Spencer really that careless? Even just leaving it unlocked was too apathetic of his favorite little genius. Gideon walked over to the window and pulled the curtain back. It had been smashed and the glass had been cleaned up off the floor. There was no fire escape, just a balcony; Jenny must have brought a ladder or something. But something wasn't right. Why didn't the neighbors report the noise? Garcia had heard a gunshot; wouldn't the neighbors have also heard it?

Gideon had an uneasy feeling as he walked out into the hallway and looked at the other apartments. There were two others on the floor. Gideon tentatively knocked on the door of the apartment next to Reid's. No answer.

"Anyone home?" Gideon called. No one answered. Gideon pulled out his ancient cell phone and called Garcia.

"Rainmaker, how wet do you want it?" Came Garcia's voice, full of concentration.

"Garcia, it's Gideon. I'm at Reid's apartment." Gideon answered.

"Oh." Was Garcia's reply. She sounded sick. "What do you need?"

"I was wondering why the neighbors didn't call the cops to report the noise. Are they away, by any chance?"

"What apartment?" Garcia asked.

"The ones surrounding his: 22 and 24." Gideon answered, peering around the hallway.

"Okay. . ." Garcia said and Gideon could hear keys clacking furiously. "Apartment 22 is the home of Clarissa and Arden Gorgian with their son, Jimmy. They are on vacation according to their facebook profiles and 24 is the home of one Kirk. . . Oh my god." Garcia said.

"What? What is it?" Gideon asked, alarmed. " Kirk who?"

"Kirk Strauss." Garcia said. "Reid lives next to Strauss' nephew-in-law"

Meanwhile. . .

Hotch was sitting by Reid's bedside as the young man sleep peacefully, which he was grateful for. Morgan had informed him of Reid's nightmare the night before and Hotch remembered when he first heard about the nightmares seeping into his charge's subconscious.

Hotch and Gideon were standing in the bullpen of the police station. Gideon was on the phone with Garcia trying to figure out the identity of the skeleton on the trail and Hotch had come up to ask what information he had. As Gideon hung up and turned to the Unit Chief, Morgan appeared out of nowhere and said, "Hotch? Gideon?" He said. The two older profilers turned to him, sensing he had something important to tell them. Hotch had a feeling it had nothing to do with the case.

"What is it, Morgan?"Hotch asked.

"Well, remember that strangler case?" Morgan directed his question towards Gideon, who nodded with understanding.

"What about it?" Hotch asked.

"Morgan started having nightmares about the job because of the victims." Gideon said bluntly. Morgan glared at him, but shrugged.

"Oh." Hotch said. He remembered when he first started having nightmares. He guessed that Morgan hadn't told Gideon, he just knew. The same thing had happened with Hotch. His first nightmare had been a result of a particularly violent rape and murder resulting in the limbs being sawed off antimortem. It still made Hotch sick, but Gideon's words had helped, same thing that happened with Morgan.

"Are you still having nightmares?" Gideon asked Morgan, tearing away the sadistic scene in Hotch's mind and replacing it with the present. Morgan shook his head.

"Reid has been having some trouble with nightmares. I thought I should tell you both. He's having a hard time with it and he doesn't want anyone to know." As Morgan talked, he looked over his shoulder to make sure Reid wouldn't walk in and see Morgan betraying his trust. It was for his own good.

Gideon looked at his colleague with sad eyes. Reid was the youngest of their team and they had done their best to protect him. They had avoided sending him to the morgues and crime scenes and tried giving him files with little to no pictures in them. But Reid hadn't been shielded entirely. He had seen things. Their efforts to screen him had failed on a number of occasions when they had been careless with the files, left the crime scene photos lying out, or brought Reid along on a raid, which they always did. They would bring the entire team on raids. If Reid found out what they were trying to do, he would be severely insulted and think they thought he was a gutless kid. They didn't think that at all, they just wanted to protect his innocence. But one can see a lot in twenty four years. And it had been affecting him no matter how hard they tried to protect him. In that second, Gideon and Hotch realized it might be time to stop shielding him.

"We'll talk to him." Gideon said to Morgan, who nodded and strode off, looking relieved.

Hotch finished his water bottle absentmindedly as he was remembering and got up to go to the bathroom, tossing the empty bottle in the small trashcan as he opened the door.

Jenny wasted no time. As soon as Agent Hotchner left, she walked in with the syringe and tourniquet, already filled, and pressed it into Reid's arm in case her current plan failed. Then, putting the syringe back in her pocket and untying the tourniquet, Jenny proceeded and pressed her hand to Reid's mouth, holding his nose closed.

Reid's dreamless slumber was interrupted by the crashing of water over a cliff and a figure in front of him. There was a pen in one hand and three pieces of paper in the other, that has writing all over the paper. Reid looked down and caught the words, "My dear Watson". Reid looked up at the woman in front of him. It was Jenny. She was wearing an old fashioned brown suit and an evil grin on her face. He saw his ragged jacket and the alpine-stock leaning on the rock and suddenly realized what this was. He was Sherlock. Jenny was Moriarty. He was at Reichenbach Falls. And this was the Final Problem.

Reid certainly remembered this story. It was one of his favorites. The first time he had read it had brought tears to his eyes knowing this was the last Sherlock Holmes he would read. That might seem like an overreaction, but he was six years old at the time.

"Nice work, sending the good doctor away." Jenny was saying. "Of course, you couldn't let me kill your loyal dog, could you? I'm going to anyway."

"What?"

"Oh, don't worry. I promise them exquisite pain."

"Them?"

"The doctor and his wife. Mary. I am going to kill them slowly. You shouldn't have decided to die alone." Jenny smirked.

Reid knew what was supposed to happen. He knew the outcome of the story. He knew what he had to do. He sighed, put the note next to his alpine-stock, and said, "I won't die alone." He was surprised as he finally noticed they were both speaking in British accents. He didn't have time to ponder this though as he threw an arm around Jenny at the shoulders and pushed off the rock. They began to fall.

Reid noticed something in Jenny's pocket. Was it an oxygen tank? No, she was not getting out of this. As they continued to fall down the never ending waterfall , he reached for it, but Jenny fought back. Reid was driven, though. He couldn't let her slaughter his friends.

They kept falling and fighting and never hitting the water. Reid could hear someone yelling, "Holmes! Holmes!" over and over. Watson. How had Watson gotten there before they hit the water? How long had they been falling? Suddenly, the cries of, "Holmes", turned into, "What are you doing?" It wasn't Watson's voice. It was an American voice. It was Hotch's voice.