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...


3. Meeting The Ice Man

My eyes widen. “Sorry,” I say shakily, “Can you say that again?”

“Sure…her name was Jennifer Wilson.” John repeats. I feel like I’m going to barf, but I’m strong enough the hold the feeling back.

“I have to go John. Thanks for the food…” I say as I quickly make my way out of the shop. I rush to my flat and drop with a thud on my couch. I cover my face with my hands, wondering what I was going to do.

“You’ve realized something, haven’t you?” I jump as I turn my head to see Sherlock in the doorway.

“No, it’s something more than that…because of what you’ve realized you now have to protect someone.” He now starts to walk into my living room, slowly pacing towards me. I hate how he’s so accurate with his accusations.

“Oh, now you’re getting mad about my deductions being right…” He says with the smallest hint of a smile starting to appear.

“Okay, look,” I say as I start to push him into the hall. “You may be the so-called “famous” Sherlock Holmes, but you have no idea what I have been through, and what I may go through in the future, so just...stay out of my way!” I slam the door in his face and turn the lock. I sink to the floor, mulling over thoughts in my head. “Sherlock Holmes…” I whisper to myself, “You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into…”


A few days later, my life had seemed pretty normal: I got a job at the sandwich shop next door, I was paying rent, and occasionally talking to John over lunch.

“Sorry about what happened on Tuesday, John. I guess that sandwich didn't go down that well…” We chuckle a bit at my silly sounding apology.

“It’s alright,” John replies with that pleasant smile of his. “The sandwiches have gotten better since you've started working anyways.” I chuckle again, but a thought suddenly comes into my head.

“John; what’s it like, living with Sherlock? It must run you out of your mind!”

He laughs a little at the thought of the question. “It is madness, but once you get to know him, he gets a little less annoying and a little more pleasant. He still loves to show off though.”

“I can imagine…” I think back briefly to when Sherlock deducted that I had to protect someone. “Does he have any family or relatives or something?”

John looks outside at a sleek black sports car that has now pulled up. “Yes…” He turns away from the window and looks at me. “Would you like to meet him?” I nod slowly. He then rises from his chair and acknowledges me to follow him.


A few moments later we finally arrive at a large building on the posh side of London. John opens the door for me as I walk into the small room.

“It’s a bit quite…” I say. John puts a finger over his lips to indicate me to hush, so I do. We twist and turn through a number of on going hallways, and finally step into a vacant room with a man relaxing in a chair. I guess the man is Sherlock’s brother; he does have similar features and was about as tall as him, but the man had a more rounded face and a softer gaze, although the look on his face gave off an aura that he was always serious.

“Hello again, Mr. Watson,” He turns his eyes towards me, “And I see you brought a visitor.”

“Hello…” I say quietly. The man gives John a questionable look, but then looks back at me with a smile.

“This is Ruby, she’s just moved in on Baker Street…”

“She works at the sandwich shop right outside the door and loves to go to the book store on, Piccadilly, I believe…” I stare at him in awe as he finishes John’s sentence.

He sees my shocked expression. “I am Mycroft Holmes, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss…”

“Willow, Ruby Willow.” I say, thinking how dumb of a name I had just come up with.

“You get used to it,” John tells me as I shake Mycroft’s hand.

“So,” John continues towards Mycroft, “What’s the case this time?”

“I’m sure you've seen it in the papers.” He replies as he hands a newspaper to John. I sneak a peek over his shoulder to see the words, “WILSON FAMILY MURDER; THE FATE OF THE FEW!”

“It’s about that Wilson girl…from the serial suicides case…” I hear John murmur as I my heart starts to race. It was about my mother; more importantly her family.

Mycroft nods. “Apparently that cabbie you killed had some ‘friends’, if you could call them that, that wanted to get revenge on the woman who lead to cabbie’s death.”

“So their killing off her family…that’s terrible…” I feel sick to my stomach from John’s remark…I can feel sweat starting to bead on my forehead…

“We’ll get right on it…” I nearly faint. John and Mycroft make a few last remarks and we finally set off. But just before we walk out the door…

“John,” Mycroft calls as we turn our heads. “Be careful. You never know; most likely this killer could be on the hunt for you and Sherlock too.”


I run to my flat and actually throw up a little when I return to Baker Street.

“What the hell…” I sigh as I collapse in my bed and retreat under my covers. What am I going to do…

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