As the days turned colder and nights grew longer, the occupants of 221 Baker Street became more and more like a family. Mrs. Hudson and I spent lots of time together while John and Sherlock were out on cases. She taught me different British recipes to cook, and in return I'd teach her a few traditional American dishes. We would also go antique shopping together, which I enjoyed very much. When John was home he and I would discuss political matters (even though I had not the slightest clue on British politics) and our newest past time was watching rugby on the television. He explained to me how the game worked, and at one point he bought a rugby ball and we practiced tossing it back and forth. Sherlock and I however barely spoke.

"Quiet? Sherlock is far from quiet." John said to me one day when I brought it up.

"Well he is around me. He rarely acknowledges my existence."

"That's probably because he's still jealous you and I are close."

"Is he really still jealous?"

John took a bite of his sandwich and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably. He's odd."

I looked around the café. It was busy for a Wednesday. I figured it had to do with the sudden pick up of wind, people were wanting to be inside with hot tea and warm food. John seemed to have dismissed the subject, but I was hung up on Sherlock's quietness.

"So, do you think he'll ever talk to me?"

John looked up confused. "Who?"

"Sherlock!"

"Oh yes right. I honestly couldn't say. You should count yourself lucky."

"Yeah but I don't."

John gave me a surprised look. "Does this really bother you that much?'

I looked down. "Well, I mean, just a little. I feel like I'm close to you and Mrs. Hudson, and he's close to you Mrs. Hudson, but he and I are not close, and I just wish we could all be close. I've tried and tried to open up and start conversation with him but he either responds with quick one-word answers or not at all." I sighed. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Azalea no no no there is nothing wrong with you!" He wiped off his hands and leaned forward. "Look, Azalea, I'm going to be honest, I have noticed his shyness around you. It's weird, even for him. He might not be friendly to just any ole stranger, but he never blows them off the way he does you. I believe before he officially met you he had 'deduced' you from afar, making himself think you were some stuck up, arrogant, fake, helpless little girl he could easily squash. Then he actually met you and got to know you some, and found you were a strong and very likeable person. This threw him off, because he's never wrong. He just has mixed emotions about you. He doesn't know how to act around you. Just give it some time, he will come around eventually."

I deeply exhaled. "I hope so John. I hate the feeling of being at odds with someone I practically live with."

"I understand. Just continue pursuing a friendship with him. Eventually he'll give in and take a liking to you. Who wouldn't?"

I smiled up at the doctor. "Oh shut up and eat your sandwich!" He laughed at me then took another bite, ending our conversation of Sherlock.

John had obviously taken our chat over lunch to heart. That night after dessert he suggested playing charades. At first he mentioned playing Cluedo, but Sherlock quickly reminded him he had stabbed the board into the mantle and thrown his character on top of a bookcase.

"Azalea you know how to play charades right?"

"Yes I know how to play charades! At least I know American charades. I don't know if British charades are any different."

"I don't think so. Mrs. Hudson, would you like to go first?"

"I'd love to!" Mrs. Hudson stood in the middle of the room and took a second to think. Then she held up two fingers, showing it was two words. She acted out holding something, pretending to pour it out.

"Making tea?"

She shook her head at John, signaling that he was wrong. She then put one hand on her hip, the other made a "Z" formation in the air.

"Tea pot!"

"Yes very good Azalea!"

I smiled and got up, taking her spot. I thought for a moment, then held up two fingers and began trotting around in circles.

"A horse?"

I shook my head, then put my hands in fist and raised them up in a begging position while still trotting.

"A bunny?" I shook my head at Mrs. Hudson.

"A dinosaur with a few screws loose?" I smiled and gave John a look.

"A horse rider?" I pointed at Mrs. Hudson, signaling she was close.

"A horse jockey?"

"Yes!" I sat down and let John have the floor. He held up a single finger and quickly began doing small leaps in the air with his hands above his head. Mrs. Hudson and I immediately began laughing as he then attempted a few pirouettes and not-so-gracefully lifted a leg and pointed his toe.

"Let me guess, a ballerina?"

"How'd you know?!" He smiled and looked over at Sherlock who hadn't been paying attention at all. "Come on Sherlock, why don't you play along?"

Sherlock didn't budge. "I'm not in the mood for games right now."

"Oooh come on! Have a little fun!"

"It's hard to have fun when at this very moment Moriarty has just captured another girl or maybe is in the process of taking one and we have no idea why and we are just sitting here helpless while he's winning at the little game going on inside his head."

Everyone got silent. He was right. My stomach twisted into knots as I allowed the truth to sink in. Another girl probably about my age was stolen away, confused and afraid, gone unexpectedly from the world. I began slowly walking to the doorway.

"Wait Azalea where are you going?"

"Bed" was all I could manage to get out. Once in bed though, my thoughts just progressively got worse, and I slept very little that night.

As expected, Lestrade was standing in our doorway the following afternoon. He showed up a little later than he had the past few weeks. It was about three thirty when he walked in. He explained the case while in the car driving to the crime scene.

"Lilian Levine, age twenty, disappeared last night. She had left at seven to go to a nighttime pottery class at the school. Her mother and father were in bed by the time she got home so they haven't seen her. When her mum woke up to see her daughter was missing, she figured Lilian had gone out for a run. But after a few hours got worried and began calling her. The daughter never answered, and just an hour ago her father found her car keys and phone in her unlocked car. That's when they realized something was wrong and phoned us."

We pulled up to a small one story home and saw the mother standing on the front deck, waiting for us. She welcomed us into her home, explaining that her husband was out driving around putting up flyers and searching for her and that if we needed anything to just ask. Sherlock first checked the car. He found residue from clay on the steering wheel, so she had to have come home the night before, meaning the kidnapper was waiting for her. We then moved inside to her room. It was a typical girl's room; clean but not spotless, picture pinned all over the walls, the bed unmade. I examined as much as I could, but I found nothing suspicious.

The mother observed sadly in the doorway. "Lily isn't very organized, but neither am I so I can't blame her."

We continued searching the house to no avail.

"Find anything Azalea?"

I looked up at John and sighed. "Not a thing."

Lestrade grabbed a picture off the mantle. "Hey, she kind of looks like you." He held the picture up next to my face.

John grabbed it from him. "Oh yeah. She kind of does."

I looked at the picture and saw what they meant. She had long blonde hair, big hazel eyes, full lips and straight white teeth. Our features were definitely spot on the same, which made me happy, because she was absolutely beautiful.

We walked outside and joined Sherlock and the mum. Sherlock was busy inspecting every inch of the car the girl drove. Lestrade and John joined him. I stood back with the mother, watching. I could hear her sniffle some. I looked up and saw tears welling in her eyes. I didn't even think about it; I put my arm around the woman and pulled her in. She hugged me tight, her tears soaking the shoulder of my sweater.

"Don't worry ma'am, we'll find your daughter."

She stood up some and wiped her nose with a tissue. She smiled at me. "Thank you sweetie. I know we will." She dabbed her eyes. "You know, you remind me a lot of Lily. You look just like her. You two are like the same person."

The same person.

The same person.

The same person.

My body got weak. My eyes began to lose focus. My breathing got more intense. I could feel my body start to sway. I don't remember much, just that soon John and Lestrade were soon standing on either side of me, holding me up. They kept asking me if I was alright. I would swallow and tell them I was feeling a little bit sick. They put me in the car and we soon left.

I stared up at my creation on the wall. Papers written with notes pinned up by thumbtacks. My room was silent other than the crackling fire. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to find a way around the truth. But it was there. It was all there in front of me.

There was a knock on the door. I figured if I ignored it maybe they would go away. Instead my door clicked open. I turned my head quick, to tell John I was fine and I just wanted to be alone, but John wasn't there. It was Sherlock.

I stared up at him. "What is it?"

"May I please come in?"

"Sherlock I-"

"I know you've figured it out Azalea."

I stared hard into the eyes of this familiar stranger. "You know."

"Yes, I realized it the exact same moment you did." He walked into my room, closing the door behind him.

"Does John kow?"

"No I don't believe he does."

I remained silent for a few moments before speaking up again. "Sherlock, what do I do about this."

He made his way over, standing right above me. "Honestly, I don't know. But we're going to figure it out."

I looked down. "I hope so. I'm just scared."

Suddenly he gently grabbed my chin, tilting my head up. I stared deep into those light blue eyes.

"Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise."