"Guys, we should really just—" I tried.

"No, no. The dress needs to be decided now," Amanda insisted, as she and the rest of our group, and my adoptive mother, dragged me into a bridal store. I had thought I was going on a shopping trip with my girlfriends, but when my adoptive mother got involved, I knew it was dress shopping. "I don't want you procrastinating this, Rachel. This is your wedding."

"Yes, my wedding."

"As your Maid of Honor, you gave me the privilege to be slightly bossy."

"I don't like how this power is going to your head, Mandy."

"You'll thank me for it when you find that special dress. In the meantime, we'll figure out our choices for our dresses."

"I should get a say in that!"

"You will," said Darien. "But we'll give you some choices to choose from."

I sighed. "All right. Fine."

From the moment I told my wedding party the day of the ceremony, Amanda jumped right in to pressing me for dress shopping dates. She'd insisted the sooner we go, the better it was for everyone. So now, here I was, in the cold weather of February, seven months away from my actual wedding going shopping.

When we got into the store, Darien, Kendal, and Madison branched off to go hunt for my bridal dress choices, while Amanda and Mom stuck with me. We found a nice employee who took us back to the fitting rooms, throwing out suggestions to me. I barely had a voice in the matter, any choice the employee threw at me, Amanda told me to try. I obliged and didn't bother to get into a fight with my best friend.

Finding the perfect wedding dress was like finding your future husband: you would know it when you saw it. Unfortunately, I was having no such luck. None of the suggestions were similar in style, so it made me wonder if our helper was fashion blind. I got away from the all around slim fit and went more traditional.

"I'll go check in on the girls," I heard Amanda say as I hiked up the dress I was currently trying on. I flattened it out so there were no wrinkles when I got it to fit right. It had beautiful lace sleeves (a trait I didn't realize I would like until this moment), a bejeweled middle, and it puffed out a little towards the bottom. The neckline was an average dip. I saw how nice my double-heart necklace from Bayley shone brightly, as if agreeing with my choice.

This has to be the one. I looked at myself in all of the mirrors. Every angle looked good.

"Honey, I want to see!" Mom chimed from outside the room.

Feeling bashful like the first seven dresses I tried on, I stepped out, and just like the past seven times, Mom was very emotional. "I think it's a keeper."

Mom could only nod, unable to form words. Her hands covered her mouth, and her eyes were becoming red-rimmed and puffy. I went to her, kneeling as best as I could in the dress. She laughed through her blubbering, and I embraced her trembling figure.

"Is that one the winner?" Mandy popped back in. I let go of Mom to straighten up so Amanda could see. At first, her face went void of all emotion. Her eyes were the first indication that I got an honest winner out of this dress. "Once you hash out the pricing and all, the girls have some choices for you. This one's my personal favorite." She gestured down to a dark emerald green number, which stopped at the knees. It gave her cleavage some exposure too. "Bayley is a very lucky man."

And I'm a very lucky girl.

* * *

After a very exhausting day of shopping (especially with the bridesmaid dresses), all I wanted to do was crash on the bed the second I stepped inside. I would have, had I not picked up on listening to Bayley's voice. He wasn't talking to the TV, he never ever made that a habit (that I was aware of anyway).

"It's got me worried, I wish he never got into her life," I heard Bayley say. "He's distracting her and he's not even here!" A pause. "Has there been any definite signs that he's really back?"

"We can't say for sure," said a voice. It sounded like Dad's. "Not even Sherlock can find anything yet. But until we know for sure what we're dealing with, or not, we're on guard."

"Seems like that's what everyone's doing." I caught Bayley's attention as I crept my way inside the house. "Hey, love."

"Rachel?"

"Hi, Dad," I said, entering the living room. Bayley was Skyping my dad, John Watson, who was way back in London. Sure, he wasn't living at Baker Street anymore with Sherlock Holmes, but that didn't mean he stopped being the consulting detective's blogger by any means. "How's Rosie?"

"Cute as ever. Mary took her out for a bit, so it's just me here."

"Is she worried?" I asked, sitting beside Bay on the couch.

"Motherhood has kept her preoccupied, so I'm going to say no on that. Bayley tells me you're worried."

"Who wouldn't be?" I shrugged. "We know what that Moriarty's done, and what he's capable of. If he's really back, we have good reason to be worried."

"Well, until there's hard evidence, all we can do is speculate."

Bayley leaned forward. "John," he side-glanced at me, "there's something we need to tell you."

Dad's face turned confused on the screen.

"It's nothing bad. We're getting married." A smile was on my fiancé's face. He took my hand, showing my dad the ring on my finger. "In September. The twenty-third. We've barely begun planning, and Rachel wanted to tell you sooner..."

I gasped. "You wouldn't let me tell him!" I looked at Dad on the screen. "I wanted to tell you in person, I wanted to see how you felt about it."

"Well, I'm happy for you, of course!" Dad exclaimed. "Rachel, that's huge news for you, for the both of you!" His smile looked bigger than Bayley's. "So, September twenty-third you said?"

"Yes," said Bayley. "Trouble is, we don't know where we're having it just yet. Early planning stages and all that fun."

"We've got a date, and I've got my bridal party dresses, and my own, yet we can't figure out a damn venue," I sighed. "Priorities."

Dad pursed his lips. "Well...here is always an option."

"England?"

"Why not?"

I shook my head. "Dad..."

"Rachel, you're my firstborn. You're getting married. We can have it here. I can take care of the expenses that you already haven't."

"I can't ask that of you, neither of us can." I glanced at Bayley.

"I insist. Rachel, this is a big thing for you, and it is for me."

"But you're still paying off your own wedding, aren't you? I can't burden you with that! I don't want to put you into further debt."

"You let me worry about my life, Rachel."

"John, that's very generous of you," said Bayley, "but I'm with Rachel. We can't ask this of you."

"You don't have to. You can fly down early if you want so we can hash out the finer details."

"You're sure about this?" I asked.

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't, Rachel."

I sighed. "All right. Since you'll be stubborn, we'll let you handle the money bit. When do you want us down?"

"I'd say the sooner the better. Give me a time frame so I can work that out too."

"I'll text you."

"I better run. Congratulations, you two."

I slumped against the couch in relief when the Skype call winked out on the screen. Bayley pushed his head against mine, and I stared at the laptop. "Unbelievable."

"What is?"

"My dad."

"He's being a good father."

"I feel like we're taking advantage of him."

"We're not, darling."

"I just—"

"It's set in stone now." He pecked me on the cheek. "You can guilt yourself all you want, but it won't help us pay for our wedding."

"Maybe Mary is our last hope," I said dramatically.

"I don't know, Rach. She's always seemed to like you. She might even agree with him."

I closed my eyes. "Damn." My phone buzzed in my pocket. I was expecting it to be messages from Mandy or the others, with their pictures of the dresses that didn't make the final cut for the bridal party.

Instead, my phone nearly slipped through my hand when I read the message from the unknown number.

Daddy's paying for the wedding? How sweet.

See you in London, kitten.

Jim Moriarty x

Daddy's paying for the wedding. My head was spinning. My stomach felt very uncomfortable in that moment.

"Who is it?" asked Bayley.

I bolted from the couch and headed straight for the bathroom.

I bent over the toilet, vomiting violently. I made sure to keep my hair from the projectile zone. He knows. Jim Moriarty knows that John Watson is my father. Did he always know? How did he find out? It's a well-kept secret. My body trembled as I stopped puking, feeling snot trickle down my nose. Nobody knows that from any newspaper or blog. My family knows, Mycroft knows, Sherlock knows. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, Dad, Mary...that should be it. I couldn't count Magnussen, because Sherlock killed him with a shot to the head.

I didn't want to believe for a second that someone betrayed that trust and told that madman.

"Rachel."

I sat back on my knees, tearing off a piece of toilet paper to wipe my mouth with instead of my arm. "S-sorry." I looked to Bayley, to see my phone in his hand. "D-did you read it?"

The frown told me his answer. "I did."

I wiped under my nose as I flushed the toilet. "He has to be back, Bayley." I looked around the bathroom. "You don't think he's got cameras or spies here, do you?"

Bayley looked at me softly as he stepped in and sat on the bathroom floor with me. "Darling, a text means nothing."

"Bay, Moriarty or not, this person knows that John Watson is my dad. Few people know this." I sniffled. "Nobody should've told, so he found out somehow. We can't disregard this." I looked him in the eyes. "We need to tell my dad and Sherlock, see if they've gotten anything like this."

"Let's get you calm first, Rach, before we do anything." He rubbed my shoulder. "You need a clear head."

"I didn't have an episode, Bayley. I just threw up."

"And you got psyched out because of this." He wiggled my phone in his hand. "It took one message, love. One." He sighed, messing with a strand of my blonde hair. "That man did some serious damage. And I used to work for the bloke." He shook his head.

"You worked for him for survival," I told him gently. "You are nothing like him. You're a good person."

"I shot you."

"On his orders. But I'm still here." I touched his cheek. "You aren't a bad man, Bayley Redding. He is." As I leaned in to kiss him, he backed away. "Oops, vomit breath. Forgot."

He poked my nose. "Go brush your teeth, then we'll let them know, okay?"

I exhaled deeply. "Okay."

Bayley handed my phone back as he left the bathroom. As I scrubbed my teeth and tongue, I could feel my mental stability falter. This wasn't a trick by a copycat. This had to be Moriarty.

It seemed that his return was looking more and more like a damn nightmare reality, and I had a bad feeling that it was only going to get worse from here. That this message was just the start of something new and potentially dangerous. 

**I don't know, you guys. Do you think it's really Moriarty? Or someone who's seriously trying to screw with poor Rachel who just wants to marry her Bayley and stay out of things like this?**