"I'm sick of watching you dance Sherlock...now I'm going to watch you burn"

The phone went silent. Moriarty was gone. The moments that followed were filled with an eerie silence, it seemed that the city itself had contained its resonance.

"Something is about to happen" Sherlock muttered, listening, not knowing what would happen next. Molly stared up at him, uneasiness filling her at lightening speed. And then they heard it in the distance, a rumble, a quiet, malicious sound that made each of their hearts skip a beat in terror. Sherlock knew the sound the second it began. It was a bomb. The rumble quickly intensified to a loud bang that shook and woke the peaceful, sleeping city. Molly imagined families jumping from their beds in terror, children crying, panic filling the air. The sound was resonant and mischievous, echoing above their heads, Sherlock couldn't figure out it's source. It was definite that it was a building, quite close by, but it was hard to tell where. Sherlock knew that the only way to find the source was to get out of the woodland, passed the trees there's an almost panoramic view of London. As he turned to make his way out of the trees, Molly grabbed his shoulder forcefully. Sherlock's eyes pulled away from the trees to see what it was that was holding her back. As he turned, he heard a click, one of the men from the camp was holding out a browning pistol, aiming it right between his eyes. Sherlock noticed that quite a few of the homeless men were around them, each holding their guns, aiming at them. Molly's hand shook, still holding onto Sherlock's sleeve. Ed was beside her, his hand grabbing her shoulder forcefully, with his gun pointed at her head. She stared at Sherlock in complete fear, her eyes wide, filled with tears.

"Whats the meaning of this Ed?" Sherlock said, staring at Ed in agitation "What the hell are you doing?"

Ed stared at Sherlock, his expression calm and poised. He nodded at the other men, who lowered their guns slowly, staring at them cautiously. One of the men made his way over to one of the tents, where many of the other homeless people were lingering, staring at them and whispering amongst themselves. The man reached into one of the tents and was handed a small bag which he quickly opened, he reached in and pulled out a small cardboard box about the size of a large matchbox, which he proceeded to hand to Ed. Ed turned away from Molly, releasing her shoulder. She exhaled strongly and edged herself closer to Sherlock. After a moment, Ed turned back to them, holding the content of the box, which was a small syringe. Molly tensed up beside Sherlock, panting in terror as Ed made his way towards her holding out the syringe, which was full of transparent liquid Sherlock presumed it was some kind of sedative. He pulled Molly behind him protectively. Ed stopped in front of him, he nodded at the men again who pulled their guns up and aimed at their heads once more. Molly made a small whimper noise behind him, Sherlock put his hand behind him and she took it, her small hands shaking in fear.

"If you struggle Mr. Holmes...or try to run, we will shoot her" Ed said calmly. Tapping the syringe with his fingers. All the guns turned and aimed at Molly. Sherlock closed his eyes in terror and defeat.

"Sherlock..." Molly whispered from behind him, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Everything will be fine Molly" Sherlock said quietly as he felt a sudden cold pinch on his shoulder. "I love you"

"Sherlock..." Molly repeated. "I love you too..." Her voice echoing in his mind as he felt himself falling down deep into into unconsciousness.

Sherlock's eyes shot open. His body was limp, tired and unresponsive as the sedative was slowly wearing off, it took his eyes a few moments to focus but after a moment Sherlock recognized his surroundings; he was in his bedroom...in 221b. Sherlock lay there, feeling the warmth of the duvet and the pillows below him as his memory slowly restored.

"M-Molly" Sherlock mumbled in panic, his voice was hoarse and slow. "Molly!" He called frantically, his voice was embedded with pure panic now. He jumped up from his bed at lightning speed but upon landing on his weak legs, he fell down onto the floor, he grunted in frustration. "Molly!" He called again, hoping that she would run in and tell him that it had all been a dream..a nightmare..but she didn't, she was gone. A wave of defeat filled his body as he lay on the cold wooden floor, he began sobbing. "Molly" He whispered.

After a few minutes, Sherlock stopped sobbing and began to pull his body up once more, his legs had a little more strength as he used his bedpost to pull himself up, he sat down with a thud onto his bed. His feelings of defeat from a few minutes before were giving way to a stronger, more determined emotion, pure hatred. It was clear that Moriarty had turned his (Sherlock's) homeless network against him, recruiting them into his new criminal network over the past few weeks. Sherlock felt a cold sting of betrayal as he remembered Ed, holding the gun to them, with his eyes; cold and piercing. 'How many more has Moriarty recruited?' He thought to himself. 'How many more of my allies have become my enemies'

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone came to life, startling him. The sound was coming from within his hoodie pocket, he reached in a pulled out the phone, he was sure it would be Moriarty, but as he checked the caller ID, he was surprised to see that it was Lestrade.

"Lestrade" Sherlock said, pulling himself up slowly from his bed once more "I need your help"

"Yeah, I'd say you do Sherlock" Lestrade answered, his voice high pitched with panic. "Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?" Sherlock said, steadying himself on his bedpost again, his legs almost had their strength back.

"Moriarty, playing his little TV trick again" Lestrade answered. Sherlock slowly made his way into the living room to the TV. He picked up the remote and turned it on. Moriarty was standing in a dark room, looking at the camera with his usual patronizing smile, his gaze cold and destructive.

"Hullo, I'm the storyteller" He said callously. "Are you ready for the story?"

"Sherlock, you there?" Lestrade said through the phone, sounding anxious. Sherlock stared at the screen in horror.

"..This is the story of The Little Brown Mouse.."

"No" Sherlock muttered

"..The Little Brown Mouse was the quietest mouse in all the kingdom, she was so quiet that not even Sir Boast A-Lot could hear her. But as Sir Boast-a-lot got to know The Little Brown Mouse, he realized that she, in fact, mattered to him. One day, Sir-Boast-a-lot needed help, because the evil Dragon was threatening to destroy the kingdom and all of Sir-Boast-a-lot's friends, but the Dragon didn't think about The Little Brown Mouse, no, he did not. He thought she didn't matter to Sir Boast-a-lot. Seeing this, Sir Boast-a-lot asked The Little Brown Mouse to help him defeat the Dragon, because she was so small and quiet and The Dragon wouldn't see her. But the Dragon was wise, he managed to survive. And he knows now...he knows that he made a mistake, he knows now that The Little Brown Mouse is important, she mattered. The Dragon felt very silly for making such a mistake but the Dragon will never make the same mistake twice."

The screen went black. Sherlock's eyes remained fixed to it. It suddenly started again;

"Hullo..I'm the storyteller.." Sherlock was panting frantically. He yelled in anger and flung the television aside, it fell down onto the floor making a ear-bursting crash.

"Sherlock, what's he on about?!" Lestrade said after a moment, dread in his voice.

"He's got Molly!" Sherlock shouted, enraged. Lestrade was silent for a minute.

"I'm on my way, we're going to find her Sherlock, together" Lestrade said calmly, reassuringly before he hung up.

Sherlock stood looking down at the broken television for a moment, his hands were shaking at his side in resentment.

'I'm going to kill him, I'm going to feel his life slipping from him, so that he can never come back again' Sherlock thought to himself.

There was a sudden thump on the door downstairs, Sherlock lifted his head in curiosity. The first thing he thought of was Molly, 'Could it be?..No..' He thought. Sherlock paced out of the living room and began to decent down the stairs slowly, wondering who it could be. 'Moriarty?' He thought, stopping on the final step, wondering if he should open the door. He strode over to the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. He placed his hand on the doorknob and breathed before opening it.

Suddenly, a man fell in, he must have been leaning on the door for support as he waited. Sherlock took a step back in shock, staring down at the figure sprawled on the floor, he was panting. Suddenly, Sherlock realized who it was;

"Bill?" Sherlock asked quietly, standing still, looking down at him in disbelief. He wanted to bend down and help him, but he stopped himself, remembering Ed, the man who he trusted, holding a gun to his head.

"Sherlock" Bill croaked, pain in his voice.

"Tell me the truth Bill, please..." Sherlock said sternly, staring down at his friend..holding down his feelings of concern and pity, trying to sound calm.

"Please..trust me Sherlock..I know where he is...I know" Bill said with desperation, clutching his side, looking up at Sherlock, his expression full of agony.

"No...No!" Sherlock shouted in anger, his emotions dueling within his mind. "Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying Sherlock... please... I know where he has ..M-Molly" Bill pleaded, looking up at Sherlock in desperation. "I would never betray you Sherlock...please you have to.. t-trust me" Sherlock was silent for a moment, staring down at his friend.

"Where are you hurt?" Sherlock said, kneeling down at Bill's side "Let me call an ambulance"

"No, no...please..S-Sherlock...listen. He has Molly at The Embankment..there's a secret hideout underground..." He said before grunting in pain, clutching his side. Sherlock nodded, truly grateful for the information.
"You may be aware..that Moriarty has bombed...W-Westminster Bridge...last night" Bill took a moment to catch a breath. "But..that was just the first..of two...the next is The Embankment.." He said, panting, staring at Sherlock in pain. Sherlock stared at him in horror.

"Molly" Sherlock gasped, Bill nodded.

"It's ...going to go off..in an hour" Bill managed to say, before falling head first onto the ground.

"Bill!" Sherlock said in panic, grabbing him and turning him around slowly so that he was facing upwards "Please, let me go and call an ambulance"

Bill couldn't speak, he shook his head slightly. Sherlock noticed that he had become extremely pale and blood was spurting out from under his grey hoodie.

"What happened to you Bill?" Sherlock whispered, holding Bill's body. He was still breathing, his eyes half open staring up at Sherlock.

"Please...trust me..." Bill muttered, quietly.

"I do Bill" Sherlock said, tears filling his eyes, gently rocking Bill's body back and forth as he took his final breaths.

(((AUTHORS NOTE: I'm so sorry...guys..truly I am. :( Ohhh.. so this is what Moffat feels like )))

((Hope you enjoyed this chapter ! More drama to come.))

((I based Moriarty's 'Little Brown Mouse' Story on Mycroft's reference to Sherlock being a Dragon Slayer in HIS LAST VOW))