I apologize for taking such a long time to post this chapter.

This was inspired by the works of the magnificent Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle, and the spin off television show by the BBC network. I own all the character names, but not a thing else. Please enjoy and review. :)

The girl raised her arms to shield her face and neck while she turned and squatted in an attempt to keep herself safe from the flying door. Alas, the door struck her in back ready to flatten her. She felt a throbbing sensation where the door had connected with her backpack and opened her mouth to yelp. However, under its weight she was smashed to the ground and her chin hit the floor smothering the yelp. Her vision went black, the taste of blood blossomed in her mouth, and her ears rung like the liberty bell. However, in a few seconds white stars sparked in front of her eyes and she could see Lorna screaming as she dropped the fire-extinguisher. She still heard nothing.

The girl blinked and made a move to get up, but froze when she saw Lorna's eyes flick to her and then to the now doorless doorway behind her. The message she saw in Lorna's eyes was clear.

"Don't move."

So she waited. The girl was at two seconds and counting when she saw six black shoes go running past her. These black shoes were connected to black pants and black jackets. From her vantage point the girl could only see their backs and was therefore unable to read any ill-intent on their faces. However, at four seconds she saw one of the men give a swift left hook to Giorgio. She was now guessing that their intent was most likely ill. At six seconds her hearing returned. She took in Mrs. Bickerstaff's scream sobbing, Mr. Bickerstaff's hollering, and most interestingly the suited punchy man's questioning. She picked up three of his words: 'where', 'drive', 'now'. If she hadn't been listening so hard she would have never picked up the sound of halting footsteps beside her. It luckily sounded like just one pair. Lying as still and silent as possible she counted eight and kicked into OV.

This is not a good situation.

Really?

Don't be a Smart Alec. What do we do? We are going to die!

Don't be so dramatic. You know emotions interfere with OV.

Fine ! Then what are we going to do?

We establish a goal and set up a plan. We also slow our breathing. Hyperventilate anymore and the offender next to us is sure to hear.

Ok, ok. Goal: Live?

It needs to be more specific.

We need to escape in the least harmed condition possible.

Better. Now a plan.

We saw 3 pairs of shoes.

Don't forget whoever is right next to you.

That is four people. Where do we exit?

There is only one that we have seen.

There is no way I am going to be able to turn around lift off the door and scamper through the front without being tackled by the figure to our right.

So where do we go.

Second story?

You think there will be a window?

Yes. I remember seeing one on our way in.

Alright, sprint for stairs…

No. Take out the person next to us using the door and then book it.

Good idea.

We just need wait for an opening.

Nine seconds. The girl glanced down the hall under the landing where two blurry men had grabbed Giorgio and the other had Lorna. They came out of the kitchen and started heading towards her. Her heart skipped a beat, afraid that they would see her and her plan would have been for nothing. Luckily the men had knocked Lorna unconscious and two were dragging her as they back stepped keeping her out of their line of sight. Eleven seconds. She glanced back to the kitchen where Giorgio was being held in a full Nelson. The last man used his control to throw Mr. Bickerstaff in to a room with a washing machine and, satisfactorily a breaker box. On the count of twelve Lorna was tossed down the stairs in to D.

She decided that now was her chance. Glad that the person next to her hadn't noticed her underneath the door she twisted slowly and braced her hands on the inside of the thick door. Thirteen. The girl pushed with all her might, throwing the door on to the figure next to her. He was knocked backwards and smacked right into the two men behind him, sending them tumbling down the stairs after Mrs. Bickerstaff. It was a happy, but unplanned consequence. On the mark of fourteen she then bolted for the stairs taking them two at a time. She reached the landing at sixteen and turned to see the three men hadn't gotten pulled together yet. The two who had dragged Lorna were still downstairs and the person next to her, who she could now see the behind of, had his head and shoulders underneath the door with his butt in the air. The man from the kitchen with Giorgio was apparently having too much trouble with the old man to help the other three. To the girl's surprise there was also a figure in the shadow of the door. He was presumably the look out as he had his back turned and… Were those head phones? It was no wonder he hadn't moved to help.

Being fifteen seconds and counting the girl did a quick three sixty, to take in the landing. The basic layout was two chairs facing the back wall, a sofa on the right wall (in relation to looking through the front door and down to the kitchen), a spiral stair case in the cavity on the left, a sky light at the top of the back wall, and some stuff shoved in the back left corner. The sofa and chairs were much more modern than the classical look seen in the ceiling and kitchen décor. The two chairs were facing a metal mantle on the back brick wall. Both chairs were identical with perfectly bleached white upholstery and matching grey throw pillows. They didn't look to be for comfort, but instead for decoration. They appeared to be mirror images, except that one was at a different angle than the other and had drag marks matching its feet on the carpet. The marks swung around gestured to a swivel office chair hidden in the corner right next to the door he had seen earlier. However she now realized that door was leaning against the wall and had been torn of the hinges.

The girl quickened her spin and skipped the critique, instead just scanning. There were scuffs on the spiral stair case, chips on the guard rail, and the sofa against the right wall had been shoddily repaired. There was a sun worn space on the wall above the mantle and the two candles framing the space were flameless, despite the lighter hidden behind the candlestick. Snapping her out of casing the landing a shout sprung from the throat of the man climbing out from under the door. Seventeen.

She had to move. Opting for the spiral staircase the girl leapt to the first step and swung herself around as she went up. On the last step before disappearing from view she caught a glimpse of the fifth figure turning to come in through the open front doorway, having heard the man she had thrown the door at. Eighteen. She quickly disappeared up the steps and came to a decision of two rooms. The door on the left was label A, and the one on the right was missing a door, but had a cement garden stepping stone labeled "Door Stop" in its place. The door on the landing must have belonged here. OV.

Right. No door.

Also no exit.

Door A is locked.

It is the one with the widow! Where would you rather go?

We can't break it down.

Hinges. Duh!

The girl quickly got to work. She swung down her pack and unzipped the smallest pocket. Inside she kept only one item. The Pocket Knife. With the pack back on her shoulders she flipped out one of the duller knives and inserted the blade between the bolt and the top of the plate on the bottom hinge. She used the blade as a lever and twisted it, causing the bolt to snap up out of its resting place. Deftly she popped out each one of the bolts in the same manner. She surely would have taken too long getting them out if she hadn't already done this before. Long story short, the back door at the Home always 'got stuck'. By twenty one she had gotten all of the bolts out. She pushed the door in at the end farthest from the handle causing it to bend out of the lock.

Before she could get through a hand grabbed her pack pulling her away. Her knife slipped out of her hand a skittered away. The man's other hand came around her left side and tried to cover her mouth. She ducked it and kicked off the floor using her attacker's momentum pulling her back, in order to push him on to the floor. He let go of the pack when she landed on him due to the painful bend of his wrist. She then lunged forward and lifted the cement doorstop. It was the only weapon quickly within reach. OV.

Yeah, no. We are not getting kidnapped by this guy. Options?

Bash him on the head!

NOOO! That could literally kill him! We aren't a murderer.

Right. Knock out his knees?

Maybe.

Use it as a weight?

Possible too. Pros and Cons?

If we go for the knees we could use the swinging momentum to bash the door in.

But then they will be able to follow us.

If we knock him off balance we could block up the stairway.

Bingo.

So when he surged up at her she...

She recognized him as Number Three from the airport. Her plan went out the window as she missed her opening to use the weight to send him down the stairs. Instead she ducked again and spun throwing her shoulder in to his back when he charged her. That extra push sent him head first in to the door. It broke out of the lock and burst into the room sending splinters flying. She could hear footsteps clanging up the stair case. It a last ditch attempt at escape she scooped up her knife, popped it in her jacket pocket and leapt over the now unconscious man into the room. She gasped in relief when she saw the window and proceeded to hurl the stone out of it. Twenty five. Glass shattered and sprayed in to the street three stories below. The girl pulled her long sleeves over the palms of her hands and used her forearms to try and knock away some of the sharper parts. As slowly as she dared, given her situation, the girl stepped on to the small window shelf and leaned outside. The noises were on the landing now. Desperately she searched for a ledge, but none was to be found. Her eyes darted up where she saw a gutter and roof just a foot away. If she jumped she could reach it. OV.

Jump.

Absolutely not! We could die.

Yeah and we could die if we stay.

That is a fifty percent chance.

Well what are we going to…

"STOP!", the girl whirled her head around to meet eyes with Number One, twenty nine, "Stay right where you are. We aren't after you. Just let us talk."

When bouncing through foster homes the girl had gotten very good at telling if people were lying. In her situation it made for a safety mechanism. She could see right now the micro-expression of contempt pass over his face as the muscles around his lips contracted. He was definitely lying. Before she could respond the sound of sirens over the rumble of the rest of the traffic snapped all head in the direction of the street. Thirty contempt turned to fear.

JUMP!

So in one smooth movement the girl spun around to the outside of the window and pushed off the ledge with all her might. In a second of pure horror her fingertips missed the roof. She was only saved by latching on to the gutter in a shoulder jerking movement. A screw popped out of the top hole in the bracket a few feet down the gutter. The girl pulled her feet up and just avoided being grabbed from below. She kicked down putting her left foot into the face of Number One, giving herself a foothold. She used his face as a spring board to launch herself rolling onto the hard roof of the building. As she rested on the roof catching her breath she heard the sound of sirens on the street just below. She sat still for a moment to make sure that she hadn't been followed. Satisfied she stopped her internal timer at thirty six seconds. Strange how so much could happen so fast. The girl sat up and dusted off her jeans, thankful that she had gotten away. Time for an injuries assessment. OV.

Eyes?

Back to normal.

Hearing?

Returned at full capabilities.

Blood in the mouth?

Just bit our tongue. We do have a huge chin bruise though, and it is going to hurt to chew for a while.

How pleasant. Anything else?

Definite concussion.

After the second it took to asses her state she crawled over to the edge of the roof and watched three men run out the front door carrying the fourth unconscious man. The hopped into two cars parked across the street. She was about to look away when she thought about catching their license plates. The brown one in back was a Jeep with the plate number BD65 WMK. It blocked the plates of the black minivan in front. The girl took a moment to store away her thought about soccer dads in minivans before the brown jeep pulled away. She now had a clear line of sight to the plate number JA15…

Darkness fell over her vision as she collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Hello all. I would like to address why this has been taking forever. I wrote this story many moons ago when I was an even worse writer. I have been going through changing scenes and adding descriptions to what I could read of my awful handwriting. So, I am super sorry about the month long waits.

Secondly I created a poll, because I embellished the 'bad guys' more than I had originally and I realized that I could have Number Five be a possible love interest. Please check it out, I am at a loss of what to do.

Thanks for viewing.

Enope