Hi dear Readers,

First of all, sorry, sorry for the long wait. Bad things happened in the last months and I was so busy with work too, which was probably the best because it helped me to survive. But I always had you in my mind, and felt bad not to continue this story. You were all so nice to me, and I want to thank you again for all your lovely reviews. Oswin, thanks for being so delightfully inpatient. Thanks for still being with me.

The preparation of the whole tweak had lasted two weeks. Sherlock and John had been filmed on CCTV cameras at their frequently visited places, on streets and at Baker Street as well. The pieces were to be inserted into the regular recording while three men of Sherlock's homeless network had been carry their mobile in sync with them.

Mycroft gave closer and closer information to his chosen, mildly trustable agent about Molly and Anthea's location, pretending to trust the man with organizing a stronger surveillance on the cottage.

They knew Moriarty would see through the act, but they had to play along every little bit.

In the very moment Mycroft unfold the exact coordinates of the cottage to his agent, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson stepped through the door of the small house. As John closed the door behind himself, Anthea greeted them in the hall.

'Hello Mr Holmes, Dr Watson.' She nodded, smiling slightly putting away her handgun.

Sherlock briefly hummed as he scanned the place.

'Hello, uhm.. Anthea.' John cleared his throat. 'Uhm, if you need any medical help, or advise...' he started uncertainly.

'I'm fine, John, thank you.'

But Sherlock didn't have the chance to hear the conversation. He was already on the stairs and with long doubled paces he was on the first floor in a moment.

He opened the door of Molly's bedroom in the cottage and silently took off his Belstaff, then his jacket, put down his two guns and his phone onto the bedside table and slowly sat down beside the sleeping form of Molly.

'Wha...?' She jumped in surprise to face him as she felt the mattress lifting. 'Oh, it's you.'

'Yes.' Sherlock answered shortly on his deep baritone.

'So, it has begun.'

Sherlock nodded silently searching her face for any kind of fear or anger. But he saw neither of them. Molly's pursed lips, wide eyes and still face always told him when she was determined and certain.

'Good.' She sighed deeply closing her eyes for a moment.

They were looking at each other for a while when Sherlock broke the silence in a husky voice gesturing towards the duvet. 'May I...?'

'Yes, of course, of course.' Molly lifted the cover to let him in. First he carefully climbed under it keeping a proper distance from her. They were lying on their sides facing each other. When Molly reached out to gently stroke his upper arm with a warm encouraging smile, he suddenly nestled as close as he could and embraced her tightly, followed by a sigh of relief.

'Molly,' he whispered against her hair closing his eyes.

Molly smiled happily. 'I missed you so much,' she admitted burying her fingers in his dark curls while Sherlock's tension was slowly decreased. They remained silently cuddling.

'So, everything is settled then? According to your plan?' Molly asked after clearing her throat in an intentionally steady voice.

'Hmm.' Sherlock nodded. His brain had already been going through every possible scenario and he was prepared. And yet he still had that trembling feeling in his chest and stomach when he thought about rushing Molly into danger. Moriarty was obsessive and being that, calculable. But despite every logical reasoning the fear was there. Under his skin. Now he understood the real disadvantage of caring and that his brother had known it all too well for so long.

Her light stroke on his cheek stopped the train of his thoughts.

'I didn't regret anything, no matter how this whole thing ends,' she whispered. 'You have to keep this in mind.'

Her smile was weak though the warmth of it made him feel so surrounded by her love that he blurted out without thinking. 'I love you.'

Molly's smile widened as she nuzzled closer to his neck. 'I know.'

Despite the upcoming danger and all the uncertainty of their future Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. 'Of course, you know,' he said pulling her closer to him.

After Molly went back to sleep in his arms Sherlock carefully left the bed and put his accessories back on. He wanted to be ready by the time his arch enemy arrived. He sat down into the old armchair standing in the corner of the room and put his hands steeple under his chin. He was watching at the sleeping woman under the duvet and was wondering that if there was anything he wouldn't do for her. In the end nothing seemed more valuable than her life, not even his own.

He was bitterly digesting the thought of being a big disgustingly romantic hero when he heard what he was waiting for. The sound of the shutting door of a car. The blood froze in his veins; he felt the adrenalin flooding his brain, the rest of the world disappeared. There was only one problem, one person in the whole universe. His mind automatically pushed forward every piece of information about Moriarty, his senses became so sharp he could practically could smell the other's scent. Like a hunter perceives another one searching the same prey.

He shrugged, turned up the collar of his coat and stood up stretching his muscles preparing to battle.

The noise disturbed Molly's sleep and she immediately jumped out of the bed but Sherlock stopped her.

'Stay. Pretend to be asleep!' His words were cutting and cold.

As Molly looked into his eyes she could see that the human behind them took one step back and let the hunting machine forward. She gasped in surprise, but silently nodded and climbed back into the bed. She knew him and trusted him. That was all she needed.

'I love you,' she whispered looking at the back of Sherlock not even expect him to hear it. But he stopped for a moment in the doorway and dropped his head with a heavy sigh.

'I know.' His voice was barely audible but Molly smiled halfheartedly and closed her eyes strongly.