"She's pregnant?" Sherlock choked out as he ran after John.

"Yes, twins. She thinks is just one baby but it's twins and now, if they've given her anything, it'll hurt them." His face was broken and he looked at Sherlock, his eyes betraying all of his emotions, "I need them, Sherlock. I need her."

Sherlock couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, this was his fault, if he hadn't have died, if he hadn't have taken John on the case. If he hadn't have done so many things to ruin the good doctors life.

"Sorry, I'll make sure Mycroft doesn't give her anything, I'll make sure we find her." He promised firmly. He got back to his feet and straightened out his clothes. "Well, he's clearly not here, but this is Jim, he left a note, or a clue, or something." He frowned and began pacing, where would Jim leave the note?

He looked over to John, who was still crouched on the floor, and ran out of the living room. He ran straight to John and Mary's room and threw the door open, revealing a small note on the bed.

'I thought you would love this place,
You nostalgic fool,
Come and meet me at the pool.-JM'

"John! Get up, we're going out!" Sherlock took the stairs two by two as he ran down them and crouched by John, "The pool, that's where he is and she's probably with him." He pulled John to his feet and dragged the man out.

The minute they were in a taxi he turned to John, "We're going to get her, John, don't worry about it." Sherlock said, if John was like this then he would be no use, Sherlock would be worried for the both of them, and for Mary, and even the babies.

"We will?" Johns eyes raised and met Sherlocks, the pain was evident and his voice was slightly choked but he was holding together, for the most part.

"We will." Sherlock replied firmly. He looked out of the window again and stayed silent for the rest of the ride until they reached the pool, where he rapidly climbed out and walked in. "Jim!" He shouted, his voice was strong and he knew that John was following close behind. There was only one door and Sherlock walked briskly towards it, in the hope that Jim and Mary would be there, "Jim!" he shouted again.

This time he heard a faint 'Sherlock', it came from behind the door and he opened it, running in to the dimly lit room and looking around. There was a chair, a figure behind the chair, and people all around the room with weapons, hidden on ledges, out of sight to the untrained eye.

"Glad you could join us." The eerie Irish accent spoke up and a light was flicked on.

"Mary!" John says as he sees the figure on the chair. Her head is hung and her body as slumped over as the tight rope that bound her wrists together would allow, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her eyes were frantic and searching even when they looked at John they only softened slightly. She mumbled against the gag and Jim just laughed softly.

"Don't worry, John, I only took her because I needed a talk with dear old Sherlock." He smiled sweetly, "As soon as we've had a chat you can take her."

"What did you do to her?" Sherlock asked simply as John ran a hand through his hair, "Did you give her anything?"

"Maybe a little something, she's now complaining about stomach pains. Sort of like she's, oh I don't know, having a miscarriage." He grinned devilishly at John.

"Shut up." John said quietly, he refused to meet the man's eyes and he instead stared at Mary, who was trying desperately to clutch her stomach but the rope restricting her arms made it almost impossible and the struggling seemed to be hurting her more. Jim continued laughing which made John repeat it, louder this time, a shout that startled everyone in the room.

"What do you want to talk about?" Sherlock asked Jim hesitantly, his eyes casting to John, whose eyes were still fixated on Mary.

"You. Death. Suicide of the fake type." Jim said simply, this was the first time the two men had been face to face since the rooftop of St. Barts.

"Well, then we both have something to be said don't we." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and his gaze followed the Irish man as he walked to a door that led of an off side room.

"Follow me." Jims eyes showed an evil smile and Sherlock could feel a hand on his arm, Johns hand.

"Don't, Sherlock. If you die again then I will never forgive you." His hand dropped to his side as Sherlock walked away from the touch and into the room.

The door closed softly and Jim turned instantly on Sherlock, "How did you do it?" he asked quickly, the moment they were alone.

"I could ask you the same." He retorted, like I would give it away he thought to himself as he stepped around Moriarty and sat down in the lone chair in the room and stared up at Jim.

"I'm not saying, you jumped off of a building, how did you survive and convince everyone you were dead?" His eyes stayed narrowed and he watched the man, his height still evident even though he was sitting down.

"You shot yourself in the head, how did you keep that up?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh, Sherlock. Only one body was found that day and it wasn't on the roof. Just you died to the world that day." His slick Irish accent showed a hint of pride and it sickened Sherlock.

"I don't care. Is that all you wanted? To ask me how I did it? Because since I won't tell you, you should let me go."

"You know, your brother was so broken, he thought it was his fault. Well, it was. He was the one that gave me all the information about you, you know?" Jim asked sweetly.

"I'm going." Sherlock stood up and pushed the chair down with the force. He walked to the door until the Irish accent drew his attention back.

It came from the back of the room, "I'll be in touch." And a bang as a door shut.

When Sherlock walked back through to the room John was hugging Mary to her side as she hugged her stomach in pain, "I'll get Mycroft."