A/N: I'm gonna continue doing the chapters in Clara's P.O.V., but if you'd like me to go back to third person, just let me know in the comments. Also, this chapter has a lot of scene changes, so I hope it's not confusing. Anywho, hope you guys like this! Please R&R! : ) P.S. Sorry this took a million years.

The cab we had all three taken, pulled up to an apartment surrounded by police cars. As soon as we stepped out of the cab, I began to take in my surroundings. I could tell Sherlock was doing the same.

"Good to see you boys." A man said walking over to us, before looking at me with familiarity in his eyes. "Clara?"

I awkwardly smiled, as I actually knew who the man was, " Good to see you again, Graham."

"It's Greg." The man, Lestrade, said flatly.

"Oh yeah. I never could get it right, could I?"

John glanced at us in confusion, "Wait, you two know each other?"

"More or less." I admitted, knowing fully well Lestrade and I weren't on the best terms. Espicially after the last time we had seen each other.

"If you two are done with your petty reunion, I'd love to see this note and body." Sherlock interrupted.

Lestrade nodded and led us towards the house. As we walked I noticed two more familiar faces.

"Anderson." I nodded towards them. "Donovan."

Anderson simply ignored it, and Donovan, or Sally, just rolled her eyes. We had also never been on the greatest terms.

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The inside of the apartment was small, and the living area we were led into only had two couches, and a small coffee table. In the corner of the room lay the dead woman who had blonde hair, and was wearing a plain t-shirt with yoga pants. Sherlock and I bent down to examine the body further, while John kept his distance standing by Lestrade. I glanced at him, wondering if he wasn't to fond of seeing dead bodies.

"I'll leave this to the professionals." He said, probably picking up on my confusion.

I half smiled and nodded, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.

"Alright, Clara. What do you see?" he said, turning to me.

I felt my arm begin to slightly twitch, but I ignored it.

"She looks to be 35. Divorced, yet she still admires him." I stated.

"Obviously, since she's still wearing the wedding ring."

"But, the ring is kept unclean. Meaning she doesn't care enough to work things out with him. I mean, why take the time and effort to keep the ring clean, when, who knows? She could meet someone better."

Sherlock looked at me and smirked, "Precisely."

I saw his eyes go back to my arm, which was still twitching.

"So, where's this code?" I said to Lestrade, hoping to get Sherlock's mind on something else.

Lestrade pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket, and unfolded it. We all three stood around him to see the note that read, 'Chso2leimgalaiermmtaecau, you'll never find out who I am. I live off the grid'.

I looked at Sherlock in surprise, "It's the message, the one you showed me earlier today."

"Indeed it is." He replied, still examining the paper.

"What's it suppose to mean?" John asked.

Lestrade shrugged, "No clue. That's why I called you guys."

"Well of course you don't have a clue." I quietly muttered to myself.

"'I live off the grid'." Sherlock repeated a couple of times.

"Is it some kind of code?" John said, looking at all of us.

"Let me see if I have anything." I opened my bag and pulled out the journal that had fallen out earlier.

"What's this?" Sherlock asked as he was doing his best to look over my shoulder and into my journal.

"Ever since my parents died, I kept a journal of every accounted murder that I came across. I'm hoping that it will help me solve their murder some day." I stated, flipping through the books pages.

" You keep a scrapbook with pictures of dead people in it? You realize what this says about you?" He said while still trying to read all the content I had written down.

I looked at him in annoyance, "It's not a scrapbook, Sherlock. Again, I'm collecting papers relevant to murders. It helps me remember the details, thank you."

I shut the journal close, and stuck it back in my bag.

"I've got nothing on it."

"Ha! A girl is doing your job now? How pathetic?" I heard a familiar voice scoff.

I turned to Anderson with a smirk on my face.

"Pathetic? What's pathetic is that you're so daft, you barely got accepted into Scotland Yard."

He looked at me in surprise and embarrassment, "How did you-"

"Know?" I interrupted. "Oh I know a lot of things about you. Like your and Donovan's affair."

I spotted Sally from across the room, who's face had become bright red. I could feel my arm twitching worse, but why not have some fun while I can?

"Oh I'm not done yet! And this girl, hacked into the British Government when I was 8, because I was bored. So, what's pathetic is you, Anderson!" I finally stopped before turning to John. "John, I need you to use your phone's camera, and take some pictures of the building, body, or anything that looks useful. "

"Um, okay." He replied, looking a little shocked from my outburst.

He walked off, passing a steaming mad Donovan that was heading towards me.

"You'd better not say anything about us, or so help me!" She threatened angrily.

"Or what?" I said crossing my arms.

With no good comeback she grabbed Anderson's arm, and dragged him out of the room. I looked back at Lestrade and Sherlock, who looked just as surprised as John had.

"For your information, I didn't know they were together. I just randomly guessed, but I apparently guessed right, judging by their reaction."

Sherlock continued to notice my arm, even after all that.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I looked down and noticed how much worse the twitching had gotten, "Oh, this. It's nothing, really. Um, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check on John."

I said before leaving the room myself. I immediantly pulled out a bottle full of a medication I have to take for certain reasons.

"What do you know about her?" I heard Sherlock ask Lestrade from the other room.

"Who, Clara? Sorry mate, don't know that much about her. I do know her parents were murdered when she was little, but you already know that."

"Yes, but, how did she know you?" Sherlock questioned further.

"Scotland Yard had to take her in for a while." Lestrade started. "See, one evening we got a strange call saying that we should investigate a house for anything weird. Our team went out there, only to reveal a man and a woman lying dead on the floor."

"Her parents."

"Yup, we checked everywhere for any sign of the murderer. I heard a noise coming from one of the closets, so I decided to look. And that's when I saw her, trapped in that little closet. She was only a kid, but I remember her being so pale, and her eyes wide with fear. She didn't even look human, and she kept saying one thing over and over again-"

I hurried back in the room before Lestrade could finish the sentence.

"I've still got nothing on this bloody code."

Thankfully, John walked in about the same time I did, "I think I have enough pictures, Clara."

"Thank you." I put on a smile.

Sally walked back into the room, glancing at me angrily when she passed me.

"There's been another murder across town." She told Lestrade.

"Another?" John said in confusion.

"Let me guess, the murder left a note." Sherlock asked, finally saying something.

Sally nodded.

"Then why are we still standing here then?" I said looking at all of them.

Everyone shared a nodding glance, except for Sally, who just rolled her eyes.

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The second house we arrived at was a lot more expensive looking than the apartment we had been at minutes ago. Same style of murder, only this time the note was spray painted on the wall above the body. The note read, 'Your time is wearing thin, Holmes!'.

"I assume this was meant for you, Mr. Holmes." I said, looking at Sherlock.

"Moriarty's work?" John suggested.

"Who?" Lestrade asked, clearly surprised by the name.

"No, this is too boring for, Moriarty." Sherlock said, completely ignoring Lestrade's question.

" I agree." I said, while also trying to shake off a headache that I had gotten on the way here.

Lestrade must've noticed, "Why don't you three get lunch, it's already noon."

"Sounds fine with me." John shrugged.

"I don't see why not." I agreed. "How about you Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock groaned, "If we must."

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"I have a few books on decoding messages at my house. If it's alright with you guys I'll go get them, then meet you back at Baker Street." I said after the three of us got outside.

"Are you sure that's smart?" John asked with concern in his voice.

"I was okay last time."

" Yeah, but we didn't see you for three weeks. You could have been dead for all we knew."

"I promise it won't be three weeks this time." I reassured him before a cab pulled up. "Besides, what could go wrong?"

I smiled and got in the cab.

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After looking through a couple of books at my house, I had finally found the right one on decoding messages. I pulled out a notebook, pen, and the paper with the message on it that I had 'borrowed' from Lestrade. After a couple of minutes the code started coming together until I realized what it said.

"'Clara Helmes, I am coming to get you'." I repeated the message out loud, as I started to comprehend the danger I was in.

Before I could get up from my desk I had been writing on, I felt something hard hit my head.

And everything went black.