"Bay?" I called in the darkness.

I had no idea where I was. I'd woken up to darkness. Darkness was something I loathed, because I associated Moriarty with it. What if he was born in it? I shuddered, feeling that could possibly be true for a man like him.

Dull light lit up the room. The source was a huge TV mounted on the wall. I squinted, adjusting to the light. There wasn't any sound when the picture came on. At first, I couldn't make out what it was. Once my vision adjusted, everything dropped: my heart, my spirit, my legs, and my mouth.

221B Baker Street was almost nothing, nearly obliterated. A sob hitched in my throat. I feared the worst: that Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and possibly my dad were dead. I knew Mrs. H never really left Baker Street, so most likely she hadn't survived.

My breathing quickened. No...This couldn't have...How...? Who was behind this attack? Was it someone new? Someone who Sherlock had encountered before? Why was I even in this room? I didn't even know how I got here!

"Enjoying the show?" a voice drawled.

I closed my eyes, wishing the voice away. I thought I'd forgotten what he sounded like the day The Fall happened. Violent shudders rippled through me. How he hadn't managed to seduce women with that voice amazed me. I guess they had to be extraordinary, as I apparently had been to him. I was the only one he ever caught in his trap. In a way, I was glad it was just me.

"You sick son of a bitch," I growled venomously. "You're behind this." I spun around only to see nothing but darkness. He was here, I could feel it. He was using the dark as cover. I wanted it to remain that way; I didn't want to see him. For his sake, he better hoped that I didn't find him. If I did, I would give him hell.

"I had to deal with my other problem first before getting to you." Low, echoing footsteps flew around me. He was definitely here, I wasn't imagining it.

"Theatrical. What are you going to do with me?" My best bet was to act brave. If Sherlock and Dad were...dead, then I had to muster through their deaths. If they really are dead, then what about Mary? Oh, wait...

I'd forgotten Mary was no longer in the picture; Dad had divorced her a while ago. I'd wanted them to stay together for the baby, but even it wasn't enough to hold them together. The Watson family was once again fractured. It would always be that way.

"Oh, that's the best part!" the voice crowed. "You'll see. We'll have so much fun, Rachel."

I didn't want to be here. I wanted to know if Sherlock, Mrs. H, and Dad were alive. There was a chance they'd all not been at Baker Street at the time of the explosion. There was some hope.

But the hope was shot down when the closed captioning told me three people were dead. It vanished when I read the names. Their lives were taken out by fire.

Moriarty got what he wanted; he burned the heart out of Sherlock. He burned Sherlock in general. He, Mrs. H, and my dad were now nothing but ash. It was one thing to take out my dad and his best friend, but what did Mrs. Hudson ever do to deserve such a horrific death?

I couldn't breathe for the smallest second. How could Moriarty have managed to claim all three lives? Surely Sherlock would have found the bomb before it went off. Surely he would have had a feeling something was going to happen. There was barely anything that could get past him. Surely—

My teeth gritted together with Moriarty's high, triumphant laughter. He was lucky the dark was hiding him; I was ready to punch the happiness out of him.

"No more threats, no more worrying!" he sang. "It's just you and me, kitten."

"Come out and show yourself, you coward!" I yelled, jumping at my echoing voice. I got on my feet, feeling my blood boil. I wished I could call up any weapon so I could kill Moriarty. A life for three lives, his life was worth that much. "Come out so I can deal with you."

A strangled gasp escaped as I felt a rough hand wrap around my neck. I felt hot breath on my ear. I made a high squeal in my throat, trying to free myself of my captor.

"You'll go to hell for this," I hissed.

The irritating laugh erupted again. It didn't sound close.

Moriarty wasn't holding me.

"Who do you think is going to come looking for you?" He finally stepped into the light of the TV so I could see him properly. "You're nobody."

"Scotland Yard can look for me."

"Oh please, they're easy to divert. Besides, what makes you think we're even in England anymore, darling?"

My heart raced. If we weren't in England, where the hell were we? He could be lying. It's hard to tell, he's a good liar.

"We're too far away for people to come sniffing around."

"My friends will know something's up, the same goes for my parents."

"Oh, please, as if you really talk to them anymore." He snorted.

"I know they'd put in a search party for me. And then there's Bayley. He'll definitely know something's up. He'll know you're behind my disappearance."

Moriarty laughed. "If you think your boyfriend is going to come searching for you, Rachel, well," he clucked his tongue, "I hate to break it you, but he's taken care of."

I spat in his direction, wishing it'd get on his face. "How much damage do you need to do to me? Who else are you taking away from me?"

Moriarty's eyebrows rose. "Oh, you think I took his life too?" He chuckled. "You misunderstand me, Rachel. I didn't kill him."

"What did you do with him?"

He smiled maliciously. "I recruited him."

No. Bayley wouldn't cross over to the dark side. He couldn't. He would never. "He would never go to you. You're lying!"

"He's not," Bay whispered.

He was the one who had a hand on my throat.

***

"No!" I threw myself up from bed.

I looked to see Bayley missing. My eyes snapped to the bedroom door as Bay came running in, half naked. He clambered onto the bed, taking my hands in his.

"Easy, Rach," he crooned, smoothing my bed head. "It's okay. Whatever happened, it wasn't real."

I couldn't meet Bay's eyes, not after that nightmare. I still felt the lingering hand around my throat even though it hadn't been real. I could never picture Bay in such a position. Sherlock, you bastard! I scowled, not happy with the consulting detective.

"I-I think I need to get out," I stammered. "You know, get fresh air."

"Alright." Bayley sounded concerned. "Remember, our flight leaves tonight."

I groaned. "We have to stop with the night flights! I think that's all I've taken the times I've traveled."

* * *

I hate you. This was what I sent Sherlock once I left the hotel.

I got a quick response.

So you believe me. –SH

I pursed my lips, considering what I wanted to say before typing it out. I can't be sure.

I stood on the sidewalk, letting the air help me clear my head. Its attempts were failing. I checked my phone.

You know I'm right. He IS hiding something. You just don't want to face the truth. –SH

You could be wrong.

I was wrong only ONCE, Rachel. I can assure you, I'm not wrong about him. –SH

I rolled my eyes. Sherlock sent another message before I could start thinking up replies.

Confront him. It's the only way to prove I'm right and that he hasn't been entirely honest with you like you believe. –SH

I blew out air. Where would I even confront Bayley about it? I wasn't going to risk paying more money if, God forbid, the talk turned ugly. I doubted either of us could afford damages on top of paying for the room itself.

The light bulb went off in my head. It was risky, going back to Baker Street, to the apartment where only a few nights ago Dad was enraged by finding out Mary lied to him. I haven't talked to him since then. I should get a hold of him sometime soon. Right now, I needed to focus on other things.

I caught a cab with the snap decision in my brain. If Sherlock was right, this was the only way to know.

221B was empty, though it did surprise me a little bit that Dad hadn't come back here after Mary's identity reveal. Maybe he was trying to see how long he could stick it out there. Or maybe he was here; he was just out, like at work or something, or at the hospital visiting Sherlock. So there was the chance Dad wasn't living with Mary right now.

It was hard to think about her, Mary. Her name wasn't even really Mary. All the information about her was on that flash drive. If only I had taken it the night she let it go. I could have found out everything about her.

I smiled solemnly to myself, remembering all the time I'd spent in this apartment, from the very first time to the last visit a few nights ago. A lot of things happened here, some things I would rather not think about. I was going to make history again. With a heavy heart, I found Bay's number. Before I could think of what to say to lure him over here, I heard fast feet coming up the stairs. I turned around, slightly afraid. Mrs. Hudson's feet didn't sound that heavy.

My heart unclenched slightly at seeing Bayley, who looked relieved.

"You went missing, I got worried," he said quietly, standing in the threshold.

"How'd you find me?"

"I figured this was where you would wander off to. You're sort of predictable, Rach." He stepped deeper into the apartment. "I think this is the first time I've been in here."

"Huh, I think you're right."

"Somebody was pissed off." Bay stalked closer to the couch, staring at the bulleted wall. The yellow smiley still remained.

"He was bored," I clarified.

Bayley raised an eyebrow at me. "Seriously?"

"That's what he told me." I half shrugged. "When I first came here to ask him about finding my dad, he had a dummy hanging from the ceiling by a noose. Dad was in a bathrobe. It was a very awkward visit."

"I can imagine so."

I was making small talk; I had to talk to him now while we were still here. This worked out perfectly, how he knew where to find me. Did he chip my phone? That sounded a little out there for Bay.

I had to know if Sherlock was right, that Bayley wasn't telling me everything. He'd found out that Mary had been a liar, hiding some of the most crucial things of her past from everyone. Of course, that circumstance had been different, as Sherlock had stumbled upon her in a compromising position—and by compromising I mean her ready to kill a dangerous blackmailer. Sherlock hadn't seen Bayley in any such position, so how could he think that Bayley was a liar?

I was about to find out whether it was smart to put my trust in Sherlock on such a serious issue. What could Bay be hiding from me if Sherlock was right? What if, like he had been about me, Sherlock was wrong about Bay? What if he was just being protective?

Bayley noticed my silence, he looked to me. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, yeah," I murmured absently. "Fine."

Bay approached me to take me in his arms, but I stepped back from him. His brows came together over his ocean-blue eyes. "Okay, something obviously isn't right. What is it, Rachel?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, wanting to muster up the courage to blurt out the burning question in my head. I closed my eyes, bracing myself. It's the only way I'll know if Sherlock is right. "How honest have you been with me, Bay?" I asked slowly, opening my eyes.

He blinked at me. "Why do you ask?"

"Just answer my question. Please."

"I've been very honest with you. Why? Who's been telling you I'm a fraud?"

"Nobody!" I lied.

Bay's eyes narrowed. "It's Sherlock, isn't it? He's trying to break us apart."

I groaned. "And we're back to that again. For God's sake, Bay, Sherlock isn't into me like that!" I threw my hands in the air. "He's just...watchful over me. We're just friends. How many more ways do you need me to say it so you can believe it?"

Bay ran a hand through his hair calmly. "What has he been telling you, Rachel? He's obviously the one behind this."

My mouth opened, but I floundered for words. God, there were so many ways I wanted to say it, but how to put it to where Bay wouldn't get offended? No matter what way you word it, he won't like it. "He..." I swallowed, mulling over my words carefully. "He thinks you're keeping things from me, things that you've never told anyone."

Bay snorted. "And you believe him?"

"He was right about my dad, Bay," I said in a small voice.

"He was right about one thing, so what, Rachel? That doesn't make him all-knowing!" Bay's voice was cold.

I could tell an argument was about to happen. But it got put off, as I peered past Bayley to notice my dad and Mary coming up the stairs. I cocked my head to the side; Bay picked up on my confusion and looked towards the doorway too.

"What are you doing here?" I asked them. They weren't exactly on the best of terms right now. How were they that close to each other?

"Rachel, you're alright." Dad sounded as though he'd expected to see me hurt or something.

"Of course I am," I said slowly, oddly. "Why?"

"Sherlock told us something bad had happened to you. Clearly, he lied."

"Why would he do that?"

"It should be obvious, Rachel. I think you've known me long enough."

I groaned as Sherlock stepped out of nowhere. He still looked sickly, but not as bad as the first time he'd escaped the hospital. I glowered at him, definitely not pleased.

"It just kills you, doesn't it?" I snarled at him. "When you go back to the hospital, I'm making sure they handcuff you to the bed. How'd you manage to escape this time?"

"I walked out. They're not very watchful."

"You shouldn't be here."

"I have to be."

"Why?"

"So I can prove my point."

"What point?" Dad asked, clearly confused.

"He thinks Bayley isn't being entirely honest with me," I told him.

"I don't think he's keeping things from you," Sherlock corrected me. "I know he is." His blue-gray eyes narrowed at Bayley.

"Are you serious?" Bay thundered. I cringed at his loud tone. "You think I'm keeping secrets?"

"Everyone does."

"Sherlock, this is insane. We've gone through this once," Dad groaned. "You can't honestly believe that Bayley is lying too!"

"John, trust me on this." Sherlock winced. His medication had to be wearing off. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't know he's lying to us. Just listen." This was strange, to hear Sherlock Holmes begging.

I looked from Sherlock to my dad, who exchanged looks. Bayley looked miffed, like he was ready to storm out of 221B. He's never been angry this easy. Then again, when have any of us accused him of something?

"If you're anything like her last boyfriend, you better start talking now," Dad finally suggested.

Mary watched the scene with wary interest, throwing me a flicker of a sympathetic gaze. I didn't need her sympathy right now. She didn't really need to be here, as, in my eyes, she currently wasn't a part of this.

My God, who else was going to show up? Greg? Mycroft? We might as well have the entirety of Scotland Yard show up!

Bay laughed roughly. "You think I'm like him?" We didn't need to hear the name to know who he was referring to. Moriarty.

"No, you worked for him," Sherlock stated.