It had been three days since Molly had taken up residence in 221b Baker St, she had brought some of her belongings with her that we're now strewn around the already messy living room; DVD's, her pink laptop, books. One of these belongings, to much of Sherlock's distaste was her ginger cat Toby. Toby seemed to make himself at home from the first moment he entered 221b, lazily nestling into the two armchairs and constantly jumping on the kitchen counters looking for a nibble. Molly would constantly tell Sherlock to tidy away his experiments in fear that Toby would consume some lethal chemical. That was the main reason Sherlock wasn't fond of Toby, because as a result his experiments had been banished from the kitchen and had to be moved to his bedroom. Sherlock felt that he was a teenager again, concocting experiments in his room, in fear of being caught by his mother.

Other than that, Sherlock couldn't think of many other disadvantages of having Molly for a flat mate. She was neat, enough, a good cook, quiet and she never distracted him when he was in his mind palace, she'd always come when he'd call and she always knew what to say and in addition, she let him smoke, more or less, she would have one or two words of protest, but nothing Sherlock couldn't silence with a smile or a compliment. It seemed, With her around, things were starting to look a bit better.

There had been no word of Moriarty since the call in the morgue and for that Sherlock was becoming increasingly suspicious. Who knows what he was planning. He could sense that Molly was on edge, constantly checking her phone but she was trying to cover it up.

"You can always see right through me Sherlock"

Yes, he agreed, yes he could. Molly was currently sitting on his armchair watching some crap television show, he didn't know what it was called, but she watched it quite often. It was starting to give him a headache. Toby was sitting on her knee purring, half asleep. Sherlock wondered how that poor cat must stand watching that show everyday with Molly. He walked over to the sofa and lay across it, he then closed his eyes and placed his hands under his chin, in his usual prayer like stance. He stayed like that for some time, Molly had gotten through at least four episodes of Glee by the time he opened his eyes.

"Sherlock?" She said gently.

"Mmmm"

"What are you thinking about?" She said, cringing at the cheesiness of the question.

"Moriarty's moment of silence has ended." Sherlock replied, jumping up from the sofa in one elegant move. Toby jumped from her knee, startled. Molly stared up at Sherlock with a confused expression. Suddenly the sound of sirens came from the street below. "There's been a murder."

"What?" Molly replied.

Suddenly Greg Lestrade was at the door. He looked in and was surprised to see Molly sitting on Sherlock's chair.

"Is Sherlock around?" He asked with a confused look.

"I'm here Graham" Sherlock said, catching Lestrade's attention.

"It's...nevermind, I didn't see you there." Lestade responded.

"Where?" Sherlock asked in monotone. "Where's the body?"

"I wish there was just one." Lestrade said, looking at Molly who was now putting on her coat. He looked at Sherlock quizzingly and back at Molly.

"New flatshare?" Lestrade whispered to Sherlock as he glided out the door past him.

"It would look like it." Sherlock replied as he decended the stairs.

The address Lestrade had given them took them all the way across to Grays Quay, in the east end, on the edge of the River Thames. Along the quay were several long barges and fishing boats, old and disused. As cabbie pulled up at the quay, Sherlock jumped out and re-adjusted his coat. The cold January air hitting his face, he pulled his coat collar up for warmth. Molly paid the cabbie and got out of the taxi and shivered silently with the cold.

"Is this the crime scene?" She asked Sherlock, but he wasn't listening, he was looking out onto the river, lost in thought. Suddenly, Lestrade appeared from within one of the barges.

"Oi, Sherlock over here." He called. Sherlock and Molly approached the giant barge, it was definitely newer than the others, with a fresh coat of paint. Sherlock deduced that it was probably about five years old, while the others were about ten. Sherlock jumped onto the deck from the quay and then stopped to give Molly a hand across. Lestrade watched him in surprise and confusion.

"Right in here" Lestrade said as he lead them through a small wooden door. The inside of the barge was similar to the outside, fresh paint, neat. Except for the twenty or so corpses that were laid all over the floor, covering from wall to wall, like a human carpet. Molly gasped as she looked upon the horrible sight. The bodies lay in a pool of blood, it looked as though they were stabbed. Molly knew that the only way to find out exactly how they died was to examine them all individually, but she couldn't move. She was rooted to the spot, staring in pure horror.

"Twenty one bodies, ten male, eleven female" Lestrade said glumly. "twelve adults, six teenagers, three children" Molly's face went as white as a sheet. Sherlock stared blankly at the crime scene, trying to take it all in. He noticed something in the middle of the room, one of the corpses had something in it's hand, he walked over a few bodies to reach the middle.

"Be careful Sherlock." Molly muttered quietly. Lestrade watched at Sherlock expectantly "Please tell me you can find the man behind this"

Sherlock looked at Lestrade with hatred and anger blazing in his piercing blue eyes as he held up the item from the victim's hand: a bright red apple. "I think we both know who's behind this Greg" He said.

"I owe you" Molly whispered in horror.

"That's not possible Sherlock..." Lestrade began looking from Sherlock to Molly.

"He is back" Molly chirped, sounding shocked and weak.

Sherlock strided back across the room, taking care for the bodies, he then put his arm around her and began to escort her out.

"No, Sherlock, I'll be fine..."Molly began

"It's alright Molly, I've got all that I need..I think it's quite clear what the message is" Sherlock said quietly, his voice full of hatred.

As they were sitting back in the taxi returning home to Baker St, they both were very quiet, looking out the windows at the city streets. It was raining now, a cold January rain. Molly couldn't get the image of those bodies out of her head, even though she had spent the last seven years working as a pathologist, spending her days examining bodies, she had never felt more disturbed than she did today. The image of them laying in there cold, putrid blood sickened her beyond comprehension. Molly sniffed quietly as she stared out the window. Sherlock turned and looked at her. He couldn't help notice how absolutely dispirited she looked. He couldn't stand seeing her like this.

"Molly?"

"Mmm" She turned to him, he noticed how pale she had become.

"I was thinking maybe we could go to that fish and chips place I mentioned a while ago" He said apprehensively. She smiled back weakly.

"I would love that Sherlock" She responded, he smiled at her delicately and she couldn't help but blush at the sincerity of that smile.