A/N: OK, like in ACD's books, this is written in Watson's POV. Only a couple of times will the POV shift…but for now, it's Watson's. Enjoy!

"Watson? Watson, my friend," Holmes shook me awake gently. With a grunt, I rolled over and shook the warmth of sleep off me.

"What is it, Holmes? Is the bank being robbed?" I asked blearily, looking at the clock. It was a quarter past seven in the morning.

"No, good sir, a client is here to see us. And she is clearly from India," Holmes smiled at me before exiting the room. I hurried to brush my teeth, get dressed and comb my hair. I exited the room, carrying a pen and my notebook. A young woman sat in her chair, clad in a pale pink cotton sari and her veil over her face. I saw that her hands were not dark like the traditional natives of India, but golden. They were also covered with orange henna, a dye used to decorate the hands of women, associated traditionally with weddings.

"Ah, here he is now. This is Dr. Watson, my colleague and dear friend. And you, miss, are...?"

"Maia Sharma, sir," surprisingly, her English was perfect, accented ever so slightly with Indian. She removed her veil to reveal a beautiful, oval shaped face. Her eyes were large and almond-shaped and were a hypnotic chocolate brown. They gave her a most dramatic look indeed. She had black hair that was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a simple gold chain with a swastika, a symbol of good luck in India, and small gold hoops.

"And how, Ms. Sharma, may I and my colleague assist you? Obviously you are in good health, so that cannot be troubling you, but your eyes hold sorrow and fear, therefore I sense it must be something to do with your family," the girl nodded.

"Indeed, Mr. Holmes. My father..." she wiped frantically at her eyes. "I apologize. He was...murdered last night, sir. Stabbed in the body a hundred and eight times," Ms. Sharma explained, shuddering with suppressed sobs.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, miss," I sympathised and received a grateful glance and quivery smile in return.

"Was a murder weapon found?"

"Yes sir, but before we found it, we knew that it was definitely a butcher knife, a very sharp, new one," Holmes raised a brow questioningly.

"Well, there was no rust lining the wound, therefore, the knife was new. The length of the blade was very long, and the width was quite wide near the handle and thin near the tip of the blade. These were all concluded by post-mortem reports; therefore, the knife was a butcher knife. Because the cuts were smooth and there were no jagged ones at all, the knife had to be extremely sharp," Ms. Sharma explained. Holmes' observant grey eyes widened and I fought to stifle a grin. Evidentially, Holmes had found a man to match perceptiveness with.

"Who concluded this, Ms. Sharma?" Holmes asked. She looked down at her lap.

"Because I wished to have no police investigation, I did," Holmes' eyes, looked more stunned than possible. I coughed to conceal a laugh that threatened to expose itself. Holmes' match was a woman. Things just kept getting better and better.

"Do you suspect anyone, Ms. Sharma?" Holmes asked stiffly.

"Anand Patil," she said, spitting the name out in distaste.

"A friend?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, hardly! We grew up in the same area of Bombay and I have always kept a distance from him. But he was always infatuated with me and asked to marry me ever since we were seventeen. Then my father's business took him, a widower, and myself to London. It has been about nine years since then, and Anand has been living next door to us for about four months. My father knew of my distaste for him and Anand's proposals were always turned down,"

"He must be a man of great determination," I commented.

"Oh, yes. But it is not love he feels for me, not in the emotional sense. It is purely physical. Of course, our family connections and our wealth elevates me in his eyes," she looked as if she tasted something particularly bitter.

"Is he bold enough to do something such as murder?"

"I could not tell you, sir. But I do know that he is bold enough to assault me in my own home with a housekeeper present for he did so a month ago," fury flared in those beautiful eyes of hers and I knew then and there that this was not a woman to be trifled with.

"Kindly detail the events leading up to this unchivalrous action, Ms. Sharma," Holmes requested, steepling his long, white fingers together at the tips and paying every attention to our new client.

"I am a dabbler in the arts and writing, Mr. Holmes, so you will not be surprised when I tell you that a month ago; I was in the sitting room, using watercolours to complete a landscape in a sunrise piece to hang in my father's study. The housekeeper entered and said that Anand had decided to pay me a visit. I need hardly reveal how exasperated I was when she told me thus. Nonetheless, I felt it rude to turn him away, and permitted her to let him in. I now know that I should have dispensed with politeness and have him leave. He entered my house as if he owned the place and greeted me, oozing with poorly attempted charm.

'Good afternoon, Maia. You are looking lovely this fine day,' he said, lifting my hand to kiss it.

"Good afternoon, Anand. Please, do tell me the reason for your visit," said I, taking my hand away before they reached his lips.

'Now, my dear' I cringed at this unwanted term of endearment. 'One would think you wanted to be rid of me!' he laughed uproariously at this so-called joke of his, and I could not help thinking that that was exactly what I wanted, and it was only by my self-control that I held my tongue.

'I was wondering if you had reconsidered my offer of marriage. It would be well within your best interests, you know. Not many men are willing to marry you here, no disrespect meant. We also have known each other since childhood and-'

'Anand-' I interrupted him, knowing exactly how it would unfold. He would provide the same reasons for why we should be married, and I would stand, politely decline and he would leave, vowing to make me accept. I decided that I would, once and for all, put an end to this nonsense. "You have been proposing marriage to me since we were seventeen. I did not wish to become Mrs. Anand Patil then, and my views on the matter remain unchanged. I feel that you should pursue another young lady who is more interested in your wooing," I said firmly, letting him know that the matter was closed. I rose from my seat and moved to leave, but he strode over to me.

'But I do not wish to wed another. It is you I desire,'

'Well, I apologize, but I am not interested in your offer,' said I, stiffly. My housekeeper had entered the room a second after I had uttered this and stood by the open door to bow him out, but he made no such move to do so.

'I will not leave here empty-handed!' he roared and pinned me to the table in an attempt to kiss me.

'Anand, leave me!' I cried, in English and again in Hindi, our native tongue. My housekeeper got aid from our gardener who was working outside, and with his help, Anand was escorted roughly out of my house. And that was the last time I have met him properly," she finished, looking at myself and my friend expectantly. I was astounded at the gall of this blackguard.

"Ms. Sharma, without going off the topic, where was your father's body found?"

"In the very same sitting room Anand assaulted me in, but I have reason to believe that my father was killed in his room and carried downstairs,"

"And I assume that these conclusions were reached, as before, by you?" Holmes asked, his tone a little sarcastic.

"Correct, sir. There was a pool of blood on his sheets, and a small trickle of blood leading down the stairs and to the floor in the sitting room. Therefore, the murderer stabbed by father repeatedly in his bed, and then carried him downstairs. If he had been dragged down, there would be smears of blood on the carpet and floors," she nodded, her voice sounding crisp and cold, as if attempting to make herself believe that this situation was not her own to experience. I admired the self control in which she contained her obvious grief.

"How did he enter the house?" I asked. With her observant, keen eyes and ears, she had to have heard the murderer enter.

"By he, I assume you mean the man who murdered my father. He entered through the downstairs window. My housekeeper, who is probably the most trustworthy woman you will find, bolted the windows last night, but apparently it did not lock properly and the murderer observed this. He closed it after him after the deed, but I found a corner of the curtains caught in the window and the flowerbed beneath the window was trampled most horribly," I coughed violently to cover my laughter at Holmes' expression. Apart from Mycroft, his brother, Holmes' had never met a person as observant as she.

"Well, Ms Sharma, if you are perceptive enough to conclude all of this, I fail to see why you require my assistance in this matter," Holmes stated, his eyes always on this exotic beauty and full of grudging admiration.

"Because I cannot prove who it was! I know Anand most certainly has the motive and he knows his way around my house. The knife used to kill my father was from our own kitchen, and when checking for blood on the knife, no fingerprints were found anywhere. He must have worn gloves and huge boots – his feet are incredibly small for a man and the footprints I found were very large, but their impressions were deeper within the footprints – but I have no proof!" she cried in frustration.

"Have you tried investigating him?" Holmes asked. She nodded with a tired sigh.

"Of course. I have disguised myself and taken employment as a barmaid at the Silver Lion, where he goes every evening, and followed him home afterwards. Nothing," she brushed a stray silken strand from her face.

"Your disguise, Ms. Sharma. Is it impossible for Mr. Patil to recognize you?" my friend asked. For the first time today, her full lips curved into a grin of mischief and her dramatic eyes twinkled in merriment.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. Very much so," she chose not to elaborate. Although, I noticed that her smile did not fully reach her eyes. There was still a shadow of misery lingering.

A/N: OK? Hoped y'all liked this chapter…I made it long just for you! Reviews please!