It's six forty five. Sherlock has been in the bathroom, rustling his curls, shaving. He's wearing a purple button down shirt, the nicest thing he has in his closet save a tux, and that's far too formal — as John assured him.

"It's nearly seven, should I go?" he asks. His palms are sweating.

John turns the telly down. Sherlock hasn't even been able to pay attention to the show, whatever it is. "You have ten minutes," John says.

"Yes, but that's not too early... is it?"

John chuckles. "Go ahead. I'm sure she won't mind even if she isn't ready."

Sherlock chews on his lip, worried by John's wording. "Are you sure?"

"It'll be fine."

After another moment of worrying — what if she isn't ready? What if she's changed her mind? — he decides to bite the bullet and go.

"Good luck," John calls.

Sherlock hurries down stairs, tries to walk more slowly to Lily's front door, give her more time, but then an odd sight catches his eye.

Her door is open.

Maybe she stepped out to the garden? But why would she do that this close to a dinner date? Did she step into Mrs. Hudson's flat? It's possible. He knocks on the door.

Mrs. Hudson answers the door with a vacuum in her hand. "Oh, Sherlock. You look nice."

"Is Lily here?"

Her brows furrow. "Why, no. I haven't seen her all day. Why?"

Sherlock wordlessly points to her open door, trying not to panic.

"Well... that's odd."

Sherlock knocks on the door despite it being open, because she's down there and doesn't want him to just barge in.

He receives no answer and knocks again. "Lily?" Nothing. "Lily!" Once again, silence. He can longer fight his growing panic and slings the door all the way open, rushing down the stairs two at a time, eyes frantically scanning the kitchen and the sitting room. "Lily!" He runs down the hall, ducks in the bathroom and the bedroom and the closet. Empty. He runs back into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson is standing there, pale. "Get John."

"Alright," she says quietly, running upstairs. Sherlock spins around, hands in his hair. He's trying not to panic, not to assume the worst, but he's very quickly realizing he's running out of reasonable, safe explanations. Her purse is still here, her keys are still here. Why would she leave without her keys and purse unless something was wrong?

"Lily," Sherlock says, weakly, trying not to cry. This is Robert. This is Moriarty. He knew this would happen and yet he couldn't push her away and all of this is his fault.

John's footsteps thunder down the stairs, Mrs.
Hudson behind him. "We called Lestrade. She's not outside and we checked the street-"

"He took her," Sherlock says. "Of course she's not."

"Okay. Okay, let's just take a breath-"

"John-"

"Let's stop and think, okay? You do this every day. You can find her. Don't panic."

"It's a bit too late for that!"

Mrs. Hudson wrings her hands, searches the kitchen as if Sherlock could have missed her. She walks towards the island. "There's a note here. And a lily."

Sherlock runs to the counter. How could he have missed that?

It's about time we talked again, Lily. - M

"It's about time... Lily" and "M" are underlined in pink glitter pen. The pen itself is on the floor. Sherlock wracks his brain — it's about time, Lily. Where has he heard that before?

"It's about time, Lily," he whispers, then closes his eyes. It's in here somewhere. What is that from?

"They talked again?" John asks, looking at the paper. "Does she know him? Sherlock-"

"It's about time, Lily," he repeats.

"Is she underlining those parts to say it isn't true? I can't imagine her being involved with Moriarty-"

"It's about time, Lily." The line echoes in his head, and then he remembers the melody. A small wave of relief hits him. "The song," he says. "The song she likes."

"What song?"

"It's, um-" he closes his eyes again, remembers her singing it -"Rock a Little. Stevie Nicks. That's the chorus. But why would he write it on the note, and why would she underline it? And why 'M'? We already know-"

Another set of footsteps come running down the stairs. It's Liam, fire burning in his eyes. "Where is my sister?!"

Sherlock's eye widen. He's in a tailspin. "I-"

"Where is she?!" Liam insists. "She texts me earlier, says her book is done and she's going to call me, she never does! I call her ten times, no answer!"

"Her phone," Sherlock says. Her keys and purse are here. Where's her phone? John digs in her purse and finds it. Ten missed calls from Liam, multiple unanswered texts. No hope of tracking her.

"Where is she?!" Liam asks again.

"I don't..." Sherlock fights back tears. "I don't know."

"I'm going to kill you."

John steps forward. "Liam-"

"I am so stupid! This is so- I cannot believe I pushed her into this." He paces, rants, raves, leaves no room for anyone to say anything. "I encouraged her to pursue this, to pursue you, and look where that got her! She was right. She didn't want to, she was afraid she would get hurt — not this, but still. I should've listened to her, I should've known she was right, but I was too busy worried about her being happy right now instead of her being alive! She's always right about these things, about people."

"I know," Sherlock whispers.

Liam glares at him. "You don't know anything. When I was fifteen, I brought my new girlfriend to meet my family, and after she left, Lily told me I shouldn't be with her. And you know what I did? I told her to get lost. She didn't have any proof that it wasn't going to work out, and she tried to tell me, but I didn't listen. Guess who l found out was cheating on me our entire relationship a year and a half later?! And yet telling Lily to date you is the stupidest thing l've ever done."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Great, but that's not bringing her back, is it?!"

"I know-"

"You sure know a lot but apparently not where my sister is, so why don't you do your stupid job and find her!"

"Liam, he's trying-" John starts.

"Whose side are you on?!"

"The side that wants Lily found safe. And we're not going to do that with the two of you arguing. Let's get to work."

Liam sighs but stops arguing, so Sherlock grabs the note and hands it to him as Lestrade comes down the stairs.

"What happened?" he asks.

"We're trying to find that out," John replies.

Sherlock turns to Liam. "Do you know what this means?"

Liam reads the note to himself. "'It's about time...' I'm gonna throw up."

John picks up the pen on the ground. "And the glitter pen, we think-"

"Yeah, that was Lily. She signs cards with this pen."

"But what is she trying to say?" Sherlock asks.

"'It's about time... Lily.' Stevie Nicks-"

"I know that, I mean the M."

Liam frowns. "So you know that, too?"

"We were making a cake, she was playing music, she told me it was one of her favorites. But it doesn't make sense. Why would she tell me that? Why-?" Why did he write it on the note? It hits him, right at that moment, and he switches gears. "Are we sure she did those lines?"

"What?"

"It's a trap. We don't even know if she read that note." How does he warn them? He's got to be clever about this.

"I'm sure Molly could-"

He looks down at the floor. Bingo. "There's crumbs on the floor. She was eating when she left. Somebody better sweep that up, she'll get ants."

Liam follows his gaze, confused. "What? There's-"

"You're her brother, you should know she doesn't like bugs." Please, please understand.

"Sherlock, I think you're starting to lose it," John says.

Sherlock suppresses a sigh. "Somebody sweep that up!" He gestures around, hoping somebody will get it. Thankfully, realization dawns on Lestrade's face. He starts looking for the bug.

"Calm down, Sherlock, I'll get the broom."

"Thank you."

John realizes and follows suit, then all of them are hunting for the bug Lily was warning him about. It's probably in the kitchen or sitting room, seeing as he specifically referenced that song. Lestrade finds it under the cabinets, then breaks it. "Got it."

"Are there more?" Liam asks. "Crumbs, I mean..."

"I'll look." Thankfully, there aren't, as far as they can tell.

"So now the M," John says.

Lestrade, who has not yet read the note, snaps his fingers. "Moriarty-"

"But we already knew that," Sherlock argues. "Why would she try to warn me about something we already knew?"

"Maybe there's another clue in the song," Liam says. "I'll play it. Maybe a word that starts with M."

They all go quiet as the song starts.

"Sometimes it rages, rock a little. Even when it's calm, still rock a little. Just like the sea, I rock a little. Say it was just like me. Still rock a little." Me. But what would that mean?

"She would not be tangled up in it. Hit it. It's about time, Lily. Oh, I know, Lily. Rock a little. Hit the stage.

"She's home now. She says, 'I've gone far beyond that song.'" Home? Boscombe? What song? "She says, 'Rock and roll ballerina, where else would she go?' He knows his daughter, says, 'Where does she live?' He says, 'Oh, up there somewhere.' Then he says, 'Go ahead, Lily. Hit it.'" What? Where would she go? Her father's? Where else would Lily go? Up. North? Did they go north? Then-

"Lots of them and all one of a kind. But the most important thing was what was on her mind." Yes. That's it. What was Lily thinking. They were about to get dinner, and she had finished her book, and she had texted Liam, and she was going to the garden, and they went to the crime scene this morning. He walks through everything in his mind palace, looks around. M stands for what? Microwave? Mantle? Man? Money? M...?

There, in his head, he turns. She was standing by the window, looking away. Avoiding the body. Across the street from the crime scene. That building. The sign says "M."

"Go ahead, Lily, hit it."

,,,O,,,          ,,,O,,, ,,,O,,,
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She wasn't blindfolded on the way. He knew she knew where they were going. He didn't say a word, either, and he wore a mask, as if she would recognize him.

Would she?

He's brought her to the dilapidated building across from the crime scene, taking back streets and going down alleyways. There's still some police presence at the flat across the street. Lestrade isn't there, as far as Lily can see.

Behind the crumbling wall of the building is some cleverly hidden scaffolding, which extends up through a hole in the second floor. That was how he took that shot — not from the ground, from in here, as Lily suspected. He's been leaving them clues this entire time, pulling them along, and he left two more in that note.

He makes her climb up the scaffolding, gun to her back, then ties her hands again, but he takes no other precautions. He has this entire thing planned out. He tucks the gun back into his waistband and pulls off the mask. The only recognition Lily sees is from the descriptions — fair, blonde hair, and handsome. But there's an evil behind his bright blue eyes.

He grins. "Hello, Miss Marlow."

Lily glares. "How long have you had my flat bugged?"

He raises his brows. "Not as friendly as we once were."

"How long?" she insists.

He shrugs. "Long enough."

Lily frowns. What else can she do but question him while she waits for Sherlock? She can't escape, he's blocking the ladder. How else will she plan to protect Sherlock when he gets here?He probably won't tell her anything useful. She asks anyway. "What do you want with Sherlock?"

He laughs, throwing his head back as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. He lowers his gaze to her again. "Honey.... you're in way over your head."

"I'm not very tall so I don't see why that's much of a problem," Lily grumbles, venom in her voice. She's surprised at herself, but she doesn't show it.

"Funny. I can see why he keeps you around. That and the baked goods. Who would've known Sherlock Holmes had a sweet tooth?"

"I did. Long before you ever came around."

He grins again, full of pride, "Oh, but I was there from the beginning."

He pulls a small container of Vick's vapor rub out of his pocket, and it hits her. "August."

He nods. "Keep going."

"Robert."

"And?"

"Ray. We had this figured out already, you know."

His glee is dampened a bit, but he presses on. "I just want to hear you say it."

"I think I'm done with the reveals now."

"I was dressed as Henry — I have some connections you wouldn't believe. And Samuel Roberts. And Archie Samuels. And I killed Robert Adair. Though, that time I pretended to be a man he owed a lot of money to-"

"You're really just the biggest genius in the world," Lily deadpans.

He laughs again. He's got another trick up his sleeve. "But do you know who I really am?"

Lily shrugs. "Doesn't matter." Oh, it so does matter, but she's not going let him see how she really feels right now, about anything. "You're working for Moriarty."

The change in his face is positively horrific. The gleeful smile is gone, replaced by pure rage. His words seem to burn him as they leave his mouth. "Was. I was working for Moriarty. Your little boyfriend changed all that."

Lily swallows thickly. "Good for him."

"I was his right hand man." He begins pacing the small space they have, walking in slow circles, putting on his play. Lily just listens, trying to figure it out. "I was next in line. When he told me his plan, I knew, I would continue it. He planned to go up on that roof and die. He planned for every outcome, even Sherlock's survival. And I knew it would be up to me to kill him if the other plans didn't work. And me, killing the great Sherlock Holmes? I would be unstoppable. My allies would grow, I would practically control London. Do you know how much money you can get when you control London?"

He stops, waiting for her, so she repeats what he said, trying to get him to go on. "So this is for power and money? All of this?"

"It would have been, if Sherlock hadn't destroyed all my resources. He ruined everything, and we couldn't catch him. He was ten steps ahead of us before we were sure he was even alive. And of course I tried to get to him, but no one was listening to me anymore. We were all scattered. So I waited. I knew James had one more trick up his sleeve, and I waited for that shoe to drop. That didn't work either. All this time, I could've been in power, I could've been building my empire, and he took that from me. I could've been the one in charge. Once I kill him, not only do I get back the power, I get revenge."

"So this is an eye for an eye. That's all." She's fighting nausea at this point and trying so desperately not to let it show, not to sit down, not to throw up all over his shoes because it would probably only make him laugh. He wants her scared.

His brows raise again, and his voice is a whisper. "That's all?"

Lily shrugs again. "I just imagined it would be some greater thing, you know?"

"What could be greater than being the king of crime?!" He gestures around, as if to show her his coveted empire. "No one could touch Moriarty, no one could even dream of putting him away, much less killing him. He had to do it himself."

"And that didn't even work, so it really doesn't seem worth it-"

"Sherlock Holmes is the one they fear. The one who can prove anything, no matter how well we cover our tracks. He's got the police in his back pocket. The only one who could compete with him intellectually was Moriarty, and they tried that." He shakes his head. "The only way to get to Sherlock Holmes is through his heart. That's how we got close the first two times — his friends, his family. But you, oh, he loves you.

"You crack him up. That outer shell, that cold demeanor, that strong mind — you break all of it. You should have heard him when he figured out you were gone. He's a mess. He's off his game. I've got him right where I want him and he's almost in the middle of the trap." He laughs again, barely able to contain his excitement. "Oh, the third time is the charm!"

Lily fights off panic. What will Sherlock do when he gets here? They have no plan, no idea what they're facing. She still isn't quite sure who this is guy is. Surely Sherlock will know. This will work out. They're going to be fine. They just have to work together.