"My sister is going to kill you........" Greg said, as he and John watched Sherlock more or less ransack her home. The detective well aware that they were there to search for clues to (Y/n)'s possible whereabouts; but when they got her back, and she saw this mess.........oh boy! And Greg would most certainly enjoy telling her who had done it, when they brought her home.

Brought her home. The thought made a heavy lump suddenly form in the pit of his stomach. Greg knew that his sister was a big girl, that she was more than capable of looking after herself; but she was still his little sister. The detective thinking back to when she was a girl; to when she would run around the park with her pigtails flying behind her as she quickly made her way to the pond. Calling out to him and their mother to hurry up, so that they could feed the ducks. Then he could remember the pride that had filled him, when she had finally become a police officer; and the fear that he had felt when she had gone to work with the Specialist Firearms Command. Yet that fear was nothing to what he felt now. Nothing to the knowledge that she was being held by Moriarty. Greg not sure how the consulting criminal would take (Y/n)'s character; her penchant for sarcasm and speaking her mind, surly something that would rub the psychotic maniac, the wrong way. The older Lestrade finding himself praying, before he had fallen asleep in the chair, the previous night, that whatever greater being there might be, they would watch over his sister; and make sure that she watched what she said.

"Crossword!" Sherlock suddenly said, holding a copy of a newspaper in his hand as he turned to look at John and Greg.

"What.........?"

"When did (Y/n) start doing the Times crossword?" Sherlock continued, as he made his way over to the detective. Greg looking at him, his brows furrowed.

"(Y/n) doesn't buy the paper, never mind does the crossword." The older Lestrade answers, as the consulting detective spread out the paper on the table and looked at it more closely.

"This isn't the crossword from the day (Y/n) was taken." Sherlock suddenly announced, studying the black text, before grabbing up the paper and making for the door. Greg and John looking at one another for a moment, before quickly following after the younger Holmes who was currently on the street, trying to find a cab.

"Sherlock, what...........?" John asked, as he and the detective inspector watched his friend looking around, hoping to catch sight of a black cab.

"The paper is from the day that (Y/n) was taken by Moriarty. Yet this is not the crossword as it actually appeared in that day's paper. It is another one of Moriarty's games. The blood told me to come and find her, the next clue to doing just that, is here. She is in this city, John; she is right under my nose. Moriarty has had all this planned out for some time. He has been watching (Y/n); watching her long enough to know her routines, what she does and doesn't do. He knows about................(Y/n) was taken because of me, John. And now I have to get her back........" Sherlock explained. The doctor knowing that this wasn't just Sherlock thinking that he was the centre of the universe. That this wasn't just a Holmes thing; this was Sherlock really showing that he was concerned for the younger Lestrade. Really blaming himself for all of this. The sincere look in his friend's eyes, the most emotional that John had ever seen, shocking him a little. He and Sherlock turning at the sound of screeching tires, to see Greg quickly move out into the road to stop a cab, as it came down the street. John placing his hand on Sherlock's arm and just giving him a smile, before they joined Greg and climbed into the back of the cab.

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

(Y/n) sat in the room, lost in thought. She wasn't used to just sitting here like this. Even on her days off, she tended to be out and about, doing something. She liked to keep her mind busy, which of course normally meant that she could work too much; but she would rather be working than just sitting and twiddling her thumbs.

"Crossword." A voice suddenly said. (Y/n) shaking her bored thoughts from her mind, as she realised that Moriarty was stood right behind her chair and had dropped a copy of the Times on the table in front of her.

"Pardon...........?"

"Crossword. I thought you looked bored." James said, as continued to stand behind her. The female detective able to feel the heat from his body, warm the back of her neck.

"You couldn't have brought me a book? Maybe a TV, a radio, like most normal people would. No, you think I look bored, so you bring me the crossword........"

"You don't like crosswords........?" James continued, as he finally moved and took his seat across from her.

"What? Are you saying that there is something you don't know about me? I thought after having me stalked for as long as you seemed to have done, you would know my entire life story." The younger Lestrade scoffed, before half reluctantly reaching for the paper and pulling it towards her.

"It's not that I don't like them, I just don't normally have time. That, and I'm not one to buy papers. Though I have found myself doing them in the office, if someone leaves one lying around. Not that you have too many people that buy the Times, in our office." (Y/n) continued, as she mused over one or two of the clues.

"What are you going to do when Sherlock works out all your clues.........?" She added, not bothering to look up at James as she asked.

"I mean, this is all a game. A stupid game that you like to play with Sherlock. So, I know that you will have left clues. I know that you have left clues to my whereabouts, like a trail of breadcrumbs. So, what will happen when he solves your clues?" The female detective finally looking up at him.

"What is your grand plan, Moriarty? Are we back to you killing me, so you can watch Sherlock suffer. To trying to kill John again, because you know he won't be far behind Sherlock when he does come. Maybe even try and hurt Mycroft? You know, personally I think that this was all a waste of your time. That there are far better ways of punishing Sherlock Holmes, than this. Why don't you just let me go, and find something better to focus on........say.......this crossword. Oh, and one down is Socrates, by the way..........." (Y/n) said, as she pushed the paper across the table to him. Doing her best to not look confused, as Jim just began to chuckle.

"Oh, on the contrary, I believe that all this is far from a waste of my time. And although my plans may have changed, this game still stands." Jim replied, as he got to his feet.

"And you, Miss Lestrade, could never be a waste of any man's time." He continued, as he leant over and whispered into her ear. A shudder going down her spine, as his lips brushed against the side of her face.

"Now, I'll go and get your lunch. And perhaps a book............" Jim giving her a smile, before making his way back to the door, knocking, and being let out.