"Sit still." Sherlock tells me. I look up from my book and we make eye contact. "I cannot think with you hustling around." I sit down on the sofa a few feet away and continue reading...but I didn't sit for long. I stand again and close my book. Sherlock looks up from his own book.

"What are we doing?" I ask him. "Shouldn't we be...I don't know, trying to trace the call or something?"

"Do you really think they would make it so the phone could be traced? Even if we could it would be intentional. To lure us in." Sherlock responds. I sigh. That's exactly what they were doing. I look at the wall clock. 11:30. 19 minutes and the taxi would arrive. I take a deep breath.

"I'm hungry." I state.

"Good for you." He replies. I sigh. He may be the most intelligent person I know but he's still an idiot.

"Would you run out for me?" I ask annoyed. He doesn't look up from his book.

"You never eat when-"

"Working a case, I know, we actually had that in common." I cut him off. "But I am actually very hungry. I need you to run to Sight of Paris." That restaurant was going to take him 1 hour at the very least to get there and back.

"Where's that?" he asks. I don't reply. I wasn't stupid, I knew that he knew this town like the back of his hand. He stands, closing his book and laying it on the coffee table. "Well?"

"Sherlock I'm not feeble minded, I know you better than that." I tell him. He nods, throwing his coat on.

"Yes, yes. John will be home in 45 minutes. Lock the door." He orders. I nod. Just as he's half way out the door, he stops and slips out the gun from his side pocket, holding the handle towards me. "Know how to shoot it?" He asks me. I lean to my left, taking my own gun from my hand bag.

"I've got my own." I tell him. He looked a little surprised but simply nodded before leaving the apartment. Fifteen minutes now.

I stood in the cold British winds, my arms were folded and my hair blew everywhere. It was 11:48. One moment before I would be riding with my enemy. Sure enough, there was the taxi. I looked around before sitting in the passenger seat. The man did not turn to look at me, instead drove off. I looked outside the window and watched every pedestrian go by and went over endless scenarios, trying to prepare myself for anything and everything.

"Here we are miss." He tells me, I open the door and find myself at an abandoned apartment building. I close the door and walk to the front of the building.

"Enna Burk?" A deep male voice asks. I spin and a man, tall and built is standing by the side of the building. "Come with me." I followed him naively inside the building. We went up the stairs, all the way to the top floor and I found a steel door. He opened it for me and I stepped inside the damp room. It reeked of abandonment. I turned and watched the door close behind me. I walk in further but saw no one. It was dark and the moonlight was the only thing that enabled me to walk without banging into something or someone.

"You actually came, you have guts I will admit." I look to the voice and find a woman, long, black curly hair(obviously dyed) with a red velvet dress with diamonds crested into the top walking into the moonlight. She smiles at me sinisterly and flicks locks of curls to her left revealing a butterfly tattoo by her ear.

"Carrington." I say simply. "Hand him over."

"Now, now. That's no fun." She says. "We need to do this fair. A trade."

"What do you want from me?" I wonder. She sighs.

"Well, I need you to step off the board. We get the queen for the pawn." She tells me.

"No." I say simply.

"You'll get nothing then." She responds, twisting a curl in her finger. I hesitate now and then realize I cannot win.

"Fine." I say bitterly. "I will step off the board." She smiles.

"That's a good girl." She says in a motherly tone.

"Carrington," I say sternly. "Now."

"Come now, why don't we-"

"No." I cut her off. There was a certain feeling arising inside me, rage. I was almost ready to pull out my gun when my phone rang.

"Go ahead." She tells me. I slip it out of my pocket.

"Burk." I say, unsure.

"Enna!" It's Lestrade. "Carrington has just been admitted into hospital! He's not in great shape, but he'll survive! You need to get over here, I cannot get a hold of Sherlock." I lower my phone, and still hear Lestrade calling for me on the other line, faintly. She is smiling, obviously pleased with herself.

"You must step off the board." She tells me.

"The King will be a little angry with you, won't he? He is the one who had originally called me out."

"Maybe, but you do know without a doubt that the queen is the most powerful piece on the board. He can suck it up." She replies.

"Of course." I respond and turn and walk to the steel door, swiftly and without hesitation. I push it open and start for the stairs when the door swings open again.

"Enna!" She calls after me. I turn and see the built man that led me here was holding a gun on me, they both stood not 10 feet away. My heart raced and pounded...I knew it wouldn't be this easy. "I don't really trust you'll hold up your end. Sorry, I wish thing could be different." She fakes sympathy. I masked my fear with agitation as she whispers something to the man and walks back into the room, closing the door behind her. I make eye contact with man and slowly reach in my back pocket where I had put the gun before leaving the flat. I was not fast enough...it felt as though daggers were connecting all over my body. Down the stairs I fell and continued before my eyes closed and my heart slowed. The warm blood flooded from the wound as I slipped out of consciousness.

Firm hands pressed on my shoulder startled me and I awoke with a gasp. I was panting, covered in sweat and blood. I tried to sit up but could not. I gasped, my shoulder stung sending currents of agony throughout my body. It was a blur, but slowly they both came into focus. Sherlock and John that is.

"Don't strain yourself!" John commands. I wince at his strong hands and then moan. "She's loosing to much blood." he whispers to Sherlock, but I could hear him perfectly.

"I injured my shoulder John, not my hearing." I sass him but then feel more pressure on my shoulder. My mouth widens and my eyes squint. I could just barely hold in my cries from the escrutiating pain. My eyes stung with tears.

"Who did this? Why were you here?" Sherlock snaps questions at me.

"Bite me." I try to sound more angry but it came out in a weak tone.

"Not now Sherlock, she's-" John tries to stop him but doesn't succeed.

"Why did you come alone? You're not stupid! You should have known it to be a trap!" He yells. I want to snap back...but I could not. I was drifting again. My vision was faltering and I was being led into darkness.

Fear had struck me again. A gun pointed at me, Sherlock on the other side.

"Don't do this," I say, but my legs would not move. I could not run away. I had no weapon so I could not defend myself.

"I'm tired of your burden!" He yells making me jump with such strength in his voice and then calms himself. "I will be free of that once you are gone." His fingers intertwined around the trigger and before I had time to breathe...

BANG

I shot up in bed, ripples of pain affect my breathing now more than ever. Sweat dripped from brow...but I was not long conscious when I realized that I was not in my bed. I was not in a hospital bed either. Nor was I wearing my clothes. I was wearing a male blouse, too long to be John's which left only one option.

"Enna?" Sherlock. I shuddered at his voice but hid it very well. I turned to see him standing in the doorway of the barely lit room.

"Yes?" I ask. He draws closer, only a few steps though.

"Are you alright?" He asks. The concern he showed was weird but instead of questioning it I simply nod, taking deep breaths.

"Fine..." I say very quietly. "Perfectly fine." He nods but wasn't the least bit convinced.

"I know you aren't. It's time you stepped down, let me handle all of this." Sherlock says, that's what he was leading up to...I shoot a disgusted glare at him.

"I was shot Sherlock, not paralyzed. I'm fine." I snap. He does not respond, just continues to stare. "Don't scrutinize me, Holmes." I tell him with frustration obvious in my voice. With that, he comes closer.

"You're not OK. It wouldn't take a genius to figure that out." He says. I roll me eyes. "You struggle with the pain but mask it with agitation. You hide your fear away so it is only when you close your eyes you are truly afraid. Your past failure haunts you and that is why you do not give up on any sort of case. You smoke, too." He profiles me. I could barely believe that he was profiling me. The nerve of this man.

"I most certainly do not!" I respond, but he was right...about all of it.

"You most certainly do. I could smell it off you, faintly. You don't smoke heavily, only as a stress reliever. You are more human than I which is a great feature to have but it's also a disadvantage. Your feelings make it harder to do your job, especially when it hits close to home. Shall I continue?" I glare and thats his sign to stop. He does no such thing. "About nine months ago your only 'friends' were kidnapped while helping you with a case. They were brutally beaten and murdered and you were unable to save them."

"Sherlock, stop." I tell him, fearing he may continue.

"Since then you have been distant, unpertaining and devoted to work. Your own mother is unsure if you still breath. You-"

"Sherlock!" I snarl. He does not speak anymore. "Stop."

"You are not stable to work this case." He says simply before storming out of the room, leaving me, myself and I.

"No more victims since last night when you were shot." Lestrade tells me as I follow behind him, walking to the police records to see if the Queen was anywhere in there. "Where is that ruthless Sherlock anyway?" I did not want to think of that man. Not after that morning.

"Why does it matter?" I wonder. "I would say it's time he did something usefull instead of driving us all nuts." I say and remember the note on the door when I had l left that morning.

Do not leave, I will be home shortly.

-Sherlock Holmes

"I agree with you 100%." Lestrade says. "But we cannot deny he comes in handy."

"I do not work with him so my opinion does not matter." I reply as we sit at a desk and Lestrade punches in the characteristics of the woman I had described into the computer.

Female, Tall, Curvy, unnatural black hair, butterfly tattoo by the ear,

About 300 different results appeared on the computer screen. Quickly, scrolling threw the pictures I came to see that I would probably never find the one I was looking for.

"Anything else you can think of that may help?" Lestrade asks. I think for a moment.

"She's probably under counts of robbery or has obtained a lot of money somehow." I say. "The dress she was wearing a dress that was anything but cheap." Lestrade nods, punching in more descriptive words and a blond version of her appears on the screen. "That's her!"

"Madame Nowell?" Lestrade asks doubt fully.

"Wait, you know her?" I wonder. He nods, his eyes scrutinizing the picture.

"She's my next door neighbor." He says shockingly.

"Get a squad car ready, we're going in." I tell him.