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...


5. Ice Man Comes To Visit

About a week passes by since John, Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock’s visit, the present that John gave me still in its bulky-looking wrapping job. Some reporters have tried to sneak in to get the scoop on my injury, but most of them were caught by members of the hospital faculty and staff. I had even been told by my nurse, whose name I found out is Julie, that one of the janitors found two of them in a supply closet! It’s going to be madness by the time I get out of this place, I think as Julie pops her head in through the door.

“You have another visitor, Miss Willow.” I start to smile, hoping its John coming to say hello again. He’s come to visit me at least three times so far, including the one with Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson.

But it isn't John that walks through the door.


It’s Mycroft.


What the hell is he doing here?, my mind screams as I put on my best I’m-sort-of-glad-to-see-you-but-not-really face as he strides in with a serious expression on his own.

“May you leave us alone, if you please?” He orders Julie. She shuts the door behind her, leaving us alone in the now silent room.

He glances at John’s gift on the chair next to me as he takes a seat across the room. “I see you haven’t opened John’s gift yet.” He inquired as he turned his vision towards me.

“What do you want, Mycroft?” I cut to the chase in a stern tone of voice. He smiles at my sly and sassy quote.

“Why don’t you open John’s gift,” He says, “I would like to know what he got you.”

I look reluctantly at the present, then back at Mycroft, before picking it up and setting it in my lap. I then start to tear the wrapping, seeing small peeks of silver and black, finally opening to reveal an aluminum cane that folds out. Mycroft looks at it intensely while I read a card that was attached to the cane.

Dear Ruby,

 I hope your leg gets better soon, and I also hope you get more out of that old thing than I did.

Yours Truly,

John W.”

I smile as I remember; this was the walking stick John had for his own leg injury, which just turned out to be his mind playing tricks on him. I run my hand across the smooth surface, the chill of the lustrous metal being comprehended in my mind from my fingertips.

“What is your real name?” I jolt back to reality as Mycroft asks. I look at him, not in shock, but in surprise.

“What do you mean? Are you saying I’m not real?” I reply with a nervous chuckle and a slight quiver of fear in my voice.

“No, no; you are real…but not according to the records of the British Government.” I freeze. How the hell does he have access to that kind of information?

“But do not fret; I do not work for the government…” I breathe a small sigh of relief, but Mycroft rises from his chair and stands at the end of my hospital bed, and says something in a quieter voice that sends chills down my spine.

“I am the government.”

My heart stops for a split second, then beats out of control like a race car spinning out of control. The monitors on both sides of me start beeping like crazy! Doctors and nurses rush in to see what’s going on, and soon I’m completely surrounded by people; not just the doctors and nurses, but reporters, camera men, paparazzi and many others who have come to see what happened. I catch a glimpse of Mycroft’s gaze, his face turned towards mine, and soon he’s out of my sight, lost in the sea of faces…


About a week later I check out of the hospital, still thinking about Mycroft’s visit. Photographers and journalists bombard my path as I walk with my cane supporting me, and soon I finally get into a vehicle and get driven back to 221B Baker Street.

When I arrive, I am welcomed by a peculiar silence, rather than by the hubbub that I expected…

“JOHN? MRS. HUDSON?” I call out to the quiet halls. “SHERLOCK! Anyone?” I stagger up the stairs to knock on John’s door, but nobody answers. I approach my door to put my key in it and go inside my flat…

But the door was already open…

It wasn’t all the way open, just cracked a bit, but I was still terrified at the thought of someone in my flat. I take my army knife out of my pocket (I've been carrying it more since the attack) and slowly make my way in, my heart rate increasing like the day Mycroft visited me…

I attempt to block the memory as I step into my living room. The lights are off, but I begin to analyze what I can see; the room was obviously cleaned by Mrs. Hudson while I was gone, and none of my furniture had been moved…

I stick out my knife as I pat the wall in search of a light switch. When I finally find it and turn on the lights, I’ m scared out of my mind as I am confronted by a very large and loud wall of sound:


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