I sat up and shivered in bed.
"Damn, I hate nightmares," I said to no one in particular. One of the the many upgrades of living alone was being able to talk to wall or other objects and not worry about it.
Ever since my father had died, which had been a brutall murder, I had had a reocurring dream. It always was the same. I found myself in a long corridor, rushing through it at break-neck speed. Im my hand was a empty bottle, and on the wall was a hyroglyphic-looking aligator. I walked through a doorway and a coffin held my father. As I turned to leave, a man stepped in the door. He said something about wishing it didn't come to this. A deer stood infront of me, as did a blurry but familiar person, and I saw the cloaked figure raised the gun, I screamed and stepped infront of the figure and deer, the shot went off . . .
And that's were it always ended. Oh well, I thought to myself, nothing important.
The sun was already up and I could hear the sound of scuttling about and Mrs. Hudson yelling.
Quickly dressing and heading downstairs, I saw Holmes puffing madly at the pipe. Slowly his hand started reaching for the needle.
"Holmes!" I shreiked.
"What?"
"That. How could you practise something so . . so . .disgusting! You could die from that!"
"I haven't yet."
"'Yet'. Why do you think that death rates have decreased in the future?"
"Medical advancements?"
"Yes. One being the discovery that drugs injected into the bloodstream like that could kill you!"
He slumped back in the chair. Sighing, he eyed me like a teacher. "I suppose you want me to stop it then, Watson?"
I glanced casually around. "Ummm, yes. I don't want to feel guilty for killing literature's greatest detective. So what did you learn?"
"Not much, wouldn't let me talk to her. I did learn that she lives in two houses. I had gone to Stuntson's to gather more information and succeded. Perrins lives where he said, and also at another location. By posing as a cabdriver, I found she has two names and seems to be very rushed."
"Holmes, I have no fun! You go out and do all these things and I'm left in the dust!" I pouted playfully, not expecting anything to come of it.
"Well, well," he looked flustered. "Alright, you can come along and pretend to be a friend of her husbands or something. Can you act?"
I beamed. "If I didn't like science as much as I did, I'd be a starlett."
"I take that as a 'yes', then."

An hour later, I was standing outside the residence of the Perrins. Fortunetly for me, Mrs. Perrins was home.
Showed upstairs after giving my calling card, which was a forged copy of a friend of hers, I reviewed my part in my head. Putting on my best British accent, I greeted her warmly.
"Eliza! I can't believe it's you!"
She embraced me and held me back. "I could hardly recognize you."
I gushed, hoping it sounded good enough. "You either!"
We sat and started talking, and after what seemed to be re-aquianting each other, I went straight for what I needed.
"Well, where's your husband?"
"James? Oh, he and I . ." she paused. "We're not agreeing too well." She bit her lip. "Eliza, I'm-well, I was- having an affair with someone. You know I wouldn't tell anyone but you."
"What happened?"
"I loved him more than James, and I still do. James found out, I have no idea where he is now!"
"Whatever shall you do?"
"I don't know. Oh, Eliza, I'm so thankful that you came to London. You and I
went through so many trying times."
"Yes," Well, who I was pretending to be must have, or it was the dramatization of a young, bored woman who had nothing better to do than fictionalize a lost pen or failing a class.
"Now, if James were to know that I told you . . . ." she trailed off. "Please, go to
South Street, I have another house there. Please, come by, I don't know what I am going to do about this whole predicament!"
"Alright, dear, I will."
We started to walk towards the door. "Oh," she said before closing the door.
"Ask for Jennifer Moriarty, that's what they call me there."
I gulped and stared at the closed door.
*This is not good . . . ."

"Moriarty!" I slamned Holmes' door shut. "Why didn't you tell me that her husband was Moriarty?"
He looked up from his violin and shrugged, then continued playing.
I huffed and threw off my jacket, knealing down I looked at Holmes, straight in the eye.
"Do you even know who he is yet?"
"A very intelligent man of science like myself." The violin started to play agian.
I was audacious and agrivated, which was a very unfortunete thing for my friend.
I grabbed the violin and the bow and threw into the corner.
"Sherlock Holmes, that man is bad, very, very bad. He has a million connections with London's underground community". I really hoped that the words sunk in.I started to tremble. "Holmes, this man could kill you if you get on his wrong side. If his wife was having an affiar with Glassborough, then we know who killed him."
Finally he looked at me. "Do you even have any evidence? Of either one of those?"
"Perrins herself admitted it to 'Eliza', and Moriarty is. . . well, evil."
"Fine," he stood up and walked over to the fire. "If what your saying is true,
then-"
"Holmes, you know that the police aren't going to just go on a theory."
"Then let's say it's a fact. I think I can trust you on this one." He looked down at
the fireplace. I stared at him. Thank God that Watson wasn't here, he would've turned
this into a romance of all times.
"You-you are?" I felt my throat going dry. The king of deduction was trusting me
on what he did best. Talk about a compliment.
"Yes. So, Moriarty found out about this affair and . . ."
"And he had him scratched out. But what I'm worried about it is Jennifer, if he
was sesparate enough to kill her lover, then he could most certainly-"
"Kill her." Holmes finished my sentence. As he did, Lestrade entered the room.
"Mr. 'Olmes, Ms. Watson," he took his hat off and looked at us seriously. "We've had a murder on South Street."
"Mrs. Moriarty!" I said in unison with Holmes. We all dashed out before the
inspector was able to ask a question.