Grace's POV

"I'll be back," Sherlock said as he left leaving me alone with my brother.

"John, I am sorry about the fight." I said.

"Gracie," He sighed.

"Hold on let me finish. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, or disappointed you but…" I started when John came over wrapping his arms around me.

"Grace, you could never disappoint me. To be honest I am very proud of you. "

"Proud?" I asked shocked.

"Do you really think that I don't hate Sally Donovan? Do you think I enjoy standing in silence while she calls my best friend a freak? So yes, I am proud that you had the courage to do something, I wish you had yelled at her though, because you just can't go around punching every person who says something about Sherlock."

"I know," I sighed sadly. "I wish I were more like you John."

"Why in the hell you would want to be like me?" John asked.

"You're so calm, you don't just go charging into situation, you think it through first, and everyone likes you John, you just are a likable person. I envy you so much."

"Gracie, I envy you, your spirit and your drive. How you are never afraid to speak your mind. I wish I could do that. I also envy how smart you are. I have always been jealous that you are smarter than I am. I am your big brother; I am supposed to be smarter than you." John said.

"You are smarter than me John!" I yelled. "I have always been the screw up of the family. Do you know the last time I spoke to Mum? Five years ago, five years she hasn't spoken to me, not since I left!"

When I was seventeen, I left home refusing to go to college, which my mum did not like. Since I was born, my mum expected me to live up to my sibling's example. "Why can't you be more like John," My mum would shriek. "Why can't you be smart like John. "Why can't you do something with your life, like Harriet?" I hated being compared to them. To my mother, nothing I did was good enough.

"She hates me John!" I screamed.

"She does not hate you." He sighed.

"Yes John, she does, because I'm not perfect! I'm just the failure. I could die and she may shed a single tear if I'm lucky, but she would most likely be glad to get rid of me!" I huffed.

"Don't talk like that Grace! She loves you!"

"Does she John? Have you truly ever heard her tell me that or even say that she was proud of me?" I said as I started crying.

"Grace, I love you, and I am so very proud of you." John said and I fell into his arms crying harder.

"You, are, the, best, brother, ever." I sobbed.

"I know," He smiled pulling me closer. He wiped away the tears before he said, enough crying, why don't' we go get something to eat."

"Shouldn't we wait for Sherlock?" I asked calming down.

"No, he usually doesn't eat while we are on cases. Plus, I think we need a brother sister moment." He smiled grabbing my hands and pulling me down the stairs. "Where would you like to go?" He asked when he called a cab.

I told him that I wanted to go to the restaurant we used to go to when I was younger. On the way to the restaurant, and while we were eating, we talked about what we had done since the last time we had spoken. John talked about the war, and I could tell that he missed it. I think Sherlock was the best thing that could have happened to John. I did not really have a lot to tell John; since I thought, telling him about the stuff with Moriarty would be a bad idea. I missed spending time with John; he was the only one in my family who truly cared about me. Don't get me wrong, Harriet cared about me, but she was just like Mum, she couldn't understand why I couldn't do anything right.

"On the ride home, we continued talking and joking around until we got to the flat. When we opened the door, we heard gunshots. My heart stopped as the only thing that ran through my mind was Sherlock, Sherlock and Moriarty.

"SHOOTER!" I yelled, which wasn't the brightest thing to yell when there's a shooter trying to kill you, your sister, and your brother, but I had to alert people. I had to be good for something. I slammed the door and locked it shut. Mrs. Hudson and Harriet already ran to hide after they saw my face. I heard a door open, in the hallway. I looked through the peephole on the white wooden door. It was someone across the hall. I wasn't crying, or so I thought, but a tear escaped my eye from me being caught in a moment like this. You see shootings in movies, you hear about them at schools, and you hear about them everywhere else, but you can never imagine them in real life. When they are actually happening to you; your mind doesn't process, you start to hyperventilate, and thanks to the way your goddamn bodies work, you immediately think you're about to die. I turned my thoughts back on the person across the hallway, with the gun barrel pointed at her head.

"No, please! No!" she screamed. I wanted to run out, and help her, but I forced myself to not watch. I turned around and closed my eyes. I knew what was coming next, and even thought I knew what was coming; the gunshot startled and scared me so much more. I started crying, and shaking, and slid down the door, my hands over my head. I cried and cried and cried, and let everything that had ever happened to me out. Maybe even too much.

The bullet reminded me of Moriarty. Moriarty was talking in the hallway, and I was even more scared.

"Is that Moriarty?" I heard Harriet call out.

"Yeah," I said, trying to reply casually and not to sound scared. Harriet walked out.

"It was Moriarty," Harriet started. "He—"

But I shook my head. I put my hand up to her, and she stopped talking. My look told her to stop, too. I started shaking even harder, and I got angry. I was furious. I was screaming and crying my head off, and then I stopped. I stopped and stared at her in disbelief. I couldn't wrap my head around what happened…and it actually did.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." I kept saying.

"Grace—" Harriet made an attempt to calm me down.

"Oh god, HE DID THIS TO YOU! HE did this to us!" I was crying and shaking, and hyperventilating. "HE DID THIS TO US!" I grabbed the nearest knife.

"Gracie!" Harriet ran and grabbed the knife from me. I tried grabbing it back from her, but that didn't work. I ran towards the kitchen and grabbed another knife from the rack, and ran away before Harriet could catch me again.

I jumped outside, the other knife with me. I wanted pain other than what happened over the last thirty hours. I wanted to die. I knew I had something from that time period, I knew my mind developed something. I just didn't know what.

I climbed onto the escape. The only one on the building. Moriarty was standing right next to me, climbing back into Sherlock's apartment. My face was pale, and my head felt like it would burst.

"Good luck." He started to get further in, and then he uttered words I never thought I would hear again. That I never wanted to hear again; "I love you."

The escape fell, and the scenes of Moriarty saying, "I love you" to me, replayed in my head as I fell onto the ground.

"Not again," John sighed. Snapping me out of my vision.

I calmed down when I realized what he meant. I remember how John had told me that Sherlock, when he is angry or bored, has target practice on the wall.

"I take that Lestrade didn't have good news." I sighed walking up the stairs.

"How does he keep finding my gun?" John whispered under his breath.

Another shot went off as we entered the flat.

"Sherlock, stop!" I yelled as I grabbed the gun from his hands handing it back to John. "What's wrong? What did Lestrade say?"

"Nothing!" Sherlock yelled. "They found out nothing, they found some things but nothing that could be useful. They are just useless!" He huffed as he slumped into his chair.

"What did he tell you they found?" John asked sitting in his chair while I sat on the arm of it.

"Nothing we didn't already know. The bag in which we found the clothes in, was the dress bag for the wedding dress. It had the name of the store on it but when they went to go look at it, they found that the store had gone out of business two months ago. Then Lestrade told me that he had interviewed the people who worked that night. He found out that the museum is under staffed right now, so the security guard we saw would have been the only one in the museum at that time. We are back to square one!" He groaned.

"Well maybe we are looking at this the wrong way. Sherlock wrap your hands around my neck." I said standing up turning my back towards Sherlock.

"What?" John and Sherlock asked.

"Just do it." I snapped, "I need to think like she would have felt when she felt his hands on her neck." Sherlock did as I said, and I tried not to sigh as I felt his warm hands on my skin. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed I realized it. "She was waiting for the murderer. That is why she looked so scared. The murderer must have contacted her demanding she meet him there. He could have called her but then you could trace the number, maybe he…" I started when one of the windows broke. I shut my eyes tight as I felt arms wrap around me. I screamed as I tried to break away.

"Grace stop, it's just me." Sherlock whispered in my ear. I opened my eyes and grabbed his arms wrapping them around me tighter.

"It's a brick, but there's a note attached to it." I heard John say.

"See you're safe Grace, you're safe, and it's just a brick." Sherlock whispered but I still clung onto him.

"Sherlock come here." John said.

I felt Sherlock start to move and I gripped his arms tighter.

"Grace please nothing is going to hurt you, I will protect you, I promise." He whispered again and I let go of his arms replacing them with my own, my fingernails digging into my side.

"Do you think it was from Moriarty?" I heard John whisper causing me to dig deeper into my skin.

"No," Sherlock whispered back. "Moriarty wouldn't tell us to stop, he would make us stop."

"Who do you think sent it them?"

"Probably our murderer, although it takes guts to through a brick into someone's window in broad daylight, he's probably scarred." Sherlock replied.

"What, what does it say?" I squeaked.

"It's just a treat, no big deal." Sherlock said causing me to smile. "See there's a smile." He said smiling as he grabbed my hands away from my side. He walked me over to John his hand still in mine then he grabbed the brick from John handing it to me. I looked down and saw the note. It read, "Stay away from this case or else…" The ellipsis scared me most because he was not finished with his thought; it was as if the murderer was waiting for us to make another move, as if he were waiting for us to disobey his orders. However, I could not let Sherlock or John know that I was afraid, so I simply just laughed it off. I smiled as Sherlock and John went on talking, saying thing I could not hear because of the sound of my screams echoing through my head.

"At least it's not Moriarty, at least it's not Moriarty." I kept repeating in my head. But as soon as I thought of him all I could hear was his voice and his evil laugh.

"Stop it" Iyelled. "Stop playing games.

He laughed. "But I love playing games. I like playing with you." He laughed again.

I could still feel the burning of the bullet in my thigh. I still had a scar, but I had to hide it with either make up or my shorts. I couldn't' let Sherlock see it. No matter how much I did not want to believe it, I knew that my time with Sherlock and John was limited. Moriarty wanted me and not even Sherlock could stop him.

"Stop it" Iyelled. "Stop playing games.

He laughed. "But I love playing games. I like playing with you." He laughed again.

Ilooked at him, deep into his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" I started crying. Moriarty stared into my eyes, for only a few seconds. "Because I love you." He shoved me as hard as he could off the roof. I had no time to react to my most likely death. Only a tear could escape my eyes before I faced the brutal truth: maybe dying is better. Maybe not living where Moriarty loves me—maybe dying really is better.

And I told myself at this time, to let go. Because I knew there wasn't any hope left for me.

"Grace?" I heard someone say snapping me back to reality. "Are you ok?" John asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm going outside, I need some air." I said as I rushed away.

"Grace!" I heard someone yell as I slammed the front door behind me. I gasped for breath, my chest feeling smashed, as if someone were sitting on it. I looked around as people blurred by me, my head spinning. "

"But I love playing games, I love playing games, playing games, with you." His evil laughter sending shivers down my spine.

"Stop it!" I screamed placing my hands over my ears. For a split second I could swear that the man across the street, was Moriarty, standing there smiling at me. "No!" I screamed as I wiped around running into someone's chest. I looked up to see that it was Sherlock. "Hold me," I begged.

"I can't." He stated as he gestured towards the window. Quickly I glanced up and saw John looking out at us, a worried expression on his face.

"What is going on?" Sherlock asked.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"You don't want to know.' I stated running my hands through my hair.

"As your boyfriend, I believe I have a right to know." He said and I took a step back looking at him." He had never called himself my boyfriend before.

"I can't tell you." I sighed.

"Ok Grace you just need to stop, stop trying to hide things! I am trying to protect you, and I can't do that if you don't tell me what's wrong!" Sherlock yelled.

"You don't want to know Sherlock, trust me. You do not want to know."

"I have never kept anything from you Grace, never." He growled.

"Sherlock, please will you just trust me, I'm fine."

"Grace, you know I trust you, but I also know when you are lying, you are not ok."

"Why can't you just leave it alone? I'm fine ok." I snapped.

"Fine Grace, I'll leave it alone. I'm done, I'm done." He snapped and he walked away back into the flat.

"Sherlock," I called, "Sherlock." I ran my hands through my hair frustrated.

The rest of the day dragged on. Sherlock didn't talk to me or even look at me the rest of the day. Most of the day he spent locked in his room. The only time he came out was to talk to John about the case while I read a book, pretending not to listen. The minutes ticked on as I waited, waiting for Sherlock to give me a minute to apologize. However, every time I got close to him he would just walk away before I could get the chance. It wasn't until everyone had gone to bed that I slowly walked to Sherlock's room. I opened the door to find it empty. Slowly I walked in, shutting the door quietly behind me. I walked around the bed and over to his dresser. There was a picture frame on top; I grabbed it looking at it. The picture was a picture of a little curly-haired boy on the back of short-haired older boy. It was a younger Sherlock on the back of Mycroft. It was strange to see Sherlock and Mycroft looking so close, and even stranger that Sherlock had the picture. I set the picture down and turned around to find Sherlock standing behind me. He was in his pajama pants but no shirt. His curls were wet and plastered onto his forehead and his arms were crossed over his bare chest.

"What are you doing here Grace." He snapped.

It took me a moment to compose myself before I finally spoke, "Sherlock, I'm sorry about today. I don't want to fight so; I came to talk to you about what has been going on. I think I didn't want to talk about it because I was afraid to remember, but I'm ready now, I'm ready to tell you." I said as Sherlock sat on the bed and I sat next to him. I told him about everything; Harriet, the shooting, my gunshot wound, Moriarty, and his games. I didn't look at him the whole time; I just stared at my hands. It wasn't until I had finished that I looked at Sherlock. His face looked pained and I could almost see tears in his eyes.

"Oh Grace," He said placing his hand on my thigh, "My poor sweet Grace."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I sighed placing my hand on his.

"No, I'm sorry I was so hard on you." He said pulling me close my hand landing on his bicep, our faces inches apart.

"I love you," I breathed as he placed his hand on my cheek. We stayed like that for a while, our breathing soft and slow. I felt as if my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

"And I love you," Sherlock said his deep voice causing a small moan to escape my lips. I shivered as he ran his fingers over the scar on my thigh.

I bit my lip so another moan wouldn't escape. He leaned in close whispering in my ear, "I am hopelessly in love with you." I crushed my lips onto his my hand grabbing his arm tighter. He leaned me back onto the bed, grabbing my hands and placing them over my head. My back arched as he kissed my scar on my chest. I grabbed the sheets, pulling them tighter with every kiss. "Don't stop," I begged as he brought his lips back to mine. His arms wrapped around my waist pulling me closer. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he sat up pulling me up with him so I was sitting in his lap. I leaned forward kissing his shoulder, down his arm, then back up, and kissed his chest. We kissed again before we broke apart. We knew we were getting to close, and early on, we had agreed that we would not sleep together, because neither one of us were ready. We laid back down as my head laid on his chest. He pulled the blankets over us then wrapped his around me. He leaned over and turned off the lamp.

"Goodnight Grace." He sighed.

"Goodnight Sherlock." I smiled closing my yes.

When I woke up, I found the bed empty. The flat was strangely cold this morning so I wrapped the sheets around me. I walked into the kitchen to find Sherlock waiting. On the table, which had been surprisingly cleaned, were pancakes and strawberries with whipped cream. He came over pulling out a bouquet of tulips, red tulips.

"Oh Sherlock," I gasped as he handed me the flowers and kissed me on the cheek. "Wait, what about John?" I asked.

"He went to the shop; he said he'll be back in an hour. He asked where you were," He said which made me panic, "So I told him you were taking a shower in my bathroom because you didn't want to wake him. "

I smiled as I grabbed a piece of the pancakes and put it in my mouth. "This is delicious!" I exclaimed, "Did you make them?"

"Of course!" He said but I could tell he was lying.

"Don't lie to me Sherlock Holmes." I smiled.

"Ok, fine, I went to the shop." He frowned.

"It's beautiful just the same, thank you," I said kissing him, placing a dollop of whipped cream on his nose.

After we finished eating our breakfast and having our whipped cream battle, we cleaned up the kitchen and then played a game of chess. Ok, we did not really play; we both got one move, because after that we just sat there because each one could tell what the other players move was going to be.

"Oh please tell me you are not trying to play chess with him." We heard a voice say, and we turned to see John standing in the doorway, groceries in his hands.

Sherlock laughed as he walked over to John grabbing one bag and carried it into the kitchen.

"Whatever you do, don't play cluedo with him." John said following Sherlock into the kitchen. "He cheats."

"I do not cheat," Sherlock replied.

"The victim cannot have done it!" John exclaimed causing me to laugh. Suddenly John looked at me and I realized that I was still wrapped in Sherlock's sheets. "What are you wearing Grace." He snapped.

"Um, I uh," I looked at Sherlock hoping he would help me, but he just shrugged, looking as panicked as me. "John, uh," I coughed stalling as much as I could. However, I knew that the only way I was getting out of this mess was if I told the truth. I sighed, "John, Sherlock and I are…" Suddenly the doorbell rang. "Saved by the bell, literally," I thought. "I got it!" I yelled sprinting out of the room. Opening the door, I found Lestrade. "Good Morning Detective Inspector…" I started when I saw his face; it looked troubled. "Are you ok?" I asked as he walked into the flat.

"We found another one," He sighed as he hurried up the stairs with me following closely behind.

"What is going on?" Sherlock asked as I stood in the doorway.

"We have found another body." Lestrade said and I saw Sherlock's eyes light up a bit."

"Where?" He asked.

"The same place." Lestrade grumbled.

"How did he get past the police?" I asked.

"Do you think, he actually had his men stand guard." Sherlock groaned.

"Hey, that is not my division."

"And what is your division because I don't even think you know!" Sherlock snapped.

"Ok, Sherlock, there is no need to be rude." I said getting in between Sherlock and Lestrade. "We will be down in a few minutes I have to get changed."

"Oh, um, Grace, you can't come." Lestrade said looking at his feet.

"What!"

"Sally doesn't want you to be there." He said.

"Well Sally can go to hell because I'm not going without Grace." Sherlock said and I felt his hand on the small of my back.

"Sherlock," Lestrade sighed.

"No, Grace comes." Sherlock snapped.

"Alright, fine Sherlock, she can come, but please do not punch any of my team." He said then he left.

"I'm going to go changed." I stated as I threw the sheet to Sherlock and headed up the stairs. Throwing on some jeans, a tee-shirt, my coat, and scarf, I quickly headed back down the stairs. We got the cab and headed to the museum where we were welcomed by a sea of reporters.

"Grace why did you attack Detective Donovan!" They screamed. "Are you and Sherlock together!" I kept my head down, my hair covering my face. "How do you feel that Detective Donovan, when asked about your and Sherlock's relationship, said that you are a freak dating a freak!" One reporter yelled which caught my attention.

"She said what." I said turning towards the reporters. As soon as I turned towards them, the flashing lights blinded me. I attempted to shield my eyes from the lights but it did not help at all. Looking around I was hoping to find John or Sherlock but they were already far ahead.

"Do you plan on working with Sherlock for a while!" I heard someone yell. I turned away keeping my head down. I wiped away the tear that fell. My chest started to feel heavy and my breath became raspy. The vision started to creep back into my head and I could hear his laugh echoing. It wasn't until I felt Sherlock's arm wrap around my waist that I calmed down.

"Are you ok?" He whispered.

"Yeah," I replied griping his hand before walking over to the fountain.

In the fountain was a body, a male, he was dressed in a tuxedo. The same bruising pattern on his neck as the last body, and his wrists were slit.

"Who is he, let me guess he works at the museum." I said.

"Well worked," Lestrade sighed. "He was one of the day shift security guards."

"Was there anything different about this body?" John asked.

"Not yet, but we won't know for sure until we get an autopsy done."

"Alright, can we look at the security tapes again?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, go ahead." Lestrade said and we started to walk ahead when he called. "Grace will you come here for a second."

Sherlock turned around coming with me.

"I'm fine Sherlock, go with John, I'll catch up."

He nodded giving one last glance at Lestrade before he left.

"Grace, Sally will probably be in there and knowing Sally she will probably make some smart ass comment. Even though she deserves it, please don't punch her; because it's only a matter of time before I can't talk her down and she will press charges. "

"I know, thank you for everything." I said shaking his hand.

"You've changed him you know."

"What?" I gasped and I felt my cheeks burning read.

"Sherlock, he has acted differently since you two have been together. He cares about you, and that one emotion that I have never seen him show to anyone, apart from maybe John. You have made him a good man."

"Don't you mean a great man?" I asked.

"No, I mean a good man." Lestrade said and I smiled. "Please don't ever leave him okay." He said and I stared at him shocked, wondering if everyone knew my fear. "Alright you can go."

I nodded as I walked away. Walking in the security office I was breathing deeply calming down.

"Look what we found," Sherlock smiled as he grabbed my hand pulling me in front of the screens.

On the screen was the security guard, who was now in the fountain. He was standing staring at the same paintings that Gabby Decker stood in front of. He kept looking around panic on his face. However, the panic only worsened when he felt hands wrap around his throat.

"Wait, it gets better." Sherlock smiled as he fast-forwarded through the killing until our murderer was carrying the body. "Does anything look different?"

I leaned in looking at the screen and that's when I saw it. "He's in a different hall way!" I gasped.

"Now wait for it." Sherlock said and almost as soon as he said, the murderer disappeared. "Look at the time stamp."

"That's then minutes!" I groaned. "That means he most likely left the building."

"Wait," John said and I could see him smiling.

"Why are you two so happy, we have nothing!" I yelled.

"Look," John said pointed at one of the screens. Right under his finger, I could see the murderer outside of the doors.

"Those are the doors that are closest to the fountain." I said as I turned to Sherlock smiling. "Looks like our murderer is getting sloppy." I turned back to the screens when suddenly Sherlock grabbed my hand and dragged me away. "What are we doing?" I asked as he dragged me through the door.

"John and I are going to go talk to Lestrade, but I need you to go look by the doors see what the killer may have left." Sherlock said.

"Oh, and if you see Sally, please don't punch her," John said and I stuck my tongue out at him. I followed them to the door but then I stopped as they kept going. I watched as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, the two people I care about most in the world walked away.