Disclaimer: This is a story based on the Sherlock Holmes detective stories. This should in no way be assumed as being part of the original works. This is only for entertainment purposes. No infringement is intended and no money is being made from this. My interpretation of the characters might not the same as that of the creator, but this is fan fiction and I will try to keep them as IC (in character) as possible. Thanks.

She ran

She ran, ran away from the light. Dark, safe, good. She slept. A sound woke her: a rat munching on her bed. Slitted eyes watched it: she was hungry. Snatch, bite – yuck, but she was hungry, always hungry. Somewhere a memory, memory of good food, darkness and safety surfaced in her clouded mind – but it was gone so quickly. She would sit for hours, waiting for those pleasant memories, but they would hide away in her head. She knew something was wrong, but her mind was too damaged to find it.

It was dark again outside.

It was a clear and dry night. One of such beauty was very rare in London in any season, so rare that people would brave the dangers of the night to enjoy it. Two lone men were doing so, but they weren't really alone.

"Well, Holmes, another crime solved, but why did you wait so long to speak the innocence of that girl?"

"No woman is innocent, Watson. The stay in jail did her a favour. It will keep her in her place, by the side of her husband without ever questioning him again. And in any case, it helped that the true murderer thought that we were sure of her guilt."

"You are too harsh on women, Holmes. They aren't mindless; they are just different from men, with their own thoughts and ideas. They…"

"They are a worthless offshoot of the human species."

"Oh, Holmes, if only you would listen to reason…"

But Holmes wasn't listening anymore. He had again seen the shadow that had been following him for weeks. No matter what he did, he could never see the person that made that shadow; they were just too fast. Holmes knew that this mysterious person didn't mean him any harm, for he had seen the same shadow in his room, but as the sun rose, the shadow would run as if it's life depended on it. He vowed that he would find that shadow.

"Watson, that man is following us again. No, don't look around: he's too skittish, he might run away if he thought we saw him."

Watson wanted desperately to see this shadow, since only Holmes had ever seen it.

"What will we do now, Holmes?"

"We return home and hope that he would follow us."

Why?, wondered Watson.

They continued on their way home, with Watson trying to see behind him without turning his head. At last they were at the apartment. As they ascended the steps to their rooms, Watson asked: "Why did we want him to follow us? Are we going to catch him?"

"Not catch, not just yet. One cannot find a man without knowing at least something about him, and that's why I ordered the package that arrived this morning."

Watson saw at the window something covered in a cloth, something that looked like a gun on a stand.

"What is it, Holmes? Don't keep this to yourself."

Holmes answered the question by revealing a telescope under the cloth, yanking it away with a flourish.

"This is what we will use to see the shadow."

Watson was apprehensive, but curious too.