Author's Note: As usual, I've had to re-do all my formatting-meaning bold/italics, spaces between paragraphs, apostrophes, and quotation marks- because the document uploader doesn't like me. If you notice a mistake, please let me know and, and I'll fix it.

The Man with Two Names
By the Salt Monster

Ch. 10
The London Sewer system

I slowly walked down the corridor, holding my gun in what I was pretty sure was the right hand position. I must've been fifty feet or so away from Lestrade, when I saw a dark figure curled up against the wall of the tunnel. I aimed my gun and flashlight at it, only to find a familiar man in a maimed tuxedo.

"Sherlock!" I gasped, and knelt down next to him, setting down my gun and flashlight so I could use both of my hands. Relieved to be free of the burden of the gun, I turned him over. He had a few bruises and a large gash along his cheekbone, but other than that, he didn't appear to be physically harmed in any other way. The cut did look nasty, though, and for a brief moment I was worried about infection.

However, his eyes were open and glassy, his mouth slightly agape, and apart from his breathing and the occasional blink, he seemed dead. I pulled him into my lap and tried slapping his face gently to wake him up.

"Come on," I pleaded. His skin was ice cold. Then again, it was December.

"You fool," a voice said behind me. I whipped around. A tall man with curly black hair and olive toned skin was pointing a gun straight at me. If I'd been less panicked, I would've said he was pretty hot, the gun aside and everything. He had snatched up my flashlight from the ground, but my gun was hidden by my dress and digging into my leg.

"The maestro, right?" I asked, trying to seem calm and collected though I was a ball of raw panic inside.

"Michele Russo at your service," he said with a cold smile.

"You're very polite for a murderer, aren't you?" I commented. "First box seats, then introductions... There's someone else here, isn't there?" I asked. "The art director- I think I read her name in the program- Camilla or something, right?" A similar looking woman stepped out from the shadows. She was dressed nicely in a business suit and her hair pulled up into a tight bun.

"Camilla Russo," she said. "Michele's sister."

"Alright, " said, trying to stay calm. She didn't have a gun on her, but she looked just as imposing as her brother. I figured it must be genetics. "Why did you target Sherlock?" I demanded.

"Tut tut, Miss Barber, this isn't a television show," Michele sneered at me. "You don't get answers. I won't explain my 'huge elaborate plan' to you. I just kill you."

"Yeah, but since I'm going to die anyway, couldn't I at least know what's going on so I don t die completely confused?"

"No!" he yelled, his face starting to get red. "No questions! No answers!" Camilla whispered something in Italian to him and he sighed.

"Three questions," Miss Barber, he agreed.

"This is starting to sound like a Doctor Who episode," I muttered under my breath. "Why were you going after Sherlock?" Michele smirked.

"Because he's so fun to go after," he said cryptically. "Many have tried, few have succeeded. You have to be interesting enough to grab his attention, clever enough to hold it, and strong enough to get him into a trap such as this." He gestured to my lap, where Sherlock's head still lay. "My... contact... suggested him as a worthy challenge. I must say, it was much easier than I expected. I m almost disappointed..."

"Your contact, who's that?" I demanded.

"I cannot tell you."

"Yes you can. I m going to die, aren't I? Just tell me."

"I cannot tell you because I do not know," he continued. "Just whispers, Miss Barber-little hints and clues along the way. The opera, the set-,"

"So you're not a real conductor?"

"-even the location of the box seats were planned according to his instructions."

I tried to swallow that information. Everything was a bit difficult to take in. So Michele wasn't really the one who wanted him dead?

"And not just Mr. Holmes," he said. "My contact is interested in you as well, Miss Barber. Very interested. You two are such unlikely companions it's almost- likely? Your ability to imitate- to recreate what you see is so valuable. You would be a great asset to own."

"Sorry, I'm not for sale," I spat. My leg started to throb from where my gun was cutting off circulation. I tried to shift nonchalantly so he wouldn't see it.

"One more question," Michele reminded me.

"Yeah, are you always this creepy?" I snapped. He smiled at me.

"Only when I m about to kill," he said. "Camilla, grab Holmes." His sister struggled with me, but managed to tear Sherlock from my grasp. She dragged him by his collar a few feet away from me.

"Hmn... who shall I kill first?" Michele asked mockingly. "Will it be you?" He pressed the barrel of the gun to the side of my head. I let out an involuntary whimper. "Or will I make you watch as I kill your friend?" He pointed the gun at Sherlock's chest.

"No!" I yelled. Michele gave me a gleeful smile.

"I think I ve just made up my mind," he said with a grin. Under my leg, I gripped the handle of my gun tightly.

He cocked his gun, taking care to aim directly at Sherlock.

"Say goodbye to Sherlock Holmes," he said menacingly.

Then, trying to remember anything I could from every action movie I had ever seen, I sprung up from the ground, swinging my gun out from behind me. I didn't even take time to aim properly before firing two shots.

Almost at once, I wished I hadn't.

Michele let out a blood curdling and clutched his stomach and I started to panic. Though my ears were still ringing from the sound of the gun shots, I realized someone was yelling at me. I looked down the corridor to see Officer Mathews sprinting towards me.

"Get the woman!" he screamed. "Go after her!" I whipped my head around to Camilla, who started immediately started running. I glanced back at Mathews and Michele, who had slumped against the wall, still moaning and holding his stomach. Making a split-second decision, I dashed after Camilla, the gun still in my hand.

My dress ripped several times as I ran after her, and my hair fell out of its bun and was flying behind me. We were well matched, but I was gaining on her. She stumbled in her high heels and tripped trying to turn a corner. She fell and I caught up with her, standing over her with my gun in my hand.

"Who else was in on this?" I demanded, not lowering my gun even though it was shaking horribly.

"I- I don t know!" she shrieked.

"Who else!" I was surprised to hear my voice with a hysteric edge.

"It was everyone!" she finally said. "The technicians, the orchestra they all knew about it! We had techies waiting in the wings for Holmes to show and the ushers locking the doors!" I took a sharp intake of breath. Whoever organized this went big.

"What about this consultant?" I asked coldly. The tone of my voice was alien; it surprised me but I only noted it detachedly.

"I don't know who it is," she cried. It was only Michele who talked to him, not me, I swear!"

I asked no more questions, but lowered my gun and waited for Mathews to show up, which only took a few minutes. He arrested Camilla, and we walked back to where Sherlock was.

An entire medical team had invaded the area and were running about. Sherlock was being taken away on a stretcher, and five or six paramedics were crowded around a different body lying on the ground. Blood was everywhere.

"He's losing too much blood!" a medic yelled and left the circle, revealing the pale face of Michele. Camilla collapsed to the ground and started sobbing, despite Mathews' attempts to hold her up.

"You've killed him!" she yelled viciously at me. "You've killed my brother!" As if glued to the ground, I gaped at the body, while paramedics continued to work. This wasn't my fault was it? It couldn't be my fault.

"Is he-?" I choked, feeling light headed at the sight of all the blood.

"Let's go," Lestrade said. He took me firmly by the shoulder and guided me towards the ladder back to civilization. Shakily, I climbed the slippery rungs, wishing desperately to step into the sunlight.

Once up, he all but dragged me to an ambulance and sat me down on a stretcher. He asked me a question but my mind was still down in the sewers, where a man was hurt-dying-because of me.

My vision blurred until all I could see was the image Michele laying on the ground in front of me. I could hear voices, but they were too distant to make out and didn't match the picture that was fixated in my mind. Gradually, all the voices and images faded to black.

Author's Note: Sorry I wasn't able to get this up yesterday, but it was sort of a... hectic day. Anyway, chapter ten. Comments? Questions? Feel free to review or PM me I'd love to hear what you think.

Once again, thanks much to my amazing editors, including TheAlmightyEditor and She Steps On Cracks. Lovely job, ladies!

My thoughts go out to those living/working/studying/visiting in Japan and those who have family living/working/studying/visiting in Japan, too. Best wishes.

I'll be back Friday of next week. Have a good one.

~Salty