As Sherlock bent to remove the scalpel from Molly's grip and as he disappeared behind the center counter of the lab to check on her, Lestrade spun on his heel and opened the doors to the morgue. All activity in the hallway stopped abruptly as everyone turned to look at him. "Right," he began, "We're looking for a bloke, 180cm, ash blond hair and he's been cut up. Sherlock says he has a throat injury. He's coughing blood and can't be far, find 'im. Donovan, get everyone organized, I want this bugger found and found fast. Anderson, when they find the bastard, I want you to get everything you can off him – co-ordinate with Stamford, no one else touches the body but you two." When they stared at him, he said, "Not her, him. Get moving!" he roared then turned his attention to Mycroft and John. "She's okay," he said simply, grinning viciously, "She beat the living hell out of the git, our girl did, according to Sherlock. That lot will find him."

Watson stared at the trashed lab, "She's okay?"

Lestrade half turned, looking over at Sherlock who had disarmed Molly and was helping the now-conscious pathologist out of the cupboard. "You're the doctor but I'm guessing she'd know. Let's ask her."

Mycroft glanced at his brother, extracting his mobile from his suit pocket. "Get the details from Ms. Hooper. There are a few trifling details that I need to address, I shall join you shortly." With that he stepped away, striding away from the lab in search of a quiet spot in the hallway. Thumbing his mobile, he waited the single heartbeat it took for it to be answered. "Well done, dear," he soothed, "your little fox has sharp teeth and has escaped relatively unscathed. Hold your post until I contact you with more information." With that he disconnected, took a deep breath and squared his shoulders to prepare himself for the more difficult call. "Hello Mummy."

There was a pause, she said brightly, "Myc! Hello, darling! Your father and I are having lunch with the Ingrams, you remember them, lovely couple from dancing…"

Had anyone seen the grin on his face, they would have wondered what possessed him. "There's been a change, Sherlock is still in England. It appears Moriarty or a doppelganger is at play." He paused then said, "I know how much you enjoy the Ingrams and that this isn't really your area anymore but shall I ring you back later?"

When she spoke again, her sunny voice rang out, "That would be nice, Myc, but I don't know. Your father said something about going to the market after tea."

"I understand. Enjoy your tea, Mummy dearest." He disconnected, a faint smile curving his lips before carefully blanking his expression and turning back towards the laboratory.