Chapter 12 folks! Finally! I have been struggling with this one. For a few days I had no idea how to continue this story but I was determined that I will finish it, no matter how long it takes. While I was trying to figure out the next move in this story I started to write a new Sherlolly fan-fic titled "The improbable feelings of Mr. Holmes". Read it and review if you get a chance.

So, chapter 12. Did the background check give Sherlock any answers?

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's characters, but I do own my own.

Chapter 12 – A matter of national importance

Molly made her way quickly towards the vault where all the hard drives were stored. She was certain that Mycroft already knew she was in the building. So what took him so long to catch her? Or was he watching and waiting to see what she was doing there only to catch her in the act of stealing those files? She wasn't going down that easy though. She did this to end everything and keep the people she cared about safe. Sherlock was the most important of those people and if his own brother stood in the way of her saving him, then so be it. Mycroft would find a bullet lodged somewhere in his body. She wouldn't hesitate. Finally she saw the vault doors and stopped briefly to calculate what to do next.

12 days earlier

The morning sun beamed through the living room window at Baker Street. Sherlock sat in his chair with a brown envelope in his lap. Mycroft had sent one of his lackeys with the file on Molly Hooper. Sherlock hadn't opened it yet. For once in his life he hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? And what did he expect to find?

He gazed at his bedroom door. Molly was still sleeping. And so was John. This would be the perfect opportunity to open the file. He took a breath and ripped it open. He pulled out a rather thin file and suspected that there was nothing there to find. He opened it anyway. He read every paper in it. Nothing unusual. Everything about Molly Hooper was clean.

His phone rang. With a quick look on the display he saw it was Mycroft and answered it.

"Did you find what you were looking for, brother dear?" Mycroft asked with his usual dull tone of voice.

"Are you sure this is everything?" Sherlock asked.

"It's not." Mycroft said, sounding a bit amused by his own deceit.

"And why didn't you give me everything you had?" Sherlock demanded to know.

"Because, brother dear, we need to meet. There is more going on with your little pathologist than we thought. A car is waiting for you outside. Make sure you're in it."

The call ended. Sherlock stared at the phone in misbelief. He felt something in his chest pucker and suddenly he had hard time breathing. What was he going to find out about Molly Hooper?

Sitting in the car, taking him to Mycroft, Sherlock found himself going through emotions he couldn't control. Misbelief. Anger. Regret. Anger again. Disappointment. Misbelief. Had Molly really deceived him? He tried to calm himself. Tried to be rational. He couldn't possibly tell what he was going to find out beforehand. He wasn't psychic. He was the cover man of logic. So why did he have difficulties managing his feelings?

The car stopped outside an industrial building that looked like it would fall apart any second. Probably representing the inevitable fall of Sherlock. Mycroft always had a thing for the dramatic.

Mycroft was waiting inside, standing by a table that seemed to have a lot of photographs spread out. As Sherlock walked closer to the table and saw who the object was his heart almost stopped. All of the photos contained Molly. In all of them she was wearing different clothes, doing different things with different people. Molly at a café with John. Molly working in the lab. Molly shopping. Molly in her flat. Every picture seemed to have been taken from a distance. Like someone was following her around.

"Who took these pictures?" Sherlock demanded to know.

"They were found on a murder victim not so far away from here." Mycroft answered.

"I assume the murder victim was the photographer." Sherlock said. "Who was he?"

"That, my dear brother, I cannot tell you. A matter of national importance, you understand."

Sherlock was losing his patience. He didn't have time for nonsense like "matters of national importance" when his Molly was at stake.

"I don't have time for games Mycroft!" Sherlock said, grinding his teeth together. "Either you tell me who he was or I WILL find out by myself."

"You have formed an attachment to this pathologist. Ah, sentiment! Something found on the losing side."

"Mycroft!" Sherlock was getting angry and fought the urge to punch his brother in the face.

Mycroft knew all too well that Sherlock wasn't going to let this go, so he threw a file on the table on top of the photographs. He then left his brother standing in the empty industrial building but not without leaving him with some last words of caution.

"Remember brother, sentiment is a waste of time. And this is a matter of national importance so keep it on the low."

Sherlock was left staring at the photographs. The case of Molly Hooper was getting more and more interesting by the minute. He gathered the photographs and the file. His next move was to go back to Baker Street, wake Molly up and demand answers that he knew she had.

It's getting interesting huh? I love your reviews. So keep on reviewing! And following!