A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! It means so much to me. This chapter is short, but the next one won't be.

Summary: Sherlock figures out Moriarty's plan and races against time.

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Mycroft's car took them to what John reckoned must be some sort of safe house, away from the eyes of the CCTV and the police. It was a small, nondescript abode that looked like every other house in the community, with iron gates and high walls concealing everything from potential prying eyes. Sherlock carried a sleeping Molly inside and into a bedroom, and as an astonished John watched, Sherlock tucked Molly into bed, absently smoothing a lock of hair away from her face after he pulled up the duvet. Sherlock turned, saw John watching, and said nothing. But his eyes spoke for him.

They left Molly to rest and made their way into the kitchen, where Mycroft sat with a laptop open, typing rapidly away and glancing at his mobile at the same time. He glanced up at Sherlock. "I trust Doctor Hooper is recovering?" He asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said.

"Then the time has come for you to figure out the game," Mycroft said smoothly. "I have the schematics of the warehouse Miss Adler informed you about, and a team standing ready to do whatever is necessary. It's time to finish this, Sherlock."

"Agreed, brother dear," Sherlock said. He began to pace as John helped himself to tea and sat in the chair opposite Mycroft. "What has happened since we arrived at the hospital?" Sherlock asked Mycroft.

"A man by the name of Paul Rodgers has come forward and claimed that you assaulted him. He just started working at St. Bart's last week. According to his statement, he had been talking with Doctor Hooper off and on over the week, and intended to ask her out. However, he alleges that late last night he was assaulted by you and that you told him to stay away from Molly. He has injuries consistent with a man of your build and skill physically attacking him. He also claims to have been able to record some of the conversation on his mobile."

"Can you get an audio?" John asked.

Mycroft flicked his eyes to John in patient amusement. He pressed a button.

A man's voice, frightened, high-pitched, filled the room. "Leave me alone! I didn't know about you and Molly! Get away from me!"

"The only thing I'd like to get is my hands around your neck and squeeze," Sherlock snarled.

"I didn't do anything with her! I swear! I was just going to ask her out!"

"Liar!" Sherlock shouted.

There was the sickening sound of the crunching of bone, and a mobile clattering to the ground. Then the recording ended.

John frowned. "Obviously it's fake."

"Fake, yes. Obviously: not as much," Mycroft said. "That is Sherlock's voice, and Moriarty has used a master audio technician to put this together. He recorded Sherlock almost continuously for over six months. He could put together any number of these and use them in different ways."

Sherlock stopped pacing. "That's why he wanted the mobile back. He wasn't recording me on his mobile. He was recording me on mine. Everything he's done has set me up to look like the stereotypical jealous boyfriend."

"Someone who's known to have a difficult personality, never been in a relationship," John offered.

"Someone who might not have the ability to control previously unawakened emotions," Mycroft added.

"Setting me up, but for what? Molly doesn't know this man; she can prove he's lying. None of these crimes are significant enough for me to stay in jail long even if they could be pinned on me," Sherlock said with a frown. "He's set all of this up, this picture perfect relationship, and then introduced conflict. Just like one of those movies. And the man is afraid he's going to lose the woman, and is insane with anger, jealousy, and love. There's only one way he can make sure she never loves anyone else, and that's to-"

Sherlock stopped talking. He paled. John and Mycroft stared at him. "Sherlock?" John asked.

He stared at them, his best friend and his brother, as everything finished clicking horrifyingly into place. His mind raced. There wasn't much time.

"I know how he wants to end the movie," Sherlock said. "There's something I need you to do," he said to Mycroft

"What?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock grabbed a notepad and pen from Mycroft's briefcase. He furiously scribbled something down, then handed the paper to Mycroft. "I need these items right away," he said.

Mycroft looked at the list and frowned. "Your life is in danger and you want to play with a chemistry set?"

"Just do as I ask!" Sherlock snapped. Then he added: "Please."

Mycroft sighed. "I'll take care of it, little brother." He left the room.

"Sherlock?" John asked. "Tell me what's going on."

Sherlock shook his head. "It would be best if I-"

"NO!" John shouted, launching himself at Sherlock and shoving him back against the wall. He clenched Sherlock's coat in his fists, breathing heavily, eyes blazing. "No," he repeated, quieter but just as forcefully. "You did that to me once, Sherlock. There is no fucking way I'm ever going to let you do it again, you hear me? I don't need to be protected, I'm not an idiot or a child!"

"John," Sherlock said weakly. John shook his head.

"I watched you die, Sherlock," John whispered hoarsely. "My best friend in the whole world and I watched you die. And for a long time after I wished that I had died with you, because I couldn't save you. I don't care what Moriarty is doing, I don't care if I have to shoot someone, get shot, stabbed, or strapped with Semtex. You are not ever, EVER leaving me like that again. Do you understand?"

Sherlock's eyes met his. Both of them were breathing unsteadily and shaking. Sherlock nodded. "All right. All right, John."

"Promise me," John said, voice deadly quiet.

"John-"

"Promise me, dammit!" John shouted.

After a long moment Sherlock took a deep breath. "I promise."

John nodded. "Good. That's… good, Sherlock." He released his friend and drew a deep breath of his own. "Now. Tell me what Moriarty's got planned and how I can help."

Molly woke up feeling weak and confused. The last thing she remembered was going to open a drawer. Then everything had gone fuzzy, then black. She didn't remember anything until she'd briefly woke up in the back of Mycroft's car, with Sherlock cradling her in his arms.

Sherlock! She sat up, looking around her. She was alone in a blank, white room. "Sherlock?" She called out uncertainly, and heard his familiar footsteps coming towards the door.

He opened the door, his light blue eyes scanning her as he made his way over to her with a glass of water. He sat beside her. "How do you feel?" He asked as he handed her the glass.

Molly took several deep drinks before she sat the glass down on a bedside table. "Weak, but all right, I guess. Sherlock, what's happened?"

"Moriarty poisoned you," Sherlock told her. "I gave you the antidote."

"Poisoned me? Why?" Molly asked, confused. "Why would he care about me?"

"Oh, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said softly. "You really don't see yourself clearly, do you?"

"Tell me what's wrong," Molly said, scared and worried now from the look on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock reached down and took one of her hands in his. "Do you trust me, Molly?"

She blinked. "Of course I do."

"Would you trust me against all the odds? Against everything you thought you knew?" He asked, his other hand coming up to cup her face. "Would you trust me with your life?"

Molly nodded "Yes. I always have and I always will." She brought a hand up to touch Sherlock's.

He gripped her hand tighter. "Good."

"What's going on?"

"It's time, Molly," Sherlock said softly. "Time to end this game once and for all."