Okay, I'm going to start off by saying that WOW you guys review pretty darn fast. And, I love you for it. And to Kazz- I think you just passed all records of longest reviews typed ever with flying colors. But I love all of your reviews, and actually, you guys brought up some pretty wonderful ideas that wouldn't have even of crossed my mind... Including perhaps a brief Holmes POV? I think I'll do that next chapter... I must admit, I am a wee bit frightened to jump into the head of our beloved Holmes. I'm afraid of what I shall find.

:) Anyways, here's the new chapter. An update. A story plot moving. A tale. An adventure. A love triange. An elephant. A monk. A pink diamond the size of your head. Yes... this is what this chapter is... AND MORE... *mystical music*

Infinte X's and O's,

~mistro~

Sherlock quote of the chapter: "Watson, you idiot. Somebody stole our tent..."

~.~.~.~.~

Later that evening, when we had returned back to London and away from the beautiful countryside (which I could have stayed at for a much longer extension of time) we had to go to Watson's 'inspection' of what was found of the young boy's body. I wasn't keen on going, but I held my tongue. What kind of detective flinches at the sight of a dead body? Well, I'll tell you.

A detective who isn't really a detective.

In other words, Renadale Adkins.

"Parts of his intestines seem to be removed," Watson said, hovering over the mangled torso. His gloves hands were poking in spots that I knew if I turned around and saw, I would gag at on the spot. Irene and Sherlock watched him curiously, as I whimpered in the corner. Why didn't I leave when I had the chance? "His main organs still seem to be in tact. His heart, his lungs and his stomach seem almost untouched. It's as though everything was taken with extreme care and precision..." I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying not to let my breakfast come back to me.

"Whoever the murderer is, he's got to have a good knowledge of anatomy." Irene said, almost casually. "He's probably of a higher ranking. Maybe he's killing for science. For mere studies."

I wrapped my arms further around my stomach, shutting my eyes. I didn't want to hear any more talk about it. I didn't care if I wasn't a good detective. I just wanted to go home and thank my lucky stars that my body was still together in one piece.

Holmes hummed lowly, curiosity taking over his vocal chords. I could hear him picking up tools on the medical table. There was a silence, as I imagined him poking around the body as well. "He did not take the body parts for his own use. He's not keeping them for himself."

I turned around then, meeting eyes with anyone but the open boy on the table. Unfortunately, I caught Sherlock's. Unfortunately, he was looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Unfortunately, I wasn't unaccustomed to those looks. "Why on Earth would he do that? And how could you possibly tell?"

"If a killer wished the organ to be for himself, he would not have cut around the others so congenially. His precision is accounted for, and noted. It is most likely that he is handing them off. A small possibility would be for research, but on a large and more reliable scale, he is probably selling them for money." Tormenting my heart, he faced Irene. "Mocking criminals, you said? Have there been any notations of this kind of act?"

She nodded, stepping closer towards him. My wrists suddenly began to hurt, and I noticed my fists were so tightly clenched to stop my shaking hands, that my knuckles were turning white. "Yes, I've heard some reports of it." Her face light up instantly. "His last name was Holmes, actually." All of our heads snapped in the detective's direction. "He sold skeletons for money, so scientists could better study them."

We all stared at him to see if he was bothered by the similarity in name. He blinked a few times, seemingly unfazed. "Yes, quite fascinating."

"So, he must have some direct connections to London's scientists. The only problem is, we're not certain if this is the actual case. And even if it is, we don't know which of the hundreds of scientists he's giving these body parts to." Watson grumbled, folding a blanket over the body. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"My dear Watson, of course this is not a counterintuitive intention. All we must do is ascertain the scientist who just so happens to be retrieving those select body parts." He pounded the floor loudly with his cane. "And we shall start tomorrow with the exception of Miss Adkins."

His voice was so simple and straightforward. He didn't seemed to be bothered anymore by the fact that I would be with someone else. I knew I should have been glad, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was. "Miss Adkins can certainly help us the next day," the surprisingly gentle American accent floated into my ear. I looked over at Irene in confusion. "We obviously will get things done, but we'll leave room for you to search as well."

What? I shouted in my head. Was she being nice to me? Now this woman was utterly bedeviling. Could she be trying to play with my mind? Or maybe, though improbable, was she actually attempting to get over our foolish bickering and form a relationship? I grunted in appreciation, not wanting to deal with her at that moment. My mind was already tired enough.

It was late by the time we left, but it was London, so it was still busy. We all walked in silence for a while. Irene and Holmes fell behind me and Watson, but I could hear them speaking,catching a few phrases spoken by Adler here and there...

"... Certainly, and the diamonds too ..."

"... Oh yes, you would be curious to know, wouldn't you?..."

"... You swore you'd never bring that back up ..."

"... It was your fault for not noticing the handcuffs..."

... and others spoken by Holmes.

"It's not unusual for you to take the rest of the money, as I'm aware..."

"... How long had you two exactly been with one another?..."

"...Well, you've certainly had many pleasant and not so pleasant bridge memories, haven't you?..."

"...I'm afraid I don't trust being in that situation again..."

A small choke was forming in my throat and I figured if I were to dare open my mouth, a little whimper would only be heard. Watson had noticed, but he offered me a smile despite my mood. "It's not as bad as you suspect."

A curt laugh fell from my lips. "It's not?"

He shook his head, his voice turning more Doctor rather than friend. "Acts of performing jealousy aren't common with Holmes. For him, he probably views the situation as a meaningful and nostalgic chat."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he thought otherwise."

Watson was silent for a moment. "Why does it bother you?" Did he not know of my affections? Was I really that subtle?

"Well... it bothers me because..."

The words could not form themselves on my tongue. Why was he making me say it aloud? Was this some kind of emotional prescription? My heart was beating faster and faster in anxiety. I had never heard myself say it, but now I was about to. Amidst all of my preparation, I hadn't noticed Watson slow down his pace so that Adler and Holmes were right behind us. And I hadn't noticed them there when I admitted, "Well, it bothers because because I care about him."

Watson stopped walking. As did I. I could hear someone breathing on the other side of me. A heavy breathing that I instantly knew. I felt my face grow hot as I turned around to see Holmes and Adler both frozen in their tracks. Her brows were raised in amusement. Holmes, of course, looked blank. "Oh, heavens," I muttered aloud.

Watson's smile grew even wider. I glanced at Irene, noting that her smile too, had grown. She glanced over at Holmes and then back to me. I couldn't even bring myself to look at the man I was directly talking about. "It's horribly late, isn't it? I really must be going before my mother finds her nerves setting aflame once again. Good night to you all."

I tried to speed walk away from that street corner as quickly as I possibly could. After I turned the corner, and none of them were in sight, I began to run towards my house. I didn't even care that when I got there my mother would only fawn over me and my new hat.

I would much rather be in that situation.

~.~.~.~.~

"Pick up your fork," my mother instructed me.

We had been at this the entire morning and afternoon. My mother had picked an entirely new outfit for me, and now we were teaching one another how to act properly when in the presence on notable guests. "Even unnotable guests deserve respect too," she would say, after shoving my shoulders back against to chair to stop the slouching.

"Mother." My body was squirming uncomfortably in my seat. "Isn't all of this a bit uncalled for? The party is late in the evening. We won't even be dining at their house."

"If Edward were to invite you to sit down and have a meal with him, you would not reject him. And you must learn properly now, so you do not forget it later!"

"How on Earth do you know if I shall even like this Edward fellow?" I scoffed like a child, setting my fork down on my plate. "If I do not, then I do not care what he wishes to think of me." My mother folded her arms across her chest, her fat face glaring at me in silence. I was easily intimidated, so it didn't take long for me to sink in. "I shall make Edward feel comfortable tonight, as he should me."

My mother nodded proudly. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now, go and get changed." She slapped a wet rag down to clean the table. "Your prince charming awaits!"

As I climbed up the stairs, I did dream of what Edward would end up being like. My mother could not stop speaking of how much I would like this man. She had tried to set me up before, but she herself was never certain on them. Now, it was as though Edward was sent to Earth specifically for me. So, of course I was excited to see him.

I didn't often have opportunities like that.

~.~.~.~.~

Elegant.

Graceful.

Witty.

Mysterious.

Horribly charming.

Utterly breathtaking.

These are a few of the things my mother had instructed me to become that night. Yet, when I had walked inside of the large yellow house, decorated with gold clocks, and wealthy aristocrats, I could not find it in myself to act that way.

Because I found it in someone else.

When we had first arrived, my mother led me around the enormously large first floor, having me curtsey to everyone, even the ones she did know of herself. We were about halfway around the bottom floor, my legs already growing tired from all the introductions, when I had spotted him.

Throughout all the chatter, a note rang out. Just a single note. It floated and suspended itself in the air as perfect as the day it was written. My heart skipped a beat as I turned my head anxiously to see where it had come from. My mother was off mingling already, but my eyes were glued to him. The boy at the piano. That one, lonesome boy at the piano.

I was transfixed to him. Utterly, and undoubtably transfixed to this piano prodigy before my eyes. His tousled, yet elegant black hair, swept a bit past his ear. His large eyes and full lips were intensely watching his fingers as he danced them across the keys of the pianoforte. My heart begin to swell as each note he played grew louder and more sweet than the first one.

"Edward!" A sudden voice broke the playing. I nearly took a step forward to beg him to not stop. To play on forever. The boy turned his view towards the woman speaking behind me. "Please, dear. You can play later tonight when everyone has gone."

The man stayed silent as he nodded. Presumably the woman was his mother, and he was not interested in disrespecting her wishes. I saw the woman smile and return back to talking with my mother. My eyes slowly trailed over the wooden pianoforte lid until they reached the boy's pouting face. He frowned a bit and allowed his fingers to drape over the silent keys once more. Finally, he stood up. His youthful body was taller than I had expected him to be and I watched obediently as he closed the piano lid.

It was then that I had noticed he was staring back. I didn't know how long I was looking at him, but after a moment or two, his lip seemed to curl into a smirk. His oceanic eyes twinkled the longer I looked into them. And then it hit me. His mother had called him Edward.

"Oh, Edward, darling!" I heard someone shout to my left. The voice from before, now accompanied with a short body very similar to my mother's, accompanied him. "I see you have finally noticed Miss Renadale Adkins."

After finally catching a glimpse of her face, the woman dawned upon my memory. She was good friends with my mother and I had met her before at previous parties. However, she was more likely to remember me than the other way around. During those parties, I shied away or left completely. Edward listened to his mother's wishes. I was not quite as talented at that sport.

"Renadale," a mellifluous voice rang out. I looked up to see Edward's hand politely extending. My gloved hand shook it lightly. "It's lovely to meet you." His alluring appearance was wonderful enough. Yet his voice, not low and rough, but rather sound and sweet, only added more to what I believed to be instant perfection.

"Renadale!" My mother warningly nudged me on the arm. "Introduce yourself! You are not a hermit." She narrowed her eyes towards me. Of course I was a hermit.

"It's lovely to meet you, Edward." My voice wavered like a young boy's. "I would also like to inform you that, no, I am not a hermit as my mother had clarified."

He let out a short and sweet chuckle that flashed perfect teeth. It was a miracle to find a British man these days with decent teeth. His lit up the entire room. "I think it would be perfectly suitable if you were, Miss Adkins."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want me admitting this," his mother started. "But my son is rather a hermit." I could see Edward's face flush a shade of pink as he redirected his gaze towards the ground. My mother gasped in delight.

"Well, fancy that, my Renadale is as well!" She stepped closer to Edward as though she were telling a secret. She was going to say something about me, something I probably would regret having her as a mother for. "In fact, she locks herself in her room all day and draws pictures of silly inventions that don't really need to be created at all."

Edward's mother smiled even wider, positively enjoying the idea of my eccentric interests. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't find the nerve to. I knew my mother was right. Edward would eventually find out. Better sooner than later, I supposed. "Well to me, it sounds like you two have a lot in common." Edward's mother spoke up. All I knew was that he played the piano like it was the only thing in the world. "I think you two should talk some more, wouldn't you agree?"

Edward quickly turned to look at me, a somewhat timid expression planted on his face. For reassurance, I cracked a quick grin. "Splendid!" My mother sang. "We'll be off. We've got a lot of catching up to do ourselves." Her and Edward's mother walked off, gossiping away like children. Clearly the only topic on their tongues was us.

"I'm sorry about my mother," I confessed.

We stood away from the others towards the back of the room. Through the idle chatter and clinking of glasses, I could only seem to see him and hear the sound of my own heart ringing in my ears. It was as though we were suspended in time and unable to move. Or at least, that was how it felt for me. "On the contrary," he replied. "I'm awfully sorry about mine."

"Well, there's one thing we definitely have in common." Behind our laughter I could hear a dance starting up in the next room. All I really wanted to hear was his piano. "You play beautifully. I wished she hadn't stopped you."

His smile quickly faded. "You do?" He sounded genuinely surprised. Was he not aware of his talent? "Well, thank you. I don't often get praised for my music."

His fingers lightly patted the top of the instrument as a gloomy look flew over his face. "You really love it, I can tell." The sadness was gone and once again he looked towards me with a heart-warming smile. A sudden stamina built up within me. "Can you teach me to play something?"

His mouth hung open at a loss for words. Coughing to regain his composure, he finally spoke up. "Yes, I could, but I've never done it before. I'm not certain on how smoothly things would go." I shrugged very slightly, hoping he would get my hint. Truthfully, I had always loved instruments. I was ashamed of myself for not even taking the time to learn one. "Come with me." He led me from the room and towards a crooked staircase. "My mother would not be too pleased if she knew I was teaching you how to play a 'worthless' instrument rather than speaking to you about politics." Stopping in his tracks, he turned around to face me. I held my breath as our hands nearly landed on top of one another's on the railing. "Let's have it be our little secret," he whispered.

As we headed up the stairs, I felt a jolt of excitement rush through me. And the further we walked up the staircase, the more faint the violins got. A sudden thought swam through my head. A thought I had hoped not think about, but of course it came around eventually.

I grumbled as his name flashed through my mind.

Sherlock Holmes.

~.~.~.~

P.S! I just wanted you all to know what I imagined our lovely Edward to be like. I know there was little character development for him in this chapter, but more shall come. Anyways, I imagined him to look like Henry Cavill in the Count of Monte Cristo or I Capture the Castle.

So, if you would like to see him- google is a click away. But, feel free to imagine him however you wish. That was merely my vision. :)

P.P.S. Robert Downey jr. is still our man. :) No worries.