A/N: chapter 3, at your service!

I'd also like to give a few shout outs and fic recs, if you'll indulge me one more moment, please. Thank you so much to: eccentricpetal, MissKingAtYourService, XSherlockedX, XXkissesandcuddlesxx, Jessspider, Miggs, kewellchick and everyone else who has reviewed. Your feedback means a lot!

For some fantastic Sherlolly, do check out these stories:

"The Return" by XSherlockedX

"The Long Way Home" and "Domestic Analysis" by somethingin thewayful

"He Must Keep His Distance" by eccentricpetal

"The Missing Eyes" by Robin Purdy

"Where You Gonna Run to?" by Think of a Wonderful Thought

Off we go, then!

Sherlock detested the police station. It was always filled with strange smells, strange people (like the woman who'd all but run him down in the hall without any semblance of an apology) and general busy nuisances. It served a useful purpose, but he always sighed with relief when he left.

He hailed a cab and leaned back in the seat, gazing sharply out the window. Moriarty. How? And more importantly, what was he planning? The message on Molly's back was obviously a warning meant for him. The world at large still didn't know everything that had happened. They didn't know the truth. He'd had no way to prove it. Was he still Richard Brook? Or would he have a new alias for whatever this new game was?

He started to phone John, remembered he'd ruined his phone in a fit of pique and sighed. He'd retrieved it after, cleaned it off and brought it with him this morning: he'd have to go get another one later. First he needed to get to the hospital, make sure he hadn't missed anything.

A mobile rang.

In his right coat pocket.

Sherlock went very still.

He composed himself and thrust a hand in his jacket pocket. His dead mobile had been removed and replaced with a black flip model phone. How had he not noticed that?

Number blocked. Not this again, he thought.

There was nothing for it. He opened it.

"Hello?"

A pause. Then the voice. His voice. "You really ought to be more careful with your toys, Sherlock."

"How did you know I'd wrecked my phone?"

There was a rich chuckle on the other end. "Oh, honey. Why are you asking a question you already know the answer to? You must be slipping."

Of course.

"Nice touch that, the woman in the hall."

"So careless… are you not sleeping well lately? Are you tired?"

"I'm not tired," Sherlock snapped. "Except of your games."

"Aww. Too bad, Sherlock. Because you know quitting isn't an option for either one of us."

"How did you do it?" Sherlock asked after a pause.

"Long story. I won't bore you with it, shall I?"

"Oh, I wish you did bore me," Sherlock said, and Moriarty laughed. "No, you don't," he said gently, almost affectionately.

"Why did you have someone attack Molly?" Sherlock asked. "What did she ever do to you except have the remarkable sense to dump you after three dates?"

"Ouch. You've wounded me to the quick, Sherlock. No. Not really. And don't play stupid. It's dull and it doesn't suit you."

Moriarty's voice took a harder edge. "You know why."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "What do you want?"

"You know that, too. A game, Sherlock. It's what we do best, isn't it? Only this time you've got no chance of winning. Because this is going to be a new game. A game like nothing you've ever played before. You don't have a chance. In fact, if you want to give up now, we can work something out-"

"You repeated yourself. You must be quite pleased with your plan."

"Oh, I am. I am. By the way, have you had a chance yet to watch the movie? No, you haven't. You've been too busy showing off at the station. Oh, well. Maybe later. Well. Let's get down to the details, shall we? It's where the devil is, you know."

"What do you want?" Sherlock repeated.

Moriarty's voice turned into smooth steel. "I've planted bombs. Not like last time, though. Big bombs, Sherlock. Scary ones. Really, you'd be impressed. But you're not going to look for them or tell anyone about them."

"Because if I do you'll call the game off and detonate them," Sherlock said coolly.

"Yep. Now pay attention, Sherlock. This is stuff you don't want to miss."

"You'll keep this phone on you or no more than three feet away from you at all times. You won't tell anyone the details about our game. So start making up some good stuff to fool everyone. That should be easy for you. I know what a good liar you are. Of course, you do need to try and solve the case, so you have to do that, too. Nice twist, isn't it."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Poor Molly. You're on your way to the hospital right now to see her, aren't you. Well, that's good. But there's a little change in the program, Sherlock. A different song to play."

"You'll go see Molly, and you'll ask her questions and do all the silly little things you usually do. But after that, I want you to sit on her bed with her and thank her. With a troubled look on your face. When she asks you what's wrong, and she will because she's stupid enough to care, tell her this is your fault. Take her hand in yours and tell her you're sorry. Say it twice. Put a little feeling into it, make sure you sound like you mean it. Vow to her that you'll stop this. Promise her. Kiss her on the cheek. Give her one last look before you go. Make it mysterious but… I dunno, haunted or something."

Sherlock gripped the phone tightly. "Did pretending to blow your brains out affect your intelligence? Why in the world would you want me to do these things?"

"Now, now, that would be telling," Moriarty said. He laughed. Then his voice turned nasty. "I told you this was a whole new game, Sherlock. And by the way, one of those bombs you're not going to look for?"

"Is close enough to my building that everyone in it would die, yes, I gathered that," Sherlock said coldly.

"Remember to keep your phone with you. And don't try anything stupid like opening it up. You play this game my way, or it won't just be John who gets burned. It'll be thousands of people. That's a lot of blood to try and wash off those pretty white hands."

Sherlock waited a few seconds before replying. "You're going to listen to everything I do, I take it?"

"Got it in one that time. Now go brighten Molly's day. She's been through a rough time. Oh, how I wish I could watch. This stuff makes for a great movie!"

He was gone.

Sherlock looked up. They were almost at the hospital.

A great movie.

So Moriarty had switched from fairy tales to movies. But why? What was this new game?

He'd have to find a copy of that damned movie when he left the hospital. For now, he had a scene to play. Sherlock Holmes was the star of an untitled film. And he had no idea of the plot.