The small private helicopter landed silently far enough from the small Scottish village short after 1 am. Molly tiredly climbed out of it fallowing Anthea, who was probably just as fatigued as she was, but showed no sign of it.

Molly was still in her lab coat she had been taken in from the lab, so she pulled it closer around herself as they forced themselves through the woods, which, according to Anthea, separated them from a small private cottage she would have to stay till it was safe for her to return to London. When she heard the helicopter departing she doubled her steps to reach the other woman, which was quite a serious challenge; she was moving elegantly like a cat among the trees and bushes despite her high heels and long cloak.

'Hey, wait!' Molly tried to catch her breath. 'The helicopter went away. How will you go back?'

'I won't. I'll stay with you.' She winced. 'Direct order.'

Molly only nodded. She couldn't tell if Anthea disliked her, or to stay at all.

The other saw the hurt on her face and continued with a sigh and rolled her eyes. 'Look, I don't have any problem with you but I'm an agent, not a baby sitter. I am not used to sit and wait.'

'It's okay, It's fine.' Molly smiled weakly at her companion and continued to walk beside her.

...

Ten days passed and the investigation hadn't moved much. The source of the broadcast was found at a main cable television broadcasting company, but the man who was bribed to do it didn't know anything, he swore crying it had been only a voice on the phone and money on his bank account.

There was no further sign of Moriarty personally, though there were three explosions on places could be definitely connected to him. And to Sherlock too. The old swimming pool they had met the second time, the wing of the building where the cabbie had almost made Sherlock to take the pill, and there was a minor explosion in Saint Bart's basement, destroying only the lab. After the last one Sherlock was raging. When they returned to Baker Street he mutely broke and crushed everything what was in his way. When he finally stopped, he straightened his jacket and with straight face, stepping over the broken furniture started to examine the extensive web he had created of photos and notes on the wall above the couch. John had never seen him like that, he was just standing there and let his friend release a bit of the anger and anxiety he had suppressed in the past days. Moriarty's message was clear.

Sherlock gained back his own old, cold-blooded self quite quickly, though John didn't complain at all, knowing that this was the only way his friend could cope with the danger was threatening Molly. He had to solve this case first. And then other matters could come forward.

Sherlock was frantically pacing up and down in his living room ruffling his hair in annoyance. He was muttering under his breath.

'This seems to be too simple. Maybe it's not him, or it was only some spectacle for us to draw off our attention from something else, something bigger, or...'

'Or he just wanted you back in the country to have his playmate back for his sick games.'

Sherlock silently nodded.

'Ahh, okay then. So let's assume that it's Moriarty and he just wants you back on the field.'

'Assuming is hardly enough, John.'

John sighed since all they could do was suppose everything, till any further sign they were hopeless.

'Sooo, let's talk about Molly. Do you think he is really after her?' John gulped as he came up with the topic. The last days they were just dancing around it. He didn't want to upset Sherlock more. He was already a walking chimney, anyway.

'Likely.' The detective started to fidget obviously craving for a smoke.

'Sherlock, is there anything you want to tell me?' John looked at his friend expectantly.

But Sherlock face hardened and without looking at the doctor answered coldly. 'Nothing that you already don't know. Don't play dumb with me, John!'

Familiar steps on the stairs distracted both of their attention. Mycroft entered the flat, he looked tired and pale, he even seemed to lost weight.

'Mycroft, any news?' John sprung up to meet the older Holmes. Sherlock was just standing in front of the large window, eyeing the two of them.

Mycroft barely cared about formalities and he ungracefully flopped down on the coach without greetings. He loudly blew out a long sigh through his nostrils as he tilted his head back to rest it on the sofa's back with closed eyes.

'The body we had exhumed was not Moriarty's. And there was a note next to it.' Mycroft dipped into his pockets to fish out an evident bag and handed it to Sherlock. He took it slowly, looking at his brother questioningly, who only nodded.

As the detective opened the folded paper and as he was reading it he became as pale as a the paper itself.

'What? What's on it?' John looked from one to the other expectantly. Sherlock handed him the note to read it himself.

Come and get me before I get your precious girls and the little one! The game is on.

'Jesus, Sherlock.' John looked at her friend with rue in his eyes.' But why the... little one?' He lowered his voice in concern. 'Sherlock, is there any possibility that Molly is...khm...pregnant?' John decided not to walk on tiptoes anymore around the topic.

Sherlock gulped and slightly nodded. Mycroft seeing his brother's reaction buried his face into his palm.

'Give me your phone, Mycroft.' Sherlock reached out towards his brother.

'No, it's not safe.' He objected shaking his head.

'If anything is safe, that is. Give me your bloody phone!' Sherlock hissed through his teeth.

Mycroft reluctantly put his phone into his brother's hand and leaned back with his chin up. Sherlock dialled and put the phone to his ear eyeing her brother with narrow eyes.

'Anthea! Give the phone to Molly,' he said in a sharp voice. After a short wait his face brightened up a bit and his voice became gentler. 'Molly!' He sighed. ' Please answer this question honestly and shortly. Are you pregnant?' His question was followed by a long silence at the other end of the line.

...

Molly was making some herbal tea in the kitchen when Anthea appeared in the doorway and handed her a phone silently. The two women became quite used to each other. Anthea relaxed a bit accepting her current mission and Molly started to see under the cold and professional mask the other woman was wearing almost all the time.

She slowly lifted the phone to her ear with a frown. 'Hallo?' The voice on the on the other end of the line made her blush, her heart beat quicker. 'Sherlock,' she gasped. She had been waiting for hearing his voice, or get any kind of sign from him since she got into the black car behind Bart's. She knew it wasn't safe to get in touch with anybody from outside. So she was waiting patiently and silently for this whole nightmare to end.

Though the quick, and quite cold question surprised her. She had been thinking about having this conversation with Sherlock for two days now, but had never thought that it would be...this short. Molly really couldn't tell what answer he would be more pleased with. So she closed her eyes tightly in agitation and took a deep breath.

Hi, Dearies,

I have to tell I was so happy reading your reviews. Thank you, thank you , thank you!

I can barely keep open my eyes, I just wanted to update so much. So I am off to bed. I hope you enjoyed, let me know. 'Good night' for us, who are going to sleep and 'have a nice day' to the others.