It was weird to believe it. I was married now. Figuring out my name was going to be a pain in the ass. How would I write it? Rachel Simpson-Watson-Redding? Rachel Watson-Redding? Rachel Simpson-Redding?

For now, unless it was changed, it would remain Rachel Redding.

We'd gotten through our first dance together as husband and wife, and now the reception was moving smoothly. I was receiving congratulations from all sides. Our guests consisted of those who knew the truth about my dad. My secret was safe within these walls.

I kept close to Bayley, wanting a sense of security from him. I shouldn't have needed to worry, considering whom I'd seen had merely been a trick of the eye. Still, he'd looked so real, how he'd blended in with the guests. How he'd caught my eye. How he'd smirked at me, his face saying, I'm back to deal with you.

Thankfully, nobody had noticed that brief sighting, not even Bayley or Dad. I scanned the array of guests we had. All seemed to be enjoying themselves, talking with others at their tables or swaying gently to the music. I fiddled with one of the lace sleeves of my dress, feeling a bit anxious. What if the sight wasn't a onetime deal? What if I saw him on our honeymoon?

What if he was everywhere I looked?

"I'm glad you decided to not go extreme with everything," Bay told me.

I smiled up at him. "I'm not one for dramatics. This occasion is simple and sweet, not to mention trouble-free."

"Don't jinx it."

"How can I? Nobody's here to murder anyone. Sherlock isn't around, so nothing is going to happen." Sherlock decided to remain in London, but Dad and Mary passed on his congratulations. It was hard to tell with him whether or not it was genuine.

Suddenly, the lights shut off. People gasped and screamed. Bayley tightened his grip on me. A tremor rippled up my spine. Why did this feel like it was supposed to happen?

"Something probably short-circuited," Bay mused. "The power will be up in no time, I'm sure."

"Bay."

"What?"

"We need to get out of here."

"Why?"

"Just trust me." Blindly, I snatched his hand. Fumbling in the darkness, I led him out of our venue, into the night. Confused and terrified murmurs of the guests traveled outside.

"Rachel, what's wrong?"

"I should have told you, Bay. I saw him." I whirled around to stare at my husband. "At our wedding, while the priest was talking. He was towards the back."

"Rachel, he's dead."

"But what if he isn't, Bay? He was extremely smart. If Sherlock could fake his death, who's to say he couldn't, too?" I blanched. How could Moriarty manage to pull that stunt off if I had seen his body on the rooftop after Sherlock had fallen?

"If he did fake his death, if he's in there..." Bayley's blue eyes widened. "He'll start killing people."

I shook my head. "He won't do anything, his minions will. He never gets his hands dirty." He'd almost made me an exception.

"He may kill people to get you to come to him. You told me he wanted to finish you off after he killed Sherlock, right?"

I nodded.

"He'll find your parents or any of your friends. Or he could take innocents we barely even know! If he's alive, he probably knows you'd rather trade your life for others'."

"Why bother with the theatrics?" crowed a new voice.

I looked into Bay's eyes, suddenly rigid and frightened. "It's always been your style," I said coldly, still looking at Bay. He held my hands in his, though his were shaking. He was scared, too, deep down.

Where were Sherlock and Scotland Yard when you needed them?

***

I jolted upright out of bed, feeling my heart pound in my chest. I realized I was still in the hotel room, hearing Bay's light snores beside me. I watched his sleeping figure, letting out a quiet breath.

My dream brought up a very troubling thought: if Sherlock could fake his death, then Moriarty could have very well done the same.

I erased that thought from my mind. Moriarty was not going to come back from hiding. He wasn't going to start terrorizing people again and use them as suicide bombers. He wasn't going to lead Sherlock on wild goose chases, or abduct me, or even think about getting near my father. Jim Moriarty was forever dead to the world. The world's only consulting criminal was dead with a bullet in his head.

I crawled to Bayley, laying my head on his bare chest. I felt slightly sore from last night's...events. I hadn't been with Bay in such a long time. Gingerly, my fingertips skimmed his bare skin. His cheek came to rest on the top of my head.

While I waited for Bay to stir, my mind ran rapid with thoughts. Mary was pregnant; Dad was going to be a father again. This time, he knew about the pregnancy. Would they have told me right away? Did they know that Sherlock told me? Would they have kept it from me until Mary could no longer hide her baby bump?

I was sure those two were on their honeymoon right now, wherever that was.

I felt something rising inside me: anger, jealousy. I was jealous of my half-sibling; they were going to have both parents. All I had was my father; my mother has been gone for almost two decades.

I knew how this was going to go: the baby would get all the attention because they were new to the world. Me? I wondered if I would even be remembered as John Watson's first child once his second was born.

I couldn't help the anger in me. My family wasn't complete and never would be. No matter who my dad ended up with—whether it be Mary or someone else if he divorced her—they would never be my mother. No one would be. They could try their hardest, but they would never compare to her. Though I didn't know her or know much about her, she was my biological mother.

I stroked Bay's face, realizing how far I'd come in the past few years. I'd overcome some pretty tough times in my life, from getting shot to witnessing a fake death—though I hadn't known it was fake until just recently. I'd found someone new, someone who I knew I could spill my heart to. He had some dark times in his past too, and he was everything I could ask for in my other half. He, unlike my first boyfriend, was no liar. He was not fake.

Bayley Redding was nothing but genuine and loyal. He'd proved it sticking by me through all my rough times, the times where I'd had nightmares and woke him up on accident, the times where I told him my past. And how could I forget the most recent time, like last night, at the wedding? He'd gotten only a small taste of what my life was like with my father being John Watson, the blogger to the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes.

Bay was someone who made me believe in love again. He was the reason why I moved on in my life, why I didn't remain in the past, constantly reminding myself of The Fall and all the events that happened before. Bayley had been the most welcome thing in my dark time, just like Mary was my dad's.

My hand got tired of petting Bay's face, so it dropped to touch soft sheets. Bayley stirred.

"Don't stop," he moaned.

I grinned, poking my head up to see him blinking slowly. "Morning, sleeping beauty," I teased, ruffling his bed head. "My God, you do look sexier with facial hair."

Bay chuckled low in his throat. "And you had your doubts."

"Let's not keep you clean-shaven ever again." I kissed him deeply. "So, what are we doing today?"

"Well, I'm heading back to America."

I frowned. "So soon?"

"I've got to work on Monday, Rach. I can't just cancel even though I know you secretly want me to." His fingers danced along my back. "You sound like you had plans on staying here."

"For a few days."

"Oh, good, I booked the hotel until either tomorrow or Tuesday. I'll tell you a definite answer later."

"How soon do you have to leave?"

"Really soon, like, a few hours." My heart fell. "But don't worry; we can spend whatever time I've got left however you want."

* * *

I'd forced myself to make a quick, sneaky trip back to Baker Street to retrieve my things. Sherlock hadn't been in the apartment, so it was nice and easy without the interrogation. I managed to get by Mrs. Hudson too, though I felt bad for neglecting her. I'd have to come back and visit some other time.

Bayley told me I had the room until tomorrow, so that meant I had to start looking into flights back to America. That's what I ended up doing later that evening: lying on the bed, scrolling through Google to find a good ticket price.

My phone vibrated on the bed, startling me. My eyes narrowed in confusion as I didn't recognize the number. My heart sprinted. My Moriarty nightmare came back to me. Was this the start of it? Was my life suddenly going to become hell again?

"H-hello?" I answered.

"Relax; I'm not a serial killer."

I gritted my teeth. "How did you get my number?"

"I stole it from John's phone."

I blew out a breath. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

"I need your help with something."

It took me a minute to answer. "You're serious?"

"I wouldn't be calling you if I wasn't."

"Good point." I bit on the inside of my cheek. "What do you need?"

"You. I need help on a case. I need you back at Baker Street with me."

"I can't, I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Have you already got the ticket?"

"Well, no—"

"Then stay here."

"I can't," I emphasized. "I need to get back home."

"Your home is here."

"Technically yes, but it's not. I've been raised in America, so that's my home. Why can't you ask someone else?" I ruffled my hair.

"They won't be able to help me like you will."

"I guess I'm flattered, but I'm still leaving London tomorrow." My voice was strong with finality. "Looks like you'll have to find someone else, Sherlock." I ended the call before he could get in another word. I had a feeling I'd be paying for that in the near future.

Even though it was a small internal battle, I decided to call Dad and give him a warning.

"What's wrong?" were the first two words out of my dad's mouth.

"Nothing," I said defensively. "You really think something would be wrong if I called you?"

"Sorry. What is it?"

"Listen; don't be surprised if Sherlock ropes you into a case during your honeymoon. He tried to recruit me, and I told him no. He scared the living shit out of me by calling."

"Wait, he called you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He never calls people, he always texts." Dad was just as confused as I was. If what Dad said was true, then did Sherlock need me that badly on this new case? "If he keeps trying, don't give in. You don't need to get caught up in that, Rach."

"I know I don't." I hesitated. "Dad..."

"Yeah?"

I closed my eyes. "Nothing. Forgot what it was."

"Are you sure it wasn't something important?"

"I'm sure it wasn't."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it. Just be careful, okay?"

I forced out a laugh. "I'll try."

We said our goodbyes. A silent tear slid down my face. The fact that it was close to that time of the month for me couldn't be helping me. I wanted to confront Dad and Mary about the baby, but I wanted to let it sink in for us all first.