Okay, I got a few people that wanted me to continue this story, and honestly I don't know exactly where to go with it, but I love, love, love this little bit and I hope you guys do too. Let me know what you think por favor. Thanks to you all!

Part II

He hadn't done much in the past week, and his mind was beginning to stagnate. He sneered to himself at the thought. His mind was still, never moving. There was no flow of information in, nor did he have a use for any he currently possessed. The thoughts, memories and knowledge he prized so completely were beginning to fester and rot where they stood, never being brought forth and exercised.

"My mind is a puddle." He muttered to himself as he walked along the streets.

A few people he passed glancing at the madman that was speaking to himself. He paid them no never mind. They didn't matter, not at the moment, his lack of activity did. It concerned him, honestly, his mind sitting still. What if it became lazy? What if it protested the next time he wanted to call upon it for his work? The new thoughts made him shudder. That would never happen. His mind would never abstain from him…

As he walked along the crowded streets, watching the people that were oblivious to his existence, something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, a bright flash of red, similar to that of a ruby, brought him out of his current train of thought. His neck nearly snapped when he turned to see the source. It couldn't be. It was impossible. The powers that be were laughing at him, using him as a pawn in their twisted game to make him think he was going mad. Perhaps he was, a drawback of the previously mentioned stagnation, but something told him otherwise. So he quickened his pace, trying to get closer to the ruby, shining in the sun, to get a better look and desperately wishing he hadn't.

"Beverly." He hissed when the porcelain profile of the young woman caught his attention as she smiled to a shop keep.

He began to move through the crowd, picking a few articles of clothing up as he did. He, perhaps, should have felt back for stealing from these people, but his matter was more pressing. Yes, getting closer to her was more important.

She paid him no attention as he wove through the mid-afternoon, market going crowd, still speaking with the same man he had spotted her with. They were involved in some conversation, over a piece of jewelry he thought, but in truth it didn't matter. There was a booth next to her, his back facing the young woman as he pretended to inspect a rather ostentatious vase in his hands, turning it this way and that as he dared a glance behind him.

She looked different, staggeringly so. She had her hair done up in beautiful curls, each one catching the light in a different way, casting the ruby like glow that had previously caught his eye. She was wearing makeup, something that never touched her face while she was in his employment. Though she truly didn't need it, the lipstick was rather eye catching, forcing him to realize how truly full her lips were. His breath caught in his throat for a moment before he forced himself to continue his observation.

She was wearing a brilliant, emerald green dress, much more fitting than her maid's outfit, with a black coat cut to her body. The shade of green reminded him of the shade her eyes would be in certain light, others seeming a bit darker. He noted the black striping that was barely visible, and the hat placed delicately on top of her wonderfully chaotic curls. It was a curious thing that she was capable to make it look so wonderfully out of order. He cocked his head to the side to admire the new Beverly, the supposed real Beverly. The thought made him laugh; sure it wasn't even her real name, all the more so after seeing her in this outfit. But as he stood there, musing over his internal conversation, she had begun her walk through the people once more, leaving the booth and man behind.

Shocking himself to reality, he sped off after her, as fast as he dared without raising too much suspicion. He wouldn't let this opportunity pass him by, not after her leaving him gob smacked and completely befuddled nearly two months ago. The task, however, was easier said than done, something he realized after he managed to nearly knock over two or three people in his pursuit. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice and he could keep his chase going. Perhaps the term 'hunt' was more fitting.

She was the fox, trying to make her way through a forest, trying to blend in with her surroundings though she was obviously meant to stand out. The bright red of her 'fur' shown over the dull and mediocre surroundings she found herself in. And he, he was the hound. He had caught her scent from a mile away and the chase commenced. He bounded through the area she had occupied, entranced by her appearance, by her scent and the thought of catching her to the point he had to continue. There was no other way about it. He had a ravenous appetite to find the young woman that had managed to 'wrong' him.

In his mind, that was what she had done. She had betrayed his trust; though he wasn't sure he had any in her to begin with. Then again, he must have to let her do what she had done for him. That made the thought worse. She had belittled the trust he so rarely gave, discarded it as though it were refuse. He grumbled to himself at the action that made him chase her like a hunter.

Keeping a keen eye on her, he noticed her turn to the entryway of an alley that led to the main streets. She was trying to escape but he wouldn't let her. He smiled to himself; more so relieved his mind was working as he charged in after her. He nearly burst through the entryway, not paying attention to much of anything until he heard it.

CLICK

His hands came up to his sides at the distinct sound of a gun cocking, a .22 caliber if he wasn't mistaken, a gun that would fit easily in a young woman's handbag. He sighed heavily, cursing his mind for not doing anything for so long only to kick into high gear and cloud his senses to the point he now had a gun aimed at him.

"Why are you following me?"

Her voice rang in his ears with an accent she didn't possess before. Was there anything about her that was real?

"American. Figures." He grumbled quietly, knowing she heard him when there was a distinct intake of breath that didn't come from him.

A smile crossed his lips as he turned to face the young woman. He saw the brief shock on her face before recognition took hold of her delicate features. A smile crossed her lips, a menacingly wicked smile that made his falter before completely disappearing. The young woman cocked a brow to the man and he couldn't help but let his mind wander at the glorious structure that was her face. It was so feminine, delicate, and angelic almost as it hid the truly cunning reality of the woman.

"Well, Mr. Holmes." She said with the same smile still pulling at her beautifully red lips. "What took you so long?"

His face dropped further, his brow pulling together at the insult. She had just insulted him. Suddenly, the gun she had pointed at him was nothing more than a shiny object, not the potentially dead weapon it was meant to be. His hands came down as his mind began to race once more.

"Treacherous snake. Deceitful harpy. Untrustworthy, lying, devious, underhanded, conniving, Machiavellian!" he spat loudly.

The smile left the young woman's face, her eyes slightly wide with disbelief at the insults that had just been spouted from the man's mouth. He felt his chest swell with pride at the task of disarming the young woman like she had to him, no matter how temporary. Although, perhaps he should have put more effort into the thought because it didn't slow her in the least. Suddenly, he felt his chest deflate, his ego along with it as almost joyous laughter rang from her perfect lips. For a moment, he was simply stunned by the sound, a fact that was momentarily pushed to the side at the realization she was laughing… at him no less.

"I demand to have the information you stole from me." He finally declared.

"Stole?" she asked with a cocked brow. "Where there any papers missing?"

"Well, no but…"

"Were your notes out of order, books missing from the shelves, anything that would lead you to believe I took something from you?" she asked, placing her gun back in her purse.

"No." he grumbled, but still unwilling to admit defeat. "But I find it hard to believe you went into my employment, to clean my study where I keep my most precious information, only to take nothing with you."

"Really?" she asked with the same sweet smile. He froze as she walked up to him and placed a delicately gloved hand on his chest, her eyes staring directly into his, a sweet scent emanating from her skin that made his back tighten. It was almost euphoric until she spoke. "It was only a job Mr. Holmes. Your neighbor was more interesting."

He felt his jaw go slightly slack as she patted his chest, his heart beating heavily within as though it tried to escape and follow her. The smell lingered, nearly bringing tears to his eyes as he rolled the words she had spoken over and over in his mind. She had used him, for a job. She had used him. Used him? He was the great Sherlock Holmes! No one used him.

Then his mind kicked into gear once more. And for a moment he had wished it would have shut up only to have it ask a serious question. Had she been the one that had stolen Mrs. Sinclair's expansive collection of jewelry? Suddenly it hit him; the emerald earrings on the young woman's ears did look ornately familiar. Here he was, thinking Mr. Sinclair had sold the collection only to find their problems stemmed from the same woman. She had disappeared almost directly after the fact, and now she was wearing a piece of the jewelry in question. A smile touched his lips. Perhaps there was a way to find out who the young woman was now. All he had to do was compile every bit of information that fit the profile of the next door neighbor's victimization and he would be able to find her true identity, or at least another few she may use.

Stagnation be damned, he had a new interest.