Hi guys, here's the last chapter in part 1 of this story. A sequel is in the works! Thanks so much for reading and not giving up on me :)

Enjoy!

Rafe paced frantically as he waited for the Chief Inspector to arrive and Dr. Watson to come downstairs from attending to Molly.

Sherlock watched him pace as he held the pistol toward the Vicar. All at once, Rafe turned to face Sherlock and took two long strides until he was standing directly in front of him.

"You said this marriage would never hold in court," he said. "Explain yourself man."

Sherlock's brow rose. "As you, myself, and Dr. Watson are all witnesses to the farce of a ceremony, we can give witness accounts as to how it was forced upon Ms. Hooper," he said. "However, it will never come to that because it was not a legally preformed ceremony."

"Of course it was legal," the Vicar shouted.

Sherlock looked at him with disdain. "That marriage certificate is as about as worthless as your signature," he snapped. "You are no more a Vicar than I am."

"That is a blasted lie," The Vicar shouted as he stood. "I am an ordained…"

"You were ordained many years ago before the church excommunicated you for your gambling, drinking, and womanizing," Sherlock said as he handed Rafe a document with his other hand.

Rafe opened it and read the words greedily. A look of absolute relief and joy spread over his face. He looked up at the Vicar. The Vicar took a step back as a look of rage slowly crossed Rafe's face. The crunch from Rafe's fist hitting the Vicar's nose was sickening.

"Goodness, that was unexpected," Sherlock said with a bored expression. "I suppose that I no longer am in need of this." He put the pistol down and stepped over the unconscious Vicar, taking Rafe by the arm and leading him away. "Now sit down, sir and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a whiskey?"

Rafe nodded and rubbed his sore knuckles. Sherlock poured him as drink as John came into the sitting room with the Chief Inspector in tow. Rafe jumped to his feet.

"How is she?" Rafe asked.

John smiled and patted his hand. "She is resting," he said. "I gave her a sedative. There are some bruises and scrapes that will need to heal, but she will be alright in a few days' time. It's her nerves that will need longer to heal."

"Damn him to hell," Rafe said.

"Well he won't be going to his reward anytime soon," John said. "The shot went straight through his shoulder."

"Were it but through his black heart," Rafe said.

"Now, now sir," Chief Inspector Lang said. "It is a good thing it was not his heart or you would be facing murder."

Rafe nodded and sat back down. Sherlock handed him his drink. "Chief Inspector please sit down and Mr. Little will explain everything."

Lang looked behind Sherlock and smiled. "This is the first time I have seen old Mick laying on the floor of a sitting room as opposed to the local pub. What in the devil is he to do with this?" he asked Sherlock.

"I suppose I shall begin for Mr. Little and allow him to calm himself with his drink," Sherlock said motioning for John and the Inspector to sit. Both men did and Sherlock sat back on the duvet. "It all began several years ago. I had business in London…"

"Yes, kidnapping I'm told," Lang said smiling.

Sherlock glared at John who shrugged. "As I was saying," Sherlock began again. "As I was getting Ms. Hooper to safety, I stopped by the train station as I had word that I had received a telegram. I knew that it would be a response to a few inquiries that I had made regarding Ms. Hooper and her Uncle. I discovered that Mr. Little had once been a business partner of Ms. Hooper's Uncle while both men were in India."

John and Lang glanced at Rafe who gave a slight nod. Sherlock continued when both men looked back at him. "Mr. Hooper was a great deal older than Mr. Little, but the men were still good friends as well as business partners. Mr. Little however met Mr. Woodley and the latter was able to seduce Mr. Little in the world of gambling and cards. Unfortunately, Mr. Little was not as skilled as Mr. Woodley and he lost nearly all of his money."

Rafe sighed deeply. "What a fool I was," he said. "My wife had only just died and in my grief, I selflessly sought anything I could to make me forget my grief. The welfare of my child was never in my mind during those times."

Sherlock nodded. "So Woodley concocted a scheme to steal Molly's inheritance. Mr. Little went along with it, despite the friendship and respect that he felt for her Uncle. What Mr. Woodley did not know, however, was that Mr. Little had set aside forty thousand pounds for Ms. Hooper under a false American business venture."

All three men looked at Rafe and his cheeks colored slightly. "Not really one for the criminal life Mr. Little," Lang commented gravely. "You could get yourself killed trying to do something like that with the wrong people."

"Yes Mr. Little and I have already discussed his ludicrous endeavor into the criminal world," Sherlock said. "So as Mr. Little had deduced, Mr. Hooper had left him in control of Molly's fortune until control of the funds could be made available to her. Now all that was left was to gain control of Molly through matrimony so that he and Mr. Woodley would have access and complete control of her inheritance."

"But why even bother to tell her about the inheritance?" Lang asked. "Wouldn't it have just been easier to steal the money and never tell her?"

"Mr. Hooper's solicitors would have written to Molly also informing her of the inheritance and that Mr. Little was holding it for her until she would be able to come and receive it," Sherlock said.

Lang nodded. "I see," he said. "What a pretty mess this is."

"And then Mr. Little fell in love with Ms. Hooper," Sherlock said. "But even before he felt love for her, I would deduce that you had already decided to spare her from this?"

Rafe nodded. "Yes," he said. "I told Woodley that I would have no more of this scheme and he would not back down. He insisted and I knew that if I did nothing, that he would try something as fiendish as he did to force her to marry him. I thought that if I put her under my employ that I could keep watch over her."

"So that is why you concocted the scheme of following her daily when she would ride her bicycle into town," John said.

"Yes John, do point out the obvious," Sherlock said sarcastically.

John glared at him, but said nothing.

"Where is Molly's inheritance now?" Sherlock asked.

"I have the full two hundred thousand pounds in three different accounts. One is her in England, another is Bulgaria, and the rest of the funds are still in India, being held there by my solicitor," Rafe said before looking pointedly at Sherlock. "What is to happen to my daughter?"

Sherlock blinked as if in surprise. "I will speak for you myself against the charge of fraud," he said. "And I am certain that no charges will be brought against you in the shooting of Mr. Woodley, you were acting to protect Ms. Hooper."

"If I am to serve time for the fraud," Rafe said. "What will happen to Sara?"

Sherlock smiled and leaned forward. "I feel certain that you needn't worry. Ms. Hooper will see that Sara is taken care of if there should be any need."

Lang sighed. "Well I'm glad that this is over Mr. Holmes," he said standing. "I suppose that I had better take charge of Mr. Woodley and I'm sorry sir, but you as well Mr. Little."

"Yes, of course," Rafe said standing. "I understand. Mrs. Morris will look after Sara and Ms. Hooper, until she is better. Please allow a few moments with Sara gentlemen."

"Yes sir," Lang said, "Of course, sir."

John and Sherlock stood, following Lang out of the room. A few moments later, Sara entered the room and ran to her father's arms.

Sherlock sat in the duvet holding the liquid gold beverage in his hand. In one gulp, he swallowed the scotch and winced when the smooth liquid burned his throat. Lang had taken Rafe Little, buffoon, and that pathetic excuse for a Vicar into custody over an hour ago and John was upstairs seeing to Molly.

Sara came into the sitting room with an empty glass. She frowned at Sherlock as she sat the glass down. Sherlock's brow rose in question. "May I ask why you favor me with such a petulant expression, young Sara?" he asked her.

Sara walked toward him and placed her hands on her hips. "I know very good and well that you are quite intelligent sir," she said stiffly. "You knew that that wretched man would attempt this terrible thing with Molly."

Sherlock waited for her to continue and when she did not, he sighed. "And your point, little girl?"

She huffed annoyed at what she perceived to be his dimness at the moment. "For such an intelligent man and for one who admires Molly so much…"

Sherlock frowned as his cheeks reddened. "I do not admire her…"

"Of course you do," she snapped. "Any fool with half a brain can see this and stop interrupting, it is most uncouth." She paused and gave him a pointed look. "As I was saying, for such an intelligent man, you should have assumed Molly would want to return home as quickly as she did. You know very well how stubborn and independent she is. And now she is laying upstairs in a terrible state having gone through such a dreadful experience."

"Are you saying that I should have prevented this?" he asked with an amused grin.

She through her small hands up in the air and sighed. "Of course you should have prevented it," she said.

Sherlock smiled. "I can assure you that I am well aware of her audacity," he said. "But even I did not foresee she would be as foolish as to attempt to return home alone, especially after I had explained to her what I knew Woodley would attempt."

"You should have stopped her," Sara said.

"And how would you suggest that I do this?" He asked. "By tying her to my coffee table back at Baker Street?'

"You are stronger than her," she said.

"My dear girl, I am not like the pirates that you so enjoy reading about in your adventure books," he said.

"Well that has never been more evident," she said with a smirk.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly. "You are a very cheeky girl," he said with a small grin. "I would never behave so boorishly."

The girl actually had the audacity to snort at him. "And kidnapping is not boorish," she said. "Really Mr. Holmes," she added tsking him. "But I guess we shall see who the better man in the end is."

Sherlock sat up straight and quirked one elegant brow.

"And what is that supposed to mean little Sara?" Sherlock asked.

"I suppose it's really up to Molly now," she said smiling. "I wonder who she will choose. The great detective or my father?"

She turned on her heals and skipped out of the room, humming as she went. Sherlock glared after her and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. "Indeed, we shall see, little Sara," he said as a slow smile spread over his face.

The End of Part One.

Thanks to everyone for reading and supporting!