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John's POV

"You don't think she's going to do anything stupid, do you?' I asked Sherlock as we walked down the stairs.

"John, have a bit more faith in your sister." He said smiling.

I was still a bit suspicious after the sheet incident this morning. However, I chose to keep my silence. I could tell that Sherlock and Grace wanted to tell me what was going on, so I would just wait until they told me.

"Ok good, you're here." Lestrade said when he saw us. "Look what we found in the inside pocket." He said pulling out a bloody knife.

"May I see it?" Sherlock asked and I was shocked that Sherlock was asking for permission.

"Yeah, just let me get you some gloves." Lestrade stared but Sherlock had already pulled out his gloves.

"It's a switch blade," Sherlock said as he turned the blade over in his hands.

"A switch blade? Who uses a switchblade now a day?" I asked as Sherlock handed me the knife.

"Our murderer clearly wanted us to find this. You don't just accidentally leave a knife in the jacket pocket of your victim. There is something he wasn't us to know." Sherlock said as he took out his phone and took a picture of the knife. "Let's go find Grace and she what she has found."

I handed the knife back to Lestrade and followed Sherlock up the stairs and through the doors. That is when we saw her. Grace was walking towards us, her hands behind her back, and Sally was escorting her.

"What in the hell are you doing!" Sherlock snapped.

"What did you do Grace?" I asked.

"I didn't do anything; I didn't lay a finger on her!" Grace yelled.

"She is trespassing on a crime scene." Sally said as she pushed Grace ahead of her.

"Lestrade said she could be here!" I snapped and I could feel my anger stirring up inside me.

Sally looked at me shocked before she grabbed Grace's arms roughly. "Well lets go see shall we."

We started down the stairs when suddenly we heard Lestrade.

"Donovan! What are you doing!" He yelled.

Sally let go of Grace, leaving the handcuff on, as she headed over to Lestrade away from where we could hear them.

"How many times are you going to get arrested." I heard Sherlock whisper causing Grace to laugh.

I watched as he ran his hand down her back wrapping his arm around her waist. I couldn't take my eyes off of them as they laughed and talked, with every word Sherlock pulled her closer.

"Fine!" I heard Sally yell which took my attention away from Sherlock and Grace. When I looked back at them, they were standing away from each other and neither were smiling.

Sally came over and quickly unlocked grace cuffs before she huffed her way back to Lestrade.

"Oh, Detective Donovan, Detective Inspector Lestrade," Grace called. "I found something you may want to look at." Grace said smiling as she trotted back into the museum. We all followed her as she stopped in front a trashcan.

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Sally asked annoyed.

Sherlock shot her a death glare before he turned back to look at Grace.

"This," Grace said as she tipped over the trashcan. Along with the trash, I could see crumbled in a ball was what looked like a uniform, and on the side of one of the sleeves, I could make out the words "Nation Gallery."

"Brilliant," Sherlock said smiling.

Grace smiled as well as she walked past Sally, their shoulders bumping into one another.

"Donovan, go get Anderson and tell him and the rest of the team to get up here." Lestrade said.

Sally nodded as she gave Grace one last glare before she walked away.

"Do you want to look at anything or do you think…" Grace started nervously.

"Yeah, we better go, we would want you to get arrested, again." Sherlock said smiling as we snuck our way out of the museum.

"So the only thing we know that links our two victims is that they both worked at the museum." Grace said as we loaded back into the cab.

"But that can't be the only thing connecting them. The killer is clearly making a point by dressing them up."

"Dressed for Murder," I said as the name popped into my head.

"Oh please don't put that in your blog." Sherlock groaned.

"Hey now, I think its cleaver." Grace said smiling at me.

"Ugh!" Sherlock groaned again placing his head in his hands. Suddenly a smile appeared on his face as he slowly brought his head up looking at Grace. "What did you do when you saw Sally coming?" He asked.

"Well I thought running away would give a bad impression, so I just kind of stood there. I didn't say anything, I just stood there as she arrested me."

Sherlock laughed, "Oh Grace," He said his laugh causing the rest of us to laugh. We were still laughing as we got out of the cab. Sherlock first, followed by Grace, and then I brought up the end.

"So you technically have only been arrested once." Sherlock said.

"And we are going to keep it that way." I said when suddenly I saw Sherlock push Grace behind him. "What's wrong?" I whispered.

Sherlock slowly put his hand on the door and quietly pushed it open. The lock had been broken. We all inched our way slowly into the door and I stepped in front of Grace, making sure she was safely behind me.

"Grace," Sherlock whispered his eyes focusing on the stairs and nothing else. "Go check on Mrs. Hudson, make sure she is ok."

"Slowly Grace made her way over to Mrs. Hudson's door as Sherlock and I headed up the stairs. When we reached the flat, my jaw dropped. The whole flat had been ransacked; all the furniture was turned over.

"Mrs. Hudson is fine, she said she didn't hear anything eith…" Grace started when she walked into the flat. "Oh my God."

"Look," I said as I walked over to the wall where there was a paper taped to it. I quickly read it aloud, "This is your last warning, stop working on the case!" I sighed running my hands through my hair.

Suddenly Sherlock, who was in the kitchen, ran over to Grace. "Are you ok?" He asked.

"I'm fine," She said but I could see that she was a bit shaken up.

"Grace, are you ok?" Sherlock asked again more fiercely.

"I'm fine!" She snapped.

"What is going on?" I asked.

"Nothing!" Both Sherlock and Grace said as they started to pick up the flat. It took us almost an hour to clean it all up. As soon as we had sat down after fixing everything and putting it all back in its rightful place, Sherlock stood up and said, "John I need you to go talk to the dead security guard's family."

"Sherlock, I've just sat down.." I started but he quickly turned away.

"Grace, I need you to go talk to Molly and see if she had found anything unusual on either of the bodies."

"Ok," She said as she folded up one of the blankets.

"I'll go talk to Gabby Decker's family. We will meet back here before dinner." Sherlock said as he bolted down the stairs.

"Well I guess he's not waiting for us." Grace said as she stood looking out the window.

"Don't take it too hard." I replied as I picked up the cluedo board, which we must have missed, and pinned it back onto the wall. "He always does this." I turned around to see Grace staring out the window a sadness across her face. "Gracie?" I asked, but as soon as she turned towards me and saw the worry on my face, the sadness disappeared as she smiled closing the shades.

"I'll be back soon." She said as she grabbed her scarf, which she had laid on the couch, and quickly put it on.

"Please be careful," I sighed pulling her close and kissing her forehead. I worried about her constantly and now with Moriarty being after her, I couldn't help but want to keep her close.

"John, I'll be fine." She said trying to break away, but I held her tighter. "John," she laughed and I finally let her go. "I will be fine, I'm going to St. Bart's, and I highly doubt anyone will attack me in a hospital.

I wasn't going to tell her how that's where Sherlock and I first met Moriarty, or Jim from IT, as we first knew him as.

"Alright," I sighed as I watched her leave the flat. As soon as I heard the door shut, I quickly went to the window. I saw her get into the cab and I sighed with relief.

I started to think about when Grace was younger. Every day when I came home, Grace would come running down the stairs in her fairy princess costume yelling, "John's home," and I would pick her up in my arms spinning her around. Due to our 8-year age difference, she has always been my baby girl the one that I loved to be around so much. "How's my little Tinkerbell?" I would say. She loved the movie Peter Pan more than anything in the world. I'm pretty sure that she watched it twenty times a day. She loved it so much and she loved the costume, she never took it off. My parents literally had to fight to get her out of it. That was, until my dad left. After he left, I never saw my little Tinkerbell again. Grace had changed dramatically part of it was because my mother blamed her for my father leaving, another part was that when my dad left it just broke Grace. When I came home, I was welcomed, not by the laughter of my baby sister as she called my name, but instead I heard screaming and shouting. I knew that I had to become the man of the house. It was my job to protect my family. Whenever my mom would yell at her, Grace would come to me and I would hold her telling her how amazing she was and how special. As we became older we talked to each other about our days, how everything was going. She would cry to me every time she was bullied, which was most of the time. I remembered the day I graduated, Grace was 10 and she couldn't stop crying. I felt so bad because I knew that I was leaving her to fend for herself. My mother would call me, almost every day, complaining about Grace. I wanted so badly to scream at her, telling her to actually take care of Grace, but I just stayed silent listening to my mother rant on and on. After college, I decided to go into the arm. When I told everyone, my mother tried to talk me out of it, Harriet told me how proud she was, but Grace, Grace didn't say a word, she didn't say a word, she didn't even look at me. However, when I did catch her looking at me, it wasn't disappointment I saw in her eyes, it was fear. When I went off, Grace sent me letters every week, but as the years went on it went down to once a month. Then they just stopped coming all together. After Grace's letters stopped, I got a letter from my mother that said that grace had run away from home and was refusing to go to college. I wasn't worried at first because I knew Grace could take care of herself, but as my mother's letters became more frequent and told of how Grace was following this criminal around and how she was breaking into crime scenes, the panic started to kick in.

After I was shot, I spent months trying to find her but to no prevail. However, when I moved in with Sherlock I got a call from Grace saying she was fine and that she was glad I was home. Every once in a while I would call her to check up on her and she would always answer the same way, "I'm fine John, I have to go, love you." I never really thought anything was wrong until she showed up at the flat.

"Hey," The cabbie said snapping me back.

I looked around and I realized I was in front of the security guard's flat. "Oh right, thank you." I said as I paid him.

I talked to the security guards wife, Mrs. Albert. I found out that her husband, Thomas, knew everything there was to know about every painting in the museum, but that was really the only thing. My heart broke when saw his little two-year-old daughter come running into the room.

"Thank you," I said then I left.

On my way home, I was thinking about connections our victims could have. "Well, they both love art." I thought. "But they work in a museum. I hoped Sherlock or Grace had found something more. When I got into the flat, I found Sherlock pacing around the room.

"What did you find," He asked when he saw me.

"Well, his name is Thomas Albert," I started.

"Something of importance John, please," He snapped.

"The wife really didn't have anything to say other than her husband knew everything about the paintings."

"That's it! She couldn't think of anything more useful!"

"Well, her husband did just die, Sherlock."

"So," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock!" I snapped. He looked at me with an expression like, "What did I do." I took a deep breath as I asked him, "What did you find out."

"Nothing!" He snapped, "She lived alone although when I went into her flat…" He started.

"Wait, you broke into her flat?" I asked.

"May I finish?"

I nodded sitting down.

"Anyway, when I went into the flat I saw that it had been broken into."

"Wait what?" I asked shocked.

"The whole flat had been ransacked. However, the only thing that appeared to have been taken were some clothes."

"Just clothes?"

"Yes, John, just clothes." He said when suddenly he began frantically looking around the room.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Is Grace here?" He asked.

"I don't know Sherlock, you were here before me?"

"She should have been here before both of us." He said and I could see the panic in his face.

"You don't think?" I asked afraid to hear the answer.

"No!" Sherlock snapped before he cleared his throat, "She is probably just running behind." I hoped he was right.

The minutes ticked on as Sherlock and I stared at the door waiting for Grace to walk in; ten minutes past, then 20. Sherlock finally got up and started to play his violin, still staring at the door. As we reached the forty-five minute mark, Sherlock's slow ballet became a fast paced melody, as if he was echoing what I could only imagine was the sound of both our heartbeats. When I reached an hour, Sherlock began playing some screeching notes that sounded like screaming.

"Sherlock, Stop!" I yelled covering my ears. Suddenly we heard the door open and shut.

"Sorry I'm late!" I heard a voice say and I recognized it as Grace's.

Both Sherlock and I sighed in relief.

"Where have you been!" Sherlock snapped as Grace walked into the flat.

"Sorry, I got done at St. Barts early so I thought I would go to the crime scene and see if there was anything I could find. "

"What did you find?" I asked.

"Well at St. Barts nothing," She started looking at Sherlock who was staring at the fireplace, his back towards us and his arms were crossed over his chest. "However at the crime scene, I found something interesting. Miss Gabby Decker was about to become a Mrs." Grace smiled.

"Wait, she was getting married?" I asked since Sherlock still wasn't talking.

"She was yes, but a week before her death, she had called it off."

"Who was the fiancé?"

"That I don't know, apparently no one knew. I talked to some of her friends and family and they said they had never met the guy or even knew his name. Apparently, Gabby was very secretive. NO one knew the guy other than that his name was Justin. She even paid for her dress by herself. Oh and guess where she bought it."

"But the one that she was found in wasn't hers, Sherlock said so." I replied.

"Actually it is." She said, "Gabby had lost a lot of weight and gotten taller after she had bought the dress."

"So, that must be what was stolen from her flat." I said turning towards Sherlock. "Do you know why she called off the wedding?" I asked Grace.

"She never specifically said in her emails, but she was pretty upset about it. And apparently so was Justin. He sent Gabby horrible email, and before you ask, Sherlock," She said but Sherlock didn't budge. "I did check his return email, but it doesn't exist, so I would say this Justin is pretty tech savvy.

"Way to go Grace," I said patting her on the back.

"Thanks," She said her eyes staring at Sherlock's back.

I wanted him to say something, anything, except stand there in silence. He was thinking deeply about something and I need to know what. From her expression I could also tell that Grace need to know too.

"Sherlock didn't grace do a great job?" I asked.

"Hmm," he said finally looking towards us. "Oh, yes she did." He said as he smiled but it quickly fell to a frown. "I'm going to bed." He said rushing off to his room.

"Wait what?" Grace asked shocked.

I yawned realizing how tired I was. Today's festivities had worn me out. "Yeah, I'm pretty tired too. I think I'll head to bed as well." I said.

"What about dinner?" She asked.

"I'm not hungry, but you can grab something in the kitchen, if there is anything." I smiled heading over to the stairs.

"John."

"I turned around pulling her into my arms as I whispered, "Goodnight my little Tinkerbell," before heading up to my room.