Raine was playing the piano when Sherlock arrived back from Mycroft's office. He paused at the study and listened to her sing the song Jen had sang for him on Christmas what seemed like another lifetime ago. For a minute, it felt like he was looking at her again. Raine's hair was starting to gain some of its curls back slowly, and she had a sort of tranquility Jen always had while she was playing. It was nice to hear her sing again. The illusion was shattered when she spoke to him.

"What do you want?" she snapped not bothering to look at him. She seemed distracted as her eyes remained fixed to the window. She hadn't been all there lately, and more than once, he had caught her acting as if she was barely there. Her footsteps were soft, and she barely spoke. She didn't respond to him and something weighed on her. He had been starting to think the woman who was barely there wasn't Raine but someone else, and more than once, he called her name, and Raine would snap back both confused and irritated.

"Ginny sang that song for me on Christmas," he told her. She didn't look at him as she replied.

"I imagine she would. It's the song I sang for James the first time he asked me to play," she replied before she paused for a moment as she glanced down at the piano. "My mother used to sing it for me."

"I know," he muttered watching her put her hands back to the keys, but she hesitated to continue. A questioned seemed to pop into her head, and it nagged her for an answer.

"Why do you love her?" Raine asked him. He inwardly cringed at the word. Yes, he admits he's a victim of human error, but he didn't like it, and he didn't like other people pointing it out.

"Ginevra?" he questioned trying to sort himself out. He would answer her questions as he supposed she needed to hear it.

"Yes," she answered simply as her fingers moved along the keys gently, quietly as she played an unfamiliar tune.

"She's both compassionate and understanding," Sherlock told her. "She would have to be to put up with an arsehole like me. She's clever, and she knows what to say and do during high risk days."

"You're confusing Jen and Ginevra again," Raine reminded him.

"No, I'm not," he assured her before he took a stab at her just to be smug. "You should get some rest. Looks like you haven't slept in days." He turned on his heels and left her twitching at the comment. The sign of restlessness was a sign of bad days to come. She was loosing grip on herself.

"So," Ulric started as he pulled up several files on his computer screen, "these were hacked from Raine's computers. Best I can tell, she's planning to bomb several key buildings throughout London including but not limited to: the Tower of London, Parliament, Buckingham Palace, and the list goes on and on. This will all be taking place in her cozy little manor. She'll send cronies to set up her bombs, and she'll detonate them via computer."

"I assume you can hack that," Sherlock told him looking at the files. It was enough to put someone away for the rest of their lives, and he was ready to fight to keep that from happening.

"You assume correctly," Ulric grinned, "but not without risk to myself."

"Are you willing?"

"That I am," he assured him knowing the costs of getting in Raine's way. He paused glancing at Sherlock. He was unsure how well Sherlock's plan would work, but he was willing to try anything at this point, "as long as you do what you have to."

"I will," Sherlock replied confidently. He was so sure he could save her.

"It's too dangerous," Sherlock informed John not willing to argue with his logic. He paced around John's new house. It was too clean; he didn't like it. He had explained the plan to John, who insisted on coming. Mary watched the two warily from the couch. "This isn't your battle; it's mine."

"Like hell it's not," John argued. "Jen's my friend too."

"Jen won't be coming back," he urged in a panic. "The woman who will be here if this succeeds will be a woman you've never met."

"I don't care," John told him. "If you are doing this, then I'm helping you."

"Mary, control your husband," Sherlock snapped at Mrs. Watson, who remained quiet up until now.

"If he wants to do this, I can't stop him, Sherlock," she replied. "She's a friend. We want to see her better just like you do." He looked between the two before he decided that he needed all the help he could get.

"… I need someone to ensure that Ulric won't be killed before disarming the trigger… and then I need you and Ulric to make sure Jen doesn't get taken away… that Mycroft will keep his word. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"What can I do?" Mary offered.

"Nothing," Sherlock told her. "She'll never forgive me if endanger your child."

"I'm pregnant," she argued. "You can't take John and then leave me at home."

"You're pregnant," he repeated her statement. "You're staying home." Mary pouted but knew that Sherlock was right, and that the chances of saving Ginevra was 50/50. Raine could very well pull a gun on not only him, but everyone involved. It was best to step aside even if every bone in her body was urging her not to.

Sherlock was beckoned by the sound of the gun going off. He took a deep breath and pulled himself out of the room toward the main hall. He arrived to the sight of Raine standing waiting for him. The body of unknown man was laying carelessly across the floor just a few yards from her. She smiled as he slowly made his way down the stairs. Today was the day, and she thought she had won. Holmes would walk out defeated, she was sure, but he was sure that he would walk out a victor.

"Morning, Sherlock," she said brightly as if there wasn't a man dead just feet from her.

"Morning, Ginny," he said just as optimistically.

"It's the last day," she informed him not bothering to correct him as she had done a million times in the past. She didn't care anymore.

"I know," he answered stepping up to face her. She could reach out and touch him if she so desired.

"You've failed."

"I know." He didn't want her to know that he had a plan; he didn't want her to know that he was ready for this, all of it.

"I told you you would," she said almost sympathetically, but she wasn't. She was eager for this to be over with so she could continue with her plans to avenge the man she loved. It was so obvious that Sherlock could feel her impatient bubbling off her. "I told you you couldn't save her. She doesn't want to be saved not by you, not by anyone."

"Of course she does," Sherlock scoffed not ready to admit her words stung. "Right before you appeared, Ginevra was telling me to save her, and at the time, I didn't understand what she was saying to me, but I do now. It was so obvious from the beginning. I'm going to stop at nothing to do so."

"You've already tried. Do not get in my way," she warned him not willing to put up with him. He was a clever man, she'll admit that, and if anyone would be successful in ruining her, it was him.

"I will be in your way at every step," he assured her taking a step even closer to her, so he loomed over her small figure. "I will not stop. I will not give up." A gun was pressed to his chest. He felt his heart skip a beat, but he quickly told himself not to panic. This was what he wanted.

"Then I'll kill you," she told him blankly. He stared down at her, and the steel of her eyes clashed with his. He gave away nothing, but neither did she.

John and Ulric sat together in the rundown hotel as Ulric set to work on hacking Raine's trigger. John's gun was set on his lap as he waited for any trouble. Things were going surprisingly smooth, but that was never good thing. When it rained, it poured, and John was waiting for the storm to roll in.

"Why are you helping Sherlock?" John asked. This was his first time alone with Ulric, and he knew nothing about him.

"Sentiment," Ulric answered not bothering to look at the doctor while admitting his very human flaw. "I owe Ginevra a debt, and I'm counting this as her one."

"I've heard that before," John breathed with a laugh before he considered his next question. "You think it'll work."

"I… I'm not sure, and I don't think Holmes is either otherwise he wouldn't bothering having me disable her ability to blow up half of London. This is a precaution in case Raine is stronger than he thought, but he's willing to try anything. He's a desperate man in love."

"I hope-" John cut himself off when he saw the silhouette of a person on the roof across from the hotel room. He watched them for a moment before he recognized the shape of a gun. "Down!" John yelled throwing himself at Ulric as the room was riddled with bullets. Both of them covered their heads as an array of glass from Ulric's computer monitors fell. The computers were shattered into oblivion.

The gunman stopped within ten minutes allowing both John and Ulric to move off the floor and access the damage.

"My baby," Ulric whimpered looking at his computer. "What did she do to you?"

"No time," John told him dusting the glass off himself.

"But my baby," he uttered started to fake sob over his computer.

"Do you have another computer?"

"Not one that can break Raine's systems," he said trying to decide if there was anything at all that could be done, but he knew it was hopeless. "She has the best working for her even if she's losy with computers."

"So what? You can't do anything?" John asked wondering what use he was. Ulric rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the question.

"We have to get to Raine's," Urlic finally decided before they both ran out of the building.

"I have the power here, Mr. Holmes," Raine told him. "Your life is in my hands. I'm letting you walk out and never return." He observed her. She was shaking, and her pupils were dilated. She was either excited or scared, and he was thinking it was the latter considering the way her body seemed to pull away from him.

"I can't do that," he politely informed her as he held the barrel of the gun in case a distraction interrupted them. He needed to keep her there. "You might as well shoot me."

"She's not worth it," she urged. Alarms were going off in her head, and blood was pounding through her ears at deafening volumes.

"Yes, she is," Sherlock assured her, "and if you won't give her back, I suggest you just shoot me. It'll be a lot less painful and less of a hassle."

"I don't understand why choose death over life? I'm giving you a choice!" she snapped. It was clear she was hesitating to shoot him. She didn't want to, and she couldn't force herself to want to.

"And I'm giving you no choice," he snapped back taking a step into the gun, so it's barrel was digging into him now. "Shoot me."

"What?" she asked still confused by the idiocy of his choice.

"You're giving me a choice, and without Ginny, I chose death, so shoot me." Her hand was shaking as her finger remained on the trigger. A debate seemed to be taking over her mind and body as she became unsure what to do. Conflict raged inside her about what to do. Sherlock put his free hand over the one she had on the gun.

"Why?" she asked knowing what he was about to do. He let out a slightly unstable laugh.

"Because I love her," he laughed like a complete psychopath. He might as well be as he took a deep breath and forced her to pull the trigger.

The florescent lighting above him made him sick as did the sun pouring from the obnoxiously clean windows. Everything around him for a moment seemed to be a blinding white before his eyesight finally got adjusted to the lights and allowed him to see different hues and colors though for the most part it was still white. Hospitals were always nauseatingly bright.

Sherlock glanced to the side to see John had fallen asleep in the corner of the room. Mary was holding her husband's hand in a similar position. She had stayed out of the action, but that didn't mean that she would be without harm.

"They've been worried sick…," a voice told him. Sherlock, with a slight struggle fighting the stabbing pain in his chest, turned to see Ulric on a laptop in a chair near the window. It was all he could manage to salvage from his computer; he would have to rebuild his system when he had the chance, and boy was the woman responsible getting an earful when he had the chance. "Normal people are so strange. How does waiting in a hospital room help someone get better?"

"That answer is beyond me," he admitted though his voice cracked much to his annoyance. "How long has it been?" Though his mind was already beginning to deduce the week old flowers, the stiffness in his muscles.

"Two weeks," he told him. "You were in an induced coma. Clever you, shifting her gun just enough to prevent a direct bullet to the heart."

"It wasn't me," Sherlock replied. This wasn't news to him. He had known she moved her hand ever so slightly when she realized what he was about to do. "She moved it… she didn't want to shoot me."

"I wouldn't imagine she would," Ulric mused as he finally looked up at Sherlock as the detective pressed the button to his bed to raise him slightly so he can look around the room. "She's not here." He assumed he was looking for the woman who shot him.

"Where is she?" he asked sounding disappointed. He was sure she would be there while he was recovering. He was sure Ginevra cared enough even if she wasn't Jen. He was sure Ginevra would love him as he loved her.

"Hanwell Asylum," Ulric replied.

"It didn't work," Sherlock exhaled knowing that if he failed Mycroft would take things into his own hands to prevent a disaster. He would throw her back in the asylum, and he couldn't blame his brother for that. He was saving potentially thousands of people.

"No," Ulric shook his head with a sigh. "It did work. Ginevera is back, and Raine is gone." He hesitated to tell Sherlock what happened to her. "But... afterward... she put herself there... in Hanwell. She thought if was in everybody's interest."

"What happened?" Sherlock asked wishing to hear what happened after everything went blank.

"Well…," Ulric muttered.

When John and Ulric arrived at the scene, Sherlock was being loaded into an ambulance, and a devastated woman was being lead out by Mycroft. The woman looked terrified. She was covered in blood and was shaking uncontrollably. She watched the paramedics load Sherlock in the ambulance desperate to see if he would be alright.

"Jen?" John called out. She didn't look to him as she seemed to have been entranced by the ambulance. She stood on her tip toes trying to see over the paramedics, but they shut the door. She watched desperately as it speed away. Mycroft pushed her forward toward his car. "Stop!" John called throwing himself in front of the door Mycroft was about to open for the woman and himself.

"What is it, Doctor Watson?" Mycroft asked bored.

"I told Sherlock I would make sure she would stay safe, away from jail, away from you," John told him. "She comes with us."

"It's okay, John," she uttered looking up at him. The quiet voice surprised him. It sounded like Jen, but at the same time, it was as if he was speaking to someone he had never met. Her voice rang like wind chimes echoing in his ears. "I asked him to take me somewhere."

"Jen?" he asked. Sherlock's made plan had worked. He didn't think it actually would; he thought Sherlock was completely mad, but John knew he couldn't stop him even if he tried.

"Ginny is fine," she smiled, "or if you're more comfortable calling me Jen that's fine too."

"Where are you going?" Ulric asked her gently. She looked up at him smiling, but the smile was tired as if she had seen centuries in mere minutes. It felt like she had.

"To the asylum," she answered. "I need help, real help, and being on the outside will just makes it worse."

"Sherlock, set this all up so you could be free," Ulric urged. He wanted her out and about; he wanted her to have a life she deserved, but she damned herself to a place for those riddled with sickness.

"I know," she nodded, "and you helped, Sam." He felt his heart sting when she addressed him softly by his first name, his birth name. It had been too long. "Thank you… but I have to. I can't change what I am. I am danger to the people I love and to myself, so I'm giving you two options and you can pick one. You let me go the asylum where I'll live until I die, or I'll stay out, but the minute you leave me alone, I'll kill myself, because I can't live around you anymore. I've hurt you… both of you too much." She looked between John and Ulric. "I can't bear to look at you or at Damon or at any of the people I care about. I need to be alone, so make your choice." John slowly backed away from the door. "And John?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to see him," she shook her head. "I… I just can't. It's too much pain, too much misery, but tell him I love him, and I'm sorry, but he deserves better than I can give. Tell him that."

"I will," he uttered before she ducked inside the car, and Mycroft followed. Even Mycroft was rather quiet and disgruntled about the outcome of the situation.

"I need to see her," Sherlock demanded trying to get out of bed. He let out a gasp of pain as his heart monitor speed up.

"First of all, you'll kill yourself trying to get there. Wait until you heal at least," Ulric told him shoving him backward and turning up his morphine a smidgen. "Secondly, did you not hear what I said? She told John to tell you that she doesn't want to see you. She doesn't want to see anyone. She's not accepting visitors. I've already tried."

"What about Damon?" he asked believing he was the one person she may see.

"He's still grieving over Missy. It's best he doesn't see her right now," Ulric replied as he recalled be cussed out while trying to make his case to Damon, who was on a several day long drinking binge.

"I'll see her whether she wants to see me or not," Sherlock told him. "I just need to heal." He seemed annoyed at the body's slow healing process, but he would see her in due time. He wasn't ready to throw in his cards just yet.

A/N: It's early to make up for my late postings! I'll post another short chapter Sunday. One more part.

Thanks to Reviewers: RainyAme, hairyhobbit7, hannahhobnob, zare . downey . okumura, TinkerbellxO, and a guest! I'll see you all Sunday!