Sherlock's POV

I rushed into my room collapsing onto the bed, breathing in the scent of Grace's perfume that still lingered on the sheets. A sadness had fallen over me because I knew how much the choice that I had to make would not only hurt me but also Grace. While John and I were waiting for Grace, ever-bad scenario popped into my head. "Maybe Moriarty had been waiting for her. Maybe he has her and is torturing her." These thoughts ran through my mind until Grace walked through the door. That is when I realized that the choice had to be made.

"Sherlock," I heard Grace say as she knocked on my door.

"Come in," I sighed as I stood up.

"What is going on?" You never go to bed this early, especially not when we are working a case?" She said as I pulled her into my arms.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

She pulled back looking at me her face looking worried. "Sherlock?"

"Grace I'm so sorry, but we are done." I said and I felt my heart-break.

"What!" Her jaw dropped and I could see the tears in her eyes.

"Grace please I…" I started as I grabbed her shoulders but she quickly pushed my arms away.

"Sherlock, you, you are the one who was so desperate to have me stay and now…"

"No, you are still staying here, but us being together just isn't going to work, it's too dangerous."

"Sherlock," She sighed.

"Moriarty wants you because of me."

"Oh thanks."

"No, that's not what I meant. Moriarty loves to play games, and the more challenging the game, the more thrilling he finds it. And Grace right now, you are the most thrilling game of all because you are something Moriarty can't have, and that tears him up inside. He has to win, he needs to win. So that's why this can't work anymore and it's not because I don't love you, because believe me I do, so much, but because I need to keep you safe. "

"So making me available makes me safe!" She screamed.

"Think about it, Moriarty doesn't like anything to come easy."

"Sherlock do you think anything is going to stop him from getting what he wants. And right now that is me."

"Grace it will work, I promise."

"And what if it doesn't Sherlock, what if it just makes things worse. If I'm going to die, I would rather spend my last few moments with you than spending them alone."

"Grace you are not going to die."

"But if Moriarty takes me it will feel like death. You haven't seen the way he looks at me. Let's just say he doesn't want me for my company." She said her voice cracking.

My stomach dropped as I let her words sink in.

"Grace," I sighed.

"No Sherlock, I understand that there is no way I'm winning this war. However, please, just think about what you are giving up. "She said grabbing my hand before she left closing the door behind her.

Slowly I walked to my door cracking it slightly. I could hear crying which broke me. Quickly I shut it heading over to my desk grabbing one of my composed songs. This one in particular was very special. For the rest of the night I quietly composed music trying hard to hide that I knew I could never show, sadness. By morning, I had barely gotten composed. This song was difficult for me to write, because it contained so much emotion.

"Sherlock," I heard someone call. I looked over at my clock to find that it was 7 a.m. in the morning. I hid the paper and quickly set my violin back in the chair. Heading into the parlor, I found Lestrade, John, and Grace waiting for me. Grace stood in a leather jacket with a black skirt and some jeans. Her arms were crossed and she did not even look at me as I came in.

"Let me guess, another murder." I sighed trying not to act to excited.

"Yes except this one is a bit different." Lestrade said a sadness in his voice.

"How so?" Grace asked.

"This body doesn't have its wrists cut."

"Alright we will be there soon," I said heading back into my room.

"What is up with him this morning?" I heard someone say.

I quickly got dressed before coming back out, I found just John waiting for me.

"Where's Grace?" I asked looking around.

"She went to grab a cab, she's pretty upset, what did you do?" He asked.

"Why do you always assume that I did something to her?"

"Because the only time she is ever upset is when you have done something."

"John," I sighed.

"Sherlock when are you going to tell me what is going on between you and Grace."

"Nothing," I sighed again and for the first time in a long time, I wasn't lying.

I watched as John face softened.

"Alright well she is waiting. Let's go," he said and I followed him. Grace was in the cab waiting for us. As we piled in, I sat as far away from Grace as possible. The whole ride was unbearably quiet. When we got to the museum, we were met by reporters again. Except this time, the reporters hounded the car; their camera flashes blinded us through the windows.

"Oh great," I sighed as I pushed the door open.

"Sherlock!" I heard a reporter scream and I just tuned them out. The screaming became mush as I walked through the flashes. However, suddenly, one voice snapped me back.

"We are not together!" I heard someone scream and I turned around to see Grace running towards me. I wanted to open my arms and pull her close to me, but she quickly ran past. I ran after her trying to catch up, when suddenly she stopped.

"Oh God," She said turning around and I could see the terror in her eyes.

In the fountain was a body of a young girl that looked to be around 9 or 10.

"Ok from now on you need to warn us ahead of time." John told Lestrade as he looked away as well.

I inched closer to the fountain. The young girl was wearing a bright purple gown. Her hair was in two braids. On both her legs were tiny scratches, she had recently gotten a new dog, a small dog. Suddenly I remembered her. She was here the day before, and the day before that. She had been at every crime scene.

"When can I go inside, why is the museum closed, I want to go and see her, I want to see my painting." I could still hear her small voice pledging with the officers.

I could see that Lestrade was right the girl's wrists were not cut and there was not a drop of blood to be seen. "The killer changed his M.O."

"Yeah, and look at this," Lestrade said as he came over. In his arms were soaking wet clothes. "We found these in the other fountain."

"What changed?" I asked confused as I ran through everything in my head. "Why did he suddenly change everything?"

"And why did he kill this little girl?" John asked, "She doesn't work for the museum so that clearly isn't the connection."

"Then what is?" Grace asked.

"Well we don't have time to look for connections anymore; now, we are looking for a serial killer." Lestrade said.

"Well, maybe, there is something in the security tapes that will give us a clue." I said somewhat defeated." I said.

"Sure, go ahead," Lestrade sighed as he gestured towards the museum. We started up the stairs when suddenly Lestrade called out, "Oh, and Sherlock, you also might want to talk to the guard who let her in this morning."

"Morning?" I asked.

"Yes, the girl was seen alive at 6:30."

"6:30!" Grace exclaimed, "But that was less than 45 minutes ago."

"Just go talk to him!" Lestrade yelled as he pointed to a man sitting at the top of the stairs.

We made our way over to him. He had his head in his hands but he looked up when he saw us.

"Oh Mr. Holmes I'm sorry," He whined. For a pretty well-built man, he was acting as if he was a small child.

"Stop whimpering and just tell me what happened!" I snapped.

He looked at me his eyes wide. "Well, I had taken an extra shift this morning because I know that the museum is having a problem with their lack of employees. I had walked by the door this morning and I saw this little girl banging on the door. I recognized her from the museum. Every day she always came to look at her favorite paintings. "

"How did you see her if you work the night shift?" John asked.

"Some days, I came to look at the painting during the day and I always saw that little girl standing in front of, oh I can't remember what painting."

"Wait, so during your free time you come back to the museum to look at the painting which you guard all night!" Grace said.

"Yes, it's not a crime to appreciate art."

"But it is strange Mr. what's your name?"

"Jake, Jake Clay."

"Why did you let the little girl in Mr. Clay?" John asked calmly.

"Well, I went up to the door to tell the girl to leave, and I saw that she was crying and I asked what was wrong, and she said she wanted to see her painting. I was going to tell her to go away, but then she started to cry again, so I opened the door and told her she had to go quietly and quickly to see the painting she wanted to see and then come back. When she never came back I knew that there was something wrong." Jake said.

"So a little child is dead because you didn't have the balls to say no to a 9-year-old girl!" Grace yelled.

"You didn't see the look on her face!" Jake yelled standing up his face inches from Grace's face. "You tell me that you wouldn't have let this said little girl in to see a freaking painting!"

"No! I wouldn't have let her in! Not into a museum where two murders had taken place!" Grace said as she pushed Jake backwards. Jake brought his hand up as if to hit Grace, so I quickly wrapped my arms around her waist pulling her back.

"I'm sorry," Jake said calming down. "Are we done here?"

I nodded and I realized that my arms were still around Grace. Quickly I brought my arms back to my side.

Jake slowly walked away and we head back up the stairs. We headed into the security office and quickly flipped on the screens.

"Start it at 6:30." Grace said and I did.

We watched as the little girl walked into the museum and through each hall. She suddenly came onto the scream where all the other murders had taken place, and she was attacked by the same black figure, which started to strangle her.

"I can't," Grace gasped as she left. I didn't even look away from the screen as I heard the doors open and shut. I watched as the little girl stopped moving and her body went limp. The figure carried her hall after hall, never disappearing as he changed her into the dress and threw her into the fountain.

"Sherlock, we have to catch this bastard." John said stopping the video.

"I know," I sighed running my hands through my hair. None of this made any sense. The murders didn't seem connected at all, and why kill the little girl, and how did he murderer know she would be where she was?"

All the facts swirled around in my head. The hallway, the paints, the clothes, the fountain, but still nothing clicked. All of a sudden, a high-pitched scream came from the hallway.

"Grace!" I yelled as I bolted from my chair.

"Sherlock! John!" I heard her yell as I came out into the hallway. I look around and found Grace on the ground the screaming women in her arms.

"She was only nine years old!" The women screamed. The women looked to be in her mid thirty's. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun; however, it was starting to come undone. Her hair was the same color as the little girls and both of their facial structures looked similar. I realized she must be the girl's mother. "You," She snapped seeing me. Suddenly she came at me beating her fists on my chest. "This is your fault!" She screamed. "You should have caught the murderer by now! My little girl's blood is on your hands! So you had better find this bastard before he kills again! Find him!" Two police officers came and dragged her away.

I stood there for a while, staring at the ground. She was right and I knew it. It was my fault; I was too distracted to work on the case. During that moment I made a vow that, I would catch this son of a bitch before he hurt someone else. I slowly looked back at Grace. She was still on the ground her hands covered her mouth and she was sobbing profusely. John sat next to her, his arms wrapped around her as he tried to calm her down.

"Sherlock," I heard someone say. I slowly turned around to find Lestrade behind me. "I'm sorry about that, she slipped through our guards. "

"We are going to go," I said looking back at John who nodded as he helped Grace up. "Call me if you find anything new."

Lestrade nodded and we all left the museum. He walked with us to the cab. Grace and John got in, but I turned to Lestrade. "Put as many men as you can on security." I said.

"Ya," he nodded, "of course I will. Sherlock are you ok?"

"Of course."

"We heard what she said to you and Sherlock I just wanted you to know that it's not our fau…"

"I'm fine!" I snapped getting into the cab. "Go!" I yelled at the cabbie.

"Sherlock," John started.

"Why did he kill the little girl," Grace said her voice quiet.

"That's what I have been wondering. The girl is unimportant and not useful. She must have been a murder of convenience."

"Sherlock, she is dead, you could at least try to act like you care!" Grace snapped.

"Why caring is a disadvantage!" I snapped back.

"So you are saying you don't eve care that a little 9-year-old girl was murdered!"

"No! I don't care about anything or anyone apart from my work!" I yelled but the minute it left my mouth, I regretted it. "Grace," I sighed.

"No Sherlock, I understand, you're married to your work, and you always were and will be." Grace said, as she looked at me her eyes full of tears. "Pull over," She yelled at the cabbie.

"What are you doing Grace?" John asked as the cab pulled over to the side.

"I'll walk the rest of the way!" Grace said as she got out of the cab slamming the door behind her.

"Grace," John called as he scooted over to the door.

"Drive!" I shouted the cabbie before John had a chance to open the door.

"Sherlock, what the hell!" He shouted glaring at me.

"We need to give her some space." I stated.

"You mean you need to give her some space you're the one who pissed her off."

"It's not my fault that she cares too much!" I screamed.

"Yes it is Sherlock, because she cares about you and you care about her but you are both too stupid and to damn stubborn to realize that. But I will tell you this; the little game you too are playing with each other is bound to get us killed!" John snapped and then he sat in silence.

"John…" I started when he gave me a death glare so I shut up.

When we got back to the flat, John stormed in the door.

"I think I'll wait outside for Grace," I said.

"Apologize!" He said coldly as he slammed the door.

I sighed as I slowly sunk down onto the stairs. As I waited I tried to think up an apology, but nothing I could come up with was good enough.

"Too damn stubborn," John words echoed through my head, well, he was defiantly right about that. Grace and I were defiantly stubborn. However, we weren't stubborn about admitting our feeling for each other. We were just too stubborn that we need each other. I needed her to make sure that I stay human and away from the machine that my brain wanted me to be. And she hopefully needed me to show her how special she truly was. We needed each other's love.

I looked up to see Grace coming down the block.

"Grace!" I called as I ran towards her.

When she saw me, she quickly wiped her red eyes. "What do you want Sherlock." She spat.

I stopped for a moment taking in her appearance. The whole front of her tee-shirt was soaked and she smelled like beer. "Have you been drinking?"I asked.

"I don't drink! Some idiot threw beer on me as I walked by a bar." She shivered.

I took my coat off and walked over to her about to put it around her when she quickly backed away.

"What?" I asked.

"Can you just stop it! Stop being and nice and sweet to me because I can't take it Sherlock. It kills me, you broke up with me Sherlock so please don't act like you care about me anymore! Like you said you don't care about anything or anyone apart from your job." She said sadly, as she walked into the apartment.

I walked over to the stairs and sat down leaning my head against the door. I had screwed everything up pretty bad. Take a breath, I slowly stood up and walked inside.

"What kind of dumb-ass apology did you give?" John asked as I walked into the flat.

"Where's Grace?" I asked.

"She's taking a shower, what in the hell did you say!"

"I tried to apologize John, I really did, she just wouldn't let me."

John sighed, "I figured she wouldn't. Just keep trying, eventually she will break."

"Well I don't have time to think about that right now, I need to think about how we are going to catch the killer. I think the security guard knows more than he is letting on."

"How can he, he was on the opposite side of the museum."

"I don't know yet, but I will." I said as I grabbed my laptop.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"I'm looking up Gabby Decker, maybe she was on one of the social media sites. She might have said something about his fiancé of hers." I said. "Grab my phone, I need to look up what shop might have sold the switch blade I took a picture of."

John nodded as he grabbed his own laptop. "Where is your phone," He asked.

"In my pocket," I said still typing.

"Sherlock!" He said.

"John!"

He sighed before he walked over and dug through my pocket grabbing my phone and then said in his chair.

The room went silent apart from the sound of typing. I scrolled through countless updates, status's, and tweets, but the only mention of her fiancé was when she posted: "When you love someone you think you know everything about them until one day you realize everything's a lie."

"Clearly Justin was lying to her about something major," I thought. "Maybe he was seeing another woman, no, that would give her motive to kill him not vice versa."

"Did you find anything?" John asked.

"No, nothing." I sighed in frustration slamming my laptop shut. "Did you?"

"20 stores in London sell this kind of blade." John replied shutting his laptop.

"Damn!" I exclaimed, "Why is this so difficult! John I need some nicotine patches!"

John sighed getting up, "How many?"

"Five," I stated.

"Really, Sherlock, that many?"

"It's a five patch problem," I flopped onto the couch

I hope you enjoyed this part please comment me and tell me what you think i will hopefully be posting more soon. Thanks bye