COD(Cause of Death): Unknown

Note: Someone has already made a guess as to who killed Molly but I felt like it wouldn't have been fair to respond with a yes or no answer because the story is more complex than what it seems right now. You'll find out everything within due time. In this one you'll even get a mere glimpse into what happened that night. Enjoy. (:

nine.

Being bored is one of those things that no one ever likes to deal with. It's something you wouldn't immediately guess someone would experience when around Sherlock Holmes, but that's the case for the spirit of Doctor Molly Hooper.

She had long since found a seat at a safe enough distance where she could still see the consulting detective at work and also to find a place to be alone. She's sitting in her office in her chair. It's a miracle, she feels that all of her things are still where she remembered last seeing them. She didn't have much here though.

A photograph of her father sits directly next to her computer and next to it was a snapshot of Toby; her cat. A few pens are grouped together in a black pencil holder and then there was a huge stack of files that she would have went through. Probably could have but that would have caused some unwarranted attention. Folders suddenly opening and pens scribbling furiously in her handwriting tend to not be a safe thing to do. This thing of her still being technically still here was a secret.

Or as close as one as she thought it was. She had on the two occasions that she was around Sherlock in his head, told lies in order to not make him even more insane than she already had her suspicions about upon stumbling into his mind palace and seeing all those compartments but to see what he would do. Though, it had been fun for a moment there she had held herself back from doing it again. She needed him to focus and she was a distraction.

It had been highly gratifying however to know that she could rile him up even a little bit.

Molly stopped mid examination of her workspace noticing something. Something very important was missing from it. Maybe they had taken it when they (whoever they are) stole her body from the morgue. This wasn't good.

It was as horrible as the fact that for the past fourteen hours Sherlock had been trying several combinations of numbers on that blasted contraption and getting zilch results. Molly knew of several dates that probably would work but wasn't sure how to go about going about giving them to him. It was cheating too, he was supposed to figure cases out on his own. He had figured most of them out in a day but her's was troubling. It was turning out to be not as simple as he originally thought, nor to Molly either.

Molly was trying to figure out why someone wanted something of hers that she deemed that important. Only someone who knew her would know to take it. What did that mean?

She sighed as she stood up from her chair and began pacing, thinking. In the other room Sherlock had stopped mid stride and turned looking into the office. His head tilted to his head, as if seeing something interesting for the first time and then he turned back to the lock of the device and began turning the numbers again. Molly moved to his side as a click sounded. He had unlocked it.

Molly stood there with her mouth open as she looked at the numbers. That date had been important but how would this lurker as the person behind these games called themselves know about it. It was the day they first met; Sherlock & Molly's introduction.

This was getting more confusing by the second.

The lock slid to the right and then to the left, ultimately splitting it in half. A new door had been opened and Sherlock reached his hand inside for a set of photos. All of them were from a different angle, each of one of them. Sherlock briefly looked at the first three not really caring much about them despite the fact that they had all been of the two of them. The last one though was deemed of most important.

The time stamp wasn't of any date in the distant past but from the night of her death. Someone had been watching and documenting. The photo was black and white but there was more in that one photo than anything that Molly could remember but it was coming back.

There were two people in the photo. The silhouette of one was shadowed by darkness while the other hid behind the door. The second being Molly, from what was visible she looked quite frightened. She looked to be trying to close the door but the man had his hand out showing that he wasn't going away.

Sherlock had been inspecting every frame of the photo, trying to get a better grasp on the other person was. The obvious had already flitted through his mind. The suspect was male, around Molly's height, impeccably dressed by the sleeve that could be seen. The rest of him though, that was the mystery. Sherlock went to turn the photograph over just to see if any other message had been left when a giant chill rushed over him.

It wasn't like all the other times in the morgue. All morgues were cold but the chill was oddly cooler. Sherlock wasn't one of those that believed in the supernatural however different circumstances made you believe different things. He didn't think much of it though, he went so far as to deem it as a malfunction in the cooling system.

The draft wasn't caused by that as you've probably already suspected. Molly had slipped into a cloud of memories. A mere glimpse but it was enough to throw her off balance.

She had been getting dressed as Sherlock had first deduced during his short walk-through her flat when the ringing of her doorbell stopped her mid preparation. She had went to the door to see whom it was. Due to the horrible lighting outside her flat she was forced to open the door. That's when she knew it was bad. She had rushed to close the door but to no avail. He was a persistent one, she had learned. After she failed to keep him out of the her flat the scene just faded.

Reality had swirled back then. Molly clutched her head as the mere memory of it all sent a fierce burning assault to her cranium. She let out a few shaky breathes before looking up at Sherlock who had stilled. He was staring at the photograph still but it was on the backside she noticed.

She stood on her toes so that she could see what he could see. Another message but the ink and the handwriting were different. It was in blue ink and it looked to be a flimsy, woman's style of writing. It wasn't much in the length of the message but there was plenty meaning in it.

Sherlock began reading it aloud. It was only then did she see that John was there once again. She hadn't seen him when she had come back. She went back to message as she listened to the detective read it.

"You're the good guy in her eye despite what the Lurker thinks. We've managed to intercept his package and give you a heads up. You're not the only good guy on her side. There are more of us. We're watching too. Be careful Sherlock, this isn't an ordinary game. Not like before. - The Rook

P.S. Before I forget, she's safe. She'll be returned when the time is right."

"What's that mean?" John asked as he took the picture from Sherlock's hand and flipped it back over to view the picture.

"We have another player. They know more and it's possible they could help. The question comes in whether they want to. The game is about to get hotter."

Note: HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY! To all my readers who reside in the US just like me. I hope you're having a great one. I'm sorry for the delay, I usually have this up on Monday but I've recently started working so my writing schedule is a bit off. Check my twitter to see when I plan to update. ( daisherz365 ).

Onto this chapter, I've had the variable of another player in mind for awhile now. It's about to get a hell of a lot more interesting, I guarantee you that much. :D I'll see some of you tomorrow when I update A Study In Chemistry but to those that don't read that, I'll see you next week! Be sure to tell me your thoughts.

Much love,

Day