Naturally, I could not prance down the stairs as Shirley did and had to follow in a much slower, more painful fashion. Police officers did not even seem to notice me as they rushed up and down the stairs past me, forcing me into the banister every time.

I finally reached the bottom, removed the blue jumpsuit, and made it outside. Shirley was nowhere to be seen. Where would she have gone? I walked further out, scanning the area for a tall, pale woman dressed in all black.

"She's gone," a voice came from my side.

It was Sergeant Sally Donovan. I turned to her. "Shirley Holmes?" I asked.

"Yeah. She just took off. She does that," Sally replied.

Just my luck. The person who had brought me on this little escapade in the first place was gone and now I had to find my own way home. Wait.. where was I anyway? "Umm... sorry, where am I?" I asked Sally, who had turned back to talking to some other police officers.

"Brixton," she told me.

"Right. Do you know where I can get a cab?" I asked, "It's just that... well, my leg."

Sally glanced at my infirmity and then lifted the tape for me. "Try the main road," she suggested.

"Thanks," I said, moving under the tape.

"But you're not her friend," Sally said, making me turn back to face her, "She doesn't have friends. So who are you?"

I could only assume that "she" meant Shirley. I shrugged. "I'm no one. I just met her," I replied.

"OK, well just a bit of advice: stay away from that girl," Sally said.

"Why?" I asked, caught off guard by such a blunt warning.

Sally stared at me for a moment. "Do you know why she's here?" she asked, "She's not paid or anything. She likes it. She gets off on it. The weirder the crime is, the more she gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body and Shirley Holmes will be the one that put it there."

That wasn't really the impression that Shirley gave to me. "Why would she do that?"

"Because she's a psychopath," Sally replied, "And psychopaths get bored."

"Donovan!" Lestrade's voice called from behind us.

"I'm coming!" Sally said. She started walking towards her boss, but she looked back over her shoulder at me. "Stay away from Shirley Holmes," she warned.

I watched her walk away, slightly bewildered by such a warning. Sure, Shirley seemed a little strange and maybe her methods were a bit unorthodox, but she didn't seem dangerous to me. I frowned to myself and turned to start walking towards the main road.

As I walked past a telephone box, the phone began to ring. I glanced at it for a moment. Why would a public telephone be ringing. It seemed a bit odd. But then I checked my watch and realized how late it was and that I should probably be getting home as soon as possible. So I headed off and gave the ringing phone no more thought.

It did not take me too long to reach the main road, but I did not have much success in flagging down a cab. As I was sighing in frustration as another cab once again drove past me, I noticed a phone in a nearby shop ringing incessantly. I looked at it. Just as an employee went to answer it, it stopped ringing. Odd.

I moved on down the street. Just as I came up to a telephone booth, the phone started ringing. Completely puzzled by now, I stared at the box for a moment. Then I decided that I would answer it. I got into the telephone box, closing the door behind me, and answered the phone.

"Hello?" I asked cautiously.

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?" came a woman's drawling voice on the other end of the line.

I was beyond confused now. Was it a wrong number? How could it be a wrong number? This was in a telephone box! "Who is this?" I asked, "Who's speaking?"

"Do you see the camera, Dr. Watson?" the woman's voice asked evenly.

Well, so this call was for me. I looked at the building to my left and spotted the security camera. "Yes. I see it," I said.

"Watch," the voice told me.

The camera began to turn until it was facing the opposite direction, away from me.

"There is another camera on the building opposite you," the voice said once the camera had stopped moving, "Do you see it?"

I looked and saw the camera. "Mm-hmm," I said.

The camera on the other building also turned until it was facing the opposite direction, away from me.

"And finally, at the top of the building on your right," the voice said.

I looked and saw the camera make the same movement as the other two before it.

I swallowed. Why was this happening? How was this happening? "How are you doing this?" I asked cooly.

"Get into the car, Dr. Watson," the voice ordered, "I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure that your situation is quite clear to you."

I looked outside the telephone booth and saw a shiny black car drive up and stop just outside of it. A man got out and opened the back door and stared at me expectantly. I held the phone in my hand for several seconds, then nervously brushed my bangs out of my face. I didn't have a choice, I would have to get in the car. Best not show any fear though. I composed myself, hung up the phone, and walked out to the car.

I sat in the backseat with a rather attractive young man who never once looked away from me ever since I first got in the car. His eyes were boring holes into the side of my head. We drove for a long time, I can't put an estimate on it though, nor can I say where we were exactly since the windows were shaded. Every time I glanced at the young man beside me, he waggled his eyebrows. Finally, I got sick of it all and turned full on towards him.

"Hi," I said as calmly as possible, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Hello," he said back, smiling.

What next? "So what's your name?" I asked.

"Umm... Anthony," he said, still grinning at me.

Right. "Is that your real name?" I asked.

He smirked. "Nope."

I nodded. "I'm Jen."

"Yes. I know," the man called Anthony said, scooting a bit closer to me.

I bit my lip uncomfortably. It wasn't everyday that I had one of my kidnappers start coming onto me. I ignored his grinning and tried to see out the tinted windows for the hundredth time. "Is there any point in me asking where I'm going?"

"None at all, Jen."

I nodded again. "OK."

And that was the end of all conversation for the rest of the trip. We still drove on for a good while longer before finally stopping. I was supposed to get out of the car here. I got out and found myself to be in some sort of abandoned warehouse.

Not far in front of me stood a middle-aged woman, probably close to 10 years older than I was. She was tall, lanky, and professionally dressed with her brown pinstriped coat and matching skirt, and dark blue blouse. Her dark brown hair was twisted back into a bun, leaving one thick curl hanging over her forehead. She was leaning casually against a large black umbrella that matched her extremely high, pointed heels. I could only assume that this was the woman I spoke to on the phone.

She gestured to a small chair sitting in front of her with the umbrella as I began to approach her. "Have a seat, Jen."

I held back my sour frown as I limped towards her, but I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I spoke to her. "You know, I have a phone. I'm very clever and all, but you could just phone me... on my phone."

"When one is avoiding the attention of Shirley Holmes, one learns to be discreet. Hence this place," the woman said, "Your leg must be hurting you. Do sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," I said.

The woman eyed me for a moment. "You don't seem very afraid."

Well good, I was trying not to. "You don't seem very frightening," I retorted.

The woman let out a laugh. "Yes. Your bravery is impressive," she said, "Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think? What is your connection to Shirley Holmes?"

Why did everyone feel the need to ask me that? I shrugged. "I don't have one," I replied, "I barely know her. I met her... well, yesterday."

"Hmm, and since yesterday, you have moved in with her and now you're solving crimes together," the woman said, "Will we be expecting a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

Once again, I tried to keep myself from frowning. "Who are you?"

"Just an interested party."

"Interested in Shirley? Why?" I asked, "I'm guessing you're not friends."

"You've met her. How many friends do you think she has?" the woman asked. She sighed. "I suppose that I'm the closest thing to a friend that Shirley Holmes is capable of having."

"And what's that?"

"An enemy."

"An enemy?"

The woman smirked. "In her mind, certainly. If you were to ask her, she'd probably say her arch-enemy... She does love to be dramatic."

And this lady wasn't? I glanced around at the warehouse, refraining from rolling my eyes. "Well thank goodness that you're above all that," I said sarcastically.

Before either of us could say anything else, my phone suddenly beeped, receiving a text. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my phone to read the text. It was from Shirley: "Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH".

"I hope I'm not distracting you," the woman said, watching me.

"Oh, no. Not at all," I said, putting the phone back in my pocket.

"Do you plan on continuing your association with Shirley Homes?" the woman asked.

"I could be wrong, but I don't think that's any of your business," I replied.

"It could be," the woman said, raising her eyebrow.

"It really couldn't."

"Well, if you do move into umm..." she reached into the small brown leather purse over her shoulder and pulled out a pocket book, then flipped open to a certain page, "221B Baker Street. I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way."

I stared suspiciously at her. "Why?"

"Because you're not a wealthy woman."

"In exchange for...?"

"Information," the woman stated, "Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with. You just need to tell me what she's up to, that's all."

"Why?"

"I worry about her... constantly.

"That's nice of you," I said dryly.

"But I would prefer for a number of reasons that my concern go unmentioned," the woman said, "We have what you might call a, uhh... difficult relationship."

Before I could say anything, my phone beeped again. I took it out and read the text. It was another one from Shirley. "If inconvenient come anyway. SH".

I put the phone away. "No," I said flatly to the woman.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure yet," she said.

"There's no need," I said.

The woman laughed. "You're very loyal very quickly."

I wouldn't say that. Maybe I just had a strong moral fiber? Somehow, spying on someone for someone else who was clearly not on good terms with them just did not seem like a good idea. Especially when this woman in front of me could very well be some sort of villainous mastermind. I mean, she had kidnapped me for goodness sake!

"No I'm not," I said, "I'm just not interested."

The light of humor on the woman's face suddenly faded and she looked almost somber. She reached into her purse again and pulled out another little notebook. ""Trust issues"" she said, reading, "It says here."

I stared at the notebook. Those words sounded familiar. Too familiar. My therapist talked about my trust issues almost every time I went to see her. "What's that?" I asked quietly.

"Could it be you've decided to trust Shirley Holmes of all people?" the woman asked, still reading the notebook.

"Who says I trust her?" I asked, starting to get defensive. I couldn't keep up my cool act anymore. This woman had just hit a tender spot.

"You don't seem the type who makes friends very easily," the woman said.

"Are we done?" I asked tensely.

The woman finally looked up from the notebook. "You tell me."

I was done before we even got started. I frowned slightly then turned to make my way back to the car that I had arrived in.

"I'm sure that people have already warned you to stay away from her, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen."

I froze in my tracks. What? I turned back to her, scowling. "My what?"

"Show me," the woman said lightly.

I hesitated, but eventually held up my left hand for her to see. She approached me and held out her and hand to take my in hers. It pulled mine back. "Don't," I warned.

But she looked at me expectantly and kept her hand outstretched. I hesitantly held my hand back out and she gingerly took it, inspecting it closely for a moment.

"Remarkable," she muttered.

"What is?" I asked, annoyed, yanking my hand away.

"Most people blunder around this city and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Shirley Holmes you see the battlefield. You've seen it already, haven't you?"

I breathed deeply, trying to control the different emotions bubbling up inside of me. "What's wrong with my hand?"

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand," the woman replied, "Your therapist thinks it's post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by your memories of your car accident."

I was so close to growling, crying, and screaming all at the same time. "Who are you?" I demanded, using superhuman effort to keep my voice steady, "How do you know all that?"

"Fire her. She's got it wrong," the woman said in an annoyingly calm voice, "You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. Your hand doesn't tremble because of your memories, Dr. Watson. Your hand trembles because you miss your old pressured life."

She leaned closer to me, smiling slightly. "Welcome back," she whispered.

She stepped back and began to walk away, her heels clicking, swinging the umbrella as she went. "Time to choose a side, Dr. Watson."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So what did you think of feminized Mycroft? Or what about Anthea/Anthony? I'd really like to know if I'm pleasing or disappointing in my choices. I have already chosen a female name for Mycroft, but you'll just have to wait :)