"Birlstone," Sherlock murmured. "I know I've heard it before, but where?"

"Yeah it does sound a little familiar, doesn't it?" John agreed before stopping short. Sherlock stared off at nothing as the blood drained from his face. "Sherlock?"

Suddenly Sherlock snapped back to his senses. "John quickly, grab your gun. There'll be a cab outside, just take it as soon as you get downstairs," he commanded, as he rushed out of the flat forgetting about his house arrest and abandoning his coat and scarf.

John didn't stop to think either, and quickly retrieved his gun and ran out to the cab which was, as promised, waiting for him. He got inside, and it instantly drove off at a speed which was certainly above the limit. They arrived at their destination in minutes, an apartment complex. An ambulance and several police cars appeared to have beaten John there. Sherlock stood outside, a grave expression masked his face.

"What's going on?"

Sherlock stood in silence.

"Sherlock?"

"I knew I'd heard of Birlstone before," he muttered.

John was becoming increasingly nervous; his heart had begun to race. "What- what are you talking about Sherlock? Who lives here?"

"Molly Hooper."

That's when John remembered where he had heard of Birlstone. It was the name of Molly's apartment complex. She must have mentioned it before and John had forgotten.

"My God," he responded. "Is she alright?"

Sherlock looked at John, his expression told him everything.

Lestrade walked over, his eyes tinged with red. His voice wavered slightly when he spoke. "We found this inside. Says it's for you," he said as he handed a sealed envelope to Sherlock before walking back towards the crime scene.

The moment Sherlock saw the seal, he knew. A magpie. He and John looked at each other before he tore open the note.

Sherlock,

Tricky thing, caring, isn't it? But then again, you should know.

I did try to be thorough last time, but I guess I missed one. Oh well, nobody's perfect.

Won't happen again.

P.S. Fake suicide? Very original.

"What does it say?" John wondered.

"Molly was targeted because of me," Sherlock replied.

"What?"

"The night before I met Moriarty on the rooftop, I went to Molly and asked her to help me fake my death. I went to her because I suspected she was the only one who Moriarty wouldn't target."

John's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean the only one he wouldn't target?"

Sherlock sighed. "When we were on the rooftop, Moriarty threatened to kill everyone I- cared about unless I killed myself."

"So…"

"Yes, you, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade-"

"No, I mean that's why you did it?"

Sherlock was silent for a second before he looked away towards the crime scene. "Somehow he must have found out that Molly helped me. I should have known he'd find out. I should never have involved her."

John tried to console him. "Sherlock, listen. Blaming yourself won't-"

"No, John I am to blame! This is my fault! I used her because I knew she would help me, and now she's gone. I always used her and I was always so awful to her and she still helped me. I don't think she ever truly understood how thankful I was."

The two were quiet for a moment until they walked back to the flat.

A few weeks later, John and Mary arrived at the flat to get Sherlock for the funeral.

"Sherlock, the funeral is in thirty minutes; now get yourself together so we can pay our respects."

Sherlock lay stretched out on the couch in his pajamas and housecoat, his usual attire for the past few weeks. "What for? It's pointless to go stand around a hole and cry over someone," he mumbled.

John sighed. "I know you're upset, we all are, but Molly's our friend, and we need to be at her funeral whether you agree with the concept or not."

"It could be good closure." Mary chimed in.

"I don't need closure," Sherlock retorted as he stood. "I need to stop Moriarty. Now, I've taken care of his network, so he's weak-"

John stopped him before he could continue. "Alright, but it can wait until after the funeral, yes?"

Sherlock silently agreed as he sulked off to his room to change.

This is a waste of time, Sherlock thought as he watched family members and friends hold each other and cry. Time that could be better spent tracking down Moriarty.

"Sherlock!" someone called. "Come and say a few words!"

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath before making his way towards the mourners.