Right, so…sorry this is so late, and to all who've stuck with this through the year or so without updates, thank you! As for the disclaimer, technically Holmes is public domain, and as I own the plot and the characters…but don't sue me anyway. "And then there were none"/ "Ten Little Indians" is the property of the Agatha Christy estate.

Chapter 5

My brother was late. Richard was never late for anything and I was starting to worry. Holmes was watching me as I paced around my living room thinking about all the terrible things I was sure happened to him when the bell rang. I all but leapt to the door and wrenched it open. Richard stood there, new lines etched into his young face and pale under his dark hair. He took one step into my apartment and swept me up in a huge bear hug.

"Oh my God, Richard, what happened?" I asked hysterically, my words muffled in his shoulder. He let me go and we sat, Holmes joining us at my gesture, around the table in the living room. Holmes took the big chair and Richard sat next to me on the couch, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, Liz, but Sam's dead," he told me bluntly. I blinked as the bottom dropped out of my stomach. Sam Johnston was the lead in the play the College's drama society was putting on, "Ten Little Indians." He was…had been, I reminded myself sharply and tried to swallow through the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. My thoughts turned immediately to the production staff, thinking how hard it would be to replace him this close to the performance that was only a month and a half away. I thought that it would take that long at least to re-work his wardrobe to whoever they got to replace him. I thought about what a mess the next rehearsal would be…

"Elizabeth!" I came back to reality at the sound of my name being shouted in my ear. Both Richard and Holmes were looking down at me…wait…when did I fall? I looked around and saw the floor under my bum and the side of the couch to my right. Holmes reached down to help me back up and I let him pull me back up onto the couch. "Liz," Richard started again, "I need you not to go back to the theatre until we get this cleared up."

"What do you mean 'cleared up'? What does Sam's…accident have to do with the theatre, aside from the cast going ballistic and having to replace him last minute?"

"That's the thing. It wasn't so much an accident. The killer left a note."

"What do you mean, a note? Like one of those cliché 'Ha ha you can't catch me' notes?" I asked desperately, trying in vane to make some sort of joke out of this, if only to alleviate the roaring in my ears.

Richard shook his head slowly. "Nothing so easy, I'm afraid. Someone really has it in for your theatre department. The note said, basically, that unless the show was canceled, he'd kill off the players."

"Was the show ended, then?" Holmes asked, his steepled fingers against his mouth, eyes closed, and leaning back in his chair. If one of my best friends hadn't just died, I would have laughed at how totally in character he was.

"No. I went to the director, but he said, quote, 'The show must go on'." Richard looked disgusted, but I snorted; it was exactly what I would have expected from Matt, our director. Both men looked at me and I shut up, looking down. "I tried to reason with him," Richard continued. "But the idiot wouldn't listen to me. It's set to open in a month and he said he was opening auditions for a new lead tomorrow. After the memorial, of course," he added sarcastically. "So Lizzy, you are to stay away from this program until Mr. Holmes and I clear this up."

I blinked at my brother for a moment, making sure he was serious before I ripped his head off. "Richard, you aren't Dad. I'll do what I want, thank you. And I can hardly leave them to fend for themselves. There're two other women on that cast, and neither of them can do anything with a needle and thread. They will need someone to re-work all the costumes Sam was going to wear," my voice broke, but I went on. "I have to go back. The show must go on, Rickie." I told my brother quietly. He narrowed his eyes at me and then turned to Holmes with a 'Help me' look.

Not at all surprisingly, he picked up on it and came in on my brother's side. "I quite agree with your brother, Elizabeth. You ought not to put yourself in undue danger, especially if no one really knows who this killer really is." For one of the smartest people in literary history, this was a pretty weak argument. I looked at him, confusion probably written plainly on my face. His left eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, and so I kept my mouth shut.

"See? Stay away, Liza, please. I don't want you getting hurt." I looked back at my brother, pursing my lips for a moment before I told him,

"I'm sorry, Richard, but I have to. I won't leave them now."

He glared at me for a bit, then said, "This is ridiculous. Do what you want and if you get shot or killed don't come crying to me." he got up, telling Holmes tersely to get in touch with him if he thought he could help the force. The detective nodded, and I didn't get up to see him out.

As soon as the door shut, I turned to Holmes. "So what's your plan?"

Instead of answering, he got up and began pacing. "I begin to re-think this. You really ought not to get yourself mixed up in this,"

"Oooh no. don't you start on me too. You aren't my father either." I interrupted angrily.

"I am fully aware of that fact, thank you," he told me, catching my eyes and holding them so I could barely breathe until he blinked and I looked away. "But I see that I cannot keep you out, so I will stop protesting. Perhaps you would be happier to be of use?" I nodded, afraid to look into his eyes because I didn't trust myself anymore. "I am going to audition for this role. It will be easier to find the suspect if I am in close proximity to the scene. It will also prove easier to protect any innocent people who happen to be in the way. I can, I assume, have a revolver on stage?" he looked at me again, and I didn't have time to look away. My neck flushed and I swallowed hard, still unable to look away from his grey eyes. He seemed just as flustered as I was; he broke the staring contest first.

"Yeah, yeah you have to at one point," I choked out, eloquently. He nodded once and plopped down next to me on the sofa. I felt my heart rate accelerate due completely to his new proximity, and tried hard to play it cool while having nasty flashbacks to middle school awkwardness.

"Do you have a script I might look at Elizabeth?" he asked pointedly, making me think he had some of the same awkwardness running though his mind as well. I jumped over the back of the couch to go for the ratty copy of the English play out of my room, thinking how these awkward moments would be happening more and more frequently. And somehow, I couldn't bring myself to mind all that much.

Ok…so the long awaited (I wish) chapter five is done. What did you think…mayhap you want to tell me in a review…:) PS keep in mind that this is not being beta'd at the moment, as my beta is in college in Pen and has about a billion years of Latin homework that takes priority...sorry!