"Not guilty," John snarled into the phone. The moment we left Old Bailey, John got a hold of Sherlock. We were hustling down the sidewalk; I had to trot to keep up with John. "They found him not guilty. No defense and Moriarty's walked free."

Nobody could believe it. Like those in the courtroom, people worldwide would be astonished by the verdict. I was much more pissed than shocked. While many couldn't get over the verdict, I pushed away the shock and thought more as to why the verdict came out the way it did.

"Sherlock." I focused back on John's phone conversation. "Are you listening? He's out. You—you know he'll be coming after you. Sher..."

"I guess he's not too concerned about Moriarty if he hung up on you," I noted. "I just can't believe it. That verdict should have been an easy and right decision."

"You think something made them change their minds?"

"Why else would they switch the verdict? I don't know what it was, but something made them change it."

A cold realization hit me like a battering ram. If Moriarty was free...was I safe? He knew I was staying in London, and that why involved Sherlock. Would he have people watching me? Would he make personal visits now that he was a free man?

I stopped in my tracks; a panic attack was close to happening. Would I be able to head back to Maryland after I got what I wanted from Sherlock? Would I be safe back in Maryland? I thought I had been after my first visit to London, only because I knew Moriarty dropped me like trash after I had tried to murder him. He didn't want anything to do with me after that.

I had a feeling I got back on his radar.

John noticed I wasn't following him. He stopped and came back for me; concern was in his brown eyes. I felt sick to my stomach, like I was about ready to puke on the sidewalk.

"Do you know any good places to eat?" I asked thickly. "I need something to take my mind off this."

My question took John by surprise. "Oh, um, yeah I know a few places. Hold on, let me think."

I threw him a grateful smile while he mulled over options in his head. I inhaled the fresh air, but it wasn't helping much. Not guilty. I bet Moriarty felt high and mighty now that he got what he wanted. If I had seen that look on his face, I would have lost it. I would have torn across the room to attack him.

I shuddered, pushing that bad idea away. I would have only gotten myself arrested if I had tried that.

John pulled over a taxi. We both got in.

The place John picked was nice and quaint. It was sort of packed too, probably because we got in around the lunch hour. Instead of the odors being appealing to me, they almost made me sick. Today was just a bad day.

There was a lot of awkward silence at our table. We got a booth near a window. Most of the time I glanced at the scenery of London that I had somewhat become accustomed to. I wondered how much longer I'd be staying here. I knew John would let me stay forever if it ever came to that. I knew I didn't want to stay in London for the rest of my life; I had to return home.

Despite wanting to drown out the verdict with overeating, I lost my appetite by the time the food arrived. I picked, mainly moving it around in the plate.

"Something on your mind?" John asked cautiously. He'd been watching me since our food was set in front of us.

I looked up at him from my plate. I shrugged, slumping against the booth. "I'm...I don't know, scared."

"Why?"

I shot him a pointed glare. I kept my voice low so nobody overheard me. "The man I attempted to kill got off scot-free today instead of being put away for life. I have a feeling he's going to make my life hell. He started that war first, by ruining my life."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up with someone like him?"

I smiled sadly. "It's a long, painful story, John. Do you think you have all the time in the world to hear it?"

"Do you want to shorten it so we can head back home quicker?"

I considered his point. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

I sighed. "The first time I went on vacation here, I was nearly raped. I managed to escape, and I ran into Moriarty. At the time, I was just thankful I was out of the alleyway I had been dragged down. He helped me find the hotel I was looking for. That hadn't been the last time I saw him.

"He slipped me his number that night. From there, things just...changed. At the time, I saw things getting better. But looking back at it now, I realize I was setting myself up for a dangerous future." I closed my eyes briefly before looking at John. "I felt like we connected so easily. I didn't start thinking we were soul mates or anything, but I always looked forward to hearing from him or seeing him. Our first date had been at a free, two hour dance class. It was one of those Spanish forms of dancing—the tango, I think. It was hilarious, because none of us knew what we were doing." I barely laughed, feeling as though the memory had been nothing but a dream. "Moriarty and I partnered up. He'd snuck in a kiss towards the end of the class."

John wasn't giving away his emotions; he was keeping a good poker face. I figured he was probably thinking I was stupid for falling for that good guy act.

I continued on with the story: "He was such a gentleman, such a fun guy. He treated me like a princess, like how girls want to be treated by their boyfriends." The last word nearly made me gag, I pushed down the urge to.

"When did you find out the truth?" John asked.

My heart ached. "He was staying in my hotel room. I'd just come out of the shower. I heard something coming from the den room; I thought it was the TV. When I walked in, I noticed he was on a laptop. He was talking with someone—well, not really talking; he didn't have the webcam on. He was typing to them. Anyway, there was this person on the other end. All I remember was that it was a woman he was talking to, the volume was too low for me to hear what she was saying. I figured he was cheating.

"But then, as I got closer, what I saw..." My throat tightened. "I saw someone shot."

John merely blinked.

"I started to back away. But I accidentally bumped into the door frame. Moriarty heard me. I didn't shout abuse at him in the beginning; I was too scared, afraid that I'd end up like that woman. He kept trying to explain the situation, but I wouldn't let him.

"I'd felt so betrayed and used. He'd told me that what we had was genuine, but I didn't believe him. I tried to get away from him, but I couldn't." I dipped my head. "He tried to stop me from leaving; we got into a little scuffle." That was definitely sugarcoating it. "When I woke up, I thought it hadn't been real, what I had seen. But Moriarty was in the room. He told me that I belonged to him, and to prove it, he had an ankle monitor stuck on me."

"I remember that. You got it off at the hospital," John noted. "I remember you were muttering something about it."

I nodded. "I was watched, and I felt like I couldn't go anywhere without Moriarty knowing. If I went outside of the hotel, someone was keeping their distance but keeping tabs on me."

"And you never got a chance to get help?"

I shook my head. "Even if I did, I knew what would happen. Moriarty would have made sure nobody knew what was going on." I paused momentarily. "Eventually, I was kicked out of the hotel. Moriarty had a few of his goons move me to some place I can't remember. It was no nice hotel room, I can tell you that much.

"He visited often. He tried to win me back. He accepted in the end that I would never be truly his again, so that's when he put me to work." I bit my lower lip, holding back the sobs.

"Put you to work?"

"You know what I mean, John. I planted bombs on people. He never had to threaten me, because he knew I feared him enough to do it. I hated it, strapping up all those people. That old lady, that little boy..." I closed my eyes again. "That lady died because of me, John. The blind old lady."

"No," he scolded me quietly. "It wasn't your fault."

I sniffled. "It was."

"You didn't set off the explosives."

Thank God Moriarty hadn't forced me to do that. "Still—"

"Rachel." John reached across and grabbed my hand. "Have you told anyone else about all this?"

"Only Amanda. I've been telling her what's been happening here." I exhaled.

"You never told your parents?"

"I figured they didn't need to know. Why would I tell them, anyway?"

"Because they're your parents."

"They wouldn't have believed me."

"If they're your parents, they would have."

"If you were them and knew nothing about the happenings in London, would you have believed me?"

"Yes."

I pursed my lips. "I feel like this became a therapy session instead of lunch."

"It seems like it."

It felt liberating to tell John my past with Moriarty. I hadn't told him every single little detail, down to the words said and everything, but I had told him enough.

I was in slightly better spirits when John and I fetched a taxi and headed back to 221B. I felt like John was someone I could go to for anything, like he would listen to whatever I would have to tell him. At least someone was like that in 221B.

When we got back to the apartment, Sherlock was playing his violin. The music seemed to hearten me more. I envied him for having such a talent. The man seemed to have a little too much talent.

My mood went downhill when Sherlock told John and me what had happened while we were out.

"Hold on, what happened?" I asked, wondering if I had heard Sherlock correctly.

"He paid me a visit after the verdict," Sherlock said simply. "We had a chat."

"So he stopped by to rub it in your face?" I sat on the couch, staring at Sherlock, who was sitting in his usual chair.

"He mentioned how he threatened the lives of those closest to the jury members."

"I knew it! I should have thought of that, it was too simple." I ruffled my hair. "Leave it to Moriarty to threaten others' lives. It's what he does best, in addition to ruining them."

"Your name also came up."

My eyes narrowed. "Did it?"

"What's this?" John asked, holding a carved-into apple, currently stuck with a knife still in it. I squinted to see the letters drawn in it. All I could see was a "U" at the moment.

"Looks like he left a message for Sherlock," I noted, my eyes focusing back on the consulting detective. "God, he thinks he can just walk right in here like he owns the damn place!" I breathed through my nostrils, breaths leaving in pants. "If I ever find that man..."

"Oh, don't worry; he said he'll be seeing you sometime soon," Sherlock informed me. "Of course, I don't know how that will go, considering you'll be gone by then."

"Excuse me?"

"You are leaving soon, aren't you?"

"Um, no, I'm not. I think you forgot what I originally came here for."

"Right. It wasn't to spy on us."

I blinked twice. "You changed your mind on that, huh? I'm surprised. I thought you'd be dead-set on proving that I'm a spy for him."

"You wouldn't have lasted long if you had been. You'd lack the skills."

"I guess that's a good thing," I said slowly. "But I'm not leaving until you help me find my dad."

Sherlock groaned. "You should have stayed in America, you probably could have found out by now. And do you honestly think that finding your father is at the top of my list, what with Moriarty being on the streets again?"

I flushed. "Maybe not."

"So what reason more do you have to stay here?"

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. "I...I don't feel safe leaving."

"You'd be no safer staying here than if you headed home," Sherlock reminded me.

"At least I wouldn't be putting my family in danger if I stayed here." My voice became hard.

"You're more than welcome to stay longer, Rachel," John offered.

"I'm pretty sure you're outvoted two to one, Sherlock." My voice brightened.

Sherlock wasn't too happy about me extending my stay. Honestly, I wasn't too thrilled about it either.

Life was throwing us all a curveball, one by the name of Jim Moriarty.