A/N: Sorry. Sorry if it seems like I've been neglecting this. I have, I'm a bad person. But at least I'm getting this boring bit out of the way first. I hope I'll be able to write up sooner as I've just finished the other fic ive been working on, Elm 13,(look at me now shamelessly advertising another fic, ;) )

Thank you for reading, following, and showing support to this story. Remember that comments keep me inspired, and might get me to work faster ;) -GamerWolf156. See you soon, hopefully. Enjoy my new chapter.

"Jim has a lot of puzzles he wants you to solve."

"Like what?"

"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes."

The two words rang in my ears like the after effects of an explosion. Never had I thought of solving Sherlock Holmes what an excellent opportunity to figure it out. All the mystery and unanswered questions about the man who's life was almost as messed up as mine if not more. All the way down to how he got John to be his friend, a friend to a person who has no friends. How excellent indeed. Quickly nodding to Sebastian I was handed a small piece of paper with the following instructions and message.

'Dear Cara, my name is Jim but you will know me as M, M indeed for Moriarty, suprise. Now we have been speaking for quite a while, I understand you are quite like me, and also like Sherlock. Sherlock probably hasn't told you about me but I am the closest thing Sherlock will ever have to a friend, an enemy. I asume, since you have basically been breathing the same oxygen with said Holmes brother you will have met John, John is of corse Sherlocks idea of a best friend. I simply cannot explain how ludicrous that sounds to me, I mean John is nothing but a pet to Sherlock, his redbeard is I dare say so...'

This Moriarty chap wasn't half full of him self, but through all his half-truths I could see he truly understood Sherlock as an individual, his tone almost made it seem impossible, and yet it was almost like he cared for the man. As I read through the letter, a continuous stream of useless garbage, I realised this man made sence, he was obviously mad, but so was Sherlock, and therefore once at the bottom I signed my signature and agreed to share my findings about Sherlock. He was of course a very interesting man.

Turning round I realised Sebastian was gone, replaced by two men in black overcoats, "this way ma'am" was all they said before I was placed in a car and a bag over my head, "to protect his location ma'am", for God sake here we go again.

Two weeks later

Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock"

"Is it true... Mr Holmes."

"Mr Holmes."

"Where is she?"

"What did you do with her?"

Sherlock was gently guided back into 221b by a puffy eyed John. The reporter's had been harassing them for days and there was nothing to be done, even Lastrade couldn't force out the hoard of hungry reporter's to leave. Neither of them believe Lestrade even wanted to move them.

He did of course belive it was Sherlock's fault for the disappearance of that girl. He lied to the step-parents about been a psychiatrist, he brought her to crime scenes. Lestrade knew Sherlock wasn't particularly sane, but he brought a clearly confused and messed up kid, to a crime scene, with bodies. He shuddered at the thought at what was going through that poor girls head. All he knew was that they had to find her, they had to find Cara.

...

The man I saw before me, was almost the opposite of what I expected, he was almost the same as Sherlock, shorter, maybe more physically capable, and of course minus the curly hair, and you have Jim.

Jim Moriarty was a funny man, and not in the ha ha sence, well not all the time. His first task for me was to simply explain all I knew, it was a boring and long conversation, as, like the pair of men I had become aquatinted with, I was mentally well off, and could literally explain everything. Every detail from the day we met, to the day I knew Sherlock was following me. Jim was impressed, and kind. He told me I was exactly what he needed to get back into 'weaving his Web'. I didn't quite understand, but I knew it was important to my friend.

However a few days into our little arrangement and Jim became quite the opposite to when I'd met him. He seemed bigger and menacing and impatient. His anger and temper lasted longer and with such force. He even turned his anger towards me, I think that's when I finally snapped. "How dare you." I yelled

"How dare I?" Jim said in his cool, smooth voice. So calm it was more frightening then his yelling. "How dare you, coming in here, almost confident in my presence, you are nothing, do you here me nothing. No one cares for you. Not even Sherlocks pet could admire something as horrid as you."

It stung. His words had intended to hurt me, but I felt something else. A gap. If Moriarty wasn't my friend then who did I really have. I'd helped him prepare for the downfall of Sherlock. If I intended to have any life whatsoever I needed to take action now.

I smacked Jim Moriarty.

He almost looked shocked. Made me wish I had a photo. Shame.

"Your going to regret that." He said then nodded.

Blackness.

...

Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock"

"Is it true... Mr Holmes."

"Mr Holmes."

"Where is she?"

"What did you do with her?"

The voices were muffled, and the sounds in my head were reduced to quited buzzing. 'Hmph Sherlock' I thougt. What happened. My tummy hurt. I couldn't think, I smiled weakly, must be like John. I inhaled deeply, instant regret, my ribs killed. Think. T-H-I-N-K. This wasn't natural. Toxic. Poison, yes poison. That was logical. I need to eat something. Anything. I moved my hand. Slower. Everything hurt. Ohh found something. Chocolate?

"Hello." Feet stomped around. More then one. And lights shone throughthe darkness.

"Cara." John? Took you long enough. I stiffened at the thought of seeing Sherlock. No. No I don't want to. What have I done.