By the time Sherlock charged into the bar, people were already milling about, nursing pints of ice-cold beer. The atmosphere was light and carefree, and everyone was completely oblivious to the fact that somewhere in the building, a pregnant woman and her sister were likely being traumatized. Anger flared up in him at the stupidity of the entire human race. He could throw a body into the crowd and no one would notice anything out of the ordinary.

Pushing away his thoughts, he began his search for some kind of hidden door. He had no doubt Sebastian took his victims somewhere very secluded. But, seeing as she was nowhere to be seen, Ainsley had managed to find it, so it couldn't be too secluded.

That was when he saw it. A door hidden in the very back of the room marked 'STAFF ONLY'. No one was paying any attention to it, but it didn't look like it was locked or secured in any way. Bingo.

With renewed energy, Sherlock cast open the door and jogged down the stairs it revealed. Evidently the basement was used to store unneeded beers and liquors; the walls were lined with shelves of bottles. The lighting was horribly dim, but he was able to find his way without falling. Tripping wasn't an option - he needed to find Ainsley (and Elsa) as soon as possible.

"Ah, Sherlock. I was wondering when you'd drop in."

Sherlock pivoted to face the source of the voice addressing him. There he was, in all his glory: Sebastian. He looked slimy as ever. He grinned cruelly, bearing his uneven teeth.

"I assume you're looking for your little girlfriend?" he smirked. Smugly, he stepped aside to reveal a bound and gagged Ainsley, kneeling protectively in front of her unconscious sister. "She's alive, as you can see. But I don't know how long I can keep her that way." He paused. "However, unlike most criminals, Jim taught me some manners. I'm not a total barbarian. And who would I be to deny this lovely girl of her last words?" Theatrically, he strode over to the redhead and tugged the dirty rag off of her mouth.

"Such lovely hair," he continued before Ainsley could speak. As if she were a cat, he stroked her head gently. Wisely, she didn't comment. "It's a shame to have to kill her. I run a few businesses and she would be absolutely perfect for one of them. She'd attract so many customers." He winked at Sherlock. "You know what I mean, don't you? Or are you really as virginal as Jim always said?"

"Let her go," Sherlock ground out, a terrible mixture of jealousy and rage brewing in his stomach. People like Sebastian didn't deserve to touch her.

"If only I could," he sighed. "But alas... She's too smart for her own good. I can't risk her talking. So, my only option is to..." he dragged a nail across his throat and clicked his tongue sadly. "Slit her throat," he finished. He turned to Ainsley, grinning condescendingly. "Now, do you have anything you'd like to say before you die?" She breathed deeply.

"First, this isn't your fault," she said with remarkable clarity. "I made the choice to come here, no matter what you think. Second, I don't mind. I'll be okay. I might even see my mom, like we talked about at Edinburgh Castle." She smiled at him, ignoring the tears running down her face. "I only hope you get out, and go find John, because otherwise you'll be all alone here, and that- that's... You just don't deserve that.

"Which brings me to number three." She fidgeted in her ropes and looked away. "I care about you, Sherlock. And I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I'm going to die and I need you to know. I care about you, like... Like more than a friend. No matter what anyone says, you're a good person. I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life. And, um, I guess you already know all this because of you're deducting things, but I wanted to say it. So, there. I said it. I care about you."

Sherlock remained frozen. His heart was beating frantically, and not necessarily from adrenaline. This was what he wanted, but it was all so wrong. Ainsley couldn't die. Not before he'd hugged her and kissed her and did all the things couple do with her. She was his, and he couldn't let that go.

"Well?" Sebastian prompted obnoxiously. "Don't you have anything to say? Go on, Sherlock. Tell her. Love is a weakness. A weakness you don't succumb to."

He spared a glance at their captor but didn't reply. Instead, he confidently walked across the room, knelt in front of Ainsley and pulled her to him.

No matter what other people thought, Sherlock Holmes had kissed girls. But this kiss was different on so many levels. It felt right, despite being frenzied and scared. Their mouths moved together in perfect time and, cliche as it was, everything around them faded away. He didn't mind that he had to keep his hand firmly on Ainsley's back to keep her from toppling over. He hardly even minded that their first kiss was in front of a serial killer. The moment was too perfect to ruin with reality.

"Suffice to say I feel the same way," he murmured when they finally pulled away. He was oddly happy to notice her face was flushed.

"Glad to hear it," she breathed back, biting her lip.

"Oh my," Sebastian interrupted gaily. "Sherlock Holmes actually fancies my prisoner! Oh, this will make killing her so much more fun. But that will have to wait for a bit. It would only be fair if I tortured you both equally, so I may as well start with the whore." He pushed past Ainsley and grabbed Elsa by her dress. "Say goodbye to Elsa Brenda Boyd."

"She has nothing to do with this!" Ainsley begged desperately. "She doesn't even know!" When Sebastian made no move to drop her sister, her pleas grew louder. "Put her down, you sick fuck! She's having a baby; please put her down!"

"Shh," Sherlock soothed, still on his knees. "Don't give him a reaction; it's what he wants."

"I-I can't just let him kill my sister!" she protested furiously, attempting to wiggle out of her bonds.

"Ainsley," he whispered, looking directly into her eyes. "Trust me." She whimpered lowly but stopped screaming.

"This just can't be happening again," she said softly, mostly talking to herself. Sherlock didn't reply.

"Let's see," Sebastian mused, grabbing their attention once again. "How should I kill this one?"

"Don't have a sniper to do that for you?" Sherlock sneered.

"Oh, no," he chuckled. "You're confusing me with dear old Jim. And while the two of us were more alike than I'd like to admit, there was always one big difference between us: I don't mind getting my hands a little dirty." He yanked Elsa's head off the ground for dramatic effect and pulled out a pocket knife. "I'm afraid this will be a little messy," he warned. "With such a short blade, it can take a while to get anything done.

"Close your eyes," Sherlock told Ainsley. "This isn't something you'll want to see."

Satisfied that the criminal was too focused on his prey to notice anything else, Sherlock carefully reached behind Ainsley's back and began fiddling with the rope that bound her hands. With a ferocious yank, the knot unwound. Smartly, she didn't shift positions. If they attracted any attention to themselves, it would end in disaster. Hastily, he began working to free her ankles. The knot was tighter around them, but Sebastian had made the mistake of using a stretchier type of rope. Expanding it as large as he could go, he slipped the loop of rope over her feet.

Carefully, he extracted his gun from his inner coat pocket. He would have preferred to keep Sebastian alive in order to coax more information out of him, but he wasn't about to shed any tears if that were impossible. Smoothly, he slipped the gun into Ainsley's hands.

"When I tell you to, I want you to aim that gun at Sebastian," he muttered. "If at all possible, keep him alive, but if he tries to escape, don't hesitate to shoot him." Ainsley nodded in agreement, tightening her hands on the gun. Sherlock swelled in pride that she didn't back down from the challenge. "One," he counted quietly. "Two... Three."

In no time, Ainsley was on her feet. She whipped the gun around and trained it on Sebastian's forehead. The criminal's eyes widened in surprise and he pried his hands off of Elsa.

"I must say I'm impressed," he admitted, recovering from his shock. "I didn't think you had it in you to be a killer. But now I see why Jim picked you... You could have excelled in our field..."

"I'd shut up if I were you," she hissed.

Once Sherlock decided the situation was under control, he slid his phone out of his pocket. No matter how much it would hurt his pride, there was only one person to call.

"Hello?" an infuriatingly irritating voice answered.

"Mycroft," Sherlock greeted. There was a long silence on the other end.

"I take it you're alive, then."

"Oh, don't be daft," he sneered. "I thought at least you would have figured it out by now; of course I'm alive! And I need you to send me your top agents immediately. I have a criminal you'll want to interrogate."

"Of course," Mycroft agreed graciously.

"And send some medics, too," Sherlock added, thinking of Elsa.

"Medics? You never get hurt. Unless death has made you lose your touch?"

"They're not for me," he informed his brother gruffly. "Now do it."

Thwack. Suddenly a huge fist thumped against his skull. The room swam across his vision. His phone dropped out of his limp hand and shattered on the concrete ground. The last thing he managed to see was a horribly injured Ainsley, clutching her bloodied nose and howling his name. Then, everything went black.

A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Don't hate me too much. After all, I wasn't even gonna make them kiss this chapter. The original plan was to have Ainsley get interrupted in the midst of her "last words" but I thought that would be too mean to all of you. Review please!