Once again. I apologize wholeheartedly to anyone still reading this story. I have been taking forever to post chapters. Anyway, please leave a review, and I will attempt to have the next chapter up some time this week. I can't make any promises though. Also, I own nothing except my OC.

Chapter 10

John felt like he was going to throw up. His eyes were not open, but he could feel the weight of his body slumped down and tied to a chair. What had started out as a simple case of a break-in, had turned into a triple murder that kept Sherlock on the case for days. He was so tired he decided to take Sarah to...somewhere. John almost shook his head to help himself think more clearly, but he didn't know what would be waiting for him if he revealed that he was awake. Then he remembered the circus. There had been a fight, and they went back to the flat. Then... John remained still as he tried to piece together how he ended up tied to a chair. All he could remember though was being hit on the head, and was suddenly made more aware of it by a splitting headache and the feeling of his blood sticking to the side of his face. Wait... he had seen his attacker step over him... He had heard screaming. He hoped everyone was okay.

30 minutes earlier.

Violet sat on the counter as John looked for some forks. She avoided the eyes of Sarah. She didn't like how dull the woman was. She was nice, but Violet knew that John deserved much better than her. He was a simple man, but he was interesting at the same time. It was one of the many reasons Violet loved him so much. He was a great man with a kind heart, and she would never stop seeing him as her father even though her real one had been found. A sudden knock on the door took her away from her thoughts.

"Blimey, that was quick," John commented quietly. "I'll just pop down."

"Do you want me to lay the table?" Sarah asked as John walked past. He stopped, and glanced back into the kitchen. He was looking at Violet almost helplessly. He was clueless as to what to do.

"You could use eat-off trays," Violet suggested. "They're in the cupboard right behind me." John smiled and nodded in agreement. Then he left the room. Violet hopped down off the counter, and opened the cupboard to find the trays. She had just spotted them when Sarah cleared her throat.

"So," she began. "You're um...Sherlock's daughter?" Violet rolled her eyes, but only because Sarah couldn't see her face.

"Yes, but John has technically been my father since I was small," the twelve-year old replied. She didn't like the attention John was giving Sarah, but she would never admit to herself that she felt jealous.

"Yes, he told me all about you. I'm sorry about your mother." Violet's hand hovered in the air in front of the cupboard. She wasn't sure how to fill the silence that had suddenly taken over the room, but she didn't have to think for very long. All of a sudden, two muscular, Chinese men came in. Sarah jumped up out of her seat, but the first one grabbed her. She screamed as the man lifted her into the air. Then he clamped his hand over her mouth, and as she squirmed the second moved toward Violet. She grabbed a pot out of the sink and swung it at the man, but he didn't seem to even feel the impact that she inflicted on his face.

Sarah screamed again as the man gagged her, and as Violet glanced over the second man grabbed her arms. He turned her around and pulled her to him as the first man threw Sarah over his shoulder and spray-painted the windows. Suddenly, Violet felt a cloth being wrapped around her own mouth, and she struggled to get away. She couldn't fight the man though, and the last thing image she remembered seeing in the flat was the message: DEAD MAN.

"A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket," a Chinese woman said as John finally began to stir. He turned to look at his date, who looked frightened but composed. The Chinese woman smiled, and stepped toward him. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes." John looked up at her in confusion.

"I'm... I'm not Sherlock Holmes," he murmured.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." The woman reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out his wallet. As she flipped through it, John noticed Violet tied to a chair a short distance to his right. Her eyes were closed, and she sat as still as a statue. John had seen her do it before. She was trying to keep herself calm.

"Debit card, name of... S. Holmes." John gazed up at the woman and shook his head.

"He lent that to me," he said.

"And a cheque for £5, 000 made out in the name of Sherlock Holmes."

"I'm not him."

"Tickets from the theatre, name of Holmes."

"I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him." The woman smiled and pulled out a gun.

"I am Shan," she said; pulling out a small gun from her pocket.

"You're... you're Shan?" Shan strolled over to Violet and put the gun up to her temple. Her eyes opened, and her breathing quickened. "Leave her alone," John started; straining against the ropes holding him. "Please, she has nothing to do with-"

"What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" Shan got the gun ready to fire, and John strained against his chair. She pulled the trigger, and Violet shuddered when nothing happened. John let out a sigh of relief. "It tells you that they're not really trying." Shan reloaded the gun, and held it up again. "Not blank bullets now," she sneered; clearly enjoying the reactions she was getting from John. "If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?" She pressed the gun against Violet's head.

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain," Shan said loudly as she finally walked away from the now shivering child. Then she uncovered the giant crossbow that had been used in the circus. "Everything in the West has its price," she stated. "And the price for her life- information." John looked over at Sarah, who kept staring at the floor to keep herself calm.

Then the two men with Shan picked up her chair, and she started to panic. She fought to get away, but the ropes that held her made it impossible. She screamed, and tried to kick out of her chair and the grip of the men grasping it, but they put her down too quickly for her to do anything.

"Where's the hairpin?" Shan asked as Sarah fought and cried out behind her.

"What?" John asked incredulously.

"The Empress pin valued at £9 million sterling? We already had a buyer in the West and then one of our people was greedy, he took it, brought it back to London, and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching."

"Please, please," he begged. "Listen to me. I'm not...I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."

"I need a volunteer from the audience," she mocked. Then she cut the sandbag that would soon make the crossbow go off.

"Please!" John shouted. Sarah started to cry as Shan approached her. Then Shan placed a paper lotus flower on her arm; taunting her with her silky voice.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends."

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John insisted as Shan moved out of the way.

"I don't believe you."

"You should you know," a familiar baritone voice said. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Sherlock blended into the shadows, and seemed to disappear entirely as one of Shan's men ran toward him. "How would you describe me, John?" he commented. "Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Late," the doctor replied with exasperation. Shan pulled out her gun again and glanced nervously around the tunnel.

"That's a semi-automatic," Sherlock said from the darkness. "If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over 1, 000 metres per second."

"Well?" Shan retorted.

"Well..." Sherlock paused as he knocked out the first of Shan's men. "the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." Sherlock suddenly appeared, and kicked over one of cans left burning for light; plunging the area in more darkness. John looked about for the detective, and finally spotted him trying to untie Sarah from her chair. Before he could free her though, Shan's other assistant wrapped a piece of cloth around his neck, and started to choke him. Sarah froze in her seat as she watched the weight go past the emptying bag of sand. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at the sharp metal reflecting the light of the fires. John then tried desperately to get out of his chair as he followed her gaze.

At the last second, he kicked the crossbow, and it hit the man trying to kill Sherlock. Sarah wept uncontrollably as the adrenaline seemed to flee from her body. She sat gasping as Sherlock got to his feet and began to untie her again.

"It's alright," he whispered to her as John struggled to get out of his chair on the ground. "You're going to be all right. It's over now." He finished freeing her, and then straightened up to look for Shan. The woman had managed to escape though, so Sherlock leaned over as he caught his breath. After he straightened up, he got down beside John to help him. The doctor shook his head though.

"I'm fine Sherlock," he murmured. "Go check on Violet." Sherlock finally realized that he hadn't noticed her. Her chair sat in the shadows and she was sitting on it in complete silence. As he approached her, he realized that she was staring blankly out in front of her. She was shivering, but that was the only movement he saw her make. He knelt slowly in front of her, and untied her; moving slowly as if dealing with a wounded animal. She continued to stare right past him as he took the gag from her mouth. They sat in silence, and the only sound in the tunnel was John trying to comfort his date.

"Violet," Sherlock finally whispered. She didn't answer. He knew she was in shock; he had known from the second he saw her, but that didn't make it any less frightening. Then, the sounds of police sirens echoed through the tunnel, and Violet looked down at her hands. She wasn't sure why, but she started to cry. "Shhh," Sherlock whispered. He wasn't sure whether or not he should hold her. He hadn't touched her since the day he found out she was alive, and he didn't know if she would want him to. He gently took her hand instead. "It's all right," he murmured. "You're all right." He repeated those phrases until the police actually entered the tunnel. He had called them just before he arrived because he didn't want them to come barging in and get them all killed.

John walked over to them, and Sherlock stood and backed away. John glanced at him briefly, but he was more concerned with Violet. His flatmate spoke to her quietly, and she let him hug her. She wrapped her arms slowly around him as well, mad Sherlock moved further away. He didn't want to be jealous of John, but he felt it in his heart despite what he wanted. He watched the policemen rushing around the scene; arresting the man Sherlock had knocked out and taking pictures of the dead man's body. Two officers were occupied with Sarah, and another was carrying a blanket over to John and Violet. Sherlock suddenly felt lonely in the tunnel full of people, and he closed his eyes to block it all out.

"Looks like another day saved by Sherlock Holmes," a familiar voice remarked. Sherlock opened his eyes. He was still in the tunnel, but it was in his mind palace. He knew because he couldn't have heard the voice of his wife anywhere else.

"Actually John was the one who saved us," he replied. He turned to face her, and she smiled as she closed the distance between them. "Michelle." He spoke coldly to her. He was angry with her for not really being there; angry with her for leaving him alone.

"Don't look at me like that," she murmured. "You should be happy."

"Where is Violet?" Normally, Michelle appeared in his mind palace with his three-year old holding her hand, and he would hold her and play with her as he spoke to his wife. He would stay within the limits of his mind for hours; wishing he could stay forever. It was never possible though. Something always brought him back to the real world.

"She's not here anymore. You have her back. She's growing and living and breathing. I am just a shadow of myself. The person you really remember is gone."

"Stop it." He knew what she was doing. She wanted him to move on.

"You have to stop trying to live in your imagination." She took his face in her hands. "I'm gone. I'm gone and I'm not coming back." She backed away. "It's time to go," she said quietly. "Your little girl needs you."

"No." No matter how he tried though, he was slipping away. She was disappearing.

"Sherlock," Sarah said. Sherlock opened his eyes. Sarah stood in front of him with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He blinked a couple of times to get out of his daze, and cleared his sore throat. "I just wanted to thank you for um... finding us." She looked up at him awkwardly, and he just nodded to her. Then John joined them, and told Sherlock that Violet had said she wanted to stay with him while John took Sarah home. Sherlock just nodded at him too; feeling sort of numb, and left them to go back to his daughter. It was what Michelle wanted him to do.

An officer was speaking to her quietly, and she was shaking her head in response when he reached her. "Excuse me," he said to the officer. "I can take over from here." The young woman looked up at him suspiciously, and he immediately knew that her husband was cheating on her.

"And you are?" she inquired. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Were all people really so blind?

"Her father," he answered. The woman glanced at Violet, who looked up at him and then nodded to her. Then she walked away, but Sherlock could feel her suspicious eyes still on him as he crouched back down in front of his daughter. He felt almost embarrassed. It was the first time in nine years that he had acknowledged himself as a father, and it pained him to think that those long years could never be returned.

"How could you be so stupid, Michelle?"

"Don't ask me. I only know what your perception of the situation is."

"They told me I was in shock and they gave me this blanket," Violet mumbled. Then she looked directly into his eyes, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Please don't tell that woman what you deduced. She was kind, and not too annoying." Sherlock couldn't help but smile at her. She had John's tender heart.

"I promise," he whispered back.

"Can we go home then?" Sherlock stood up, and so did she. He put his hand on top her head. Then he pulled her close. He hadn't wanted her to know how worried he was, but he didn't care anymore. He had to totally convince himself that she was there, and that she was all right. And if that meant making a fool of himself, he was willing to do so - just for her.