Chapter One

In the days following the attack Blair had felt the need to explain herself only to quickly learn that this wouldn't be another lie that she could weave like so many others. Witnessing a murder was not easy and she wouldn't be okay. No matter how many times that she said the words it was obvious that no one believed her.

Including herself.

She sat perched atop her bed with her phone clasped tight in her hands, frustration whitening her knuckles as she waited in fear of for the latest blast from Gossip Girl. There had been no news since the day before the killing, which was unusual. While there were no promises with Gossip Girl, daily updates were not uncommon and it was rare to go three days without word of even a small modicum of scandal.

Blair fingered the phone's touch screen silently, flicking through her Twitter feed and Facebook Walls aimlessly. The obligatory messages that dotted the page weren't sincere, they were exactly what she had come to expect in this little world she resided in. Truth be told that no one knew how she felt and if any of them dared to try and squeeze sympathy out of their hardened hearts they'd more than likely frighten themselves in the process.

There was a soft mewing sound from somewhere off the side of the bed. The cat had been something of a token of what had happened-Blair preferred not to think of it as the murder. She preferred to think that sometime she could come as careless and blackened to emotion as she had once been. That was a safer state of mind.

The cat had belonged to Katherine and after her death her parents had given the cat to Blair saying they couldn't bear to take the reminder of her home with them. They told her that she was the first, true friend Katherine had made here in the United States. They told her they wanted her to have the cat because it favored Blair.

So they stuck her with a constant reminder of the bitch's death?

Maybe they'd known all along. Maybe they had played the biggest ruse of all and given the animal to her for the sheer guilt it would cause her. If they had known how Blair and Katherine fought, how they plotted against one another then maybe they would have given her this cat out of spite.

Take this. Take it and remember the awful things you did to our daughter just before she was taken from us.

Though the cat seemed to have no idea of what she had done to its previous owner. She had no idea of the havoc wreaked on Katherine's life. The cat went by Edna, though it rarely responded to its name. Still the creature wanted to be near her now, as if to offer some comfort.

Blair hated herself in that moment, though it wasn't a foreign feeling. But she had come to terms with her dark tendencies. You learn to live with yourself or you die, that's just how it has to be. That was life here.

By now Katherine's family will have gone back to London with their daughter's body and things would slowly slip back into normalcy for most of the Upper East Side. Her phone hadn't been ringing much since the incident. There was the odd call from Serena asking how she was and an awkward call from Dan Humphrey checking in on her. The last thing she wanted in the world was pity. It had never been high on her list of favorable ways to have people look at you.

Still she accepted it gracefully as was expected of her but it was becoming harder to mask the anger when she told someone things were fine. So when her phone chimed with a text message on the bed she locked her jaw, ready to read another how are you doing message.

As she pushed back her brown curls and lifted the phone to flick the screen lock off she was shocked to see it was a British phone number and one she didn't recognize. Her first instinct was that it was something from Katherine's parents. If it was, she couldn't imagine how she would handle it. Just the thought that she might have to fly to England and face his family for the funeral was too much to shoulder.

Blair tapped her thumb down on the new message and an efficient message popped up on screen.

I'll be seeing you soon.

-SH

For a long time she stared at the screen, unsure if this was some kind of cruel taunt from Katherine's killer. The words rested in her gaze until they blurred into the white text message screen background. Something told her this was more, because the killer hadn't been British. Or at least it didn't seem like they were-these killings had been occurring in New York for some time and the media had talked about the fetish killer that roamed the streets.

They warned parents against letting their kids from seeing the news footage that dealt with the things that this man did to women usually went spoken of at all.

What worried Blair was that she was the first person to catch any sort of glimpse of this man.

From the moment that Sherlock arrived back at his flat to find Mycroft waiting he knew that there was going to be trouble. It was rare that his brother appeared out in the open where Sherlock could see him. Though this time felt more inclined to listen to what had to be said.

Despite his aversion for Mycroft, the incident involving Moriarty last year had proven that there were times when his brother might have an interesting case for him. It wasn't the most interesting case he had come across but it afforded him some way to keep himself occupied. And he was getting a free trip to America.

Though he had been to the States before, he didn't feel the need to pass up spending some of his brother's seemingly infinite expense account.

Sherlock had managed to swing Mycroft into getting the girl's body moved to Saint Bart's-at least there he could make sure that came out of the medical examiner's mouth was the truth. Molly didn't have it in herself to lie to him. And soon after the body had arrived in London, Sherlock and Watson boarded a private jet bound for New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport late in the evening.

Mycroft sat in the backward facing seat at the front of the plane with an umbrella resting in his lap. Next to him was his assistant, the mysterious woman who seemed to always be engrossed on something that she was texting on her Blackberry. She was in a suit jacket and skirt with her legs pulled close together and aimed away from Mycroft. Instantly Sherlock noticed the way in which Watson was regarding her.

Obviously Mycroft noticed it too. "I don't think that Doctor Sarah would be too happy to see you taking to Mary like that," Mycroft said.

Sherlock turned to Watson. "I thought you said her name was Anthea?"

"I told you I didn't know what her real name was," Watson muttered.

"I do have so many…" Anthea said still wrapping away on the tiny keys of her Blackberry.

The plane started to taxi down the runway and Mycroft reached around and pulled the cabin door shut, the flight crew included the pilots and two women who served as waitresses on the plan-though Sherlock knew better than to think his brother was traveling without security. And it was never made clear just what Anthea was capable of.

Sherlock leaned back and dropped his seat back as far as it would go, precisely as they would have informed him not to had he been on a domestic flight. "So you come to me and ask me to investigate a murder that didn't even take place on our shores," said Sherlock. "Must be important."

"That was the thing that I couldn't say earlier," Mycroft said. "There's been a serial killer running amuck in New York for the past several weeks and it might have remained an American problem if not for the simple fact that he killed the daughter an English dignitary. She's a powerful woman Sherlock-I don't need to tell you about the people I work with-and she's out for blood."

"So you thought I would care?" asked Sherlock. He could feel Watson eyeing him.

"She came to me at a time when the world's economy is falling apart and wanted the best of my resources to avenge her daughter…" Mycroft said.

Sherlock glanced around the plane's cabin. "Economy's falling apart? You wouldn't know it from the look of this plane."

"Oh come off it," Mycroft said.

"African princes don't fly in this much luxury," Sherlock said.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "She came to me and asked for my best…and there really isn't anyone more qualified for this than you. I've actually taken the time to do as you requested and send the poor girl over to that Hooper woman at the morgue and we're prepared to pay for any other expenses you might incur on this trip. We just need you to solve this case."

Sherlock leaned forward, locking his fingers together for a short time. "I'll do it," Sherlock said.

"I didn't think you were actually considering it," Watson said.

There was a folder that Sherlock had concealed in his coat, it was from the case and held photos and notes and police reports. He looked through the pages that covered the previous victims and the list of suspects, most of which he could just tell were wrong. Finally he stopped on a page that talked about the one witness. She was a wealthy young woman from a family that held a certain amount of clout in the business world and several social circles.

Blair Waldorf.

He had heard the name Waldorf mentioned by the news, they owned a clothing company or some such.

"Is the girl being watched by the police?" asked Sherlock.

"She's being watched as much as we're allowed, the family has been sheltering her away from the public, trying to avoid the gossip mill…she's become a shut in," Mycroft said.

The girl's contact information was scribbled down on one of the sheets of paper in the file folder and Sherlock input her number into his phone and texted her a message.

Mycroft must have known what he was up to. "Glad you decided to take an interest," Mycroft said. "I can't join you for this, the plane will stop over near Nottingham and that's where I get off. You and Doctor Watson will continue to New York."

"All well and good," Sherlock said. "There's already something off about this case- Ican just tell," he said flipping through all of the notes in his lap.

"Already working the case?" asked Watson.

"I'm working the case because something is off," Sherlock said.