A/N: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any characters related to the books written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I am simply a fan and I receive no money for this story.

Chapter 4

Scent of a Detective

"Impossible man!" Elizabeth screamed angrily while stomping her way towards her Baker Street apartment.

"Help! Somebody!" A female voice shrieked.

Elizabeth instantly stopped and followed the woman's screams for help at the end of a dead-end alleyway. What she saw was a young woman being cornered against a wall by five large and extremely drunk men. The young girl had tears streaking down her face as she looked helplessly around at each of the men.

"You BASTARDS!" Elizabeth screamed furiously attracting the attention of the men.

Elizabeth grabbed the young girls' hand and pushed her towards the safety of the London street.

"Hey! Stop her!" one of the drunks yelled as they watched their prey disappear.

"Why don't you fight me instead," Elizabeth said as she maneuvered herself to block the men.

The men laughed hysterically at what they assumed was a skinny young boy, but Elizabeth smiled back at them unafraid.

"I'll teach you to attack women!"

"Well I should return to Scotland Yard," Lestrade said as he nervously swayed on the steps of the apartment building.

"Actually, perhaps you would come upstairs and share you knowledge of our new friend?" Holmes said pulling the Constable up the stairs.

When the group had all seated themselves comfortably around the warm fire, Holmes began his questioning,

"What is Miss Elizabeth's last name?"

Lestrade sighed as though that were the one questioned he wished least to answer, "She has none, at least that's what she would tell you if you asked her, she's an orphan, abandoned by her father after her mother died giving birth to her,"

"Poor girl," Watson said sadly before turning to Holmes, "Now how do you feel about leaving her to wonder the streets of London by herself, hmm Holmes."

Holmes smoked methodically on his pipe, "But if she were here than I would be unable to question the Constable,"

Lestrade and Watson looked at Holmes unconvinced.

"You couldn't have planned for her to leave the way she did," Lestrade said incredulously.

"Oh, I see," Watson said looking at his friend understandingly, "I thought it was strange how easily she upset you, it was all an act wasn't it?"

"Be that as it may, London isn't a safe place at night for a young lady," Lestrade commented as he glanced at his pocket watch, "Even by foot she should have returned by now,"

"You don't suppose she was attacked do you?" Watson said worriedly as he moved to look out the window.

"I think that she is quite capable of defending herself," Holmes said calmly still smoking on his pipe.

"Ha! Just a moment ago you were arguing that she was a helpless damsel in distress," Lestrade laughed.

"Think Lestrade, she single-handedly took care of that masked man before. I'm sure that when we arrived she had already gotten in a few good hits as well as receiving a few herself,"

Watson nodded his head in agreement, "She did anticipate that the rotten coward was going to throw those poisoned darts at us,"

"Yes, about those darts Lestrade, would I be able to study them further. I have never in my experience seen anything like them before," Holmes said as he turned to look at the constable.

"I had thought you would, so I kept them on me," Lestrade said as he handed over the darts wrapped in a handkerchief.

Holmes furrowed his forehead when he looked at the darts, "Why are there only two here, the criminal had three in his hands?"

Lestrade scratched his head uncomfortably before saying, "Actually, Elizabeth had already taken one,"

"What on earth for!" Watson said surprised as he turned from the window to look at Lestrade.

"Just the one?" Holmes questioned.

"Well she said that she thought you might want to look at them also, so she told me to save these two for you,"

"Rather considerate of her," Watson said pointedly to Holmes.

"What I would prefer to know," Holmes said avoiding Watson's gaze, "Is why she had taken the dart at all?"

"Well I can only assume that she plans to study them also," Lestrade answered naturally as though it were quite obvious.

"But for what purpose?" Holmes said annoyed.

"That I don't know, she doesn't tell me everything," Lestrade replied, offended at Holmes attitude, "I should be leaving, who knows what has happened to her after you abandoned her," he continued.

"That will be her now," Holmes said coolly, then after a pause he rushed out of the apartment disappearing down the stairs leaving the Constable and Watson to stare blankly after him.

Liz breathed heavily as she made her way to her apartment; she held the knife still embedded in her shoulder. The blood trickled slowly down her hand and drenched the handkerchief she was using to apply pressure to the wound.

Luckily for her, the young girl she had rescued had instantly rushed to tell some policemen what had happened, so by the time Elizabeth had left the five men bleeding and unconscious on the alley way floor the officers came to arrest them. She didn't stay to watch them though, but instead continued to make her way home. With her condition she couldn't risk having any doctor's look at her.

"At least I took those pills before I left the apartment, "Elizabeth consoled herself as she struggled up the front stairs of the Baker street apartment.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside the warm foyer and began to make her way up the stairs. Each step caused agonizing pains to shoot through her shoulder. She leaned against the wall for support but she lost her footing on the step, Elizabeth could feel herself falling backwards. She thought she heard a voice calling her name, but it was already too late the world was growing darker and she could feel her strength leave her. As her eyes slid closed she took one last deep breath before whispering,

"Fresh mint…"