I couldn't keep still; some part of me had to be moving. I'd sit on the couch or one of the chairs before moving to another spot. I'd roam around the apartment, holding myself together. I'd gotten past the greetings when coming back from the visit.

I shuddered. That visit. I knew something had been wrong with Mary from the moment I met her. They'd called me crazy and overprotective just because I had a bad feeling about her, yet I reminded both Dad and Sherlock how it wasn't any different from when Sherlock didn't believe that I wasn't on Moriarty's side, that I wanted nothing to do with the man.

When was the perfect time to tell Dad that Mary was wasn't who she said she was, that she was an accomplice of someone who wanted to get to Sherlock? I had contemplated telling them the moment I got in the apartment, but then when I saw Dad was with Sherlock, I couldn't do it. I could have easily told Sherlock what I knew, because I knew he would bluntly address it to Dad. But of course, that would have been possible if Dad hadn't been present.

I didn't have the heart to tell Dad that the woman he loved would eventually betray him and that I had been right from the very beginning.

It shocked me that neither of them picked up on my nervous habits. If Sherlock did, he didn't find them particularly interesting enough to make him wonder what was wrong. Dad, well, I was sure he had other things on his mind.

I was sprawled on the couch, drowning out everything with my thoughts. I couldn't help it if my brain replayed what happened at the apartment: how I had called her out, how she had proven me right. I closed my eyes shut, wishing the memory away.

Like Sherlock's "suicide," what happened earlier today wouldn't be forgotten easily.

I didn't even flinch as someone walked by me to greet whoever was at the door. My trance was killed the moment I heard my name. Dazedly, I sat up, stretching briefly before joining Dad, who was followed by Greg and Donovan.

My heart hammered in my chest, drowning out any conversation near me. Everyone's lips were moving, but I wasn't listening. God, what if they're here for me? What if she went straight to Scotland Yard after she woke up? That is going to come back to bite me. I should have knocked her out even more. I hated to think such a bad thought.

"Rachel?" Greg snapped his fingers in front of me. I jumped.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "Did you ask me something?"

"No, I said we're here for you."

Shit. "Why would you be?" Surprisingly, my voice didn't tremble.

"We have a warrant for your arrest."

"What?"

"You can't be serious, Greg," Dad interjected. "What could she have possibly done?"

"What's my 'crime' exactly?" I demanded hotly.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Mary Watson." Donovan delivered the news bluntly.

All eyes were on me. Dad and I looked to each other, having the same looks on our faces. My eyes snapped back to Greg, then at Donovan.

What was this madness? How could Mary have been murdered by me? No...I stopped when she was unconscious.

"No..." My heart clenched. "How can you believe for a second that I would murder Mary? I mean, I've had violent thoughts, I'll admit to that, but to actually commit murder?"

"What proof do you have on her?" Sherlock finally voiced.

I let out a breath. I knew he had been listening. It kind of shocked me that he hadn't made some sarcastic comment. If he had, I must have not been paying much attention.

Donovan pulled out a tablet, flipping the cover of it off. My eyes narrowed in curiosity and fear. I wasn't sure I liked where this was heading.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Surveillance video."

"Of what?"

"John's flat."

I looked to Dad. "You installed cameras in there?" Somebody was paranoid.

This wasn't looking good for me at all. Dad said nothing; he didn't even meet my eye.

"Just watch, Rachel," Greg ordered calmly. Donovan handed the tablet over to me. My heart was beating in my throat.

"Is there audio to this?"

I didn't get an answer. I touched the screen for the video to start playing.

I stood with wobbly legs, looking at the den room—how nice it looked before things had gone south. I saw how I stood, examining Mary, who sat on the couch looking back at me.

Mary's lips were moving; I remembered exactly how this conversation started. She knew that I didn't trust her, and that I had every right to. I watched as my back was to the camera as I confronted her. There was more conversation, and then Mary stood up.

You could feel the storm brewing in the air, we both kept getting closer to one another. I looked like a giant towering over Mary. This part I knew too well. This was where I told her I knew what she was, that I saw through her act. I also remembered calling her out on having Dad wrapped around her finger, that he was so blinded by the relationship that he wouldn't be able to see anything wrong with her.

Mary had tried to cover her tracks, tried to convince me that I was delusional and simply protective, but I wasn't eating the bullshit she was feeding me. I flinched when I saw Mary tackle me. It was strange, watching something I had just gone through. I didn't jump as I saw Mary knock sharply into the coffee table. My heart ran in my chest, threatening to break out. I hovered over Mary's unconscious form, panicking. With my face concealed from the camera's view, I scurried off.

I looked up at Donovan and Greg.

"I don't see—"

"There's more," Donovan assured me, her arms across her chest. "Keep watching."

My eyes fell back to the tablet's screen. What could she possibly mean?

Someone new came into view, into the apartment. They were clever to keep their face away from the camera, only having their body and clothing be seen. As I watched in horror, I noticed this person—this woman—had the same exact hairstyle as I did and the same exact clothes. She lumbered over to the couch, grabbing one of the plush pillows.

My eyes bugged as she smothered Mary. Mary didn't fight back since I had knocked her out on accident before with the table. The woman held the pillow over Mary for a good two minutes before tossing it away. She made a hasty exit, clever enough to keep her face away.

I tapped the tablet screen, pausing the video. The picture was a dead Mary on the floor, with a bloody spot on the back of her head from the table.

Slowly, my eyes met Greg's, then Donovan's. If I hadn't been holding such an expensive item in my hand, I would have let it drop to the floor. Donovan took the tablet back.

Someone had come into the apartment not long after I had left. Someone had finished the job I never intended to do. They murdered Mary, the love of Dad's life. And now, Scotland Yard believed that I was behind it all.

"That video..." I swallowed. "It lies."

"How do you figure?" Donovan demanded of me.

"Well, for one, I am not a murderer," I snapped, hands on my hips. "I'll admit Mary and I got into a scuffle."

"Why did you attack her?" Dad demanded.

I blew out a breath. "She attacked me first. If you weren't watching, then I'd be happy to prove my point and show you." I gulped, hating myself. "It was all fake, your relationship. She was using you, Dad. She was using you to get to Sherlock."

"That's insane," was all my dad had to say in response.

"No, it isn't." My voice was cold, though I wished it wasn't. "She never outright said it, but I could tell I made her nervous. That's why there was a fight."

"But...why would you do something like that, Rachel?"

I groaned, rubbing my face. "I didn't kill her! When she was knocked out, I left, because I panicked. I came straight here afterwards, I never looked back."

"So you expect us to believe that this woman here isn't you?" Greg pressed me.

"Yes!" I threw my hands in the air. "If you have to track down the taxi driver and ask him, then by all means, go ahead!"

"Regardless of your story, we still need to take you in."

I looked to Dad. "Don't tell me you actually believe this." He just stared at me, like he had from the moment Greg and Donovan announced they were here to arrest me. "Please, say something." I approached him.

Dad stepped away; hurt was in his brown eyes. My lips parted in horror, my brain froze for the smallest second.

"No...Dad, don't do this," I pleaded, trying to approach him. Like before, I took two steps forward, he took two back.

"I want to believe that you didn't do it, Rachel, I really do." The pain in his voice killed my heart. "But how can I?"

"I'm your daughter for Christ's sake! You know me!"

"Apparently I don't." The words stung.

I shot a look to Greg. "You know me too! How are you not arguing this right now?"

Greg didn't answer me, he kept a neutral face.

I had one last hope. "Sherlock, you can't seriously be on their side. You can't be agreeing with them!"

Normally, Sherlock was a man of a lot of words, a lot of deductions. Once he started talking, it would be forever before he shut up. Today wasn't the case. He stared right through me, as though he could pierce through my soul. Please be doing some deduction to show that I'm telling the truth. I need someone on my side, anyone.

But Sherlock never put in his opinion. He didn't need to say anything, the message was pretty clear. Dad didn't believe I was innocent, and now neither did Sherlock.

Dad and Sherlock turning away from me was enough to seal the deal. Donovan came to me, shackling me with handcuffs. I was too stunned from the betrayal to make any protests. All I could do was stare at Sherlock and Dad, two men who I trusted would have my back, like I had theirs.

With guiding hands, Donovan and Greg escorted me out. Just as we were out of the threshold, I heard Mrs. Hudson's feet patter on the wood flooring.

"Rachel? What's going on?" I heard her walk away behind me. "Boys, where is she going?"

I didn't hear their answers, I was already out of 221B, being shoved into a car. As Donovan and Greg got in and started the engine, I watched with pained eyes as the door to 221B opened, revealing tiny Mrs. Hudson.

A small ping went off in one of my pockets. Since Donovan didn't think to put my arms behind my back, I pulled out my phone. My heart dropped.

Did you think I'd forget about you, kitten?

***

I shot up in bed, panting. I covered my mouth with my hand, sobbing behind it. I whimpered, realizing I'd woken Bayley up. I heard him shift in the dark.

"Whoa, hey, Rach. Hey, easy, easy." He put his arms around me. I burrowed my head into his chest, my entire body trembling. "Easy, Rachel. Breathe."

"I—he—I was—framed—"

"Slow down. Breathe. Calm yourself down first." He rubbed my back calmly. Bay didn't let me go the entire time I tried to shut my fear down. For a good ten to fifteen minutes, all that was heard was me crying.

That nightmare...I hoped it never became real. I was certain that Mary would never betray my dad, so there was little to no chance of that happening. I was more concerned about Moriarty returning.

"Any better?"

I nodded slightly.

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I've got too much going on in here." I poked my head.

"I gathered that much."

"In—in the dream, I was in London. I'd visited Mary, and apparently...I'd thought the marriage was just something so she could get close to Sherlock. I don't know why. Anyway, we'd gotten into a confrontation, and I'd knocked her out. I'd left in a hurry because I was afraid.

"Long story short, Greg and Sally Donovan came to Baker Street and accused me of killing Mary. They'd showed me video—apparently Dad had cameras in there. Someone had come in after I'd left and suffocated her." I sniffled. "They thought I did it because the woman never showed her face. Nobody believed I was framed, not even Dad and Sherlock. And the worst part was that...that Moriarty had been behind it."

"Oh, Rach," Bay whispered. "You need to really clear your head."

"I wish."

"Well, that's why the girls are taking you out later today, right?"

I sniffed. "I guess."

"Come on, back to sleep."

"I don't want to. It could happen again."

"If it does, I'll wake you from it."

"Thank you." I kissed his chin.

As we settled back in, Bayley kept a firm hold of me. I tried to tune out my thoughts with his heartbeat. Bay kissed any stray tears away on my face.

"Please don't leave me," I pleaded softly. "Don't."

"I'm here, Rachel. I'm here."