(Y/n) watched as Sherlock spoke quietly to John, and as Lestrade and Mycroft stood in the corner, Mycroft seeming to whisper into his phone as he kept glancing at her. If it wasn't bad enough that she had been attacked, now she felt like a child that had been scolded by her parents. As she lay in her hospital bed, she had had to tell Lestrade and her brothers about the new letters and how they had been worse than the previous ones; but when they had asked her why she hadn't told any of them, she hadn't wanted to say that it was because of Jim, so she had simply told them that she didn't want to worry them again.

"Well young lady, it looks like you're going to be ok, but the doctors want to keep you in over night just in case." A sympathetic John said, as he moved to the side of her bed, Sherlock now joining the other men.

"Give it to me straight Doc, how much trouble am I in?" (Y/n) asked, trying to smile as John took her hand in his.

"Well lets just put it this way, I don't think I've ever seen Sherlock this mad, and Mycroft is talking about putting you in some kind of safe house or something." John said sympathetically as (Y/n) dropped her head.

"Why didn't you tell us it was happening again, (Y/n)?" John asked, as he sat on the side of her bed.

"I....... well, someone else said that they were going to look after it for me, and I didn't want to have to be locked up with Sherlock again, I'd probably end up stuffing him in his own fridge if I had to do that again." (Y/n) explained, as John gave her a confused look.

"Who said that they would take care of it for you sweetheart?" The doctor asked, Sherlock and Mycroft walking over to join them before (Y/n) could reply.

"Now young lady, as soon as the doctors releases you tomorrow, I will have you escorted to a safe house where we can watch over you until we can apprehend the man responsible for this." Mycroft told her, (Y/n) huffing at being spoken to like she was a child, as well as the idea of being dragged to a safe house.

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme? I mean this was probably only a mugging or something, it could have happened to anyone, this is London after all; Greg, tell them that this is overkill." (Y/n) said, beseeching for the Detective Inspector to intercede.

"(Y/n) will you stop acting like a fool, you know very well that this was not just a random mugging, you have a stalker and these men can be exceptionally dangerous. He has already proved that he has every intention of doing more than simply sending you letters, we have to protect you, we have to..........." Sherlock began, only to find himself cut off midsentence by a now angry (Y/n).

"You both said you were going to protect me last time, you both told me that you were going to find who was responsible for all this last time; and what did you both do, you spent the entire time griping at one another about whose brain is more superior, well this time you can both go out and prove it. You both say you want what's best for me, that you want to protect me, then put your brains where your mouths are and get this guy; I am not going into safe house I have a life, and I have a........... well I have a life, and I'm not having it disrupted again, maybe I should rely on someone else to take care of me rather than you two." (Y/n) said with a huff, turning away from the four men that stood in shock next to the side of her bed.

"What do you mean you have a ........... life?" Mycroft enquired, as he slowly sat on the bed.

"What do you mean...... someone else to take care of you?" Sherlock asked, as he sat next to Mycroft.

"Oh please, isn't it obvious." John chuckled, as Sherlock and Mycroft turned to look at him.

"Of course, you two don't think like that do you? I believe that you will find that (Y/n) has found herself a gentleman." John proudly declared, growing a little uncomfortable as (Y/n) turned back to glare at him.

"JOHN!" (Y/n) exclaimed, groaning as both Mycroft and Sherlock jumped to their feet.

"A man? What do you mean? (Y/n) is this true?" Mycroft asked, as he looked between John and (Y/n).

"Well, yes, its true, I met him the day I went to the British Museum and I've been seeing him ever since." (Y/n) confessed, rolling her eyes as Sherlock looked at her like she had grown another head.

"But you're a Holmes, we don't, sentiment........." Sherlock began, stopping as (Y/n) bang her hand on the bed, the frustration, pain and anger of the day finally getting the better of her.

"No Sherlock, just because you and Mycroft choose to build up walls around your hearts, it doesn't mean I have to. I know all that rubbish you spout about sentiment, but unlike you two I can't be happy just spending my nights alone with a cup of tea, a copy of the London Times or a violin for company; and this is one of the reasons I didn't tell you about Jim, I knew that Mycroft would instantly be on the phone to some fawning underling who would organise someone to follow him, or you would insist on telling me some deep dark secret from his past in hopes that it would break us up. Now if you all don't mind, I would like to get some sleep, it's late, and I'm tired." (Y/n) complained, as she turned over once again, pulling the blankets over her head, determined not to listen to anything else her brothers had to say.

>>-------------------------------<<

James and Seb had been sat in the car outside Saint Georges for hours, James brooding as he waited for a time when he believed that he would have a small chance to go and see (Y/n).

"What is it?" Seb growled down the phone, as the sudden ring split the heavy atmosphere in the car.

"Are you sure its him?............. How do you know?............... What do you mean, you can't find him? ............ Well you better do something." Seb snarled, before cancelling the call and throwing the phone on the seat next to him.

"What is it?" James asked absentmindedly as he looked up at the red brick building, hoping that by now (Y/n)'s other visitors would have left.

"It was one of the boys, they said they think they know who might have hurt Miss Holmes." Seb said, James instantly turning his gaze to the man in the driver's seat.

"Who?" James asked, as a million ways of inflicting as much pain as possible on the man that was responsible for hurting (Y/n), raced through his mind.

"Mackenzie. He was one of the men that you had send Miss Holmes the letters in the first place, according to the others he's become obsessed with her, the boys say that he never stops talking about her, that he's been watching her. The only problem is, since the incident where Miss Holmes was attacked, no one can find him." Seb explained, watching as James's got an all too familiar crazed, murderous look in his eyes.

"Tell them to find him, I don't care what they have to do, just find him." James said, as he opened the car door and slowly got out.

"I'm going to see (Y/n), I want Mackenzie, and I want him now." James told Seb, as he closed the door, and made his way quietly into the hospital.

>>------------------------------<<

The hospital was quiet, what few nurses were left on duty busied themselves with their paperwork as they tried to keep themselves awake; not one of them noticed the man that had quietly sneaked in, using the darkened corridors to his advantage. He knew where he was going, he had been in earlier that day knowing that not one of the men that surrounded her bed would recognise him, he was not his boss, he was just one of those guys that seemed to merge into the background; but once he had her, once he had taken the one person that was most important to not only the two Holmes boys, but also the feared James Moriarty, he would no longer just be a no one.

Quietly he opened the door to her room, his eyes falling on the sleeping form of the woman he had come to find, his hands gripping hold of the pillow he would use to dispatch the sleeping female. He knew she couldn't put up much of a fight, he had made sure that he had done just enough damage to render her incapable of being anything but an easy victim.

Cautiously he made his way over to the bed, raising the pillow just enough so that he could place it over her head; within seconds she was struggling, desperately trying to hit and scratch at his arms, her weakened body doing all that it could to survive, but as quickly as the attack began it ended, a loud bang and a thump echoing through the room as the pillow slipped from her head, a body of a man falling to the floor as she looked up and saw who and what was responsible for the noise.

There stood Jim, a smoking gun in his hand as he looked down at the body, a wicked smirk gracing his lips as (Y/n) stared up at him wide eyed, fear and disbelief coursing through her mind.

"Jim......what......how.....what's going on?" (Y/n) asked, as Jim pushed the gun back into his pocket, before he moved to take her shaking form into his arms, his fingers brushing through her hair as he hid her face from the blood drenched body on the floor.

"It's alright, you're safe now (Y/n), that was the man that hurt you, so I had to hurt him. No one touches you, no one." Jim declared, as he gulped down the lump that had formed in his throat; he knew that the gun shot would attract the security staff, that it would attract the four men that he somehow knew were somewhere still in the hospital.

"(Y/n) I have to tell you that I haven't been truthful, that I wish I could explain; but I have to go before your brothers and Lestrade get here, I......." James began, trying to move away, only to find his hand caught in (Y/n)'s.

"Stay...... you saved me Jim; he was trying to kill me. Mycroft and Sherlock will know what to do........." (Y/n) pleaded, tears rolling down her cheeks as Jim pulled his arm away.

"No! You have to forget about me. Ask your brothers about a James Moriarty, then you'll see why I can't stay. I'm sorry (Y/n)." James said, as he quickly left the room, ignoring the cries of the woman that he knew he loved.

Suddenly Mycroft, Sherlock, John and Greg appeared in the doorway, their eyes growing wide as they looked at the dead man on the floor.

"What the happened?" Greg asked, as he and John watched as the two Holmes boys seemed to instantly deduce what had only just occurred.

"I'll tell you everything I know......... but first you tell me about James Moriarty." (Y/n) said, all of the men turning to look at her at the mention of the consulting criminals name.

>>------------------------------<<

(Y/n) sat alone in the British Museum, staring up at the monolithic bust of the great pharaoh; it had been nearly a year since that night in the hospital, the night she had nearly lost her life, the night she had found out what the man she loved, really was.

She had never come out right and told Sherlock and Mycroft that the Jim she was seeing was in fact James Moriarty, but she knew she didn't have to, she knew that they both already knew, both of them choosing never to mention it.

She had never had any reason to doubt what her brother, Lestrade, and John had told her about Moriarty, she knew every word was true; but she had struggled for so long to paint the man that she knew and loved, as the demon she had be told about.

In spite of everything, (Y/n) had always wished that he would come back, that he would take her away; but as the days had turned into weeks, and the weeks had turned into months, she had given up hope of ever seeing him again.

Today was the day that she had first met James in this very room, in front of this very statue a year ago, and despite herself she had made her way down to the museum, some how hoping that a visit to her old friend would help.

"Did you know that he signed the first international peace treaty in history?" A melodious voice said from behind (Y/n) as she continued to gaze at the statue, tears springing from her eyes as she felt him sit by her side.

"Yes, with the Hittites; he also married the Hittite King's oldest daughter as a show of diplomatic good faith." (Y/n) replied, gulping down the large lump that had formed in her throat as she felt him take her hand.

"Did they tell you?" James asked, as he looked up at the statue, smiling slightly as he felt her hand tighten its grip on his.

"Yes, but unfortunately it never made me stop loving you." (Y/n) said, turning her gaze to the man that sat by her side.

"Then, how would you like to get a coffee?" James asked, standing up and offering (Y/n) his arm, kissing her softly as she stood by his side.

"I'd like that very much." (Y/n) told him, as the pair made their way out of the museum and onto the streets of London, streets that would never be the same now that James Moriarty had his Holmes back by his side.

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