Chapter 1
Delilah strolled casually down the street, the only light coming from a flickering street light. She knew Eliza was coming up the other way to trap the two men.
Another case, Delilah thought as she slammed into the first man, knocking him over. Just another case, she pinned the man down.
"Where are the codes? Tell me where they are!" She hissed, pressing into the man's throat. Behind her she could hear Eliza hitting the other shorter man with her handbag.
The codes they were searching for, were to unlock a high security volt containing bars of gold, had been stolen and the police hadn't been able to locate them (because they were hopeless as far as Delilah was concerned). The police had then put her and Eliza up to the job of finding the codes and they had been tracking these two men for several days and she had a reason to believe that they had stolen the codes.
She demanded to know where they were again. The man coughed and gasped for breath. Delilah loosened her hold on his throat slightly.
"Ah, so sorry to disappoint," said the man in an English accent, "But the codes," He groaned, "Of which you speak... shall not fall into your hands."
With that, the man pulled out a syringe from his pocket and stuck it into her arm. Instantly she felt light headed and weak.
"You are such a..." She started to say but her vision clouded and her eyes closed.
She awoke to the smell of coffee and gunpowder and opened her eyes.
Delilah was lying on a golden armchair in a room she did not recognize. Then the man from the previous night came in, followed by the shorter man and Eliza. Eliza saw she was awake and let go of the other man's arm and came running over.
"Hi!" she squealed, her curly blonde hair flying around her shoulders.
Eliza was shorter, curvy; bright blue eyes, framed with long curled lashes, pink cheeks and lips.
"Morning," Delilah mumbled, turning over and blinking in the bright light. She sat up and instantly felt faint again. She fell backwards onto the soft satin cushions.
Delilah was quite tall with black wavy hair falling to her waist. Slim, hourglass figure, pale skin and deep hazel eyes which seemed to stare right through you. Naturally pale pink lips parted slightly as she looked at the man who she almost suffocated a few hours ago, recognizing him for the first time vaguely.
The shorter man started forward, "Careful," he said in a slight London accent, "it's just a simple anesthetic, and it should wear off right... about... now."
The second he said the word 'now' her head cleared and she was able to sit up properly. Delilah looked around, taking in the room. The walls were dark and there was the letters VR in bullet holes on one of the walls. The floor was wooden and quite rough. She realized she could only feel it properly because she wasn't wearing any shoes. She stood up and picked up her boots which were beside a withered looking potted plant on the ground. She put them on and straightened up. She turned and looked over at the two men standing in front of her. The shorter one held out his hand to me in a friendly gesture, Delilah shook it, recognising it is the soft hand of a surgeon. He opened his mouth to introduce himself but she got there first.
"Judging by your attentive mannerisms, and your hands, I'd say you are a doctor" Delilah said, putting her hands behind her back and walking slowly around the room. He nodded.
"Also, you were very precise in your estimation of when I would recover and that sort of skill is possessed by few. Your name is uh, Watson, is it not?" He nodded again.
"John Watson, yes."
She came to a halt in front of the other man.
"Sherlock Holmes." He held out his hand.
"Of course," She said, shaking his hand. "But what brings you here? New York is my territory, you know that."
He raised an eyebrow, holding onto her hand for just a second too long.
"Do you two know each other?" Eliza asked, looking at the pair, staring at each other.
"Oh yeah..." Delilah drawled. "We go way back."
They eventually stepped apart.
"So, anyway," Eliza looked strangely between the two detectives, "What are you doing here?"
"Just... paying a visit." Watson said, looking at Holmes who smirked ever so slightly, glancing at Delilah. "We were actually looking for a place to stay, he doesn't like it here." He gestured to Holmes.
"You could stay with us," Eliza offered.
"If it's not too much trouble." Watson smiled.
"Of course not" Delilah said slowly, looking at Sherlock pointedly, "We've got plenty of room."
"Let us take you out to lunch, on me."
"Oh, thanks!" Eliza smiled widely and latched onto his arm again.
They went to lunch, Watson looking uncomfortable.