COD (Cause of Death): Unknown

Note: I've changed the summary. The reason is because the new one will be much more suitable for the way the story goes after the next couple chapters. Plus, because of what's coming I believe a lot of you will be both happy and curious. Thank you so much for your reviews. They are really helping me with keeping this story going until it's end.

ten.

A new player. That could be either a very good thing or horribly wrong, thought John Watson as he stood next to the only consulting detective. They had dealt with many players before. All in the form of criminals - thieves, killers, robbers, forgers, master minds, snipers. Nearly everyone but two groups at the same time calling themselves players, that was new.

It also would be something intriguing to Sherlock, he knew. He enjoyed the challenge. The thing about this one was that someone dead was in the crossfire and her body was now with one of the players. That, in the former army doctor's mind was definitely no good. Why would they need it?

They said they were interested in the pathologist's safety. Molly Hooper had been killed, what else was there to protect? It just made no sense to him. He knew that his flatmate knew something or had a theory of something, at least he hoped he did. They said this game was more dangerous than the last one. The one with James Moriarty - he supposed.

"What are you going to do now?"

"There are several things I could do. However, what I must do is revisit Dr. Hooper's flat. There has to be something else there. Something I didn't catch. I always miss something." Sherlock stated as he stood and marched towards the door all the while straightening his coat and scarf on his body. "Stay here, John. I may need you to do something. I'll text you."

John blinked a moment before settling down in a chair to the right of where he was standing. He would just wait then.

Sherlock stared at the pictures he had stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat as he sat in the cab on his way to one part of the crime scene. The other had most likely been contaminated after the first few days. The blood had to have been cleaned up. Plus there wasn't much there in the first place. Only Molly Hooper's frozen and bloody corpse.

He went back to that place for a moment in his mind. He had filed it away in regard that he may have to visit it again alone. The other's presence had been distracting the first time around. The scene unfolded in front of him once again. His mind body replacement moving about the dark rock and flat cool ground. Shoes splashing with the water left from the rain.

There was another nuisance upon revisiting this place. He was able to recollect another problem with collecting evidence. The rain could have ruined it as well. They had been lucky that Molly had been covered. Or someone had shielded her body until they arrived. It was one of the culprits, he was positive.

Not the killer, no he had already gotten his hands dirty with her blood. Someone else had to take care of preserving the crime. It wasn't something normally done by killers. They wanted her found. They wanted someone to speculate what had been done. It didn't hurt much that she was someone that was often around him. She was important. She still is important, he reminded himself.

On the note that was printed on the back of the new photograph of Molly outside her flat, the new player who was still like the culprits an unknown had deemed themselves good. Good in whom's perspective. It was both unnerving and fascinating that new variables were coming out of nowhere. It kept this case lively.

Sherlock reverted back to reality as the cabbie stopped the car. He tossed a few bills up front before sliding out. The crime scene tape was still posted around the door and the door was slightly ajar. He opened it by kicking the door slightly and waiting briefly to see if anyone had suddenly decided to take up vacancy in there. There was silence, he lifted up the tape and slipped on through.

The front door was dark apart from the light brought in by the front door and the window. Sherlock brought out his flashlight that he kept for emergencies like this and twisted it causing a light to beam out of it. He pointed it at the ground and began walking towards the vanity. He sighed, his glanced at it briefly and caught it. Something had been taken. Just like in her office.

The dust that had been collecting around it was small but outlined the size of the area it took up. Sherlock knew what it was before he even looked at it. It too was important. That was one of the things about the pathologist that he learned. Things she deemed important were always somewhere no one would probably know about unless you knew her.

The one at her office had been something of her mother's. While what had been taken here had been of her father's. The puzzling matter for a normal investigator would have been why would they take it? However, Sherlock Holmes had never been considered normal.

A smile slipped on his face as he turned to leave. Flashlight about to be turned off when the sound of the floorboard creaking made him turn just in time. Someone was here. They had been hiding.

The man was in all black and made quick work at trying to assault the detective. However, Sherlock saw it coming. He quickly dodged the punch that was coming his way and went for a shot in his attacker's abdomen. As a result he stumbled back and Sherlock spoke. "Who are you working for?"

The man said nothing, just tried to take down him again. There was another disadvantage on his part, Sherlock was much more taller than he was and therefore was harder to reprehend. Sherlock moved to the side and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. He asked the question again. "You know who he is Mister Holmes. You've seen him before but you've never paid much attention. You were distracted you see. He's coming for you. He'll get you this time." The man paused as he laughed. "That's why he killed her, you see." Sherlock turned his head an inch and looked at the door, he saw something. He let go of the man and jumped back just in time. A bullet entered the man's head.

Blood spluttered out and the man crumbled to the ground. Sherlock could hear the sirens but he ignored them as he stuffed his flashlight back in his coat. He pulled out his packet of cigarettes and took one out and got ready to ignite it when a voice that seemed to be present when he really didn't want it to (or so he told himself) spoke. "Six seconds. Those are bad for you, you know."

He opened his eyes and stilled as he saw her there. He frowned, closed his eyes again only to open them and see the same result. He wasn't that crazy but he was sure she wasn't a hallucination. "Would you leave me alone, already?" He blew out a puff of smoke.

"Sorry, mate was just wondering if you were in need of a shock blanket." John Watson mumbled as he looked at his friend. "Apparently you're just fine."

"I thought I told you to stay at the hospital."

"Yes, well Lestrade came and asked if I knew where you were. Then he got the call about a sniper sighting near your exact location. I was concerned."

"I'm still breathing."

Sherlock turned his head to the side so that he could see where she had been standing. Nope, she was gone. Must have been an illusion of some sort. Regardless of what went on in his head, he didn't need to see her at the moment. It shouldn't be possible anyway.

"Did you find anything before you almost got your brains blown out?"

"That shot was definitely for the man in there, not me. Although, I did find something out. It's not very logical however."

"That's odd coming from you."

"My eyes have been opened to odd things. Doesn't mean I'll accept them until I see them for myself."

"What is it then?"

"It's Molly...she's..."

Four people surrounded a hospital bed in the dimmly let room. Two females and two males. All in their mid thirties. Each there for one reason. One half of the group is skeptical about what they're about to do. They've been waiting for this moment. They had been told about it's urgency months ago. Now, it was finally here.

The room was quite large. It had once been an entire wing of offices for an old law firm in the eighties. Now it was vacant and had become their perfect place of operation.

They positioned two light fixtures in the room. One hanging above the patient. They were all scientists or doctors. All had done their research on the procedure they were to perform momentarily.

They stood quietly glancing at each other, waiting. It was go time. They nodded simultaneously before turning their backs on the patient and circling the area that was the center of the room. There a white drawing made of chalk roamed. It had been done two hours ago. It took a lot of times before it was perfect. It had to be perfect.

Nothing could go wrong.

"Let's do this." One of the males spoke with much determination in his voice. They got in their positions and it began.

Note: Hello my dears. :) So you may be slightly confused yet curious to who those people are and what they are about to do...well I can tell you two things: (1) They are The Rooks and they have Molly obviously. (2) What they are about to do will be explained soon...it is important though. As is a certain hint I gave about who got them started in assisting Molly. He too will be revealed soon, who he is may surprise you. ;) Sherlock knows something too...what exactly well, you'll see possibly in the next chapter. Let me know what you thought of this please. :)

Much love,

Day