Ha! I finished this and updated before the week (since I lasted updated) was over! Anyways. I am not a fluent French speaker, so parden any mistakes. And also, I'm not very good at aciton scenes, if you haven't noticed before now, so if they suck, I'm sorry. Enjoy! Buon divertimento!

Translations (rough): Je ne peux pas croire que je fais cela. Vérifiez, Holmes = I can't believe I'm doing this. Check, Holmes.

Vous avez fait une grave erreur, le lapin. = You made a big mistake, rabbit

Et comment ça, le frère = And how are you sure, brother

Lapin = Rabbit

Précieux - precious

Characters are slightly AU

~Bandit :)

Rebel

Chapter III: The White Knight Falls

His trap was so intricately set up in a manner of which she could not move unless she wanted one of her warriors to fall, yet so deliciously hard to fool; it made her want to beat him even more. He thought he had her fooled when he slide his castle forward, a sly smirk imprinted on that arrogant face of his. But, she knew the invisible barrier he'd set up must've had some sort of hole in it. After all, not everyone is perfect. She studied the marble board quickly, taking in it's beautiful designs and graceful art, though she quickly recovered. She'd become far too used to it's wonderful quality over the past few hours, though it still struck her interest, she needed to stay focus on the quiet war that was going on above it. This must've been one of his tricks, get her too caught up in the bread to worry about the jam, but she wasn't going to let him fool her as he always did. She wasn't going to let him win.

It was either she sacrifice the castle, in order to stop his bishop, but be killed by the knight, or sacrifice her queen, in order to stop his own castle, but it would thus leave it out in the open for the bishop to attack. Amanda pondered this as she placed her hands in her chins. They'd been at this since last night, and well into the morning. Though she wanted to sacrifice neither warriors, she knew she must choose the castle, being the lesser powerful of the two, but she was sure that the great detective had some sort of trick up his sleeve, and therefore would annihilate them both, possibly in the manner of two plays. She once again scrutinized the board, looking for any of plays he could have once she moved. Then she spotted one in the far corner, one she couldn't have possibly overlooked if she had had this manner of thinking in her mind when she first searched for plays. A pawn, easily camouflaged to look as innocent as anything, could easily get her queen if she moved towards his castle. She cracked a smile at him, certain of her next move.

She could tell Holmes was slightly put off by her grin, and was faintly puzzled. But as she grasped her delicate knight in her hand, and placed it where his bishop was, knocking it from it's place, he let out a small, "Ah!" and a cheeky smirk spread on his face.

"You think I've made a mistake by taking out your bishop," she smiled as she gladly accepted his piece, placing it gently to the side, as if it were a real person.

"I do," he then studied the board, and gave a small chuckle. He then moved his own knight towards her castle, easily knocking it out, suggesting he thought this was her next play. Amanda pursed her lips. He was right. She considered other options, biting her bottom lip, kneading her hands together. Finally she spotted one free piece.

"Je ne peux pas croire que je fais cela. Vérifiez, Holmes," Amanda muttered under her breath as she moved her queen, taking out the knight, and getting a clear shot at his king, "I can't believe I'm doing this. Check, Holmes," she translated.

"I know French very well, thank you," he snapped bitterly. She couldn't help but marvel at his competitiveness. "Vous avez fait une grave erreur, le lapin."

"Et comment ça, le frère?" she replied harshly, waiting for him to make his move.

"You've left your queen out in the open," he laughed, his grey eyes shining brighter by the second.

Amanda scowled, but it soon turned into an evil grin as she noticed he didn't have a play. She hadn't messed up. Although, the detective looked unhappy, she could just imagine he was really bursting with pride on the inside. "So I have."

"My dear, are you intent on losing this game?" he smirked at her. She cocked an eyebrow questionably, before frowning.

She could feel her insides grow cold with resent, "I'm not going to lose. Don't you see it? I have won."

"There's no need to be so conceited, Lapin," he met her eyes, his own gleaming with a childish arrogance.

"Look who's talking, Mister Smug," she snorted, chuckling quietly. He joined in on the laughter, and without even studying the immobile war taking place on the checkered board.

His hand quickly shot out, the sneer still playing on his face, and quickly moved a pawn towards her queen, completely taking it out. Amanda closed her eyes in anger. That damn, innocent pawn. "Check mate, darling," he said his words carefully, saying them slowly, as if in fear she'd kill him if he uttered them.

She snapped her hazel eyes open and gaped at his moved. How had she overlooked it that pawn… again? She growled in rage, and shot up from her chair, before pacing around the room. When they'd started playing chess, he'd unlocked her from her handcuffs, since chess was a hobby of hers. He knew she'd be too absorbed in the game to attempt to leave again. He also knew he'd be able to dominate her, making her want to play again and again.

"How do you do it?" she turned sharply to glare at him, before stopping short, "You know what? I don't want to know."

She then continued to pace, a stream of curse words emitting from her mouth. Her mind was churning, as she tried to remember every single move of his. How had he known she was going to do that? She had clearly disguised the play, and it was obvious she was going to use another piece. And he'd known. She was now officially ticked at him.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Watson appeared in the doorway, looking harassed. Amanda stopped in her tracks, mid-sentence, her mouth wide open. She flushed, and grinned embarrassedly at Watson, "What did you need?" Holmes was studying Watson rather curiously as he spoke these words.

Watson opened his mouth, but Amanda shushed him, "I want a re-match, Holmes," she sat down across from the detective. Holmes nodded.

"I'm afraid, that's not going to happen, Amanda," Watson said with a grim tone to his voice, "Inspector Lestrade has asked for us both, Holmes. Not you, Amanda. I'm afraid I'm going to steal your chess partner for a couple of hours."

Amanda raised her eyebrows, and pouted, as if she were really upset. "What could the Chief of Police possibly want with you that he doesn't want with me?"

"Lot's of things, Précieux," Holmes winked at her, before striding towards Watson. "Oh, and do try to stay here, will you?"

She stared agape as Holmes voluntarily left with Watson out the door, leaving her completely chainless. Her eyes only widened as she peered out the window, and noticed Holmes and Watson strolling casually down the street, interlocked in conversation, not giving a care about the building they just left. Her jaw nearly hit the floor. She looked back at the chess table, realizing the marble pieces were still in the place of his victory. Her blood boiled within her as she clenched her fists together. She would wait. She had to play him once more. She would show them.

This was one of his tricks. He'd purposely left the pieces that way, she was sure of it. His logic was astute, and she knew he knew she'd never give up the chance of a challenge. She made a low growling sound before pulling up a chair and staring out the window, watching them saunter through the crowds, keeping a sharp eye on their heads. It was easy to spot them. It was, however, a little more difficult to see the two men following them.

As soon as she caught sight of the black cloaks and unusually stalking stride, she jumped up with an audible gasp. She squinted her eyes as she scrutinized them. They definitely had the antics to follow someone, and considering the current circumstances, she only guessed it was Holmes and Watson. There was always the possibility they knew they were following them, but she couldn't take any chances. She wasn't going to let them suffer for her. She lunged towards the door, her heart beating hard inside her chest, and her eyes wild. She tore down the hall, and raced down the stairs, straight past Nanny.

"Miss, where are you going?" instead of replying, Amanda gave a loud laugh, and flashed a smile at her before heading towards the front door.

She slid she was going so fast, and caught herself before she hit the door. She ripped it open, and sprinted down the street, her hair flying behind her as she expertly dodged people, heading straight towards the dynamic duo. As she flew past the stalls and civilians, she couldn't help but wonder when she'd been so prone to adventure. It seemed to follow her wherever she went, and she didn't like it much. It wasn't the excitement that bothered her, that's what she loved most; it was more the danger that always seemed to tag along. She dived behind a crate as she neared the two 'henchmen', and peered out behind her hiding spot, ignoring the strange looks people were giving her.

She noticed Holmes look back, and nudge Watson causing them both to lock eyes with her. She gulped as he scowled, but she quickly pointed towards the men following them. Holmes sneered, but they both quickened their pace, nodding at each other as they did so. For the longest time, Amanda was sure they were going to split up, as if to confuse the men pursuing them, but they instead turned, shoulder to shoulder down the alleyway. She recognized it, unfortunately, and realized it was the same as the day before. She sighed, a sudden feeling of déjà vu running through her. It was dead end. She rolled her eyes, thinking of the arrogance of them both.

She hopped out from her hiding place as the scoundrels rounded the corner as well. A hissing sound came from her mouth as she doubled over, coughs erupting from her lips, black spots forming in her vision, 'Not now, not now. God, not now,' were the only thoughts running through her head as she continued to wheeze, her body determined to force her to hack up a lung. She straightened herself up as she considered the possibilities of all that could be happening in that dark alleyway, and despite her sudden dip in health, continued to make her way towards the lane. She walked in upon a horrific scene, her eyes widening as she watched it. There was no possible way that things could be going worse for either of them. The evil goons were far better fighters than Watson and Holmes, if it were possible, and unfortunately weren't going the least bit easy on the two. Amanda sighed as she watched them continue to get pummeled.

Watson was having a far better time at battling the bigger one than Holmes was the faster one. The doctor would have a few good hits with that walking stick of his, she didn't understand why he hadn't unsheathed the sword yet, and then get punched a couple of times. It was a never-ending cycle. As for Holmes, well just watching him made Amanda feel the horrible welts and bruises he'd wake up tomorrow with. He on the other hand, barely got any hits in and was getting completely annihilated. It took all Amanda had not to laugh. She sure hoped Holmes was saving a big huge attack for the end, and was only trying to throw the guy off. Otherwise, the two had no hope. Alone, at least.

Amanda quickly scolded herself. She couldn't just go around helping two men she didn't even know in a battle against two guys who looked like they'd had powerful training. But, she still felt guilty. It was her fault they were getting walloped. She shifted tentatively from foot to foot. She'd go in and help when, and only when, they showed signs of distress. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. She wasn't much of a fighter, but she figured an extra pair of fists may help in this certain occasion. And so she continued to watch from behind the corner, eager to help out her role model, and the good doctor.

The minutes suddenly grew long, and Amanda felt herself grow dizzy once more, except for this time it was in fear. Everything was going in slow motion as it happened, and she could barely stop herself from crying out. The smaller man, though he was quite bigger than Holmes, grabbed the detective by the shoulders, and pinned him up against the wall, smashing his head into the bricks. And then he released his firm grip and threw him across the alley, causing Holmes to trip and stumble as he held his bleeding head. The man whipped out a gun, just like that, and shot Holmes three times in the stomach. The scoundrel grabbed him once more, and began beating his head with the gun multiple times before discarding him like trash.

The gunshots rang through the alley, and far onto the street. They wouldn't stop ringing. The thirteen-year-old thought the sound would be there forever, that they wouldn't ever stop. Holmes lay, curled up in a ball in the corner, small moaning sounds coming from him as he clutched his head. Watson stopped what he was doing, and turned to look, in horror, at Holmes. The bigger man, however, stepped forward and hit him hard across the face, and Watson, reluctantly, started to fight once more. Amanda's eyes widened as the man who'd shot him, stood over Holmes, his gun pointed directly at his forehead. Holmes didn't even seem to notice.

The girl filled with rage, and her blood boiled. She figured this was a sign of distress. The dirt bag laughed mockingly, and uttered a few unintelligible disdainful French words, before creeping forward ever so slightly. Amanda held her breath as she thought of a plan. Never go into a fight without a plan. But when the man kicked Holmes, earning another struggled cry from the detective, she knew she had to do something. She couldn't watch her favorite person in the world die. She raced forward, and easily hit the man on the back of the head, earning a look from Watson, who'd caught her eye.

The man spun in surprise, and his eyebrows furrowed, before he realized she was just a small girl. She kicked and punched, but completely missed, earning herself a few hard hits from the man. As he aimed his gun at her, she froze in her tracks, chills running through her body. Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled as the man waddled forward, an evil grin littering his face. And suddenly, with a devious glint in her eyes, she screamed, a loud, bloodcurdling scream. She could feel all action in the alleyway pause, and that's exactly what she wanted. As the man halted, Amanda raced forward, and simply kicked him in the groin. With a loud exclamation, the goon fell to the ground, and Amanda grabbed the gun from his clasp. She quickly shot him in the head, and aimed for the criminal dealing with Watson. She placed a few swift shots to the man's abdomen, before grinning charmingly at Watson.

"Real ladylike, Amanda," he managed out, before rubbing his forehead exasperatedly.

She just chuckled, before feign curtsying at him, a smirk planted on her face. A pitiful moan from Holmes sent them both flying towards him. Amanda was the first the reach the wounded detective, followed by the good doctor. She knelt by him, and tapped his cheek. Watson got on his knees as well, ripping off Holmes's jacket.

Holmes suddenly burst into a sitting position, clutching at Amanda's shoulder, coughing hard, "I… wasn't… hit," he sputtered out, "My head, Watson, my head," he groaned.

Amanda stared in surprise; the three bullets that the man had shot were perfectly lodged in Holmes's waistcoat, not even grazing the detective. He, however had grown awfully pale, and was once again clutching his head. Amanda felt a pang of sympathy for the detective, before he opened his eyes again, and spotted her.

"Woman!" he suddenly burst out, as if he hadn't seen her before, "What the hell-."

"I was saving you, Holmes. You should thank me," she cut him off smoothly, her voice gentle.

"That is hardly to be consid-," he suddenly cried out in pain, and removed his hands, which were covered in blood from his wound. "Ouch," he finished pitifully.

Both Watson and Amanda grabbed his upper arm, and hauled him to his feet. Once he was situated, Holmes dusted the dirt from his clothes, and began to lead the way. However, as soon as he took a step, he crumpled to the ground, a sullen look on his face. Amanda concealed a light chuckle, as the pair helped him up once more, this time, supporting his weight on their shoulders.

"I'm not done with you yet, Miss Todd," she nearly stopped in her tracks at his usage of the name. She gulped. She was in trouble.

"Why are you so upset about it? I was trying to help you," she hissed, her eyebrows furrowed.

Holmes stopped and turned towards her, causing himself to go a shade paler, and Watson to trip and stumble. He seemed grim and oddly reluctant, like a turtle fearing coming out of his shell, "I saw you fighting with the man. I heard you scream, and then saw someone hit the floor. It was dark, I couldn't tell. I panicked. I thought…"

Amanda felt her mouth go dry as she realized what he was saying. Her eyes barely watered, but there was still some dampness she couldn't hide, "Oh Holmes."

By then Watson had once again flung the detective's arm over his shoulder, and before any of them knew it, they were once again headed back to Baker Street. Sometime halfway through, Holmes would stop and say they should buy this and that from the stalls lining to path. Amanda couldn't really tell. Everything was blurred, and yet she'd never felt happier. He'd cared for her? He would care if she were to be shot. And that was enough to make her happier than normal. She felt as though she could fly. Why hadn't this happened to her earlier? For this first time in her life, she was positive that someone actually thought she mattered. Thought that she was worth something more than what she tried to make herself value.

"Holmes, for the last time, we have to get you home so I can check to see how badly your head is injured," Watson pulled the detective away from yet another stand.

"Sorry, old boy, I'm a little drowsy," Holmes yawned, as if to prove it, "Perhaps I can fall asleep and you could carry me up to the house?"

"Holmes," Watson shot him such a look that the detective instantly hid his sniggers.

Amanda burst out laughing, "Oh, I almost forgot our little rabbit was with us," Holmes turned towards her with a big grin splattered all over his unshaven face.

"Tell me you gave him some sort of medication to get him this way," exasperation literally dripped off the thirteen-year-old's words.

"I'm sorry," he replied grimly, "I'm almost reluctant to give him any antibiotics or painkillers at all."

"I would be too, Doctor," she laughed, before looking over, and realizing Holmes was nearly asleep. She promptly kicked him in the shin. He started, and cried out, shooting her a nasty glare, before making a childish hissing sound.

"Was that really necessary?" he spat at her. She was glad they were almost near Baker Street.

"Well, since I am not really up to carrying you all the way home, and Watson isn't very well considering it, and I figured you didn't want to be dragged the whole way, yes. It was very necessary," she gave him a million-dollar grin.

"Who says I don't want to be dragged the whole way?"

"I do," she countered, and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Will you two stop bickering, we're almost there," Watson snapped from the other side.

"It's not as if you two goons aren't squabbling constantly," Amanda considered the stairs, trying to figure the best way to get up them with the injured detective.

"Yes but I'm so sick of you two. It's as if you're siblings," Watson was mimicking her actions.

"Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you," the three continued, bracing themselves for the steps.

"Look who's arguing now," Holmes piped up in a feeble voice. They tuned their attention on the detective, who'd had whatever color remained in his skin drained away. He looked like a ghost, grey-skinned, with blood running down his head.

"Sorry, Holmes," they dumped him gently on the nearest couch. Watson scurried off to go get his medical kit.

Amanda was left to pull up a chair, and look over him as he closed his eyes. His breathing was ragged, and his eyelids would flutter occasionally, but he had his hands folded peacefully on his stomach. She smiled. This was one of those times when she didn't resent meeting him.

"Amanda," he muttered, his eyes still closed, just as she thought he'd finally settled down and fallen asleep.

"Yes, le frère?" she replied gently, her voice concerned.

"Try not to get anymore sick. I hate the sound of your coughs," his voice was trailing off.

She couldn't resist the wide smile that was spreading on her face, "It's not something I can help Holmes," all she wanted to do was reach out and run a hand through his curly hair. It was something she always did for her brother when he wasn't feeling well.

"And one more thing, Rabbit," he continued, his breathing growing shallower.

"Yes?"

"I don't think I'm up to playing chess just yet. I think we're going to have to hold up on that game, okay?"

She gave a small chuckle, "Whatever you wish."

"Just don't go running away. We still have a rematch to play."

"You act as if you aren't going to win anyways."

He just smiled, and finally his breathing evened out, and she knew, that this time he was really asleep. And now she could rest too.

A/N: Hope you're ready for the next one! :) Please review!

WriterMonkey0626: Haha, thanks :) Oh, I have a massive crush on both of them as well... Hope you enjoy, haha :)

Gaia'schild: Ah, but your story was way more wonderful. Few people do that haha :) I can't have him worrying too much... yet. Don't worry. Thanks :)

THANK YOU TO ANYONE WHO READ OR REVIEWED... YOU ARE AWESOME!