Pretty Please! I feel so rejected and unloved. I really need reviews. They make me feel real special!

Niphredil has a chapter currently being beta-ed, but my beta is kind of under stress, so I would think maybe another two weeks. I'll inquire to the matter tonight.

Ice-bling, bling, diamonds, you know. Come on, youth of America!

Manically an old wizened man cackled to himself.

" She'll never know what hit her!"

He signed the end of the letter he was writing with a flourished T.

Dearest Laurel,

You do not know me, but believe me when I say I am trustworthy. I have no intention of harming you, nor will any harm come your way should you chose to listen. I am inclosing 10,000 £. Tomorrow, I wish you to attend an auction, and bid on an item for me. The auction is to be held at 221b Baker Street. When you knock, (at precisely six 'o' clock) they will ask you for a password. You shall say, " Elementary, my dear Watson." You shall know what to bid on. I daresay it shall call attention to itself.

My dear, this may seem confusing, but it shall work out for the best. You may end up having the adventure of your life!

Best Wishes and Regards,

T

The old man started another letter.

Dearest Jeremy…

Laurel stepped back suddenly as a dancing couple whizzed by her. She was in an old fashioned ballroom, and it was full of glittering people. The only problem was that they looked like they were remnants of the late 19th century. Something told her that she had to step forward, so she did. A large painting of a regal man shut behind her, but she did not hear it. She heard only the voice in her head. She wandered into the middle of the room, guided only by a voice she could not see. There, banquet tables were set up and several important looking people sat up there. The man in the middle of all the commotion was talking to the lady on his left, but she saw him stiffen, and swivel his head slowly and look her strait in the eye. She felt as if he was focusing on her, and her only, and any remaining noise slowly drained out of her world. She wasn't sure how long she stayed in this hypnotic state, but when she awoke, all the dancers were against the wall, silent, and the strange man with the eyes was standing in front of her.

He was not an impressive man by any means. He was stout and short, obviously well over 40, but he had tiger-eyes that drew everyone in the room in. Ringed with black, his golden eyes landed on yours, and one instantly felt humbled. There was heated tension in the room as everyone in the room leaned forward in anticipation of his punishment of the intruder.

"Well, I don't think we've ever met, have we Ms. Laurel? I apologize. I should have been a better neighbor."

He grinned widely, and swept his arm out.

" One would think you would've heard our parties, n'est pas? "

Laurel slowly rotated on the spot, taking in the splendors of a Victorian ballroom. A chandelier glittered above a sea of black silk and grey crinoline. But the chandelier was not the only thing glittering. Although the clothes were drab, ice graced the necks of many a lady.

The orchestra had stopped playing for a moment and all eyes were fixed on the two figures near the table.

" My name is Jeremy Wilkins, and this is the Secret Society of the Speckled Band."

Thanks to those of you who reviewed!