"Why would he want to talk to me?" I asked the man.

"No! Don't listen to him! It's a trap!" Harold, the old man warned me.

"No one was asking you!" the man snapped at him.

"Answer me." I growled.

He took a deep breath. "Look, I wasn't even supposed to tell you that he wanted to see you."

"But you did."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

He didn't answer.

I flared my nose.

"So, what? I'm supposed to walk off with you, to take me to Moriarty, and person I don't know anything about?" I asked in a sarcastic tone, raising my voice. Well, I usually talk in a sarcastic tone, most of the time I don't even know it. It's just natural for me. This was emphasized sarcasm.

He didn't answer but just stared at me, and I knew that meant a yes. I shook my head sighing. "Well, go tell your boss, too bad. I'm not going."

"You need to, or he'll..."

"Or he'll what?"

The man looked at me with a hint of fear in his eyes. He wasn't scared of me, but I could tell he was scared of his boss-Moriarty. He might have been scared for me.

But I, of course, wasn't fazed by that.

"Forget it."

"But-"

"No."

The man sighed in defeat. He walked out and opened the door. He paused, and glanced back at me. "Don't say I didn't warn you." And with that final note, he left.

I turned back to Harold, who was shaking pretty badly. Everyone seemed to be afraid of this Moriarty person-why?

I looked outside, thinking, Maybe this case is a little more complicated than I had originally thought.

Walking back home with my hands stuffed in my pockets, I debated with myself whether I should tell my dad about what happened at the bakery. He may not let me finish the case. He'd say it's too dangerous. He'd probably try to keep me in the house until everything was sorted out. He didn't like not knowing things. Well, things that were important.

I chuckled, thinking of how he didn't want me to learn about astronomy, but I still knew some stuff from what John told me. I don't think that I've developed the 'deleting from my hard drive' skill yet.

Sometimes, I wished that I could, other times I was glad I didn't.

I sent Harold home, thinking that he would be of no use if he would be so paranoid. He needed some rest, and I agreed to meet him the next day, but at the local library that I could walk to from my flat.

Once I was back in the flat, and fell face-down onto my bed. I didn't realize it until I got home, but I was tired. And I needed sleep. I wondered where Dad and John were. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

No new messages. That's weird. I thought that maybe dad would have texted me by now.

I set my phone down, but once I did, it rung. I sat up and held the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I asked. I didn't recognize the number.

"Oh, you must be Shirley." A voice chuckled.

"Wh-who are you?" I asked.

"Oh, how rude of me. I'm James Moriarty. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You're on the phone."

"Oh, right." He laughed again.

"Hey! What is so funny! Why are you calling me? How did you get this number?"

"Oh, well that's a whole other story, Shirley. But I think you know why I'm calling you. You didn't want to come visit me, did you? Couldn't bother to see your uncle Moriarty?"

"You're not my uncle."

"Well, you may be right, but I've always wanted a niece."

"I'm not related to you. Why are you calling me?"

"Well, since you refused to come, I'm afraid that I had to take something of yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I took something from you, and you'll only get it back if you come and talk with me."

"Why do you want to talk with me so badly? Why am I that important?"

He laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes."

"Well, come and talk with me and I'll answer any questions you have. That's a promise."

"No, I'm not an idiot."

"Well, if that doesn't convince you, then maybe there's someone you'd like to talk to."

I held my breath.

"Shirley! Don't listen to him! He's lying! I'm-" I heard my father's voice say, but I couldn't hear what else he was going to say, most likely because Moriarty pulled the phone away before he could finish. He was about to tell me something important. I knew it.

"Where is my dad?"

"Bye, bye."

"Wait-"

But he hung up. I cursed and threw my phone on my bed. He couldn't have gotten dad. There was no way he could have tricked him. But if dad was there, were was John?

Am I alone?

After years of being overprotected by my father, am I suddenly alone?