I hissed and then outright cried as the flames licked my arm. I struggled, helpless against the strong grip of the two men holding me while their leader held the candle. He let it linger against my arm for a moment, long enough to pull tears from my eyes, and then moved it away.

"Well Inspector Lestrade, you seem a bit hurt, would you like to give me that information now?" He asked. "It isn't you we want at all, just the doctor." He was about ten years older than me, had a very long face, and was pale. His eyes were a yellowish shade of brown and very strange.

I shook my head. I would rather die then betray Watson. "Absolutely not." I hissed.

"Well then, it seems we shall have to punish you again." The grin from him scared me. He looked like the sort of man who enjoyed tormenting his victims.

He moved the candle to my side, against my shirt, and let it catch. Being on fire is something I have only experienced once in my life, and the memories springing forth to haunt me combined with this pain made me struggle even harder, crying out.

"Mommy!" I screamed as the house around me burned. I rushed from room to room, searching frantically for the women I knew would always be there.

She was in the kitchen, lying on her side. She wasn't on fire yet, but I knew this house wouldn't hold much longer. Summing whatever strength a nine year-old boy has, I tried to pull her by her arms to the door that was just down the hall.

Timbers fell from above us and I was struck on the back. It was just a scrape, but the burning sensation lingered.

"Hello! Martha?!" I heard my father's voice though it seemed distant in the roar of the fire. "Giles!" He had seen me! I tried to turn around, but suddenly he hugged me from behind with a blanket, covering my back and patting it.

It flared with pain I hadn't realized was there at first.

"Come Giles!" He said, lifting me into his strong arms.

"No! Mommy!" I cried, wanting her. I had always been closer to my mother, since my father spent long days working.

"She isn't going to make it Giles!" He chided me with his deep voice. He hurried outside just as it began to collapse.

I was awoken out of my memories as water splashed on me, finally stalling the flames that were leaving painful blisters all along my side. I groaned and went limp, unable to stand anymore. I was consumed with pain and sorrow.

"Well Inspector Lestrade?" The man asked.

I shook my head yet again.

"Well then I guess we shall continue…" He smiled. "Just know that once we get the doctor, we'll double the torment we put him through, and let you watch."

"No!" I cried, struggling again as the candle edged closer. This time it was nearing my face.

There was a loud bang and two more followed. I found myself sliding to the floor as the men that had held me fell back.

"Lestrade!" Never in my life had I been more grateful to see him. It was a moment of profound relief as he came forward and gently held me upright. I saw his eyes running over my wounds and even noted the look of pain in them. When he had started to care so much was a mystery to me.

"We have to get you to Watson." Gregson said firmly. A constable ran in and began to handle things with the bodies.

"No, not him – " I argued.

"Yes him." Gregson shot back. "We don't want this going all over London do we?"

I knew he was right. Doctors had a tendency to be rather loose-tongued when it came to some of their more important patients.

"Alright, but you can't tell him." I replied.

"Tell him what?" Gregson asked.

"That this was about him. He's got enough on his mind what with Mary dead." I replied.

"Like I said, tell him what?" Gregson replied. I realized he was playing the part of a fool and smiled gratefully.

"Now, lets go." Gregson said, getting me to my feet.

Doctor Watson was a man whose terrible amount of loss in a short time made him the source of unlimited amounts of sympathy from the men and I. We had come to call him one of our own and would gladly lay down our lives for his. He had served another (less well-liked) comrade, and his own abilities to help us solve crimes were slowly becoming formidable. None of us would likely ever reach the same level of reasoning as Sherlock Holmes, but we were certainly going to try.

"Its late you know." I pointed out as we neared his door.

"And you think he sleeps?" Gregson pointed at the light still on in the window.

I winced. "He needs to."

"Well, maybe this will get rid of some of that built-up energy. The man has hardly left his rooms in weeks." Gregson reminded me.

Though we had been respectful at first to give Watson some time before asking him to rejoin us, I knew it was high time he found something to consume his time. If he did not he would slip further into the dark hold of sorrow that currently held him captive.

We knocked, and within a few moments there were eyes peeking around the curtain. I thought I saw a gun in his hands. He had become very guarded since the accident. When he saw me being supported by Gregson though, he quickly came to the door and ushered us in.

"What happened Tobias?" He asked, looking with wide eyes at the burns.

"I just found him, don't ask me." Gregson said with a shrug.

Watson looked at me. I knew I couldn't say it was a fire, since I only had two burns in contained locations. It looked deliberate.

"Just some men wanted me to back off a case." I replied. "Its over now."

Watson gave me a look of pain. I realized we were exactly to him what Holmes had been – close friends dashing off into harm that he could only try to repair again and again.

"Well, these burns are pretty severe. You should stay home for a few days." Watson said.

"Thanks Doctor." I said, wincing a bit as he applied some ointment to it.

"Was it interesting?" He asked.

I tilted my head in confusion. "What?"

"The case, was it interesting?"

I felt my heart leap. He was asking about the cases! He was interested in rejoining us!

"It was indeed." I replied, hoping to get his interest.

"Speaking of cases doctor, I have a real nut on my hands." Gregson said.

Watson looked up at him. For a moment, I thought he would refuse, and then he nodded. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow morning, after you've slept and had a good meal." Gregson instructed.

"Well, as our dearly missed friend would say, the game is afoot…" Watson said, bringing forth a smile I hadn't seen in a long time and hardly dared hope I'd see again.