Author's note: I do not own any of these people except for Martha. Everyone else is the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (lucky).

This was partially inspired by a dream I had after I read His Last Bow.

April 24, 1891

Mrs. Hudson was indeed a long suffering woman, but there was another woman in Mr. Sherlock Holmes's life that could hold that claim. Unfortunately for Mrs. Hudson, the aforementioned woman was standing on the doorstep to 221B Baker Street.

"Come now, Mrs. Hudson. Can't you let me in too wait for him to get back? Some of his clients have waited hours and hours for him," the woman pleaded.

"Are you a client?" asked Mrs. Hudson in return.

"Come now, Mrs. Hudson..."

"Are you a client?"

"No but surely..."

"Then don't waste Mr. Holmes's time." With that Mrs. Hudson shut the door.

A very unladylike stream of curses escaped the other woman's lips. She'd have to do this differently.

***

"How was France, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

The detective was unsurprised to see the tall, thin woman sitting in his chair. She had dark brown hair, and grey eyes perched close together, over an aquiline nose.

"Hello Martha, Mrs. Hudson told me she had shooed away a rather peculiar woman. I take it you got in through the downstairs window?" Sherlock Holmes smiled broadly.

"Yes no doubt you can tell because of the state of my shoes or some other trifle."

"No, you always get in through a window."

"Only if all other means of entrance are made difficult, Mr. Holmes you still have not answered my question."

"You are angry with me I see. The affair in France was resolved in a satisfactory manner for the French government. May I ask what I have done to arouse your anger?"

Martha stood up and began counting off on her fingers. "Firstly you have told your landlady to send away everyone who came to the door. You seem to be afraid of something. Secondly, you look even more tired and pale than usual. You've been wearing yourself more thinly than usual. I assume you've been once again missing sleep and meals. You have no idea how much that worries me my dear brother! Lastly, your knuckles are burst and bleeding. Once again it seems to me you are in trouble. Please, Sherlock tell me what's wrong! I'll help if I can, dear brother."

Sherlock Holmes seemed to debate for a moment then he sat down in his chair.

"Very well Martha. You are I take it aware of Professor Moriarty?"

"Sherlock! Oh my dear brother, he is after you!"

"Yes, he was in this very room this morning," with that Sherlock Holmes told his sister everything about his plan to trap Moriarty.

"Very well," Martha said straightening up. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Nothing quite as dramatic as some of the help you sometimes give to Mycroft, sister dear. I just need you to take some things for me to your residence. I'll meet you at your back door around eleven this evening."

"What sort of things?"

"Just some items of clothing, stage make-up and such, in your wardrobe they'd hardly look out of place."

"Never mind whatever you have. It would look to conspicuous if I were to leave here carrying a bag or a package. I'll just lend you one of my old ones. I have one of an Italian clergyman that would probably fit you."

"All right Martha. I was wondering how I would be able to leave with my costume anyway."

"I assume Mycroft is also offering his help to you in this matter?"

"Yes. He is being quite instrumental, and helpful in this matter."

"So will you be spending the night in my house or in Mycroft's rooms?"

"Neither. I have some plans laid, and all will be well."

"What will you do between now and eleven? You can't stay here, it isn't safe. Even a woman could enter through the windows."
"As you have so recently demonstrated. I will be seeing Watson and asking for his assistance in this matter."

"Doctor Watson! Sherlock, this is not one of those adventures, as your friend refers to them. This is a matter of life and death! A final problem!"

"Martha, trust me. I am aware of what I am about to do."

"You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men, Sherlock. Lend me one of your coats and one of your hats."

The manner in which Martha said those words invited no argument, Sherlock Holmes attempted one anyway.

"Martha, I would think there would be no need to remind you that there have already been several attempts on my life..."

"The coat and the hat please," Martha winced at the expression her brother had. "Please Sherlock; I've done worse jobs for Mycroft."

Sherlock Holmes groaned, his sister was stubborn, "Just be careful Martha."

"I will Sherlock."

Clad in her brother's coat and hat Martha left the way she had come. She was followed for a short while, until a gust of wind blew her hat off and revealed the length of her hair, which had until that point been hidden in the hat. A fairly rudimentary attempt at deception, but when there was a knock at her back door at eleven that same night Martha knew it had worked. She handed her brother the package containing the apparel, facial hair, and necessary items of make-up for an Italian clergy man.

"Sherlock, where are you going to go?" Martha asked trying to put off her brother's leaving.

"The continent, it will only be for a matter of days."

"Just be careful brother."
"I will, sister."

Sherlock Holmes disappeared into the London fog, leaving his sister, a long-suffering woman, to worry and fret over him.