I'm back with another chapter! Sorry this took some time. I've been busy, and really just lazy. But reviews, follows, and favorites really do encourage me! Enjoy the chapter.

Molly drunkenly sauntered into her home, struggling to even walk straight. She smacked her hand repeatedly into the wall, trying to find the light switch in the pitch black darkness. Her fingers finally found the familiar switch on the wall and flicked it on. Bright light flooded the room and Molly squinted her eyes. Something was off. Molly slumped down to the floor and wrestled her heels off her feet as she tried to figure out what was wrong. She finally got her shoes off and had thrown them at the wall in frustration. There was something missing that she couldn't quite figure out, and it was driving her insane. That and the eerie silence of the flat.

Toby!

Molly briefly rejoiced as she figured out the problem, but her hopes were dashed as worry rooted itself deeply in her chest. Where was Toby? The cat always greeted her at the door when she came home late because if Molly was late, that meant dinner was late too, and Toby certainly loved his food. Molly quickly got herself into the next room of the apartment: the living room. She froze and her muscles tensed as she saw what was on her coffee table, the same coffee table where she found her other messages from her blackmailer.

There on the table was her beloved cat, lying on his side, motionless. Molly slowly approached the body, quickly sobering up with every step. Stray tears ran down her face as she hoped that the worst possible scenario had not come to pass. Molly had finally reached the table, and she crouched down. She reached out a ginger hand and placed her palm on the side of her cat.

Cold.

Molly's hand quickly shot back and her body flinched so hard that she fell back and landed on her bottom. She curled in her knees and hugged them. For a moment she just laid motionless, trying to figure out all the possible explanations of why Toby was like this, why he was cold and motionless. Her stage of denial quickly passed, and Molly's eyes widened and then produced a flood of tears, followed by painful, involuntary hiccups produced from her chest. A pain, starting from the center of her chest, slowly spread and engulfed her entire body in grief and pain. Molly sat in the same position, mourning over the loss of the one and only being in the world that she was sure would never leave her. How was she going to cope with this? Molly was already starting to terribly miss the adorable bundle of fur. The way Toby leaped and bounced off her furniture. The comfort of his purrs. The ever changing tail, commonly shaped into an endearing question mark. His attitude as he waited for his food every night. How, every morning, Toby climbed into her bed and nudged for her to move over and give him some mattress space. Molly even missed his awful tendency to knock down her freshly brewed cups of tea.

Molly pushed her hair out of her face and looked up at her cat lying on the coffee table. She moved closer and gently lifted the feline up. She heard a crinkle as she carefully moved the body into her lap. Molly turned her attention back to the table and found the source of the odd crinkle. There was a note there, formerly placed below Toby's body. In careful calligraphy that would have appeared beautiful in any other circumstance was written: Cam.

Chills ran through Molly and goosebumps spread along her arm. She felt fear, genuine fear for the first time in forever. The familiar rush of adrenaline pumped through her veins, making her feel alive. Molly was now hyper-aware, ears pricked, straining to hear anything in the silent flat while her mind raced for clues and explanations. This was a message. Not that she would soon follow her cat, no. From what she knew, Cam was a person who liked to play games. There was something for her to figure out, and the answer lay hidden in her cat's murder. Her expert fingers moved across Toby's body. There were no physical signs that Toby was hurt in any way. How did he die? Injection. Molly blinked and yawned wearily. She was tired and drunk. Molly carried Toby's body into the kitchen and gently put him inside a clear, plastic bag. She placed him in the freezer and walked back to bed, heavy weariness in her step.

The next morning, Molly awoke to a bright sliver of sunlight peaking through a crack in her curtains. Any other day, the beautiful light would have been a welcome way to wake her up. But today, Molly was not only mourning her beloved pet, but she had a hangover. She quickly slipped out of bed, got dressed in a hurry, and retrieved Toby's body from where she left it in the freezer.

Molly quickly slipped out of her door and onto the streets of London. She kept Toby's body hidden in one of her larger purses, specifically the one she also used to smuggle body parts out of the hospital for Sherlock's experiments. She never thought she would have to use the large bag for her own smuggling purposes. Molly nodded politely at the neighbors who greeted her, not stopping to make friendly conversation like she usually did. She was determined to get her task done and not be sidetracked.

Molly finally arrived at the hospital. The worker sitting at the front desk gave Molly a quick greeting. Molly nodded once, giving a quick greeting back as she did with every other person that morning. She was about to step onto the elevator when a confused look appeared on the receptionist's face.

"Wait, Molly. I thought today was your off day?" Colvin Anthems, the middle aged receptionist, asked.

"It is. I just have to run a few tests, and I'll be back on my way."

Colvin smiled and wished her good luck before he returned to his pile of papers.

Molly waited impatiently in the empty elevator. The ding finally sounded and she arrived on the floor of her workplace. She rushed in the laboratory and set up her equipment. There was a theory she had, and years of doing autopsies had led her to her hypothesis. Toby had no signs of physical harm, and when Molly found so on the bodies she had to inspect, it usually led to the conclusion of death by injection. Toby had thick, dark fur though so carefully looking all over his body wouldn't cut it. Instead, she would run a simple test on Toby's blood. Animal blood and human blood weren't too different, right?

Molly took a sample of the cat's blood and impatiently for the test results to come back. She tapped her foot while she stared at the clock in front of her. Cam wouldn't just kill her cat. There had to be a message. She glanced over to her right. The test results had come through. Molly's eyes frantically searched the blood report. Her eyes landed on a familiar chemical. Potassium chloride. And Toby was administered fatal amounts. All the air in Molly's lungs left her and she stood there, not even breathing, just staring at the words in front of her. There was no doubt about it. There was no coincidence. Cam knew what Molly did to her father.

A day had passed since Molly ran the blood test on her cat. She destroyed the results in a fit of paranoia, and had cremated the corpse of Toby. The ashes were now residing right in front of her fireplace. Molly had spent the day filling out paperwork and getting things in order for her departure, if it was going to come. She still wasn't sure what Cam wanted to do with her, or who he was. All she had to do now was wait.

Molly sat in front of her window, wistfully staring out the window. She didn't feel worry, or even fear. She felt nothing. Maybe even relief. Her long kept secret was known by someone, and it perhaps it would soon be out in the open. Maybe she deserved it. All she had to do now was wait and see what Cam would do.

While Molly was staring wistfully out the window of her flat, Sherlock and John were making their way over to CAM Global News. The pair stepped through the revolving doors of the building once they arrived.

"Magnussen's office is on the top floor, just below his private flat." Sherlock pointed toward the elevator doors, which appeared to need electronic key cards to access them. He continued, "But there are fourteen levels of security between us and him. Want to know how we're going to break in?"

John looked exasperated at him and the idea of breaking into someone's office, but really inside, his heart was pumping with excitement at the adventure that was to come. "Is that what we're doing?"

"Of course it's what we're doing." Sherlock stepped forward and John followed him. They stepped onto an escalator. "Magnussen's private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it, and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed." They reached the top of the lift and started walking towards Magnussen's private elevator.

Sherlock pulled out a key card from his pocket. "Standard key card for the building. Nicked it yesterday. Only gets us as far as the canteen. If I was to use this card on that lift now, what happens?"

"Er," John answered. "The alarms would go off and you'd be dragged away by security."

"Exactly."

"But if I do this..." Sherlock pressed the security card against his phone. "If you press a key card against your mobile phone for long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It's a common problem, never put your key card with your phone. What happens if I use the card now?"

"It still doesn't work," John replied, unsure now.

"But it doesn't read as the wrong card now," Sherlock elaborated. "It registers as corrupted. But if it's corrupted, how do they know it's not Magnussen?"

John looked around, checking to see if there was security around. "Huh."

"Would they risk dragging him off?"

"Probably not."

"So what do they do? What do they have to do?"

"Check if it's him or not."

"There's a camera at eye height to the right of the door. A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen's personal staff in his office, the only people trusted to make a positive ID. At this hour, almost certainly his personal assistant."

"So, how's that help us?"

Sherlock smiled. "Human error."

"Wait." John stared at him, still confused. "Why are we breaking into Magnussen's office? This is nothing like the case you told me about a few days ago."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised it took you this long to ask. But then again, you usually just go with things. The case I told you about was a cover up. This is the real case. I couldn't have you knowing about my current case just quite yet. Weeks ago, Lady Smallwood came to me. She informed me that someone was blackmailing her, and she didn't know who. Hours of investigation later, and this is the closest I've gotten to who I'm sure the blackmailer is."

"Magnussen?"

Sherlock smirked. "You'll see." He walked along the corridor to the lift and raised his card toward the reader. There was a small beep as the reader read the card.

John stepped beside him, out of view from the camera. "You realize you don't exactly look like Magnussen."

Sherlock confidently looked at the security camera. "Which, in this case, is a considerable advantage."

A woman's voice sounded over the intercom to the security reader beside the lift. "Sherlock, you complete loon! What are you doing?!"

John spun around in surprise. "Hang on, was that...? That...!" The woman's voice belonged to Janine. Sherlock held up the palm of his hand to John to stop him from saying anything further.

"Hi, Janine." Sherlock glanced around furtively. "Go on, let me in."

"I can't! You know I can't. Don't be silly."

Sherlock spoke to her softly. "Don't make me do it out here. Not..." Sherlock paused and turned his head to glance at a woman walking past. Once she was gone, Sherlock turned back to the camera. "...in front of everyone."

"Do what in front of everyone?" Janine asked, confused.

Sherlock lowered his eyes and blew out a big breath, then took out a small, dark, red box and opened it before holding it up to the camera to show the large diamond engagement ring inside it.

Love is in the air! Not really. Tragedy certainly is though, with the death of Molly's cat. I'll miss him. I'm sure with all the hints and clues I've been giving, some of you guys have a good idea of what Molly's dark secret is. If not, it's fine because in a future chapter I'll go into detail about it.

And Janine. She appears to be blackmailing Mary, and Sherlock is also trying to find Lady Smallwood's blackmailer. Coincidence? I think not.

Please review! The things you guys say, even if it's a word or two, makes my day.