So before we start the next chapter, I want to take time to thank Laura201112 and Mia for their kind reviews. It means so much to me that you all love what I do. Writing has been a great form of therapy during a particularly difficult time in my life. Anyway, third chapter is up, so here we go.

Chapter Three

I barely had time to process this surprising information, because a man wearing a fur hat landed flat on his face before us and began to slash at them. I looked to the door, wondering if I could make a quick exit around the back door, but maybe whoever was up there had someone waiting near the door. That was almost likely, anyone who was smart enough wouldn't simply come here to fight someone without backup.

Cursing under my breath, I managed to make it around a corner just in time to see the assassin run up along the wall and do a back flip back towards them. I was not at all skilled at hand to hand combat, but I hoped that my adrenaline would kick in and it would all come naturally. I quickly make it over to the man and kicked him in the back making him fall face forward in front of , who looks behind him and sees the man on the ground. But he didn't stay down for long; he got up and began to attack me with a knife.

Self defense wasn't exactly my forte, so I ducked as soon as the knife was just mere inches from my face, music played in the background and so I moved in time to it, which helped me block his attacks until Holmes grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him in the opposite direction just as Simza smashed a bottle at the assassin's face. We looked at her in shock as Holmes took the man's wrist and flipped him on the couch. The man shoved the blade on Holmes' cheek, making a cut, and shoved him away and chased after Simza. Holmes gestures for me to follow him and we ran down the hallway. Holmes grabbed and picked up the man and threw him against a wall which they crashed through, then he placed the tip of the pole in front of the man's chest and Simza kicked her foot out and hit the end of the pole sending the man falling out the window.

We both smiled victoriously, until Holmes started to fall back. He raised the pole to hold him up, I looked to the side and saw that there was a cable strapped to Holmes and I knew that the assassin was attached to the other end of the cable. I went and grab his hand holding Holmes in place but the weight that he was carrying was too much. "Didn't see that in the cards, did you?" He asked Simza and he fell back. We looked out the window and saw him land on what looked like a pile of pebbles. They grabbed Holmes, while he grabbed on the cable and pulled the assassin towards him.

I ran out of the room, down the corridor and the stairs, with Simza following close behind. We made it to the backstage area until something tripped her over. She pulled out her blade and began to slash at him but he ducked and kicked her in the chest, making her fall back. I stopped and ran back toward her, kicking the back of the knee and karate chopped between the shoulder blades but it seemed the guy was indestructible as he stumbled forward a bit then turns to face you. Simza raised her fists as he came at her with a whirlwind of blows but she were able to block most of them. But then he was able to punch her square in the face making her fall back. I rushed at the man, but then he a spun around and kicked me. I fell on my back as the man came at me, but then he was spun around and kicked towards the wall and he fell into the river. I breathed heavily as I was gently pulled to my feet. I looked up and saw Holmes looking down at me with concern. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

I nodded, dusting my hands on my dress. "I'm fine. Are you?"

He nodded and I took a glance at Simza who was trying to stop her nose from bleeding. I led her to a sofa to sit down. "That's it, just keep your head back and pinch the bridge." She closed her eyes, her hands were a little bit shaky, but I so were mine. I managed to sustain a few injuries myself, but they were minor and would heal in a day or two.

"Hey...you...you run. Where's you?" I heard a voice say. We turned our heads and saw Watson stumbling towards us. He held out his arms and said, "Just had a fight." And he fell against some spotlights. You and Holmes ran over to him as he repeated, "Just had a fight. Where were you?" He asked then he looked over at me and blinked several times. "Charlotte? What you doing here?" He asked.

Before I could answer another voice spoke. "I'm so glad to see your taking your best man duties so seriously, Sherlock."

I looked up and saw on the stairs, a rather large man with a skinny man standing next to him. The large man looked over at me and said. "Ah, Miss Berkeley. So good to see you again." Mycroft was a friend of Aunt Lucy's, I met him a few times and he seemed to be completely sound of mind in apparent comparison to his brother. Then again, he had a position in politics and that required you to have your head on your shoulders, especially nowadays when there was conflict in Europe and we were one step away from a fatal catastrophe.

I nodded in acknowledgement and then looked over at Simza. Her hair was messy, but at least she had stopped bleeding for now. I ran over to her. "Come on, let's get you out of here." I put my arm around her and quickly led her outside. Fortunately, It stopped raining, though the air was a lot colder than it was earlier. "What was that all about?" I asked, helping her with her coat and scarf, but not before I checked her over for severe injuries. Thankfully, other than her nose and a few bruises on her arms and legs, she seemed to be more emotionally shaken than physically injured.

I brought her over to a bench and she took a shaky breath, "I'm not sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with my brother, Rene." Her hands were shaking with anger and anxiety. "I'm just glad that you both had come and helped me or I would be dead right now." I offered her my hand and she took it, it was surprisingly soft. She turned her head up so she could look into my eyes.

The sounds of boisterous chatter and laughter faded into the background. Doctor Watson was being dragged out of the club by Mycroft and Holmes. "Charlotte!" Watson said, calling for me. "Come with us!" He was slurring his words and I could hear a slight hiccup in his voice. He was as red as a beet from laughing so much and his face was a little bruised up from the fight he had. He was on his knees and I was worried that he would lean too far forward and fall flat on his face.

I ran over to him and then got down on my knees in front of him, shaking my head. "Doctor Watson, I thought I told you not to fill up on drink the day before your wedding!" I said, "Now look at you. You're a mess."

I certainly hoped that Mary wouldn't be upset to find her soon-to-be-husband soothing a hangover on their wedding day, or even better, that the effects wouldn't last long.

Simza stood off to the side, shifting her weight between one foot and the other. "I suppose I should be on my way to the train station," she said with a small chuckle. "It was lovely meeting you, Charlotte." I opened my mouth to speak, but hesitated. I was worried about her walking alone, especially after what just happened, but she seemed like the kind of girl who could put up a good fight if she needed to.

"Wait! Madam? We can accompany you if you wish," Mycroft said kindly and nodded to Carruthers, who gave an answering nod before climbing into the driver's seat.

"That would be nice, thank you..." She waited for him to give her his name.

"Mycroft Holmes." He smiled, helping load John into the hansom and stepping out again. Then he offered his arm, helping Simza into the passenger seat. I sat beside her. John had passed out completely and was leaning against the window. The cool air blew through his short brown locks. I always thought that he looked quite peaceful when he slept, it took years off his weathered face. He looked like a normal, lovesick boy dreaming of his wife, Mary. She was the best thing that ever happened to him, it was with her that he could forget all of his troubles and doubts.

The ride was quiet other than the sound of the motor rattling and the wheels turning on the road. I looked out the window at the people passing by. The lamps were lit and it looked like snowflakes were falling from the sky, not the kind that looked like marshmallows, but the kind that looked like the ends of cotton swabs, the ones that melted as soon as they hit the ground.

"Is it true you can guess what someone does just by looking at them?" I asked cautiously. I hadn't ever seen him do it, I wanted to know. Then again, he could read Simza like a book.

"Yes. I can see the little details that tell me these things." He spoke lowly, treating it a like secret as he glanced over at me.

"What do you know about me, Mr. Holmes?" I leaned back in my seat, looking like a proper lady once more.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sherly?" Mycroft asked from beside him. "Remember the last time this happened you ended up with wine splashed in your face."

Holmes gave a sly smirk. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he gazed at me. "You have a pile of novels at home, most of them romantic, others stories that were given to you in childhood by your mother, a schoolteacher, and of which you still have a strong attachment to." It was true that I still kept the fairy tales that Mother gave me when I was a child, they held a highly sentimental value. "Your blue eyes were passed on from your father and your dark hair by your mother, a lovely combination, I'd say." He paused for breath. "Your twin sister is rather tall for her age, a bit on the wild side, though still well behaved. You were supposed to meet with your aunt today, but it slipped her mind, though she managed to attend dinner with her lover's parents. You have also been with a man, but he was abusive. When I took your hand, I noticed a bruise on your wrist and there is one just on the side of your head there. He was an alcoholic, left at odd hours of the night, came home drunk, but you took care of him and put up with him because that's the type of person you are." His intense gaze softened. "Selfless, caring, and you did the right thing leaving him. Finally, the callouses on your fingers of your left hand tells me that you play the violin, and quite well. I shall look forward to watching your performance in the Spring." He folded his arms across his chest, smiling proudly.

I didn't need to know how he knew all of this, he was Sherlock Holmes for Heaven's sake! "I must say I'm impressed," I said. Simza chuckled beside me. As soon as we neared the train station and drove down my street, Watson seemed to briefly come out of his sleeping state because he was laughing softly. About what? I wondered. He could have been dreaming.

Just then, the carriage stopped and everyone looked to each other. Our driver turned and cursed under his breath. "Looks like we are out of oil, sir," he said to Mycroft. "We will have to stop here until someone can fix it."

"Then it's a good thing we are here at the station, isn't it?" Mycroft shook his head and then stepped out, helping Simza out, too, then me.

I stretched, quite unladylike and exhaled and looked into the hansom "Take care of yourself, eh, Doctor?" He nodded absently and gave me a wide grin still laughing. I wanted to ask what was so funny, but maybe it was in my best interest that I didn't. So instead, I stepped out onto the sidewalk. Simza and I stood across from one another. "And you, stay safe."

She put her arms around me. "You, too." We stood there a few moments before Mycroft gently led her to the train.

A moment later, Holmes and I walked down the quiet street. I was glad I had worn my coat and gloves or else my hand would be too numb. Though I do wish I had worn my earmuffs or a hat because the tips of my ears were frozen and as we neared my house, I noticed how close together we were. Our hands occasionally brushed against each other, but neither of us cared enough to separate. Once in a while he would quietly glance over at me, and in most cases I normally didn't like it when people stared at me because it meant that the people around me were probably trying to figure me out, I didn't mind it this time, for some reason, I would glance back almost wanting to dare him to keep staring.

"I suppose this is where we say goodbye," I said, disappointed once I saw the familiar front porch and the candlelit window of my dining room. I could stay out here forever, the weather was so calm and peaceful, but I was sure that if I had been gone any longer, Father would be sending out a search party to look for me and Mother would quite possibly have been in a panic state.

"Shame that," he replied with a small smile and a shrug. "I would have loved to stay and talk with you more."

Why? I thought, I wasn't that interesting. I didn't go on wild goose chases or anything, I was just a girl in love with her books, nonetheless, I was flattered by the compliment.

"In that case, I hope we meet again, that way we can find the time." I said, blinking as a few tiny snowflakes landed on my nose and eyelashes.

"Until then." He lifted my hand and placed a kiss to it. The sudden action caused a sudden warmth to spread through me, reaching every part of me, down to my toes. He seemed to take pride in the fact that he could make me blush so fiercely and therefore repeated the gesture. I couldn't deny that something in my chest gave a little jump, though whether from nerves from the day's events, or the way this stranger was staring back at me in such an odd way, I could not give you a straight answer even if I tried.

The last thing I expected a moment later, when we arrived at my house, was Mother running down the front steps toward me in the most ridiculous shoes she could possibly choose for running. "There you are! I was worried sick." She put her arms around me. "I'm so sorry about what happened with Aunt Lucy. She sent me a message saying that Henry invited her to supper with his family and completely forgot about her plans with you." She dusted me off. "But it seems you have managed to make some friends of your own." She nodded over my shoulder at Holmes and I could tell that she knew who he was because I could swear her eyes widened. "Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely, Mr Holmes."

"It was a pleasure, your daughter makes an excellent companion." He gave her a polite nod in her direction, then turned to me. "Stay safe, Miss Berkeley." His lips turned up into a handsome smile as he returned back to Watson, who had sobered up a little and was leaning out the window, waving to me. I gave a little wave back before the carriage drove away.

As soon as the hansom left, Mother gently took my arm. "Are you sure you're alright? No one hurt you, did they?" I didn't think telling her that someone nearly killed me would be a good idea, she would have probably collapsed right on this pavement and we didn't need anyone else getting injured today.

"Mother, don't worry, I'm alright." I smiled to reassure her. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"Alright then, let's get you inside, but keep your voice down. Your grandfather is asleep." She opened the door and there he was, sound asleep on Father's armchair with the newspaper on his chest. His age was slowly catching up to him, and though Doctor Watson assured us that we had at least ten more years ahead of him, I worried that his health would quickly decline. I smiled sadly at him and then tiptoed quietly up the stairs and looked into a room whose door had been left open.

Jane was sitting in her room on her bed with a pile of paper. "How was dinner with Aunt Lucy?" She teased. I stuck out my tongue, smiling.

"I'm guessing you heard." I sat down on the armchair near the window and turned towards it, looking out. The snow continued to fall, but it still wasn't the kind of snow that was meant to stay, if anything, it would melt before the sun came up tomorrow.

She stared at me for a long while and then raised her eyebrows. She set her drawing down and then came up behind me, looking into my eyes. "Um, what exactly are you doing?" I asked, shifting my eyes to meet hers.

"You had company," she announced, setting her papers to the side and then laying down on her stomach. Her chin was propped up on her hands as her eyes glazed me with interest.

I shrugged. "Well, I met this gypsy girl named Simza who told me my fortune. Oh, and I saw Doctor Watson, he looked happy as ever. Perhaps he had one too many, though." I added with a little laugh. "I hope that won't be a problem for Mary."

"Hmm, that's not it." She smiled. "Was there anyone else at your little gathering? A man perhaps?"

My eyes crinkled in a way that someone's did when they were happy and I bit my lip to hide the smile that was slowly growing on my face.

"I knew it!" She cried. "Spill it, I want details. Was he charming? What did he look like? He can't possibly be as charming as William Brooke, though. He could have you married to him in seconds and your children would be positively beautiful. Anyway, sorry about that. Who was this mystery man who caught your eye?"

I hesitated, not sure whether telling her was something better left unsaid, though no doubt my mother would bring it up tomorrow at breakfast. I knew how much of a fanatic of Sherlock Holmes Jane was. In fact, she quite fancied him; she kept every newspaper article with him stored away in a white box under her bed. She constantly pestered Doctor Watson about him whenever him and Grandfather would see each other and I would have to reprimand her, though the former said more than once that he didn't mind. And more than once, Jane mentioned that she had dreams about him, dreams that I will not go into detail about or else I will have to change the rating of this story.

"Fine, I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that you won't get excited." It was better just to get it over with.

"No promises," she said and I raised my eyebrows as a silent warning. "Alright, alright. Just tell me already!"

I told her everything and she gasped, nearly throwing her sketchbook on the floor. I hoped that the page she was working on didn't crinkle, she and I had this thing about crinkles in paper. If they were crinkled, we wouldn't write on them, we would make origami out of them.

"Wait, do you mean to tell me that you met-" she said, saying each word slowly, as if she was making sure that she heard me right. I nodded and she grinned. "Well! Isn't that romantic. At least one good thing came out of today! Now I actually wish that I went with you. I suppose there's always next time. Oh, wait until Mother finds out!" Her words were coming out quickly. "She'll be thrilled that you finally met a man!"

"I think she already knows," I said. "She seemed to recognize him from the newspaper clippings under your bed." I smirked and she stuck out her tongue at me.

"You have to promise me that the next time you see him you will bring me along." She pointed her finger at me.

Who said there would be a next time? It was just a chance encounter, and more likely than not, it would never happen again. But just to satisfy her, I said, "Of course."

Just as I expected. she started asking a billion questions, most of which I didn't have answers to. After a while, she seemed to run out of things to say because she went back to her drawing. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I went into the bathroom and started cleaning myself up. I noticed that my makeup had smudged and that my hair was a mess from when the wind kept blowing at it. I huffed. "Really? You let me go out like this?" I said, wiping away the makeup with a wet cloth and tamed my wild hair until it was decent enough to put in a braid.

Sleeping was much easier than I expected. The gentle rocking of the carriage and the feeling of having just eaten a warm, hearty meal made me drowsy. I felt my eyes slowly closing and my breathing slow down.