Thank you so, so much for all the great reviews!!
Disclaimers as in chapter 1 still apply.
Story and plot copyright to me.
Chapter 2:
Sometimes the clouds would go away, and she could almost remember … things, but almost always there was nothing but mist and pain. Once, when she was watching the rain, an image of a beautiful garden came to her. She had no clue where it was, but it was pretty and it made her feel safe. From then on, whenever it rained, she sat outside; hoping it would come again. She cried a lot when it rained.
She found other places that invoked memories, good and bad. Mostly she has taken to following a man. Only good memories would come when she was near him. It was like she knew someone like him, from before the clouds and the pain came.
She was following the man again that night. He had a companion with him. They walked around for a while and then went back to the place where they slept. As they went inside, she climbed to the roof of the building opposite and started to watch their window. When the light went out, she would get closer and watch until the big light came.
"What are you going to do with that, Holmes?" Watson pointed to the telescope.
"Not much, it's just a distraction. I've noticed that the shadow likes to look at new things in h.."
"Wait! The shadow's been inside? Here, with us, while we sleep? And you didn't think it was important to mention!" Watson was shocked and then outraged. He lived there too, and if this person was dangerous…
"I don't think he's dangerous, Watson", (not for the first time, Watson had the thought that Holmes must be a mind reader of some sort), "the shadow's been here a few times. All he does is watch and then run like the devil itself is after him when the sun comes up. Which is rather odd in itself."
"In any case, Watson, if you still wish to help capture this shadow, here is the plan…"
She watched as one of the men revealed a long cylinder on a stand underneath a piece of cloth. This was new, she's never seen anything like that before. Not that she would really remember, she thought. Her mind has been clear enough these last few nights to know that something is wrong with her, but not clear enough to really worry about it.
She wanted to go and look at the new thing in the window, but the men were still talking. At last they went to their rooms and the lights went out. The lights must be out for a while before they go to sleep, but she was too curious to wait that long. She jumped across to 221B and scrambled for a handhold for a second. Her shoulder had been hurting since a man pointed a noisy stick at her a few nights before. He had been hurting a little one and she had tried to stop him. At least the little one had had enough time to get away.
The window where one of the men slept was always open a little, no matter how cold it was. She nudged it open and squeezed inside, her long hair tangling in the catch. The figure in the bed looked peacefully asleep, and after watching it for a while, she sneaked into the sitting room. There by the window was the strange thing. Touching it, she found it was cold, made of metal. It looked hollow, so she looked through the one end - and jumped away with a small scream. The building opposite got really big! After looking around to make sure she was still in the right room, she looked again. She could see inside the other building, count the bricks in the wall, even see the chess set on the table. It was wonderful! Things far away got bigger. She was so enthralled with this new gadget that the slight noise behind her went unnoticed.
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She tried to scream through the hand over her mouth when something pierced her arm.
Holmes and Watson had a hell of a time to keep their hands on the person, even after the injection. At last the struggles became less and unconsciousness took over.
Holmes laid down the limp form on the couch as Watson turned on the lights. They looked down on the pale face of a young girl, framed with long white hair. She was clothed in strange sort of form fitting suit, torn and dirty, its original colour impossible to guess. That was all normal enough, except that she had only four fingers on each hand.
Watson was the first to react. He pulled back one of her eyelids only to jump back with a gasp. Her eyes were purple. Not normal at all.
"Watson, Watson!" Holmes shook his best friend.
Watson was dazed, but looked where his friend was pointing. The girl's right shoulder was slowly seeping blood, the wound ragged and unhealthy looking. "She's been shot," Holmes whispered.
Watson nodded and went to get the instruments of his trade.