A/N: I've got a healthy amount of writing time, and I'm going to utilize it.

I felt like I should be listening to the Mission Impossible theme song while writing this.

Watson

I felt no little trepidation when we pulled up to the factory. Holmes may be ever the cool, collected criminal, but I had no experience with breaking the law. The place possessed an essence of foreboding. Even the river seemed to mock me, rolling along calmly as if we weren't about to commit a felony*.

I felt a rush stepping out of the carriage, and my heart seemed to travel quickly up my throat. I wasn't sure if what I was extremely nervous or extremely enthralled.

"Calm yourself, Watson." Holmes muttered.

I tried. I truly did. But I felt the same feeling, or perhaps more of it, when we made our way to a small door on the side of the building. I stood with my back to the wall, scanning the vicinity for any threats while Holmes bent to pick the lock.

I was listening acutely, but the clicking and scrapings of Holmes's** work seemed to drown everything out. I began to fidget, willing him to hurry and wishing I had never gotten myself involved in this.

He stood up, replacing his picks back into their case and smiling at me.

"We're in."

He stepped into the dark building. I took a deep swallow, pulled myself together, and looked back once more before following him in.

Maybe it was the fact that we had gotten in without any trouble, but I felt much more like myself in the building. Holmes was already poking about, dashing from one doorway to another. How he could see in the darkness was anyone's guess.

He beckoned to me eagerly from one, putting a finger to his lips. I tiptoed over, looking over his shoulder to see a dimly lit staircase. Holmes started up it with I close behind. We came to a hallway, which Holmes studied for a moment before turning left. He must have had a map of the building in his mind, for he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

We were going faster now, practically running. Holmes stopped abruptly at a doorway, turning left and rushing up another staircase. He possessed all the energy of a hound close upon a scent.

The hallway this time was shorter. Holmes made straight for the second door. He grabbed the doorknob and tried to wrench it open, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. It was locked.

"Keep a watch, Watson." He muttered excitedly, bending over once more to pick the lock. He had this one open in a matter of seconds, throwing open the door and rushing in.

The room was full of papers and furniture, a regular office. It was very nicely furnished- the owner was obviously an important figure, as only one with their surname in the title of a company could be.

I assured myself of the safety of the room then went back to the doorway to keep watch. I could hear Holmes moving behind me, throwing papers across the room and opening and closing drawers.

Then I heard a sound that froze the very blood in my veins.

Footsteps on the stairs.

"Holmes!" I hissed. "Someone's coming!"

He didn't look up. "One moment, Watson! I've almost got it!"

They were getting closer. "Holmes!"

"One moment!"

I could hear them now in the hallway. They were getting faster. Holmes, oblivious as ever, still stood scribbling something on his cuff. We had no time- they were nearly here-

I dashed across the room, tackling Holmes and bring us both under the cover of the desk. At almost at the same instant the door opened and the footsteps paused.

I stopped breathing, listening with all my might and willing them to move on, though my heart pounding so loudly in my ears was sure to give us away.

Holmes didn't dare move from his bent over position, glancing at me.

There were surely two of them. I listened in horror as they came closer, closer. They stopped at the edge of the desk, close enough for me to reach out and touch them.

"Someone's been here!" a voice exclaimed. On an impulse I jumped up and decked the man with a straight right cross, pushing the other into a chair before he had time to react and rushing out the door. I nearly called out to Holmes, but he was at my side before the words had left my mouth, grabbing my arm and dragging me with him.

We ran at a breakneck pace down the corridor, flying down the staircase. To my disappointment, I heard our apprehenders pounding after us.

We took a different staircase down, and a different door outside, arriving at what I presumed to be the other side of the building than the one we had entered through. Certainly we could see the Thames on this side.

Holmes looked left then right, then darted left, his hand still clenched to my coat sleeve.

"Come!" He called, not daring to use my name should our pursuers hear it and ascertain our identity.

They were gaining on us much too quickly. My dread grew as they came closer, one snatching at our backs and catching a handful of my coat. I lost my footing, tumbling forward. Holmes released his grip on me, but not after he too had been thrown to the ground.

I kicked out at the man closest to me, the one who had grabbed my coat. He grunted and recoiled, giving me time to stumble to my feet, only to be faced with our other opponent, who set upon me as soon as I was up.

He pushed me backwards before I could react. I slipped over some sort of ledge, somersaulting backwards and taking the man with me. My face hit the ground hard. I spat out the earthy mixture that had found its way into my mouth.

My back and shoulders were saturated with the lapping water of the Thames. I lay upon the banks of the river, at the very edge of the water.

I had sat up, trying to clear the sand from my eyes when my opponent put his hands around my throat.

I clenched up, my hands shooting straight to the offending area. I wrestled with his fingers, trying to pry them from my neck. He had not succeeded in cutting off my airway completely, only restricting it enough that I was having a hard time of it.

I gasped, feeling my arms weaken and his fingers tighten. I didn't think I could hold on much longer…

Glorious oxygen rushed through my airways once more. I sucked in gulps of it, coughing twice to clear my lungs. I saw Holmes pull the man off me, throwing him into the current. He looked about to follow up on it, but I stood unsteadily and grabbed his arm.

A change came over his features. He took my elbow and led me up the steep bank, to the road.

"What happened to the other?" I asked, my voice a little hoarse.

"I dispatched him with a blow to the head." Holmes answered, looking very proud of himself. "We must make haste. They've probably sounded the alarm."

We made as much haste as we could in our weakened state. We were both wet from the river and exhausted from the struggle. My limp was becoming positively bothersome. Holmes made no mention of it, but kept my elbow firmly in his grip the entirety of the time.

It was with great pleasure that we caught sight of a cab. I think the cabbie passed our disheveled countenance off as drunkenness. He had probably seen worse riding about in the middle of the night.

I collapsed on the seat, and Holmes did the same beside me. I had to fight to stay awake.

We returned to Baker Street for the night. I paid the cabbie a princely sum, for I was too tired to count out the correct amount, and we stumbled into the house. Mrs. Hudson was no doubt asleep, a fact for which I was rather thankful. A cup of hot tea may have been nice, but her fussing would be hard to endure in this state.

We took of our wet coats and shoes in the hall. I looked wistfully up the stairs. My old room was so very far away.

"I think I'll sleep on the settee tonight, Holmes."

He nodded knowingly. "By all means, my dear fellow."

Holmes was in the sitting room before I, stoking the fire and throwing an afghan onto the sofa. He gave me a tired smile and a nod before disappearing into his room.

The settee had never looked more inviting then at that moment. I fell onto it and wrapped the blanket about myself, shutting my eyes and knowing that I was going to have a devil of a cold the next morning.

A/N: I was a bit broken up over what to do here with the water. I was originally going to drop them both in the Thames, but I couldn't do it without doing Watson's water phobia; an idea that I most readily subscribe to. That whole drowning-water scene has been so well done before (Vows Made In Storms comes most readily to mind) that I decided to leave the whole thing out. Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to attempt it.

*It's hardly a felony, but he's a little freaked out.

** Does anyone know what the proper term is: Holmes' or Holmes's? I've seen Holmes's in the canon, but I always though it was supposed to be Holmes'.