As Molly and Sherlock took the fifteen minute cab journey across to White Chapel, they were both silent. An air of dread filling the air as they neared closer and closer to their destination. Sherlock turned to glance at Molly who was looking out the window, shifting in her seat and fidgeting her fingers. Fear filling her with every moment. As Sherlock watched her, a hint of regret twinged in his mind as he wondered why he was putting her in harms way like this.

Love is a dangerous disadvantage

His own words echoed in his mind, he remembered the look of defeat in The Woman's eyes. 'Moriarty will use her (Molly) against me somehow', he thought, 'Just like he did with John' Sherlock sighed to himself. 'I don't know what I'd do if something happened to her' He thought, watching her long brown hair falling past her shoulders, gleaming in the sun. 'I really don't'

Sherlock shook the thought from his head, it was distracting him, she was distracting him. He turned to look out the window once more. The city was about with it's own business, the buskers, the shoppers, the couples, the homeless..'all so clueless.' Sherlock thought. 'All so utterly ignorant' He felt a throb of protectiveness as he watched them, the innocents, the targets..of Moriarty's new game.

As they approached their destination, Molly turned to him, with the look of dread that hadn't left her face during the whole journey. He smiled weakly, trying to offer some comfort for his pathologist, she smiled back, her eyes full of worry.

Lestrade stood on the footpath as they pulled over. Sherlock jumped out first and walked around the cab. Molly hopped out a second later and accompanied him at his side. Lestrade nodded grimly before leading them up to an old, abandoned house. As he looked up at it, Sherlock remembered telling Bill a few days before to station people around the city. He specifically remembered telling him to station people at old abandoned houses...like the one in front of him. Sherlock shook his head in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Molly chirped from behind him.

"Nothing" Sherlock said, following Lestrade inside, gritting his teeth. Bill had probably got high and forgotten, but Sherlock had other things to be thinking about now.

Lestrade lead them up the stairs slowly, the old floorboards groaning as they paced. Sherlock deduced that the house was about half a century old, by the state of the walls, floorboards and the glimpses of furniture that he saw through doorways while ascending the stairs. There were a few forensics scientists and other officers on the third floor landing, watching them as they approached. Among them were Sally Donovon and Philip Anderson.

"Afternoon Sherlock" Anderson said, smiling weakly.

"Anderson" Sherlock said, nodding at him with a sombre expression.

"Freak" Donovon said, almost affectionately.

"Donovon" Sherlock said.

"Right now that the introductions are out of the way" Lestrade said sarcastically, gesturing them to follow him, leading them through one of the doorways.

Molly followed Sherlock into the room, she didn't want to look, so she stared up at Sherlock, he was now still as a statue. She gathered her courage and took one more step, she was now standing right beside him, following his gaze.

Five female bodies were on the floor, laid in a perfect line on top of a Persian rug, their hair and make up immaculate and their hands were clasped elegantly on their chests. There was no blood, which surprised Molly. She took another step into the room, staring down at the bodies. 'They're all women, middle aged, pretty' She said to herself. 'Just normal women' Sherlock slipped past her and knelt down beside the first body, flicking his coat behind him as he did so. Molly couldn't understand how calm he looked.

Sherlock took out his mini magnifying glass from his coat pocket and began examining the first woman. Molly walked over and leaned down to examine the first of the line of bodies on the opposite side. It became obvious as she looked closer what the cause of death was:

"They're throats have been slit" Molly said aloud. Sherlock looked up at her, seemingly startled by the sudden break of silence.

"Yes" Sherlock said. There was silence once more. Suddenly Donovon's voice filled the room

"Just got the results of the blood tests" Her head sticking around the door "Seems they all got one thing in common.."

"They're prostitutes" Sherlock interrupted, not looking up from the body. "Their make up has been reapplied, their hair redone, their clothes have been changed too" He said, smelling the fabric "brand new" Suddenly, he pulled at the shirt and it tore apart.

"Some things can't be so easily covered up by make up" He said, looking down at the woman's chest, which was covered in wounds.

"They've been cleaned up, around the neck wounds also, they've been disinfected" Molly said, making her way across the room to Sherlock's side. She knelt down at the body and examined the torso wounds.

"Her abdomen has been sliced" Molly continued "Ripped clean open"

"But it's been closed up again" Sherlock said. Standing up. While looking down at the bodies he suddenly had a flash of realization.

"Oh..White Chapel, of course! Very, Very clever Jim" He announced, smiling widely. Molly watched him, dumbfounded. Something about that name suddenly felt quite familiar. 'White Chapel' She repeated as Sherlock walked over the the second body, pointing at it.

"Slits in the throat, abdomen slashed open..uterus removed..." He exclaimed, Molly gasped quietly in realization as Sherlock paced to the third body.

"Throat severed, abdomen slashed, uterus and kidney removed" He continued, pointing at the third body.

"Of course" Molly whispered as Sherlock approached the fourth body.

"Clear-cut incision severing the main artery on the left side of the neck, abdomen sliced and mutilated" He said excitedly, moving onto the fifth and final body.

"Throat severed down to the spine, abdomen emptied of it's organs...heart removed" He finished, looking back at Molly and Lestrade who stared back in shock.

"Jack the Ripper" Molly said quietly, suddenly everything made sense. Molly remembered learning about Jack the Ripper when she was in college; the prostitutes, the brutal force and the preposition of the wounds..White Chapel, she remembered, his murder spree was also known as The White chapel Murders.

"I didn't think he'd be so obvious..but Jack the Ripper?! It's so obvious that it's genius" Sherlock exclaimed.

"We do remember this is Moriarty we're talking about Sherlock" Molly said sternly. "And these women are dead..Have some respect" Molly looked at Sherlock, shame written all over her face. Sherlock looked back at her, his smile fading, before striding past her out the door. She followed obediently, thanking Lestrade on her way out.

Molly was thankful for a breath of fresh air as she exited the old house. Sherlock was already standing on the snowy side walk. A few seconds later, Molly was at his side.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked, looking at him with concern "You thought he might replicate Jack the Ripper...when?"

Sherlock turned to her, his expression was back to its normal self, calm and reserved.

"We couldn't have saved them Molly" He said, holding her face in his hands. A tear fell down her cheek and Sherlock pushed it lightly aside.

"We may have lost this battle Molly, but we will win the war" He said, looking in her eyes. His voice full of determination, he kissed her forehead before turning towards the road, waving his arm, stopping a taxi that was approaching. Molly loved Sherlock, but at times she wondered if he was even human, she remembered the expression on his face...the enthusiasm, the excitement...and it worried her fiercely.

'Of course we lost the battle' She thought helplessly 'We didn't even fight'