"This case," Sherlock remarked as he caught up to her as she made her way toward the crime scene. Something about this whole situation was nagging him. Why would she take the time to make sure a crime gets solved. It wasn't in her nature.

"What about it?" she asked casually as if it meant nothing to her.

"Why do you care if it gets solved?" he asked her, and she didn't hesitate to answer, but she wasn't telling the truth. That much was obvious.

"I don't," she told him firmly, "but it'll give you something to do."

"I don't believe that," he replied as she opened the door the building that was clearly marked with crime scene tape. Neither of them took more than a glance at the tape. It was clear they were both used to treading all over crime scenes. Sherlock solved them; she sometimes caused them.

"Hm, very well," she mused as she ducked under the tape, and he followed. "If you must know, this case is very similar to something I saw a while back. It has the quality of a particular terrorist I knew but not quite the grandiose. I would like to know who is causing it."She rubbed her fingers together and began looking at them in fascination as she attempted to keep the disgust off her face of old memories.

"A terrorist you used to work with?" he guessed. It really was a toss up with her.

"A terrorist whose brother I killed and would like to see me crucified if you must know," she remarked though she seemed to be annoyed talking about it. Usually, she said it so casually that it was cringe worthy. This case hit close to home making him curious.

"And I'm assuming the brother deserved it?" he mocked her not believing she ever did anything with real purpose.

"For once, I will say that was a fully justified murder," she answered him with pursed lips.

"What did he do? Try to steal a cigarette?" he asked scoffing at her making her frown at him before her nose crinkled in disgust.

"He tried to rape me; I smashed his skull in," she answered making him fall silent. Fully justified, he decided. Perhaps she really did have reason for her madness. "I told you I only kill someone if I want to, and I only want to when it's beneficial to me. I don't just go around slaughtering people for fun."

"Peter?" he questioned her involvement in those particular murders.

"Ah, the Carver victims were about money," she told him with a sigh not sounding happy with the idea of killing for money. "I was the eldest out of the three of us. I needed to support them, put them through school, pay the bills, and support my father's drinking problems- against my wishes. Not to mention, I had my own future to consider. A lot of the money was set aside for later use."

"Hence the manor."

"A no, the money I made from the Carver murders mysteriously disappeared. I'm guessing Ginevra did something with it," Raine told him. "The manor was actually a gift."

"From Moriarty?" he assumed.

"No," she answered as a shade of amusement lit up her face. "Well, I say gift, but the French prime minister was very eager to keep me quiet about the night we spent together. He snorted cocaine off my-"

"What are you doing here?" Lestrade asked staring at the pair as they entered the room the body was at. "This hasn't even been released to the public, and there's no evidence this is-"

"Of course it's foul play, you idiot," Raine replied rolling her eyes. They had really fallen down hill. "You think five overdoses in the span of one weak, all similar victims is coincidence? Is Scotland Yard really this stupid?"

"Yes," Sherlock answered making Raine let out a snort of laughter at the obviousness of the statement. "Without me, dozens of crimes would be unsolved."

"Who the hell are you?" Lestrade asked her before turning his attention to the detective to get answers from him. He always did seem to be bringing someone to the crime scene. "Sherlock, who the hell is she? No civilians."

"I'm not a civilian," she grumbled as she stepped fully in the room with Sherlock before looking down at the body. She kneeled down gently pushing the man's head in her direction to get a better look at him.

"Evidence," Lestrade gapped at her. She rolled her eyes before letting her eyes dart up to him in annoyance

"Oh, shut up. It's not like you'll get anything of interest off the body unless you know what you're looking for," she told him, "and you do not." Sherlock kneeled across from her. "I bet you do though," she smiled at him.

"How are you in the science of deduction?" he asked her knowing how Jen was. She had no proof, but she was rather good at using intuition. Raine gave him a smile before she told him what she saw.

"This man was nervous before he was killed. Nervous for days, just look at the state of his fingernails," she nodded to his hand.

"Could just be bad habit," Sherlock muttered though he knew that wasn't the case.

"Fresh wounds around the irritate cuticles on a murder victim, unlikely," she mused. "What about you Mister Holmes? Impress a girl." Sherlock stared for a minute at her trying to decide if he should even humor her before he began his riffing .

"Ex-con, ex-junky. Early forties. Clean for ten years based on his scars. He quit the same time he stopped conning people just after his first prison sentence. He was here on business; he's a broker, so a different sort of conning then. He's been living in New York City judging by the scent of his clothes. He's been married once, no twice unhappily. String of lovers, no children. He has a dog and a cat: his wife's idea despite his allergies. Right before he came her, he was at a bar."

"Hm," she muttered standing looking down at the body.

"What?" he asked looking up at her wondering what the calculating look on her face meant. She was difficult to read.

"That was positively lascivious," she mused at him making him stare at her rather curiously. "With a mind and a voice like yours, I'm surprised Gina didn't jump you when she had the chance. I would have, but then again, she's not me." The stared at each other neither willing to break the stare as Raine gave him a teasing look, and Sherlock tried to analyze her. Lestrade cleared his throat uncomfortable with the whole situation. They didn't pay any mind to him.

"Right, hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, but any leads?" Lestrade asked snapping the two back to reality.

"Yes, I need to speak to his most recent lover," he said quickly darting out of the room before Lestrade could ask any questions. Raine was quick to keep up with his rapid change in mood.

"Is she involved?" Raine asked as they headed out the door toward the street.

"Yes, but she's not our killer," he answered, but he seemed a thousand miles away as he considered the crime scene in his mind palace.

"How do you know that?" she asked him curiously.

"Judging from the lipstick stain and the perfume on him not to mention the dirt on his shoes, he was with a prostitute, but he didn't know she was a prostitute judging from his attire and his lack of money in his wallet. However, she was wearing what she usually does while working. Therefore, she was either meeting him after or before work, but more likely, someone hired her to lure him away from public." Sherlock raised his hand to hail a cab.

"So our prostitute knows who the killer is?" she questioned wondering how he could possibly solve the crime that quickly.

"Yes," he answered as they both slid into a cab, and Sherlock quickly gave an address.

"You know where to find her then?" she asked.

"Of course by the dirt on his shoes," he told her.

"Hm," she mused staring at him for a good long time. There was something serious and something sort of affectionate in her eyes. He wasn't used to seeing that in her. He wondered if that was Jen affecting her, or if she was starting to enjoy his company.

"What?" he questioned in a bored fashion trying to sound casual. Plans have been forming in his head when it came to her. He could get her back; he knew he would.

"If he lost to anyone, I'm glad he lost to you," she answered him sincerely before her eyes darted to the window away from him.

"I'm," he tried to find the words he was looking for, and when he finally did, they sounded confused coming out of his mouth, "I'm sorry about Victoria." She turned her head to look at him. She blinked several times trying to understand why he bothered.

"Even if it's possible that she was the spawn of the devil?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Why? It wasn't your child."

"Because I know Ginny, so I know you," he said obviously. "She denies she wants children, but she does. Part of her will not concede to the idea that she will never be a mother. Perhaps that's the part that is scared to lose another, but it is a part of her. She had maternal instinct, and she always act like a mother to those who need it. I believe it is one of the qualities she finds endearing in me. I am a child sometimes, and she takes care of me."

"As a mother to her child?" she snorted.

"As a wife to her husband," he quipped effectively silencing her. She looked at him like he was from another world. Her mind couldn't quite process the sort of intimacy he sought with Jen. She didn't understand it.

"Do you love her?"

"What do you deduce?" he asked right back, a question for a question.

"I deduce that this is going to destroy you. I'm not going to give in. I like being alive," she told him, but she seemed sad that this was the case. She seemed to wish it wasn't this way, that things were easier. "I like being able to do what I want, when I want."

"I think you claim you have the choice, but that's not necessarily true," he reasoned out to her. "When Victoria died, that wasn't your choice for Ginevra to be the one walking around. You were forced into that position."

"Perhaps, but I have a firmer hold on her than I did then. I won't let her slip through my grasps again," she sighed crossing her legs. "You know Mr. Holmes, you could just walk away. Turn off those emotions. Plenty before you have done it.

"I have," he answered before he retracted his statement. "I did. I've shut down my emotions to a drastic level to ensure my work remain uncompromised."

"You don't seem too emotionally stunned," she remarked rolling her eyes.

"Ginny's unique," he told her looking out the window. "I suppose I had no choice in the matter. She didn't really give me one."

"No?"

"I despised her when I first met her in London, but... it was quickly turned around when Moriarty entered the picture. She was put in a danger because she was willing to focus his attention on her. She was a distraction to him, and it gave me time to plan, to think. My hatred turned to curiosity. I didn't understand her, anything about her. Everything from her actions and words to her past confused me. She was enigma that turned into a parasite that I couldn't shake off, and at the end, one I chose not to shake off." The cab came to an abrupt halt causing Raine to grip Sherlock's arm to steady herself. She quickly removed it as they slid out of the cab.

Sherlock was quick down the street to a corner, where a worn down looking woman in a skimpy outfit was standing smoking a cigarette. "Last night," Sherlock began making her jump as he approached her without warning, "you were approached by a man."

"Well, that's every night for you, now isn't it?" she mocked rolling her eyes before giving him a teasing smile wondering if he was a costumer.

"Yes, but this one didn't want sex." The woman froze as her cigarette hung from her lips. "Ah, remember now?"

"What do you want?" she demanded wondering if he was the police but a quick look at his companion told her otherwise.

"A name," he told her.

"You think my clients actually give me their real names?" she asked him with a snort.

"No, but a fake name tells a lot about a person," Sherlock told her. "It can tell hobbies, ethnicity, gender-"

"Ulric," she cut him off not caring to hear his rant. "He said his name was Ulric."

"Ulric?" Raine asked pushing Sherlock out of the way to talk to the woman. "Tall, brunette, scar on the right side of his face, wouldn't mind shagging him for nothing?"

"Yeah, that's him," she replied with a grin.

"Interesting," she mused looking to the ground for a moment before turning on her heels. "Come, Holmes. We have an old coworker to visit." She grabbed Sherlock arm hailing a cab with ease before sliding in. Raine gave an address before Sherlock shot his first question at her.

"Ulric is a member of Shadow. Ginny told me about him. How do you know him?" Sherlock asked.

"Shadow is part of my life, too, Mr. Holmes. Shadow wasn't about being good nor was it about being criminal. It was about power. We had the decision in our hands about whether or not a country would go to war, would vote this person or that person in. We blackmailed, we threatened, and we terrorized to get that power. Only a handful in Shadow knew that, and that handful knew that Gina and I were the same person. To the rest of Shadow, we were the good guys. I was a target to be eliminated."

"Why?"

"It was sort of a bluff. I would blow up a couple buildings, shoot down a couple people, cause chaos. They would stop me, and in return, they got gratitude and eventually power. All James, of course," she laughed. "He knew how to play people."

"And Ulric was part of the handful who knew."

"Oh, yes," she remarked, "as was Adolph, Bardou, Channon, and Vilkas. They're all dead now... by my hand. They knew too much, but Ulric slipped passed me. He was rather good at that. I killed Cana and Boris during my time in Shadow. They figured it out and threatened to expose me. Ah, and then there was Ulmar a few months ago. That was rather simple."

"You killed him because he knew," he asked recalling how devastated Jen was when she found out about his death. He wondered how she would react if she knew she had a hand in it.

"Oh, yes, he figured it out," she told him recalling to phone call she had received several months ago, "so I set a trap and gave him a ring. It was all rather simple and disappointingly easy."

"What does Ulric want?" he asked her. "Why is he killing people?"

"He must know I'm around. He knew it would catch my attention; he wants to have a chat." She wrung her hands for a moment as she considered the situation she was in. She lacked information; she had no idea what he wanted.

"And he doesn't have a mobile?"

"Oh, and where's your sense of adventure, Mr. Holmes?" she asked with a laugh. "We like theatrics. You should know what that's like; you seem rather dramatic to me. Though what Ulric wants is beyond me. I would think he would avoid me after last time."

"You tried to kill him?"

"Oh, yes," she answered, "more than once." The cab came to a halt in front of a old, beat up hotel.

"You think he's staying here?" he asked her observing the cracked edifice. It didn't exactly look like a place some grand mastermind would choose to live, but perhaps, that was the point.

"Ulric doesn't care were he lives. He just cares that the place has access to free wifi," she replied sliding out of the cab before opening the door to the hotel. The bellhop at the desk looked like he killed puppies in his spare time and wasn't shy about the fact that he was trying to picture Raine in compromising positions.

"Room for the couple?" he asked making Raine twitch ever so slightly before she shot her hand out to his shirt and brought him quickly down into the desk with a slam. He fell unconscious on the floor. Sherlock gave her a disapproving look.

"What?" She snapped.

"Was that necessary?"

"He deserved it," she argued. He scoffed before Sherlock took the guest book off the desk to look up the room.

"301," he told her before she turning on her heels before entering the tiny lift. Sherlock was quick to follower her into the small space. She jabbed the button to the third floor, and the door's to the lift slammed shut making the space even smaller. Lavender. The scent of lavender drowned out his senses forcing him to step back from her.

"How is he going to receive you?" he asked trying to keep his head on straight as he thought of Jen.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she told him before the doors slammed open, and they both strolled down the hallway to 301. She raised her hand and knocked twice. They waited a moment before the door was pulled opened. Ulric had a cigarette hanging from his mouth and a beer in one hand. He stared at her for a moment before looking to Sherlock. He stepped aside to allow them in.

"Didn't expect you so soon," he mused in a strong American accent as they both stepped in, and he shut the door and turned around only for Raine to pull the gun from her waistband and push it into his skull. He tossed his beer bottle on an end table and gave her an amused look before he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Give me a single reason not to shoot you," she told him.

"Because I have yet to knock-up some poor woman, and let's face it, with a face like this, I would be depriving humanity of a great gift," he told her not believing she'll actually shoot him. She rolled her eyes and removed the gun from his head.

"You're an idiot," she told him.

"Hm, true, but I really can't be that stupid if I've manage to escape you and now Scotland Yard," he rocked on his heels as he grinned at her.

"Yes, well, congratulations," she rolled her eyes before collapsing into a couch only to have dust billow up around her, "you have my attention. What do you want?"

"To look at that gorgeous face of yours," he remarked. "What's Holmes doing here?" he asked throwing himself in a computer chair. Half a dozen computer monitors lit the room with the nauseating backlight.

"I'm making progress to destroy him," she answered casually.

"Thrilling," he replied sarcastically.

"What do you want?" she asked again. He looked at her for a long moment before he spoke.

"I receive a call from Damon O'Hera the other day," he told her, "about you."

"Why?"

"Because I am one of the very few lucky enough to know Gina, Raine, and Ginevra," he replied. "He seems to believe that I may be able to say something to you to change your ways."

"Damon O'Hera," she mused considering the criminal. She would have to talk to him about a few things, wouldn't she? "I'll be right back. I'm going to make a call." She stood leaving Sherlock and Ulric alone. They stared at each other for a moment. Sherlock was attempting to deduce him and failing, and Ulric seemed amused by the whole situation.

"What's your real name?" Sherlock asked knowing Ulric was just a codename, but Raine called him nothing else.

"It matters little," Ulric told him steeping his fingers as he looking at Holmes in an analyzing manner. "The only thing that matters is that I'm rather good with computers, and I happen to like Ginevra, so what do you plan?"

"What do I what?" Sherlock asked bored not willing to converse with the man in front of him. He seemed a bit of a moron.

"To shift control from Raine; it has to be big. What do intend? You have to have a plan. I'm not naive enough to think you don't."

"And how do I know you won't just let her know?" Sherlock asked nodding toward the door to where Raine had disappeared.

"Because, Sherlock, I, unlike Mycroft, Damon, and Robbie, love Ginevra and every part of her including Raine," he declared in a rather gentle but affirmative voice. Sentiment.

"Oh, I see your affections are unrealized," he mused.

"Unrealized?" he questioned raising an eyebrow. "Ginevra and I were engaged before I slept with her sister and ruined that. My fault really; I was young and stupid."

"Samuel Owens," Sherlock replied. "Ginny had mentioned in a less than pleasant fashion."

"I did break her heart... well, I say heart, but... it was more of her trust I broke," he told him. "I'm not naive. I know she didn't actually love me."

"But... she never said anything about you being Ulric."

"Gina and Raine both have a skewed perception. Someone like her sees what they want to see. She didn't want to see me; she wanted to see someone she could trust, and I had lost that trust. So I ask again, what do you plan to do to get her back?"

Sherlock stared at Samuel Owens for a moment before he took a breath. "To break the barriers Ginevra's put around her mind, we need something that will shake her to her core, something Ginevra can't ignore."

"You have something in mind."

"Yes, and it is incredibly stupid..."

"Will it work?" Ulric asked.

"If everything turns out the way I think it well, yes."

"What do you need?" Ulric offered. Sherlock smiled; he had another ally. This would work.

A/N: Arg! I'm so sorry I'm incredibly late, and I'll probably be late again this Friday, and I'm sorry for a shitty chapter, and I'm just sorry! I'll make it up to you all! I promise!

Thanks to reviewers: short-skirtbluescarf, TinkerbellxO, Louise, zare . downey . okumura, and hannahhobnob. I'll see you all.. Saturday? I doubt Friday, but who knows!