A/N: a HUGE thank you to everyone reading, reviewing and favoriting. The plot is about to thicken!

Lestrade was waiting for them outside Molly's room.

"They found her about a block from her flat. She's resting now."

"They found her two hours ago and you're only now calling us?" Sherlock asked. "They've removed most of the evidence by bringing her here; you should've phoned me at once!"

Lestrade looked like he was ready to punch him, though also impressed by him. It was a look John knew well.

"Why? We happen to have people quite capable of gathering evidence, thank you! And in case you forgot, she was attacked and rather in need of medical attention!"

"Yes, all right," Sherlock muttered. "May we see her?"

Lestrade clenched the doorknob. "So help me, Sherlock, if she's awake…"

"Yes, fine, I'll treat her like a basket of kittens, happy now?"

Lestrade gave him a final glare and opened the door.

Molly was asleep, the pale light in the room eerily highlighting the bruises on her face. Her lips were parted in sleep and her chest rose and fell steadily. Sherlock moved for her chart but Lestrade's arm shot out and grabbed his. "NO, Sherlock."

"Was she… sexually assaulted?" John asked, dreading the response.

"No," Sherlock said absently. He quietly walked around her sleeping form, studying her, her belongings nearby on the window ledge. "But she was beaten. Not enough to cause serious harm, but enough to make a point."

"Anything stolen?"

"No," Sherlock replied again. He fixed his eyes on Lestrade. "On the contrary. Whoever did it left something with her."

"What?" John asked.

"How the hell did you know that?" Lestrade demanded.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Because something was removed from her right hand coat pocket. Something out of the ordinary. Something that can't be anything other than evidence."

John looked at Lestrade. Lestrade nodded. "Yes. But how could you tell?"

"Because the right hand coat pocket is cleaner than the left. You did a more thorough examination once you made your discovery."

John shook his head. He shouldn't still be amazed by Sherlock, and yet he was.

"Well you're right," Lestrade said.

"I believe you already made that known," Sherlock said mildly.

"You'll have to come to the station with me if you want the full story," Lestrade continued.

"Very well." Sherlock cast one final fleeting glance at Molly before they left. There was something odd in his eyes, but for the life of him John wasn't sure what it was.

At the station, they went into a meeting room. Lestrade brought in two envelopes. "This is what we got from her."

"Do you know who did it?" John asked.

Sherlock was about to say no, but Lestrade beat him to it. "No. No witnesses, no prints. Nothing yet."

"And the contents of the envelopes?"

Lestrade opened the first one and pulled out a DVD in a red paper sleeve. Sherlock picked it up and read the title. He passed it to John. John looked. It was the movie Love Story.

"I'm sorry, but are you two sure this is evidence? She could've borrowed this from a friend."

"Yes. For two reasons. One: there is no trace of anything physical to suggest Molly ever held this disc. No skin, no prints, no smudges of food or traces of scent. Further, the paper is slightly creased as thought it was hurriedly stuffed into the pocket. Molly Hooper doesn't treat anything she owns carelessly, and she certainly wouldn't be careless with someone else's property."

Lestrade glared at Sherlock when he finished. "And the second reason?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You're holding another envelope."

Lestrade nodded, opening it. "We think it was a grudge attack by an ex-boyfriend."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to be surprised. "Why would you ever think that? Molly's as harmless as a fly. She's hardly the type to incite violence."

"Well she incited it in someone," Lestrade said, tight-lipped. He handed Sherlock an 8x10 photo.

Sherlock lifted it up and almost immediately dropped it to the floor as though it had burned him. His already pale skin turned a shade closer to death.

"Sherlock?"

"No," Sherlock said, a tremor in his voice. "Not an ex-boyfriend. An ex-lunatic. Who apparently is not so ex after all."

"What?" John snapped.

Sherlock looked at them with blazing eyes. "He's back, John."

John paled. "Sherlock, no, that's not possible, he's gone, dead…"

"Who are you talking about?" Lestrade demanded.

Sherlock jumped up. "I've got to get back to the hospital. Fill him in, John, then meet me there."

"Sherlock what the hell are you talking about!" Lestrade shouted as Sherlock left the room. He turned back to John, who was studying the photograph, his face frightened.

The photo was a picture of Molly's bare back. Carved into her skin were the letters: "IOU."