Chapter One

"Up these stairs, down the hall, through the double doors, and to the left," said the man at the front desk with a smile. He handed me a manila envelope. "Bring this with you."

I flashed a winning smile back thanking him for the directions. As I continued down the hallway the heels of my boots clicked, my long black jacket billowed, and my hair flowed just past my shoulders. The feeling was marvelous. It was as if I ran the place.

Many things had happened in the past ten years, and it is now that I return from a long trip. For the past ten years I spent my life on the tropical Virgin Islands; Saint Thomas to be exact. It was a long experience and it was thrilling to be back in London. The cold matched me better than the heat.

It was a chilly November day in London. I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoyed it. Most people would rather enjoy spending the past ten years on a tropical island; the sun kissing their skin every day, little to no worries, and all the relaxation. On the other hand, I'm not most people. I'm far from most people.

While walking, I opened the envelope peaking at the information it withheld. It was on a corpse of a man who died from a gunshot. The bullet went straight through his heart. How original. He was a short, heavy man in his forties. The background information said his wife and him were married for ten years, and bickered often. He and his wife were in a fight; she must have one hell of a shot. Good for her.

I reached the door where the security guard told me to go and I stood by the door. A black cover up lined the window so one couldn't look in or out. I placed my hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

As I opened the door I was two things. One being a tall man with a pistol in his right hand, he was repeatedly striking a body on a lab table. The back of his head consisted of black waves and curls. His coat must be the one hanging off of the chair next to me. He continuously stuck the dead body on the table. The other thing in the room was Molly Hooper. She watched intensely as the tall one stuck the body over and over again. Her focus was not on the body, but the man enforcing the beating. Her eyes seemed to be dazed even though her expression was so intense. I could only assume that he was handsome in her eyes.

"Do you always let the handsome ones have their turn with the body first?" I asked tossing the envelope on the cluttered desk next to me.

Molly and the tall man turned to look at me acknowledging my presence. I was right. He truly was handsome; with hard cheekbones and dark wavy hair, but the eyes were beautiful. His hard face made him seem dark, mysterious, and a tiny bit demented. Take it from the way he brutally attacked the body he knew what he was doing and how to handle a gun. He studied me as I studied him.

I'd seen him before. I couldn't quite remember. One would think it would be hard to forget a face like his. I remember all my clients. He wasn't one of them, but he was looking at me as if it was his first time seeing me. So where had I seen him before?

Molly, on the other hand, hadn't changed in the past ten years. She was still as gorgeous as ever. Her hair was parted to the side and pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her brown eyes looked upon mine. They were wide with shock. Her jaw hung in awe upon seeing me.

"Victoria?" She questioned slowly.

"Hello, Molly," I grinned like a two-year-old who received a present on their birthday.

Her shock seemed to take over her as she dropped her clipboard and slowly shuffled her feet before rushing toward me. I embraced her in a hug and kissed her soft cheek. I stood back to get another look at her. Then out of nowhere and much to my surprise, she slapped me across the face. Hard.

"I probably deserved that," I groaned clutching my cheek.

Molly didn't look so sweet anymore.

"Where the hell have you been?" she exclaimed quite loudly.

"Molly," I reasoned, "I can explain."

"Damn right you will!" I'd never seen her like this. "Ten years, Victoria! I waited ten years! You just left me all alone for ten whole years! How dare you leave me like that! Why on earth would you even come back after all this time? Why would you leave me like that?"

"Molly, I had to –"

"You had to? You had to!" Tears welded in her eyes. I tried to speak. "Shut up! Why are you back now? I was finally over you leaving, and now you're here thinking you can waltz back in. Not a single letter, or phone call, or email, or even a postcard? You're just like 'Oh, hello Molly! Let me back in your life!' Well, I don't want you here now. I spent ten years without you. I can spend the rest without you!

"Sorry, Sherlock," She said calmly to the man, "Victoria is just leaving. I wouldn't be the first time."

That hit me low. Much to Molly's dislike, I pulled up a chair and sat down. I folded my hands and looked at a surprised Sherlock. He had obviously never seen Molly act this way before. I could admit it was a bit of a shock.

Sherlock. That's a name I would never forget. I'd heard a great deal about him over the past four years. He was a very popular detective in London. I had an inside source on him. Yet, I had only seen one photo of him.

"You must be the mysterious Sherlock Holmes," I said to him. "Now tell me, Holmes, who am I?"

"Oh, don't you start with your little façade, Victoria, or did you change your name too?" Molly jeered.

"Molly, I really can explain," I stated, "but, I'd like to know just who Mr. Holmes thinks I am."

Sherlock looked from me to the body. Bruises had formed and cuts were oozing. Each cut and bruise seemed to be too perfect. What was he using unrealistic data for? It wasn't logical.

Molly bent over and picked up her clipboard from the floor. Then hurrying she scribbled down the new data Sherlock made. Sherlock set the gun on the table. Molly went to work trying to ignore me, but continued to glance every now and then to see if I was still here.

"Well," I over exaggerated the 'e', "Molly, I'll be on my way. I'll be sure to stop by tomorrow. Don't worry, I won't leave London."

She stopped working for a bit. Her voice went back the concerned voice I had always remembered. "Where will you stay?"

"An old friend of mine has agreed that I can bunk with him for a few nights." I stood and headed for the door. "He says he knows you, Molly. Question is," I grabbed the handle and opened the door, "how do you know Doctor John Watson?"

I left, but not before seeing her mouth drop once again. Sherlock's back stiffened before the door clicked shut. My heels clicked against the tiles as I walked. My face went back to its normal blank expression. My cheek still slightly stung.

A cab waited for me at the entrance. It was right on time; just as I had suspected. I climbed inside and situated myself into a comfortable position.

"Two, two, one Baker Street, please."

The rain started to drizzle, and soon enough it was a London downpour. It wasn't cold enough to snow just yet. As I got out from the cab I saw the familiar man. He helped into the building by placing his umbrella over my head blocking the rain. Inside was much warmer.

"Good to see you again, John," I spoke as we walked up the stairs.

"How long has it been, Victoria?" He asked. "Five years?"

"Felt more like five lifetimes," I joked.

He pulled me into a hug making me secure in his arms.

"Your things are in my room. Tea's on the stove," He spoke into my ear. "You can either stay on the couch, which I don't recommend, or you can stay in my bed."

I leaned back. "And just where would you sleep?"

"On the left side because you prefer the right," John remembered.

"Thank you, John. I'll be in a much needed shower."

I walked into the bathroom and started to kick off my shoes.

"So how do you know Molly?" He asked from the other side of the door.

I gave a faint smile. "We go way back, that's all."

After stripping from my layers of clothes I stepped into the steaming shower. Letting it engulf me in its warm water, I let out a soft sigh of relief. Nothing felt better after a long day than a hot shower. It was especially better after the rough encounter with Molly. Once forty-five minutes had passed I found the nerve to escape the warmth of the water. Wrapping a towel around myself, I left the bathroom.

John must have gone out, so I reheated the water for the tea he left for me on the stove. The place was a complete mess, but I enjoyed that. I had always remembered John to be the clean type, but I guess people change.

The teapot whistled and I turned off the burner removing the teapot. There was a presence behind me as I poured myself a cup of tea. I grabbed another glass and poured one for the other.

"I should have known you'd come here. So," I turned, "Mr. Holmes, did you figure it out, or did Molly tell you?"

Sherlock Holmes took the cup I held out to him. After taking a long sip he looked at me. Two correct words left his lips.

"Victoria Hooper."