I wake up with huge bags under my eyes. "Morning, Leila-" John stops at once when his eyes fall on my face, "Jesus, what happened?"

I growl and slump into his chair in front of the fireplace. Sherlock is scanning through the newspaper of today. "Nightmare," Sherlock answers it for me. His over intelligence gives me a slight headache right on the spot. I frown and close my eyelids against the bright sunlight. John hums and chooses his spot on the sofa, the strong smell of coffee hangs in the air.

"Can I have a cup of coffee, too?" I ask with an air of despair. Usually, I don't drink coffee. I just don't like it. But today, I feel like downing a cup of caffeine. "No sugar or milk. Black coffee."

I can feel John's frown upon me. But in a beat, he gets up and makes me a cup of coffee as well.

"Cheers," I mumble and take the mug from John. A brief moment of silence floats in air before I decide to break it, "So, what are we doing today?" I can't wait to go on another investigation with Sherlock and John so I can get rid of my bloody nightmare. In fact, the strange part is that, it is not at all a nightmare. It's almost like an extract from my past memories. The day when my parents talked about my other sibling in the orphanage. The one that they didn't adopt. My stomach does a flip at the thought. I am very grateful towards the Watsons' family. They treat me like I am truly one of them. But thinking this mysterious and unwanted sibling of mine. It gives me a chill on my back.

John coughs awkwardly, causing me to look up at him, "I erm, have a date tonight."

I widen my eyes in surprise. Sherlock doesn't even shift in his spot. But I have a feeling he is catching every words carefully.

"I'm having dinner with Sarah tonight." Despite my discomfort from the lack of sleep, a smug smirk creeps onto my face as I inspect John's reddening face. The silence heaves on John's shoulders. He clears his throat again and says, "Sherlock, any plan for today?" I can see he is desperate to change the topic.

I chuckle quietly, only to have caught a breath in my throat when I hear Sherlock's answer, "I'm taking in two eyeballs and a pair of feet today." The hot coffee burns my tongue and drips onto my laps. "Leila will be coming with me."

"What are they for?" I find myself asking in amusement.

"Experiments. Of course, if you have anything better to do, you are more than welcome to-"

A list of housework and job hunting flash through my head. "You kidding me? Of course I'm going."

John narrows his eyes on us. I guess knowing his sister is going to collect dead body parts isn't what you call a pleasant idea.

"Right," John huffs and places his mug down, "I will be out now to get a present for Sarah. It's her birthday today."

"When can I meet her, John?" I ask with a smirk. He scowl and leaves the room with glowing ears.

"Good job." I turn to face Sherlock, who has the slightest hint of smile on his lips. "Grab your umbrella, we're going now." I grin and race upstairs.

And Sherlock is right, as always. The sky was glimmering with daylight at first. But when it's hit noon, a grey cloud drifts towards London, tiny bits of raindrop fall elegantly upon the pavements.

We get into a cab and head towards St. Barts. I am quite keen to meet Sherlock's colleague, Molly. When we have arrived, Sherlock leads me into a lab, after taking the elevator to the fourth floor. From what I have heard from John, Molly is very fond of Sherlock. I beam like a nutter at the thought, instantly getting a glare from Sherlock.

"You're up to no good," he comments.

"Thanks," I continue along the thought, only to have Sherlock muttering to himself.

Once he pushes open the door to the lab, I hear a voice squeaking, "Morning, Sherlock."

"Afternoon," Sherlock greets, taking off his coat in a swift movement. I frown at his oblivion. Molly starts murmuring apologizes about her wrong greeting when her eyes fall upon me. I swear her face changes from a shade of red to green, than blue.

"Oh, I see you have brought you friend with you," Molly breathes. I know what she's thinking. Her idea causes my face to heat up.

Immediately, I begin shaking my head like a mad man. "A colleague," Sherlock adds. I can see Molly starting to relax. I give her a smile while having a look around. Secretly, my heart sinks a bit when I chew over Sherlock's words. So I'm not even qualify as a friend?

Sherlock and Molly go into a room next door in a few minutes, talking about Peter's feet and eyes. I sigh, glancing from flasks to test tubes, being fascinated by literally everything.

Unfortunately for me, it takes Sherlock less than half an hour to finish what he needs to do. He is already putting on his coat when I take a final look at the random tubes. During the process, Molly and I chat a bit, and I am growing to like her more. "Do come and drop by sometimes, I mean if you want to," Molly begins to fluster, "it's quite boring when Sherlock comes alone…I don't mean he is boring but…"

I smile and place a hand on her arm comfortingly, "I get it. Sure, can't wait to see you next time."

She smiles in return and watch us leave the lab quietly.

Out in the corridor, the echoes of our shoes hit the walls the bounce back. I am almost making up my mind to ask Sherlock if he even knows about Molly's feeling for her when the light bulbs dim. "Sherlock?" I whisper, feeling more awake as ever. The light bulbs die, sending a pure sense of alertness into my spine. Sherlock stays silence. But I don't need his answer. Because in a blink, I have already whipped around and kick a masked man in the head. I pant slightly, surprise at my fast reflexes. Then suddenly, an arm closes itself around my neck.

My breaths get squeezed out of my lungs. But somewhere in the back of my head, I know struggling isn't the answer to get free. Behind me, I can hear Sherlock calling my name, then his voice muffles behind something.

There are two attackers.

I huff and drop myself onto the floor without a warning, surprising the man behind me. With a heave, I slide back between his parted legs and send the man crashing onto the floor. Gaining balance on my feet again, I swing my leg forwards and make contact with his head. The man's body lies motionless on the floor.

Snapping my head around, I watch Sherlock dodge and avoid punches from another masked man. In a flash, I catch his eyes. A message shines behind his orbits. Half wishing I truly understand what his eyes shown, I duck a punch and launch myself towards the masked man. He huffs. I push him onto the floor with me on top of him. Balling my fists, I send a punch across his cheekbone. Then another.

"Leila," Sherlock calls with a sense of urgency. I turn and get myself back up onto my feet as Sherlock pulls a revolver from his coat. A loud bang echoes in the corridor. Sherlock just shoots the masked man at his arm. This will do him enough damage from attacking us.

Frankly, I am not moved by fear when a patch of blood is growing on the man's sleeve. Instead, a foreign feeling tingles my chest. I look away hastily, stopping a thought to enter my head. Yet, I catch Sherlock's eyes. A frown shades his face.

But before he can say anything, a crash sounds in the lab. "Molly," I breathe, finding myself racing towards the lab. Pushing open the door, I see a man locking his arm around Molly's neck, a hand firmly on her nose and face.

Muffled noises come from Molly. "Oi!" I yell at that man, whose attention is snapped towards me at once.

A flash of confusion sparks behind his eyes before the masked man releases Molly in a beat and throws himself towards me. I can see a revolver in his waist belt. I dodge, sliding sideway. "Sherlock," I call out loudly as I avoid the man's fist with ease, "get Molly out of here!"

The man growls in anger as he leaps towards me, which is a big mistake. I squat, swinging my leg under his feet. With a loud thud, the masked man falls onto the group. A sense of disappointment rings in my stomach as I realize he didn't even use the revolver.

I crease my brows and stop the thought at its track. What the hell am I thinking?

Behind me, Sherlock is holding Molly by her arm, who is completely out of breaths. I look up at Sherlock, his eyes boring into mine. My heart sinks further as I slowly discover the meaning behind his pale eyes.

When he catches my eyes after the two attackers fall, he sees it. He sees and deduces the sensation I gain during the process. "Your pupils diluted," he finally says. I slowly absorb his words as the hospital sirens ring.

"Good, Sherlock. I wonder how you pick your assistants," Lestrade says cheekily with his hands on his hips. The officers are taking in the three attackers away. Sherlock reminds emotionlessly. "One that records your cases. One that acts like a body guard. How do you even find them?" Lestrade glances at me with amusement.

I stare at the officers who are working away in distance, desperate not to be engaged into the conversation. Cause the truth to be told, I don't really like the idea of me enjoying a fight.

After a few moments of silence, Lestrade gives up on getting an answer from Sherlock and changes the topic, "so, what do you think of these men?"

"Have a few ideas of who they work for," Sherlock replies quietly. Even though I refuse to look in his attention, I can feel his glare burning me. Another brief silence, Lestrade finally gets the hint that Sherlock is not planning to say another word about the masked men.

"Fine," Lestrade snaps and walks back to Sally, his colleague, who is staring at Sherlock disapprovingly.

"Should we go home?" I jump when Sherlock speaks up again, not expecting him to break the silence. I nod, ready to follow him when I feel a small tug at my sleeve. Looking down, I see a boy at the age of 10 waving a small folded note before my eyes.

Hesitantly, I take it from him. "Is this for me?" I ask. Sherlock turns to look at me questioningly. I shrug and glance back down at the kid. He too, shrugs and runs away. I startle, then slowly, I unfold the note. A chill swims down my spine, sending sparks to my heart.

On the nicely polished paper, a note is elegantly sprawled along the paper:

Welcome to the game.

-JM