A/N: Oh my! So I know it's been a super long time but I always think it's interesting how fanfiction seems to sputter at around the october-december marker as everyone's thrown back into education and it's like ohh reality! Anyway that's just my take on it...and my excuse. Uni sort of annihilated my muse, it's my second year blah blah which means hard work, longer essays PLUS I opted to take a history module and learning their essay style and how to be so succinct and not have a flare for words nearly killed me. BUT EXCUSES OVER! Next chapter. Because you're all so lovely, PLUS I left it on a cliffie and I'm super sorry!

Sherlock was anxiously waiting.

Moriarty's letter had not specified a time nor a date but his father seemed quietly confident it would be today.

He was sat in the drawing room. It was Sunday and the servants had gone off for the morning anyway, they'd be back to serve dinner later. John Watson had been dispatched with them, he would keep the servants away. Hopefully Moriarty would have turned up by then. His mother was reading, almost serenely next to him but Sherlock saw the occasional twitch of her fingers every time she imagined a noise.

Wait was that imagined. No it was gravel crunching beneath tires and there would be no footman nor butler to serve the Moriarty carriage.

Oh damn.

The bell rang and all 4 Holme were on their feet.

"Mycroft." Benedict murmured and the elder brother stepped towards the door.

A man strode into the room without invitation. Long hair pulled into a ponytail, grey eyes scanning the room as he carried in an unconscious heap of clothing. Molly. Sherlock fought to remain neutral, his mother's gasp was the only sound in the room. The stranger deposited Molly on the floor near the fire, Sherlock could see she was bound awkwardly her face was a mesh of bruises and as the newcomer reached for the pitcher of water on the table Sherlock started.

The pair froze, staring at one another before the stranger grasped the handle and poured the water over Molly's face who sputtered into life. There was no blood on his clothes and the split skin on Molly's cheeks would definitely have bled, it was not him that had hurt her. Who was it? Sherlock's mind raced as she coughed and whined in pain before gathering her bearings.

Moriarty had yet to make an appearance but it was clear that the return of Molly was a precursor to his visit. For once Sherlock would take his cue off his father and not say a word but Molly caught his eye and frantically shook her head at him. What? His brow furrowed but before he could decipher her desperate clue the two Moriartys arrived.

Mycroft stiffened as did Benedict but Sherlock simply examined the two men; so alike but there was also a startling difference that Sherlock's brain was struggling to figure out. Then he had it; Andrew had some morality - there was a light to his eyes that wasn't in the son's. The son's eyes were dark and manic, there was a monster lurking beneath the pale facade and it made Sherlock cringe internally.

"I suggest your wife leaves Lord Holmes. This is no place for a Lady." Andrew opened. Violet scoffed but was silenced by a look from her husband.

"Maybe you're right. But then Miss Hooper also leaves."

"Lady Hooper goes nowhere. She is key to this drama and will remain." The son snapped.

"James." Andrew reprimanded and the younger Moriarty fell sulkily silent.

"Then I too will remain." Violet snapped and stood in a swish of skirts. "Step away young man." She said to the stranger who had carried Molly in. He refused to move and stared over her head. "Step away." Her voice was that of an angry mother and the man stared down at her in surprise, feeling as though he had just been told off for having his hand in the cake tin. Looking hesitantly at the Moriartys', Andrew nodded and the man moved a few feet away allowing Violet to tend to Molly.

"Sherlock Holmes I believe?" Moriarty younger sneered at him. "I've had the pleasure of meeting your brother but not you."

"You would be James." Sherlock offered nothing further and the pretence of polite conversation was abandoned.

"Come along Benedict. Simply tell the girl to reveal where the papers are and we'll leave well enough alone." Andrew made himself comfortable by the fire, ignoring the onlookers.

"What papers Andrew? In over your head are we?" His father raised an eyebrow and the countenance of Andrew dropped. He stood rapidly to his feet and faced off with Benedict.

"You won't get me Holmes. You're in too deep, it's not me that's over his head."

"On the contrary." Mycroft butted in. "I think you are somewhat in a little deep Mr Moriarty, you are most fraught with nerves that you have been bested by a mere woman, you haven't slept in some time and you've only recently changed your clothes. Blood spatters I presume?"

"Which leads me to believe that it was the two of you that injured Miss Hooper." Sherlock and Mycroft were a formiddable pair and it had been a while since their parents had seen them work in tandem instead against one another. "Your son also appears to have recently changed his clothes, he appears to have mis-buttoned his left boot, it would be wise to assume that Miss Hooper has fractured ribs?"

"Hurting an innocent woman? How low can you get?" Mycroft tutted. "I know your Irish heritage accounts for some of your anger problems but how uncivil." There was a sniff of disapproval from Sherlock and they watched the ire on James' face grow. Andrew was simply ignoring them but not James.

"Innocent!" He suddenly burst. "She is not innocent! She watched her parents die by my hand and still she remains stubborn. I should have married the stupid dollymop and offed her properly but no you Holmes' had to get involved!" Andrew was up and staring furiously at his son.

"Oh so you killed the Hoopers?" Benedict smirked.

"You are missing the point here Benedict Holmes!" Andrew boomed. "Give us our papers and we will be gone. We'll leave precious Molly here for Sherlock." He sneered and Sherlock stiffened.

"I have no idea what you mean." Sherlock simply stared at him as though he was bored.

"No no Sherlock we know your little fascination with Miss Hooper. She puzzles your little head... and aren't you saddened that I got there first..." James gleefully sang.

"That's enough. Molly has told me where the papers are gentlemen." Violet broke in and silence fell. Benedict deflated as did her sons while the Moriarty's crowed.

"Defeated by your own wife." Andrew smirked. "Lead on Lady Holmes."

"Nonsense I will not be alone with you two curs." She held herself upright. "Colonel Moran." She addressed the other man who turned once again in surprise. "I understand you have a grasp of the outlay of our house and know where Miss Hooper slept of a night time." The man nodded. "Under her floorboards I trust you do not need any implement to pull up the floorboards?" She raised an eyebrow and with a nod from the Moriartys' the man darted off. The two villains fell into a quiet conversation as they waited for Moran to return and by which point Mycroft was looking furiously at his mother but was surprised to see his father almost looking cheerful with her.

The man returned a metal box in hand and handed it to the two men.

"Before you leave we have one more ask of you." Violet stood forward once more. "We would like to retain the box. It is all you left of Molly's parents." She stared at Andrew, not his deranged son when making her request and he nodded.

"We can afford you that grace." The box was opened and he examined the folded letters.

"Very well, we will upkeep our end of the bargain, James, hand them back the tin." The younger Moriarty sneered before tossing the box in the general direction of the Holmes and Sherlock leapt forward to catch it.

"Father promised that I could break you, don't worry Sherlock. I'll come for you." James' voice was high and cold.

"Now leave. Start running Moriarty, you do not attack the Holmes' family without some consequence." Sherlock glared at the three men, the eldest nodded and almost dragged his son away.

"Moran get the carriage ready. We're leaving."

Mycroft followed them to the door secretly and returned when they had definitely left.

"Mother how could you!?" Mycroft exploded.

"Mycroft fetch water from the kitchen and Sherlock fetch me some linen please." Violet ignored her eldest son and cradled Molly's head as Benedict cut through the ropes. The two boys sped off while Violet laid Molly out straight and pushed a pillow beneath her head. Dresses were unlaced as Violet inspected the bruises on the young woman's ribs asking small questions that Sherlock couldn't hear.

"Sherlock." Molly's croaked voice suddenly spoke up.

"Yes?"

"Law portfolio." She stared at him dead in the eyes and his brow furrowed. "Get me your law portfolio." She smiled softly and a light-bulb went off above his head. Dashing from the room while Mycroft dealt with the servants return Violet remedied the cuts and bruises across Molly's body as Benedict scribbled Molly's testimony down on spare paper.

"You're cleverer than I thought you were." Sherlock sniffed as he returned with the thick wad of paper. "These are not my laws." He handed the sealed envelopes to his father.

"Dealing with you on a daily basis I had to learn to be smart." Molly snickered and a small smile raised his left cheek. Her smile faded as Violet pressed on a particularly sore rib and she whined.

"Sorry dear but they need comfrey." Violet dusted her hands off and Molly closed her eyes. "We'll get you better Miss Hooper."