The London fog had rolled in early, draping the city in a bleak haze. The cool September air made the young scullery maid shiver as she quickly walked home. The only sound to cut through the silence was her footsteps clacking on the pavement. She heard some rustling in a nearby alleyway. Shuddering and pulling her jacket tighter around her she speed up.

"Rats. Just rats." She told herself. She wished her boss would let her leave earlier; this was really no place for a young woman to be out alone.

The fog seemed to thicken as she trudged on ward. Her breathing began to quicken. Soon, she would not be able to see her hand in front of her face. She stopped completely and realized she wasn't sure where she was anymore. She began to spin in circles trying to find a landmark, a sign, something that would her find her way home. She heard more noise.

"Is someone there?" she breathed, so quietly that she could barely hear it herself. She heard a low chuckle. She face went white, her blood turned cold.

"You think you can just leave us after all this time?" A deep, dangerous voice asked. The voiced echoed through the alley straight to her. She pressed her body against a nearby wall and tried to make herself as small as possible.

"I-I am not intimidated by you. I'm no longer going to be a p-pawn in all this. I'm leaving a-and that's f-final." A much smaller voice said; she could practically hear him shaking. The fear in is voice was apparent. It only made the young maid panic more. Was this her last night on earth? What would this man do to him? What would her do to her if he found her?

"I suppose I can respect that." The deep voice was clearly mocking. "If you wanted to leave, then all you had to do was say something. After all I'm sure you want to spend more time with your lovely wife-"

"Y-you leave her out of this!" She heard somebody being roughly shoved to the ground. Horrified the maid had to slow her breathing. This was going to end poorly for both of them.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't touch a single hair on her head." The deep voice was eerily soothing. "Now, since you've decided you want to leave us, please, allow me to assist you."

The night air was pierced with the sounds of bloodcurdling screams.

The young maid hid her face and covered her mouth so she herself wouldn't scream. She saw a dark silhouette come out of the alleyway and take off running. She did not bother pursuing him, instead she ran into the alley to see what had happened.

What she saw made her blood go from cold to ice. The body of a thin young man stabbed many times and still bleeding.

"Police! Police!"

Xxx

How curious was it that the only times Sherlock ever left his lovely apartment for the real world, he ended up being pursued by brutes.

Approximately three this time, only one was of a larger stature then Holmes. Defending himself was not the troubling part, but he hadn't done any cases or meddling in awhile (he was after all dead for a month or so.)

The three men were all painfully average gents. They certainly did not seem like the usual hit men that Holmes provoked. Holmes (who was not a tall or bulky man) was larger then two of them, and the third was roughly a fourth larger then Watson. Quite curious.

The two smallest each wore a hat; one had a bowler hat, the other a newsboy cap. The large fellow had on a very attractive dark green waistcoat.

This was preemptive; the glances they are giving each other are clearly rehearsed. The smallest boys are related, hence their close proximity as well as similar stature and nose shape.

Holmes was hidden from their view by strategically standing by a newspaper booth.

"'Body of Young Man Disappeared?'" He read from a headline. "How intriguing. I suppose the Yard will have something to do with this marvelous slip up." When he looked up again. He saw the large man smiling down at him.

"Buyin' a paper eh?" He asked, his voice had a thick Cockney accent. His smile revealed extremely yellowed teeth. Smoker, Holmes instantly assessed.

"Oh no, I find that mass speculations as well as sensationalized deaths are quite droll." He said, calm as ever.

Distract with newspapers. By pushing the news cart at him, it would allow for a minute and a half head start for Holmes.

He gave the stand a shove, causing newspapers to fly everywhere. The cart owner began to yell and there were numerous people running to either help or get a free paper. The chaos gave him all the time he needed.

He ran down the populous streets of London, realizing fully that he was now being chased. The two smaller blokes would have easily avoided the temporary confusion. On a near by street corner a bum was sitting, drinking away, with a nice jacket laid across his lap. Holmes quickly swapped it with the newspaper he had.

"Ey! Thas mine!" the bum cried out standing, Holmes paid him no minded and quickly threw on the stained, a bit too small jacket.

Daring to look behind him, he saw that the trio had caught up and was now combing the crowds for him. He quickly turned into a shop. It was a bookstore, luckily the cashier was sleeping so he didn't notice when Holmes took his bowler cap. He couldn't stay in the store forever, if they were thorough (which they didn't seem to be, but no harm in being careful) they'd check the stores. There was nobody in the bookstore except the sleeping clerk, a young lady on a ladder, helping herself to a hefty book, and few layers of dust coating everything. Holmes automatically brought a handkerchief up to his nose.

How filthy this world Watson wanted him to explore more.

They are looking for a man with dark hair, no hat, a not piss stained jacket-and a single man! His eyes fell on the lady who was about to leave. She had to ring on her finger, nor a gentleman escorting her so he could safely assume she was single. He quickly walked ahead of her and opened the door for her as she exited. She gave him a thin, appreciative smile. As soon as she was out the door, Holmes squeezed next to her and –in her defense, rather roughly-grabbed her elbow and pulled her to him.

"Excuse me sir!" She cried promptly shoving away from him and holding her newly purchased book defensively in front of her.

Ignoring her outburst he came up close to her again, this time bustling her so they were moving with the crowds.

"If you could do me a grand favor and for the moment pretend to be my wife, it would be most appreciate-"

"Are you mad!" She shoved him off again, this time with her book-which was quite heavy. People had begun to notice the ordeal.

Flaw in the plan. Holmes had made the most unforgivable mistake. Never trust others. He thought darkly as his mind whirled trying to calculate a way out of this mess. The trio, was coming closer, still unsure of his position of course.

"I'm terribly sorry miss, I seem to have mistaken you for someone else-"

"Are you ill? What kind of a person goes around asking somebody to pretend to be their wives-"

"I told you mistook you for someone else, now if you'll excuse me-"He tried to walk past her and found himself staring straight at-

"Hey! I see 'im!" Bowler Hat cried out. The three came at the two from three different angles. The larger was right behind the young woman, she bumped into him.

"'Ello love." He said cheekily. The woman looked like she was about to injury a few others with her hefty reading material.

"Bloody hell." He muttered, they had seen them with this impossible woman, now she was guilty by association.

Holmes grabbed her arm and using her momentum to slam her into Newsboy cap. In the moment he took to get back up, the two had already taken off.

I must drop off my extra baggage somewhere. He thought, ignoring his unfortunate companions protests and questioning.

Running through the crowded streets was no easy task, especially for a party of two. He had to pull her along until she got her footing.

Note: running in ladies footwear is not ideal.

"Who the bloody-" She was cut off by Holmes pulling her into a narrow alley way and placing a hand over her mouth.

The stupidity of his pursuers came to fruition when they ran right by the two.

"You know, a lady such as yourself should considerer cleaning up your language." He personally did not care all that much for vulgarities, particularly ones directed at him. He removed his hand and was met with a glare.

"And a man such as yourself should hope he has enough money to pay for another book for me." She snapped, even though her breathing was uneven still. "Mind telling me who you are and what the bloody hell is going on?" She asked, her chest rising and falling at a rapid.

"Sherlock Holmes. And no idea."