Everyone seemed to enjoy Sherlock and Molly's little domestic interlude... fun! Well, now for some angst. Thanks for all your support, for the reviews and follows. Also, to the guest who reviewed so many chapters: I so wish I could reply and thank you personally, but this will have to do. THANK YOU! You rock my socks!

Again, remember all my betas and all their hard work. This time I have to thank my sweet husband once again. He was very helpful with the firearms information (I'm not a fan and had to rely on him almost completely with the guns business!). Rememer, the grouped italics are a flashback.

Warning: Canon-typical violence and a tiny bit of gore.

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

Chapter 15 - Girl On Fire (Alicia Keys)

Sherlock had no idea what had possessed him to spill this, his darkest secret, to Molly, but he was in too far to back out. Taking time to gather his thoughts, he drank the whisky, letting the burn ground him - remind him that it was over, that he was not in a snow-covered forest in Germany, but on his settee with his warm, comforting wife.

Finishing his drink, he set the tumbler on the coffee table and exhaled a deep breath. "We usually met in the city, in busy shops or cafés. On on sixth meeting, Elif - that's what she called herself - her German was perfect, disturbingly so. I knew she was faking it. I think she wanted me to know, actually... " He shook himself and continued, "Elif asked me to meet her at a new location; said that she was being followed and was certain that Moran's men were on to her, on to us."

"I assume you knew that she was up to something?" Molly asked.

"Of course I knew," he said more harshly than intended. "But I was arrogant, so bloody arrogant!" He sighed. "I met her anyway."

"And no one knew you were meeting her."

"There was no one, Molly. I was completely on my own at this point." Leaning forward, he ran his hands through his hair. "There was no backup plan. No big brother to call when things went sideways." He sat back, mentally chastising himself for the utter disaster that his arrogance had brought about that day. "I met her just outside the city. It was completely isolated. So fucking stupid!"

Sherlock sat in the Audi he had hired to drive to the remote location. His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the woods that surrounded the dirt road. "Been alone for too long," he said to himself as he double checked his Glock 17 before sliding it back into its holster. He then checked his Ruger GP100 ten shot .22 revolver before putting it back as well. He was also carrying a Heizer .45 caliber double shot derringer in an ankle holster. His 'oh shit' pistol, as it were.

I'm slipping. And he was. He should have never agreed to this meeting, but this Elif had Moran's location and he needed it to finish the job.

Thankfully it was still daylight, if only just. He had maybe an hour before night fell and he lost the advantage of the sun. The sound of tyres on gravel drew his attention and he looked in the rearview mirror to see an approaching SUV.

Tinted windows. Large enough to carry six to eight people, depending on their size.

Elif got out, wrapped neck to toe in a heavy parka. She could be hiding an M16 underneath that thing, he thought as he watched her walk toward him. His doors were locked, of course. He nervously shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the harness on his holster. When she was standing right next to his door, he rolled his window down two inches.

"Elif," he said.

"Unlock the damn car, Smith. I'm freezing out here."

She said 'Smith' as if she didn't believe that was actually his name, but she'd always addressed him in such a manner. He'd never been surprised by her disbelief; she was smart, after all. "Where is he?"

"I'll tell you when you open the door."

"You can tell me just as well from there," he insisted.

"And I can freeze to death in the middle of my tale," she said, a puff of fog coming from her mouth as she huffed in annoyance. "What? You suddenly don't trust me?" She smiled, or smirked, really. "After all our time together? That hurts."

That smirk, it was… familiar. What the hell?

"Get out of the car, Sherlock, and we'll talk."

Her accent was suddenly gone as was the pretense that she wasn't fully aware of his true identity, apparently. Sherlock was thrown for a split second; he hadn't anticipated her showing her hand so early.

"It is a simple request. Please follow it. I'd hate for things to get... ugly," she said with a proper English accent.

The road was a dead end - I am the biggest idiot in the world - and now blocked by the SUV.

Pulling a handgun out of her pocket, Elif pointed it at his head. "Out, Sherlock. Last time I checked Audi doesn't make bulletproof glass a standard feature on their hire cars."

He had no choice. As he opened his door and climbed out, the doors of the SUV opened as well; two very large men got out and approached them. There were probably more, but he couldn't worry about that at the moment. He had the woman in front of him, gun drawn, and two enormous henchmen to deal with.

"Meet my bodyguards, Bob and Dave," Elif said.

"That's not our names," one of the giants said in English, though his accent was so thick it was difficult to make out.

"No matter," she said, waving him off. "You and I, Sherlock, have some unfinished business."

"Do we now?" he asked. His hands were in his pockets; she hadn't asked him to raise them or even attempted to disarm him. Curious.

"Oh, yes. We do." She lowered her weapon. "How are dear mummy and daddy doing?"

His blood ran cold and he instantly knew who was standing in front of him. "Eurus?"

"Hello, big brother," she grinned like she'd just won a great prize. "Do they miss me? Did you… miss me? I won't bother asking about Myc. That boy - Oh, sorry, man - is missing a heart. Don't know how he manages to function without one."

He couldn't respond; he had no words.

"I know you're shocked…" She sounded almost remorseful, though he was sure it was put on. Everything about this woman - his sister! - was a facade. "But trust me when I say that it has been a pleasure getting to know you these last few weeks."

"Why?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Why has it been a pleasure?"

"Why did you do this?"

"Oh, because Jim asked me to, of course."

If he hadn't been half frozen and already cold with the shock of discovering her true identity, he was sure the blood in his veins would have turned to ice. "Jim?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Your archenemy. My Jim." Stepping closer, she leant in and whispered, "My lover, Sherlock. Your nemesis fucked your little sister. A bit warped, isn't it?" Pulling away, she waved at her goons and the pair moved forward.

Sherlock had no time to process the information he'd just been given. He broke to the left, making for the front of his car; it was his only real means of protection. The odds were against him and he was about to die. It was clearly her goal. If what she'd just told him was true, she would blame him for Moriarty's death, of course.

Once the bonnet of the car was between him and the thugs, he pulled the Glock. It had seventeen shots and he needed every advantage he could get.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd fight!" his sister shouted with glee.

He fired at 'Bob', clipping the man's shoulder. It didn't even slow him down. Sherlock's second shot caught the hulking man directly in the throat, felling him easily. Henchman number two was still closing on him, however, and fast.

'Dave' seemed to be weaponless, though that didn't hinder him. He lunged at Sherlock, grabbing the smaller man by the collar and slamming him against the car before he could get another shot off. Sherlock tried to twist out of his hold, but the man was unbelievably strong. Behind him, he could hear his sister's manic laughter as 'Dave' drove his fist into Sherlock's sternum. He distantly wondered if the man was aiming for his stomach, but had misjudged the height difference.

Old 'Dave' had at least six inches on him.

The punch cracked at least one rib, driving the air from Sherlock's lungs and stunning him for several seconds, long enough for the man to land another blow, this time to his face. His cheekbone took the brunt of this hit and pain exploded through his entire face. He managed to dodge the next hit and get his gun up to the man's stomach in the process. Both of Eurus' men were wearing heavy coats and he wasn't sure that they weren't outfitted in body armour, that's why he'd aimed high with 'Bob', but had to take a chance with this one. Pulling the trigger, he shot, causing the big man to stumble back and reach for the wound.

Just then the doors of the SUV opened and two more men got out. This pair was smaller and armed.

Sherlock tried to move quickly but lost his footing. Slipping on the freshly trampled snow, he dropped behind the wheel well of the Audi. 'Dave' was still in front of him, clutching at his belly. "Sorry, mate," Sherlock said, aiming his gun and shooting the injured man in the head.

"Sherlock, sweetie, as much fun as it is to watch you kill my chattel, I do have a schedule to keep. Could we hurry this along?" his sister said, her voice still coming from the other side of his car.

She hadn't moved. Good. She was letting her men handle him. I'll get to her when I'm done. He heard the sound of footsteps in the snow and knew that the other two men were approaching.

A gunshot rang out, nearly hitting him, and he looked up, seeing one of the shooters at the boot end of his car. Where is the other? The sun was setting and he was about to be in almost complete darkness. That could be good or very, very bad. These men could well be acquainted with the area. Probably were.

He was near the passenger side of the car and even if he was able to get in, they would then open fire and he'd have to try to maneuver through the snow, hoping not to get stuck in a drift.

No one was making a sound. Until...

The quiet worked to his advantage. He knew where gunman number one was. As he listened closely, he heard the crunch of snow, and a very soft whisper. His sister was giving instructions. Gunman number two was directly behind him, near the driver's side of the car.

As quietly as possible, Sherlock lay down in the snow and looked underneath the vehicle. There. He saw two sets of feet. Carefully, he aimed at the larger set and shot. A startled yelp told him that he'd met his mark and he immediately flipped onto his back, ready for gunman number two. The action drew out the other man, who rounded the boot of the car and opened fire.

Lying on his back was not optimal, but he had no choice. Sherlock caught a bullet in his left arm as he fired, unloading his Glock. The gunman went down, bleeding out in the snow. Getting up onto his knees, he surreptitiously looked at the SUV, waiting for more of his sister's 'chattel' as he pulled the Ruger from his holster.

Nothing. No movement.

Only one left and he was injured. So are you, he told himself but shook it off, casting a quick glance over the bonnet of the Audi. His sister was nowhere in sight. The last gunman, however, was near the rear passenger door.

Sherlock assumed that his sister was making her way to the SUV now that the numbers had dwindled. He had no choice. If he was going to catch her, it was now or never. Standing, he brazenly approached the man crouched next to his hire car.

"She's left you for dead, you know?" he said, his gun trained on the man.

"I'm dead either way, Holmes. You, her or Moran. Doesn't matter." He raised his gun.

"Me then," Sherlock said as he fired, shooting the man between the eyes.

It had all been far too easy. He looked to the SUV and saw his sister standing next to the driver's side door. "Eurus!" he called out.

"No, Sherlock. As much as I've enjoyed our reunion, I'm not ready to give up my freedom. Jim wanted you alive, you see. If you managed to survive the jump, that is." She said the last word with a mirthless laugh. "He thought you might, by the way. He wanted us to keep playing. But Seb..."

That explained it. He walked forward cautiously.

"... Seb's got different plans."

"And you?"

She smiled sadly and shrugged. "I…I don't quite know. I really just wanted to meet you." She paused, shaking her head almost dejectedly, though her smile never faltered. "I won't survive this. Seb's in charge now and he's... not my biggest fan."

"I can still get you out, Eurus."

She laughed. "You can't. This is all I know, Sherlock. All I've known for… I can't even remember my other life." Looking around, she seemed to be thinking, or was she remembering? "I do have flashes, sometimes… You, Mummy, Dad. But…" Her posture changed, her back going rigid, her face hardening. "They're never quite enough."

Sherlock sighed. He didn't know what to think of this woman. She was calculating and brilliant. A psychopath, obviously, but she was his sister. He needed to get her back to England, back to Mycroft. It would blow his cover, but…

He also needed Moran. The man was the very last piece of the puzzle.

"Where is he, Eurus?"

"Where is always is, big brother," she said as she opened the door and climbed into the SUV.

Just then, the back door behind her opened and a tall blond man exited the vehicle. He stood very close to the door, near enough to make his escape if need be.

"Holmes," the man said. "We meet at last."

"Sebastian Moran, I presume."

"In the flesh."

"I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to turn yourself in for me, would you? I've had a bit of a day, you see and I'd like to have a shower and some chips. Oh, and I should probably get my arm seen to. You understand, I'm sure," Sherlock said, trying his best to stall and formulate a plan, though nothing was coming to mind.

Moran chuckled. "You're funny. Like your slag of a sister. She's funny too." His face changed from amused to furious. "Annoys the piss out of me."

"A family trait." He took another step and Moran held up a hand.

"Not today, Holmes. I was just checking you out. Wanted to see what I was up against. Live and in person. Not bad, for a posh boy, I must say. The little slut and I had a bet. She didn't think you'd kill 'em; I knew you would. I may have cheated a bit. Told them to go easy on you. I don't like losing." He nodded his head; the gesture was very nearly friendly. "Until next time, Holmes." Moran quickly got into the car and shut the door. It sped away.

"That was the last time I saw my sister," he told Molly. "Alive."

"What happened?"

"Two months later, I was staying in a flat in Barcelona. I was in disguise at this point, of course, had a new alias and backstory. Moran and Eurus knew me, my face, though it seemed that they had for a while. I'd been out following up a lead most of the day. When I returned there was a box on my doorstep. No address, no name. After carefully checking it for explosives, I opened it."

He poured one more glass of whisky, drank half of it, he said, "It was Eurus' head," then finished his drink. He hadn't looked at her for quite some time. Couldn't if he were being honest.

"Oh, Sherlock…" She reached for him and he let her take his hand.

"I'm fine, Molly. Really." He stood, his muscles tight and achy from sitting for so long. "I, ah…" Glancing down at her, he saw the look on her face and cringed. "Bed, I think," he said, turning and walking to his room.

She sat staring after him for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. Since the morning that he'd talked her into fooling around Molly had slept in her own bed, but suddenly she felt the need to be near him. Desperately.

Knowing that what he had shared with her must have been incredibly difficult, Molly rose from the settee and quickly made her way to her room. She fished out a pair of pj bottoms and a tee shirt, then changed her clothes. After that, she patted Toby on the head and informed the cat that she was sleeping with Sherlock and that he knew where to find them. After a quick stop in the bathroom to clean her teeth and wash her face, she knocked on Sherlock's door.

"Come in?" he answered, sounding confused.

Molly stepped into the room, smiling. "I, ah… Can I sleep in here tonight?"

"I told you that I'm fine." His voice was harsh and a bit rough.

"I know. Maybe I just wanted to sleep in a comfortable bed for a change," she said, making her way to the other side of the bed.

"Still complaining, I see."

"It's awful, Sherlock!"

He huffed and scooted down in the bed.

Molly rolled toward him as he reached out and turned off the light. By the time he had moved back into bed, they were touching.

"I know you think I'm fragile and hurting, but I assure you I'm not," he said, his voice low and deep. "I didn't even know her, Molly."

"Then why did you just drink a half a bottle of single malt?"

The room was silent for several minutes, then finally Sherlock said, "That was the first time… the only time I've ever killed anyone. I had shot people before, injured them before sending them to the authorities, my contacts with the CIA and the like, but…"

"You had no choice," she said.

"I know."

"And Eurus is not your fault."

"No?" he asked. "I was blind and arrogant, Molly. I walked right into her trap and let Moran set me up. Set us up."

"It sounds like he wanted her dead. You couldn't have prevented that."

"I could have grabbed her. I could have at least tried…"

Molly moved even closer, snuggling up against him, and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Sherlock, she chose to leave the institution, she chose to be a criminal."

"Moriarty groomed her."

"I'm sure he did."

"No, Molly. I know he did. Moran told me. Rubbed it in when I finally got him."

Leaning up on one arm, Molly looked down at him, his face illuminated in the small amount of light coming in through the window. "Your sister is not your responsibility, Sherlock."

"I'm supposed to be better than that. I'm the one who fixes things…"

Oh, God… He sounded so broken. "Not everything," she said, fighting tears; they wouldn't help him and only make her look weak.

He pulled her down, letting her settle on his chest.

"I should have, though," he whispered, then kissed the top of her head. "It's what I do. I'm supposed to save people. Especially the ones I..."

Though he never finished his sentence Molly knew what he was going to say. Three years of being alone had taken its toll on Sherlock Holmes. Meeting his sister then… God, she couldn't even begin to imagine. He clearly blamed himself for her death.

Lying there in the stillness of his bedroom, Molly felt him relax; his breathing evened out and the arm around her shoulder went slack. She tightened her hold around his chest, snuggling even closer to the now sleeping man.

She was so comfortable, so content. It was easy to pretend that it was all real. But it wasn't of course. And now she was afraid that she'd just found another missing piece of the puzzle. Sherlock's story had very enlightening. She was starting to understand.

He hadn't been able to save his sister; he'd failed Eurus, at least in his eyes. So what had he done as soon as he returned to England? He had embarked on some kind of mission to save her instead. As she lay there in his loose embrace, Molly wondered if he wasn't somewhat relieved to have this chance to redeem himself, if this whole mess hadn't been exactly what he needed upon his return.

She wasn't a replacement for John, as she had feared. She was his guilt.

God, this was even worse than she'd imagined. Misplaced obligation was so much worse than loneliness. Though in truth, none of the reasons she had considered for his interest in her had offered her much comfort.

As she held onto him securely, she told herself that she needed more distance, ironically. "Tomorrow," she whispered when she heard his soft snores. Tomorrow she'd put her weak heart back where it belonged. But tonight she would hold him and be held by him simply because it felt so damn good.

Okay, that was tough. Poor Sherlock! This was a difficult chapter to write, so your feedback would be greatly appreciated. I've been working on prepping the next three. Hopefully, we won't have to wait too long for them (smut returns in the next one; ). Thanks so much for reading! ~Lil~