Mycroft sat with his elbows on his desk and his head resting in his hands. There were numerous papers strewn across his desk. He had them memorized by now. Still, there had to be something he had missed.

Shaw, a young man in his early twenties, entered his office quietly and sat a cup of tea at Mycroft's elbow. "Anything else, Sir?"

The government official wearily offered his thanks and waved Shaw away. He flipped through a few more pages as he sipped his tea. It was adequate, but he would be thankful when Anthea returned from settling Mrs. Hudson it at the vacation cottage in Sussex. He frowned as Shaw burst into his office again.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes, but there's been news concerning your brother." Mycroft was already halfway standing as Shaw continued, "He's been admitted to A&E."

"What happened?" Mycroft asked as he cleared his desk and locked the files in the side drawer.

Shaw shrugged in apology. "It looks like a heart attack from the symptoms."

The government official berated himself for not insisting his brother go straight to A&E from the airport. Cocaine overdoses were notorious for the damage they could do to the human heart.

Shaw held Mycroft's coat for him as he shrugged it on, then padded after his boss to the waiting car.

Once on the road, the government official leaned against the glass of the car window in a rare show of exhaustion. He let his eyes close for a moment, but couldn't find the energy to open them again. Mycroft felt a hand at his throat taking his pulse.

"He's under."

Shaw's words came to Mycroft as if from a distance, but they were clear enough to let him know that he was in trouble. His last thought he had was of his brother. He only hoped John would take care of him as he had promised.

In the lab, Sherlock stood to his feet, backing away from the microscope and other machinery. He was wearing a look of total disgust. "Why didn't they just leave a candy wrapper? It would have been far more expedient." He pulled on his Belstaff and headed for the door.

"Wait!" John grabbed the detective by the upper arm. "What did you find? Where are we going?"

Sherlock shot the doctor a look. "Molly's being held in the candy factory."

"The candy… Oh, the one Moriarty used when he kidnapped the kids."

"Obviously." Sherlock resumed his stride, talking as he went. "Whoever is carrying out his directives is a miserable copycat without a hint of originality." He glanced at his watch. "It will take us about an hour to get there. With the time we've spent in the lab, we'll have about three hours to extricate Molly."

John grabbed him by the arm again. "And this time, you're calling for backup."

Sherlock shook his head, "Too risky. We're going alone."

"For God's sake!" John visibly gave himself a shake and lowered his voice from a shout. "How is it too risky?"

"Don't you see?! It's a trap."

"All the more reason to call in reinforcements."

"No." Sherlock pulled away from John's touch and gestured in the doctor's direction. "One sign of the police and Molly will be dead. "Do you want to risk that?"

John walked a few steps away, then turned and paced back to Sherlock's side. "No, no. Of course not."

The cab pulled over at Sherlock's direction, just a few short blocks from the old sweet factory. He and John moved silently towards the factory in the distance, splitting up as they approached. They wouldn't be taking the main entrance, but would be using the entrances at the side.

The complex was large, but Sherlock was certain that Molly was being held in the same location the children had been. As he slipped through the outer corridors, Moriarty kept him company. It was maddening, infuriating. He needed John here, but he needed him more where he was, coming up from the other side of the factory.

Rounding a corner, he saw Molly. She appeared just as she had in the video, bound and gagged and radiating fury. There was no one else in sight. Gingerly, he stepped out into the open and approached Molly. Her eyes widened and her relief at seeing him was clear to read on her face.

"Hello, Molly," he said as he plucked a hairpin from her hair and set to work on the handcuffs that were holding her in place. "John will be here at any moment." The handcuffs opened with a click.

Molly reached up and pulled the gag from her mouth. "The bomb…"

Sherlock glanced down at the timer sat on a metal box. "Is an obvious fake. The timer isn't even connected to anything."

"We're not going to die, then?" Molly was giving him a strangely intense look.

"Not to disappoint you, but it appears not." Even as he said it, he was looking around. Where were they, the people that did this? They should be here.

"Good." Molly sprang up and wrapped her arms around the detective. "I think I'm going to have a bit of a hysterical cry. If you don't mind?"

Wrapping his arms around her awkwardly, Sherlock patted her back. She deserved a bit of a cry, after all.