I've been running all my life. Away from the horrid memories of the sacrifices my mother made to protect me, and to protect my name from this evil world we live in...
But everything's changed...
I've recently found out my mother was murdered by a psychopath; choosing the wrong pill in a game of chance that would give away her secret. That gave away my name.
That cost her her life...
I heard a man named Sherlock Holmes had solved my mother's case along with others who had fallen of the same fate. I must find him so I can warn him: for he does not know what he has gotten himself into...


32. Embarrassing Duets

I bolt upright from the uncomfortable surface I'd been sleeping on, sheets flying in every direction. I wipe cold sweat off of my forehead, and I look down to see that I was sleeping on an unfamiliar rug with a feather-filled pillow and some very thin white sheets thrown over me. My dress and shoes were still on my body, thank God, and I wrap the thin sheet around me and make my way to what looks like the bathroom. I ponder over my tear and sweat smeared make up and my frizzy, out of control hair. I turn on the sink and attempt to clean up my face and hair, but to no avail. I limp around like a new born zombie, with my stomach growling like a proud lion and my eyes drooping down like heavy work-out weights. I wander back to the living room, but down the hall I hear a peculiar noise.


I turn towards the sound to find a door at the end of the hall that has been recently opened. Must have passed it by on my way to the bathroom, my mind calls out as I approach the door with caution. I peek in through the door way to see a bed big enough for two, with untidy covers pilled up on top of each other like rolling waves on a beach. I hear water running from a closed door on the opposite side of the room. A voice then starts to sing from inside:

Fly me to the moon,

Let me play among the stars,

And let me see what spring is like on,

a-Jupiter and Mars

Being the oldies-song nerd I am, I immediately recognized the song as Frank Sinatra's classic Fly Me To The Moon. It was my favorite by Sinatra, and my instincts make me sing out in a sweet harmony.

In other words, hold my hand,

In other words, baby kiss me

The angelic singing voice from the shower and I imitate the short trumpet interlude in between the verses, and I swing around my sheets as if I was an elegant singer from the 60's as we continue to make sweet harmonies.

Fill my heart with song,

Let me sing forever more,

You are all I've longed for,

All I've worshiped,

And adored,

In other words, please be true,

In other words...

I hear the water suddenly stop, but I just keep singing my heart out.

In other words...



I hear the door creak open...


Thankfully I am facing away from the door as I hear someone come out of the bathroom.

"Don't turn around please... and you have quite a lovely voice, by the way..." I blush madly at the sound of Bertie's voice; I cover my eyes and don't even think about moving from my spot.

"Likewise..." I say nervously. "Sorry it had to be in this sort of...predicament..." I hear a zipper being pulled up in the background, and I can't help but blush even harder.

"Yeah." I hear him reply. "You can turn around now."

"I actually don't think I can..." I say, with my legs stuck together due to my nerves. I feel Bertie's hands grasp my shoulders and turn me around to face him.

And, he's obviously shirtless.

I cover my face with the thin sheet in an embarrassed frenzy, but Bertie just pulls it away from my face like a wedding veil. He chuckles a bit to himself, then goes to his dresser to put on a shirt. The hungry lion in my stomach roars out for food, and Bertie just starts laughing again. He puts on some old school loafers and brown bomber jacket, and he grabs a key from his bed side table.

"Let's go feed that hungry beast of a belly you've got there." He says with a smile, and we head out in search for some food.


We coincidentaly eat at the sandwhich shop that's right next door to 221B, and I nom on my ham panni as Bertie just sips some coffee, black with two sugars, just like Sherlock.


I turn my head to see John striding towards me.

"Hey, John," I say, and I see in his face that something isn't right. "What's wrong?"

He stops for a moment, takes a deep breath, and breaks the silence.


"I just got a call saying Mrs. Hudson had been shot."

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