A/N: Okay, shameless plug: I'm trying to get this done tonight because Protector of the Gray Fortress and I are starting a new fic together. So, anyhow, don't get used to getting six chapters in one day!

We had been running now for several minutes, and both my strength and that of our poor client was rapidly flagging. In addition to being out of breath, my headache had increased tenfold by my unexpected contact with that stone wall.

"Doctor – I – I don't think – I can run - much farther," Eckerton gasped, his sedentary lifestyle beginning to show.

I felt the same way, but I had the added adrenaline rush of the realization that I had to go on or else abandon Holmes to facing off that man alone – and who knew where they were headed. There could be a dozen more men waiting with the Stewart girl at the other end of this quest, for all we knew.

"You must – keep going," I panted, "your fiancée's life – may depend – upon our catching up with them!"

Eckerton took a deep breath and said nothing, only kept running with me.

The darkness was seeming to swallow us up as we staggered onward, seeming to stretch on and on, forever…

Suddenly the light disappeared once again, and this time I warily slowed my pace and put my arms out in front of me as I trotted. Soon I ran into the wall with a grunt, and turned to the left to see the lantern still bobbing ahead of us.

But I thought it might be just a trifle closer this time; of course, the gang member and Holmes would have to be growing tired as well. We might catch them yet.

I mentioned as much to Eckerton, and we redoubled our efforts, finally at long last catching our second winds.

Suddenly in the dark I stumbled over a rock and fell, slamming hard into the stone floor of the tunnel with a moan of pain as the motion jarred my throbbing head.

Eckerton frantically fumbled in the darkness for my arm and pulled me back to my feet, and we began to run again, his hand on my arm for support, as I was beginning to limp from the exertions and the unusual strain placed so suddenly upon my bad leg. And I was once again glad that the young fellow was with me.

We were indeed catching up with the light ahead of us, and now ahead of Holmes's lantern I could see a smaller lantern trained upon the floor of the tunnel – the counterfeiter was carrying it. We really were gaining on them.

Eckerton saw that we were as well, and we kept on without saying a word, both of us gasping for breath now. Such a stitch was forming in my side that between that and the headache, I was in a considerable amount of pain, and every step brought fresh agony.

But we were gaining on the lights – the men ahead of us must be slowing down. I breathed a prayer of gratefulness as we drew ever nearer, feeling my remaining energy flagging with an appalling rapidity.

Now I could see the vague outline of my friend as his pounding footsteps and hard breathing became audible as we gradually closed the distance between us.

Holmes must have heard us behind him, for suddenly the light stopped bobbing and then came back toward us with great rapidity.

"Watson! That you?"

"Yes," I gasped, gladdened beyond words for the chance to stop for even a moment and rest.

"Are you all right?" even in the darkness he could tell something was wrong.

"I am fine – I just – ran into – that first wall – back there," I gasped as he came up close to us and shone the lantern towards us.

"Good Lord, Watson!" he gasped, upon seeing Eckerton supporting me.

"Keep going, Holmes!" I snapped breathlessly, seeing the tiny light ahead of us starting to move faster.

Holmes handed the dark lantern to Eckerton and ordered him to go ahead of us with it. Then he took my arm and told me to lean on him as we took off again at a dead run, following the counterfeiter.

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked as we went on.

"Yes. We are – rather lucky – he is not – shooting at us," I gasped, knowing we made excellent targets with that lantern.

"Rather," my friend agreed, tightening his grip protectively as he realized I was limping.

"How much further do you think he will go?" Eckerton called back softly.

"I cannot imagine it being much farther. We have been at this for nearly five minutes," Holmes replied, taking a deep breath.

"That is all?" I gasped incredulously, suddenly clutching Holmes's arm instinctively as a stab of pain shot through my head.

"What's the matter?" he asked sharply.

"Nothing," I replied, trying to catch a deep breath.

"Right turn," Eckerton called over his shoulder.

The stitch in my side was subsiding slightly now, but my intense headache was not. I knew I for one would not be able to keep this chase up much longer. But then suddenly the light ahead of us stopped and started moving upward.

"Stop, Eckerton!" Holmes called softly. Eckerton halted, and Holmes flipped the shield down on the lantern.

I was clinging to Holmes's arm to keep myself upright at this point, and I was more than happy to halt and try to catch a breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head. My shallow breathing and Eckerton's soft gasps were the only sounds that we heard as that small light moved upward, finally disappearing.

As soon as it had, Holmes propelled me and Eckerton forward, flashing the lantern once more to reveal a ladder going straight up out of the tunnel. Holmes pushed Eckerton upward and then followed with the lantern. I took a deep breath and then followed, trying to not think about how badly my head was pounding.

I heard a creaking as a wooden trapdoor was opened, and Holmes's long legs disappeared above me. I climbed the last few rungs and he gave me a hand out of the tunnel, closing the trap as quietly as possible.

I looked round, gasping for breath, and saw that we were in a house – apparently in a den or study. The trapdoor we had emerged form was concealed very cleverly by a large rug attached to the wooden floor.

"He has to know that we're here," Holmes said intensely, hauling me to my feet and motioning to Eckerton, "so we have no time to be lost. We have to stop him before he reaches Miss Stewart."

Our client's face went white as a sheet, but he swallowed hard and followed Holmes and me as we quickly made our way into the hall. A tall staircase loomed above us, and we could hear noises from above – then suddenly a woman's high-pitched scream rent the air.

"Annie!" Eckerton gasped, his face turning whiter still.

Holmes bolted for the stairs, taking them three at a time, and I was close on his heels, trying desperately to yank my revolver out of my pocket as we sprinted up the steps. I had not yet got it out when Holmes skidded to a stop in a bedroom doorway, a sharp horrified intake of breath escaping his lips.

I nearly ran into his back as he halted, and I stared over his shoulder; and then my own breath seemed to stop.

"Do come in, Holmes," the man said, motioning us in with a large pistol, "I have been waiting for you. You too, Doctor. And your client as well. Dear me, you all three decided to chase after me?"

Holmes and I slowly entered the room, followed by Eckerton. The girl I recognized from our client's photograph as Anne Stewart was sitting in a corner of the room on the floor, bound hand and foot, her lovely face filled with fright at the sight of this man holding a large gun on her fiancé and us.

"Annie!"

"James," the girl said in a trembling voice.

"How touching," the counterfeiter said in false sympathy.

Eckerton's eyes flashed with a fire I did not know he possessed as he saw his fiancée, and to my astonishment he started across the room toward her.

I held my breath as the man watched him, afraid he was going to shoot our client right there, but the counterfeiter evidently decided it was not worth the effort, for he turned his attentions to Holmes and me.

"How did you find out about us, Holmes?" the man asked, shutting the bedroom door behind us and forcing us into the middle of the room. I could hear Eckerton speaking to the girl in a soothing voice, and I began to try desperately to think of a way out of this mess.

"Simplicity itself," Holmes said, acting for all the world as if there were not a gun pointed at his heart, "it was a logical chain of deductions. Starting with the premise that the connection among the three disappearances was that the girls' fiancés all worked in banks."

"Very good, Holmes," the man said mockingly.

"By the way, how did you get the girls off the trains?"

"Chloroform," the man said, "and then heavy veils and ulsters. No one even looked twice at us."

I glance back at Eckerton, who had untied and was now holding his frightened fiancée and looking at me questioningly. I shook my head at the man, telling him not to try anything.

"Ah. And I suppose you kept the other two girls drugged until their fiancés did not cooperate – then you killed them in cold blood," Holmes spat, with a venom I had not heard from him in quite a while.

"Exactly," the man said, not a bit perturbed by Holmes's anger. The man looked at us both and then leveled the gun at Holmes's head without hesitation.

My breath caught in my throat. This man had killed two helpless, defenseless, drugged girls in cold blood; there was no reason why he would not kill Holmes (and myself) without hesitation. I would not allow that to happen.

I could not lose Holmes again, less than three weeks after getting him back from the dead.

I could not survive a second loss like that.

So I would die in an effort to prevent it this time.

Oooooh, evil, evil cliffhanger!

-ducks behind bulletproof computer screen-

To be concluded!