WITHIN 221B BAKER STREET

The aftershocks of being shot weren't ones that faded away quickly. A steady supply of morphine needed to remain within 221B, much to John's displeasure. In his opinion, the last thing Sherlock needed was more opiates. At the same time, he wasn't going to stop his flatmate from getting the necessary medicine for his wound.

But, of course, Will ended up feeling the effects of it all just the same. Too much had been happening on Baker Street, preventing him from doing what he had to do. So much of his time was being wasted by everything going on in Sherlock's personal life.

He hadn't even known that Sherlock had been shot until John had called to tell him several days later. He certainly felt bad - Sherlock, at the end of the day, was a good person and didn't deserve to be brought so close to death.

But now that he was out of the hospital and back on his feet, Sherlock needed to get himself back on the case. Certainly Will would be involved when it all came together. At least, he was hoping for that much.

"Go head off to the crime scene," Sherlock demanded, looking across the room where John and Will were in the middle of a conversation. He didn't mind if he was interrupting anything - in his mind, nothing could be more important than the case.

But he still felt surprised when he found the other two staring back at him with a blank look in their eyes.

"Off. The crime scene is waiting."

"It's a crime scene, why aren't you coming?" John asked, taking a step towards him.

"Why do you think I'm not coming?" Sherlock replied, raising his brows. "It's because I've been shot and am still attempting to heal. I can't be overexerting myself. Surely you know this, you're a doctor."

"We've already seen you going around like nothing's wrong," Will replied, shaking his head. "I don't see why this should be any different-"

"Here is why it is different. I need to investigate the body myself. It's already been removed and brought to the morgue. You are the only two I trust to properly investigate the crime scene. Now go."

"You trust me to properly investigate the crime scene," Will said dryly.

"Yes, I do. Perhaps you should head off there before I decide to change my mind on that matter."

Will took in a deep breath as if to reply, but John cut in to the conversation before anything could heat up. He had been in this situation with the two men plenty of times, and as he was friends with both of them he didn't want to see them get into a fight.

"Come on," John said. "Sherlock's right. The police are probably already at the crime scene, and apparently they're going to contaminate it or something silly like that. There's no use putting it off."

Will, deciding that he'd rather submit to John's ideas rather than Sherlock, gave a quick nod and ended up following the army doctor out the door. He was far from comfortable with the entire situation, but at least he was able to do as he chose rather than being forced around. At least, that's how he rationalised it in his mind.

No one gave Sherlock another look before they went ahead - they didn't want to provoke him into saying anything more about how they needed to go to the crime scene. He wouldn't have given them the time of day, anyways - he was far too busy inside of his own mind.

Sherlock worked better on his own when he convinced himself to be in these sorts of moods. Sometimes he needed others in order to support him, but there were always those times where it was necessary to have complete silence and empty space around him. There were hardly any possibilities for distractions, things to take him out of his mind.

Despite how he wished himself to be completely alone, what he was thinking about concerned many other people. There were many sorts of things to worry about when it came to other people being around, all with their own opinions and problems.

Sherlock could've easily found a way to send just Will away rather than him along with him flatmate, but at the end of the day Will wasn't the main concern in his mind. No, John could not be around for what Sherlock was preparing to do.

He had to find out about Mary. What she had done was still a secret between them and Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course. John didn't know any of it, and Sherlock couldn't very well tell him that his wife was some sort of assassin who was under Magnussen's thumb.

No, Sherlock found himself determined to figure out why Mary was such a liar - there had to be something she was covering up. He could only deduce so much from what he knew of her. Her persona was masterfully created, and he needed to find a crack in the armor in order to break through.

Luckily, even the smallest details could end up being important. Sherlock realised that he knew something of Mary's past even though it never registered in his mind before. Just a single glance and a few misplaced words were enough to tip him off.

Of course, he hadn't mentioned a thing about before. It hadn't been relevent up untl that point. It remained at the back of his mind and now that he was willing to do something about it, it came back into his mind.

Sherlock reached over to his side table and picked up his phone. He turned it around several times within his fingers, making up a plan of precisely how he was going to pull this off.

"Mr. Holmes," Hannibal said calmly. "To what do I owe the honor of your call to?"

"I need to know about Mary," Sherlock said, deciding to be blunt. It seemed like the only way to get any real information out of the man was to pry it out. "Please, any information you may have about Mary Watson will be very helpful."

"I know very little about Mary Watson," he replied. "I've only met her once, at the dinner party when her husband brought her along. I can offer you whaat little information I have gleaned from our conversation, but I doubt it is anything you don't already know."

"I saw you at that dinner table, Mr. Lecter. I know that you know more than you're letting on."

"Not mister. Doctor. Dr. Lecter. Excuse me, I just prefer my proper title."

Sherlock let out a small yes, wondering why this was so important. He was skirting around the important information, obviously.

"Now, if you excuse me,I must go," Hannibal said. "I'm afraid that I have to attend to my family. Perhaps I can call you back later on, Mr. Holmes?"

"Perhaps," Sherlock said. "Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."

The ping of the call ending entered Sherlock's ear, causing him to close his eyes and shake his head. He might just have to call back some other time - but whether or not Hannibal actually had anything to do with his family, he certainly didn't want to talk about Mary.

He needed to do something to take his mind off of the issues concerning Mary. Perhaps the best and only way to do such a thing was to work on a case, so that was precisely what he was going to do.

Sherlock walked outside and immediately hired a car. He didn't want to waste any time - there was no one else to blame for wasting time, after all. He had almost perfect conditions in order to get everything done in one way or another.

Just like he had told John and Will, he was going to investigate the body from the newest murder himself. This was the third one that had appeared within the past several weeks, and he needed to see if there was any sort of difference between it and the others.

He heaved out a sigh as he watched the city fly past outside of his window. Soon he would arrive at St. Bart's and would have to go through social interaction and working with people when that happened.

As soon as he entered the building, he made a beeline to the morgue - he wasn't going to deal with any more people than he possibly had to. Standing within was Molly, seemingly lost within her own thoughts.

"Hello, Molly," he said, prompting her to turn around to face him.

"Oh, Sherlock," Molly said, sounding somewhat breathless. "Sorry, I didn't know you were coming up."

"I typically don't give announcement of my appearance unless it is necessary," Sherlock replied.

"I guess you're coming to look at the body, then," she said. "I've been looking at it quite a bit, but I haven't really seen anything all that out of the ordinary...I mean, there are a few things, but I don't think they're that big of a deal."

"Elaborate."

"I don't think there's anything that I can say - the body just explains itself. Well, I mean, there are different organs gone and replaced this time around. I guess that would be important."

Sherlock nodded, waiting for her to begin leading him to the body. She took a moment to process that this what was he wanted, but she soon ended up walking along with her hands folded in front of her.

"Um..." Molly began, her voice shaking slightly as she turned to Sherlock. "Why are you here alone, if you don't mind my asking? You know...where are Will and John?"

"Out at the crime scene, of course," Sherlock said. "I'm sure John will keep me updated if anything comes up. I figured it would be more efficient to do things in this way."

Sherlock decided that he'd be better off not even mentioning the shooting with Mary - if Molly didn't need to be involved in the woman's past, than she wouldn't have to be.

"Oh," Molly squeaked. She speed walked over to where the body was and pulled it out for Sherlock to see. Only the feet were visible from the body bag, but as she began to unzip it he decided to interrupt her.

"Molly, do you have a new cat?"

"Maybe," she said, looking aside as she moved her hands off of the zipper. "I don't see why it matters here."

"I was just asking, Molly."

"I know."

"You have a different color of cat fur on your pant leg than normal, so I assumed-"

"It doesn't matter, Sherlock. We have a body to attend to, yes? I think that's the most important thing at the moment, right?"

"But that's not the only thing that's new," Sherlock said softly, picking up on the fact that she was distressed. "Molly, when were you planning to announce that you were engaged again?"

"I wasn't," she said, her voice low. "It was going to be a quiet thing. I should've known you would notice, though, you always notice..."

"Will didn't mention anything to me about it."

At this, Molly turned around wide-eyed. "Will?"

"Yes, Will. Certainly Will would be the only one who would be placing a ring on your finger. After your problems with Tom, I could hardly see you taking him back. It is a new ring, after all, and a very nice one at that."

Sherlock continued muttering on about how he had just paid Will a good amount of money and how he would've been able to afford such a thing when otherwise he would've been unable to afford it, and other things of the sort. Molly closed her eyes, looking pained.

"Listen," she said, finally taking her chance to interrupt him. "The whole thing between Will and I is supposed to be between Will and I."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it," Sherlock said. "I am merely noting that there is indeed something going on. I don't understand why you're so distressed over it."

"Because the last time you got involved in one of my relationships, the relationship ended. I don't see how you could've forgotten that, Sherlock. And that wasn't the first time it had happened, either."

"I haven't forgotten it," Sherlock said. "I wouldn't forget that."

"Then...leave me alone about this, okay? I want this to turn out well. Please."

"I just want to know precisely what is going on, and I doubt that Will give me any more information than you will."

"Well, there's no information to be given," Molly protested. "I've got a ring on my finger, that's all."

"Do you love him?" Sherlock asked. "I can only assume you must, because you took up his offer to marry you so quickly, but I want to hear the words from your mouth."

Molly pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "The body is waiting, Sherlock. I've done everything I could do in order to figure out details about it, but I still think you'll be able to figure out something more from it."

"Molly..."

"Sherlock, I don't want to talk about it right now. Please."

"When else are we supposed to talk about it?" Sherlock asked.

"I thought you wanted to see the body," she replied numbly. She began to move around her fingers, especially on the left hand - if she curled her joints in a specific way, she could feel the diamond ring that laid on her finger.

"I do want to see the body - but the body will remain a body for a long time. This may be the only opportunity we get to speak about this. I'm not sure this is going to be the best choice, Molly-"

"Are you trying to tear us apart before we've just barely gotten together?" Molly asked, shaking her head. "I know that you and Will don't get along very well, but still! I thought...I thought you wanted me to be happy, Sherlock."

"I do want you to be happy, which is precisely why I'm warning you against making such a permanent decision."

"It wasn't very permanent last time," Molly grumbled.

"You see how easily these things can be broken. I don't want to see you nor Will go through that. He may not be what you're expecting, Molly. You hardly know him."

"I know him well enough," she replied softly. "This is different. I know it is."

"Show me the body," Sherlock finally said. He realised just how much emotional damage he had ended up causing Molly and decided he'd be better off doing something about it. She didn't even glance at him as she unzipped the body bag.

As soon as Sherlock's eyes ran over the body, his eyes widened.

"Do not show Will Graham this body," Sherlock said.

"What?" Molly said. She had to sputter her next few sentences out. "Listen, I don't know what you have against him, but he's really not such a bad person. You don't have to result to silly things in order to show your dislike for him."

"No, no, it has nothing to do with that," continued Sherlock. Despite of his typical manner of hiding emotion, he found the blood rushing away from his cheeks. All the clues had been laid out for him, but only in this moment was he putting them together.

"Then what is it about?" Molly asked, sounding more distressed than angry as she was trying to play herself out to be. The stuffed body already put her on edge, but Sherlock's strange behavior certainly pushed it over the edge.

"Just...just don't show Will the body. Molly, if you never listen to me again, listen to me for this once - do not show him the body."

"I just want to know why," Molly said. "Is it really that bad that you can't even explain to me?"

Sherlock didn't answer this time around - he was far too absorbed in his thoughts for that. No, he couldn't really tell Molly much of anything. Her relationship with Will might end up causing her to give something away, and he couldn't take that risk no matter how much he trusted Molly.

"Please, Molly. Don't."

Molly decided not to protest anymore - she hardly ever saw Sherlock like this, and if it hadn't been for Will being involved within it she wouldn't have fought against him at all.

"Do you need to see the body any longer?" she asked, avoiding eye contact with the detective.

"No, no. You can put it away now. I'll be returning to 221B. If there are any developments, you know how to contact me."

Molly nodded slightly before she went to put away the body, finding herself flinching all the way. It didn't matter how many years she had worked in the morgue - there was something about how the body was defiled, how its humanity was tossed aside, that bothered her deeply.

Sherlock didn't say another word to her before he left St. Bart's. The moment he arrived outside he hailed a cab - he needed a quiet place to think on his way back to 221B Baker Street. Simply, he just needed to think about a multitude of things.

His mind was reeling - it couldn't just be mere coincidence that things were beginning to come together all on the same day. There was no such thing as a "mere coincidence," after all. Sherlock lived by that. Now he just needed to put it to use.

The body confirmed something in Sherlock's head that he hadn't even given so much of a second thought to since it appeared. There was so little to confirm it in the past - but now it began to turn up again. He could've easily passed it off as so many other things, but instead it stuck in the back of his mind as more and more words began to attach themselves to it.

There was a surgical, certainly medical, precision to it all - a former surgeon must've been involved. Then, of course, there was the various missing organs. Someone was looking for variety, and Sherlock believed he knew precisely who and why.

The human bodies were being desecrated, but not without meaning. No, specific organs were being removed for their own specific reasons - eating. Someone wanted to have their pick for their meals.

Words. Words were going to be of immense importance - word choice could be an identifying factor as long as someone wasn't trying to cover up their tracks in that particular manner. Somehow Sherlock found himself sure that this time around he could use words to his advantages.

"Not mister. Doctor."

Two very different voices had uttered those exact same words, and yet somehow it slipped past Sherlock that there was a connection. One of those voices had been augmented by a voice changer, a sure sign of something being covered up.

Then, of course, there was the fact that everything else had been convered up as well - but it was only just enough to hide the outer layer of it all. Sherlock had been so confused the whole time, believing that the Clarence House Cannibal had been someone entirely different.

All that time, he had believed that the cannibal was in actuality a woman - their lighter voice would be hidden by the voice changer, and their different figure could be convered up by everything they were wearing.

But of course, it could've all been because they had a foreign accent, and plenty of muscle...but there was still more to it. Sherlock knew that there was something more that he had to unravel.

The Clarence House Cannibal mentioned something more towards the end of their card game. Of course Sherlock made a point to mark it down as it was somewhat odd, but he thought that it was little more than another way for him to hide his true identity.

"Doctor Magnussen," the figure had said.

"Magnussen," Sherlock murmured to himself. "How could I have missed it before?"

Everything began to fall into place, one detail lining itself up with another and another and another. Everything fit together almost too perfectly.

Hannibal Lecter murdered all of the people involved in the case. Not only that, but he was the Chesapeake Ripper. And he didn't just maim his victims for fun, no - he ate them. He was the Clarence House Cannibal who had evaded his grasp for so long.

As if this weren't enough, he had "family affairs" in the area as well, with none other than Charles Augustus Magnussen. Perhaps it was just another step to hide his identity, but by using Magnussen as his last name he also ended up revealing another tie.

Surely Mary fit into this web - Charles knew all of her secrets because she was involved with Hannibal. Magnussen could siphon the information from his brother and then use it to blackmail her. But perhaps Hannibal was far more interested in being kind to her, which only complicated things even further.

But there were a few things he was sure of - Hannibal was a killer, and was manipulating just about everyone around him.

And Sherlock couldn't let Will know. No, he couldn't do such a thing.

A/N Oh, yes - Sherlock knows. And oh, yes, he isn't going to be telling anyone, especially not Will. It's a very exciting thing, that's all that I can really say here. I'm kind of panicking over what is going to be happening in tonight's episode of Hannibal. I don't have that much longer...but anyways, I just hope that you enjoy what I've written in here!