Since Sherlock Holmes and I had been partners for so many years, my intuition regarding the criminal underworld had been heightened as well. Before we headed out in our finest dress suits, I packed my Weblys no. 2 revolver in my coat pocket, praying that I would have no use for it.

Our dinner was a splendid one, and I took advantage of Holmes' generosity to fill my belly to near bursting. Pleased that my attitude had changed with good food, Holmes proceeded to discuss at length the most eclectic of topics until we reached Covent Gardens. The opera performance raised our spirits even more, and as when he descended the stairs outside near half past eleven, Holmes had a light spring in his step.

"Magnificent, Watson! Truly magnificent!" he effused. "The orchestra was in top form, and -Gungl's aria in the second act was miraculous! Such tones and tessitura! Doesn't it make your soul want to soar?"

"It was certainly an impressive production," I commented, pleased at Holmes unabashed enthusiasm. "The soprano in the second act, what was her role again? The Queen of the Moon?"

"Queen of the Night," Holmes corrected.

"Well, whatever," I chuckled. "It was an enjoyable performance."

Holmes took my arm good-naturedly. "Indeed, and I for one, will be glad to get out this frigid night air and into a warm bed."

I decided to keep my observations about the weather to myself. For me, the air seemed oddly tepid, and there was an unfamiliar smell about the air. It hardly smelt of horses or the passersby, but of an acidic, putrid odor that gave me a vague feeling of unease. It was like the smell of death, a deep all consuming poison. Realizing my imagination was being ill affected by my senses, I shook off the feeling with a casual cough.

"Does the mention of my bed make you uneasy, Watson?"

"What? Oh no, dear fellow, though heaven knows your bedroom is, no doubt as untidy as the rest of the house."

Holmes grinned. "Yes, poor Mrs. Hudson. This way, doctor."

We turned near Marylebone Road, the bluish black cobblestones a murky contrast to our shiny black boots. The sound of a third pair of shoes came up behind us with the rustle of a skirt, and quite suddenly, a young woman's voice called out to us.

"Ah! I found you! You are Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

We both turned to see the woman approach us excitedly. She wore a short brimmed straw hat with curly, shoulder-length auburn hair. Her dress was of lime green, matching her eyes. She looked expectantly at my companion.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes, madam," he replied. "What can I do for you?"

She paused, fingering the lace at her throat nervously. "Oh, my manners, forgive me! My name is Mimi Hanyu." She extended her hand, and Holmes accepted it with cold graciousness.

"Miss, er, Mimi Hanyu, again I ask, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, this would be such an honor, and I hope it's not too much trouble this late at night, but may I have your autograph, please, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes and I both looked at each other with chagrin. Holmes once turned down an offer of knighthood from Her Majesty, and autographs from female strangers were even less appealing, no doubt. Holmes closed his eyes and turned on his heel.

"Good night, madam."

We resumed our walk home briskly, but we had scarcely gone twelve paces when Miss Hanyu's high voice rang out.

"If an autograph won't suit, your heart will do in a pinch!"

Holmes froze. He turned around fast and stared keenly at the girl.

"What did you say?"

Oblivious to my friends' suspicions, Miss Hanyu stood on tip-toe, then began to skip-yes, skip-directly towards us, humming a childish tune. Holmes and I balked at the sight, aghast as she stopped.

"Your heart, Mr. Holmes," she sang. "Well, it's actually for my employer, he was most specific and asked for you."

Holmes narrowed his eyes and tightened the grip on his walking stick. I stepped forward, my own instincts roused.

"And your employer is..?" I inquired.

"Oh, you wouldn't know him," Miss Hanyu replied brusquely. "He's a scientist; very smart, but a little queer and obsessive in his ways. Like you!" She pointed at Holmes with this comparison, then pulled out something small and white from her purse. "Here's his card."

Holmes bristled at this, then read the card briefly. I felt his body tense slightly as he pocketed it in his waistcoat. Then he eyed the woman with a hard gaze.

"You may tell your employer I have nothing he wants," he declared. "And if you accost me or my companion again, I will not hesitate to call a constable."

Miss Hanyu gave a humorless smile. "Very nice," she said evenly. "A beautiful threat. I would expect nothing less from a handsome man who loves justice."

Holmes instinctively thrust the end of his cane towards the girls' chest in defense. Miss Hanyu raised her hands, unarmed. Her face continued to look amused, while Holmes expression bore the same intense confidence of someone destined to loom over an enemy.

"Again, madam," Holmes said with icy sarcasm, "I wish you good night."

Holmes and I walked away, I peering cautiously over my shoulder. The woman stood alone in the middle of the causeway where we left her, the same frozen smile on her face as she waved goodbye. After several minutes, we came across a busy thoroughfare, bustling with the late night populace.

I turned to Holmes, anxious for answers.

"What the devil was that all about?" I demanded. "Do you know that woman, Holmes? And what was she talking about with courting you, wanting your heart and affection?"

In response, Holmes pulled out the white card from his pocket, only saying, "Read that."

I did so, and nearly gagged on dry air with surprise. The name on the card was "Souichi Tomoe, Professor and Scientific Engineer, AstroPhysics a Speciality."

"Good God!" I muttered in amazement. "What kind of mad practical joke is this?"

"This is hardly a practical matter, Watson," Holmes remonstrated. "Think very carefully about what we have seen and heard today. If we continue to ignore all the oddities around us, what would an outsider observe call our actions?"

I stubbornly tried to think of something reasonable to give me an excuse to ignore them. The bizarre happenings in our sitting room, the queer encounter on the street, and now Holmes carried in his hands the only possible proof that the narrative we heard that morning was true. Being the biographer of the world's greatest detective was a heavy burden, one that required that even the smallest thread leading to the truth must be gathered up, and not ignored.

"Imprudent," I grumbled.

"Quite so," Holmes said. "And what steps would you take, my friend?"

"Well," I began slowly, "first impressions are always important. I've already told you mine regarding our young, colorful visitors this morning. What of this Hanyu woman? What did you make of her?"

Holmes grimaced. "Have you ever stood before the serpents in the zoo, Watson, and felt a slithering, creeping sensation around you?"

"Occasionally," I answered. Holmes continued gravely.

"Well, that was how Miss Mimi Hanyu impressed me. You saw her smile, Watson. It was predatory. The sight of it made my skin crawl." Holmes gave a visible shiver at the thought.

"Such odd, singular happenings," I observed darkly. "Can you make sense of them at all?"

Holmes pursed his lips in thought, the midnight hour chiming as the last of the crowds disappeared. The sudden quiet made me realize the unusual warm air had grown thicker, like mist, and the damp, rotten smell still hadn't left the area. I had a sudden, strong desire to get back home where it was clean and safe. Holmes clucked his tongue decisively.

"I'm inclined to think, Watson, that we can do no better than to take utmost care in this business as more facts arise. I am fairly certain of the probability that this man-or person- named Professor Tomoe does, in fact, exist. So we must get back to Baker Street so I can research my criminal records more thoroughly, followed by more inquiries in the scientific community in London. Call a cab, will you old fellow?"

I stepped briefly off the kerb, raising my hand. Holmes stared off into the hazy evening, muttering "Fairy tales, fairy tales," as if he was trying find some semblance of order in fantasy. Thrice a hansom driver glanced my way, but immediately hitched up his horses and drove away. The fog, with its eerie dampness and even stranger scent, continued to linger. Holmes continued to chant his words, and I continued to stand on the street. Finally, I hissed in exasperation.

"This is ridiculous!"

"Watson?" Holmes turned sharply to me.

"I've hailed three cabs in the last five minutes, and every time they've acknowledged me, they rush off!"

"They're trying to isolate us," Holmes said. He said this more to himself than I, and my brows curled in confusion.

"They? 'They' who?" I asked.

Instead of answering, Holmes swiftly walked across the street and down the direction of Baker Street. I followed as best I could, as the dampness made my leg cramp. After several blocks, I realized something even more unnerving. The mist surrounding us didn't seem to fade, and the deathly smell neither receded nor grew stronger as we walked. It hung over us like a shroud or a second skin, completely inescapable. Holmes glanced back over his shoulder.

"I take it you've observed the atmosphere?"

The casualness of my friend made me feel obligated to react in the same manner, so I forced my face into a crooked smile.

"Well, yes, it is rather warm for the time of year."

"Watson.." Holmes began with some severity.

"Alright, alright," I interrupted in haste. "I've noticed it. There's a very odd smell about us, ever since we left the opera house. It's not of dead flesh, but of something more morbid, yet unfamiliar. I can't place it, yet it makes me sick to my bones. It's unnatural, unhealthy…"

"Indeed. And how is your war wound holding up? Your leg alright?"

"To be honest, it's throbbing," I admitted. "It normally acts up with the weather, but never this severely."

Holmes reached back and seized my hand. He then walked with increased urgency, his face set like flint.

"So, what does this all mean, Holmes?"

"It means we must get out of he-Ooof!"

Holmes stumbled backwards as he turned a corner, walking headlong into someone. It was the same young woman we encountered earlier that evening. She had a fiercely annoyed look on her face, her lips pursed in acute irritation. I stared back at her in surprise.

"M-Miss Hanyu-" I stammered.

The girl put her hands on her hips. "You know what?" she snapped. "I don't care how handsome or famous either of you are, no one talks to me like that! And you've been hard to track, besides! I can't stand a moving target!"

Holmes glared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

Miss Hanyu took two large strides away from Holmes and twirled around on tiptoe. When she faced us again, she was holding a large silver valise. Holmes and I stared in utter confusion at this sleight of hand as the girl slammed the case down on the pavement. With a flick of her wrist, she opened it, then turned on us with a snarl.

"Come on out, daimon!"

"What in the name of the devil?!"

Holmes had leaped back, for hot, scalding steam suddenly shot up from between the cobblestones. I cried out and covered my face with my arms, stunned at the sudden heat. The visibility surrounding us decreased, and I felt Holmes strong grip about my wrist. Through the blistering gloom I could see his aquiline profile, focused and peering into the haze.

I tried to look about us, and only saw two oblong shapes floating in the air. They seemed to be set in a stone-like surface, and I thought I heard a low rumble emanating from it. The shapes suddenly became yellow eyes, and they glowered at us, at nearly eight feet above the ground. Holmes' jaw suddenly went slack, and he turned to me, wide eyed and tense.

"Run!"

We took to our heels. Holmes ran in several directions trying to confuse our pursuer. I heard that low rumble turn into an animal growl, then a roar, and as we both raced through the darkness, I looked over my shoulder. This creature, this hideous beast, was chasing after us with bared teeth and blazing yellow eyes. It was a big as a horse, with a canine, wolfish face. Sometimes it ran on four legs, sometimes on two, and I realized the paws of its front legs had exceptionally long toes. They were almost like human hands!

My face contorted with horror and I sprinted faster, crying out as Holmes grabbed my coatsleeve. He pulled me into a dank alleyway and clamped his hand over my mouth. His teeth were clenched at he held his breath, and we both cringed stiffly as an unearthly howl echoed in the streets. Then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, all was silent. We heard no animal pants, no heavy steps, and only the faint whisper of the night wind met our ears. Finally Holmes and I, exhausted from our efforts, slumped against the stone wall, breathless.

"I think we've lost it," I gasped. "What was that, Holmes? It was enormous!"

Holmes didn't answer, but shook his head. I tried to think.

"I thought I saw it running on two legs, and I could swear I saw a man's hands on the ground as it ran on four, " I said quickly. "Could it have been a man in costume? A man on stilts?"

Holmes shook his head, sweat gleaming on his forehead. "No, no Watson. I am familiar with theatrical costume, and that fur was assuredly real. Even makeup used in disguise has a distinct odor. No, no.." he paused to catch his breath, "…whatever that was, it was definitively of the animal kingdom."

What?" I cried. "Holmes, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I don't know." Holmes shut his eyes.

"My dear fellow, have you gone mad?"

"I don't know." There was a distinct tremor in Holmes' voice, and I seized his shoulders stubbornly.

"Holmes, I cannot accept that. I cannot! I mean, you-" I stammered, "you, of all men, cannot possibly believe that that-that thing was real!"

Holmes lifted his hand up for silence, and I held my breath. My friends eyes narrowed as he raised his chin, straining his ears. Finally, he glanced at me.

"Do you hear that?" he inquired softly.

"I can't hear anything."

"Yes. Most curious, wouldn't you say?"

I shook my head, trying to regain my reason. If all was silent on the streets, then the creature that was let loose upon us must be far away, and all was well. On the other hand, I dared not hope for such a quick resolution without more facts, so I merely shrugged.

"Watson," Holmes said patiently, "if an animal as huge and ferocious as that were roaming London, even for a short time, what do you expect would happen?"

I knitted my brow, then abruptly inhaled. "There would be pandemonium!"

"Exactly!" Holmes hissed in quiet triumph. "Panic in the streets! Yet there is nothing. No hullabaloo, no woman's screams, not even a constable's whistle…"

"Not even footfalls," I finished gravely. I stared at Holmes, and him back at me. After a few moments of hair-raising stillness, my friend drew a deep breath.

"Doctor, I am by no means a nervous man," said he. "But presently, there is a faint chill running through my veins."

"I'm in a cold sweat myself," I confessed with an uneasy chuckle. Holmes gave me one of his peculiar, quick smiles, and rested his head upon the alleyway wall.

"I also regret not suggesting that you come armed tonight, despite my queer behavior this morning. I should have been more insistent in my willingness for caution."

"Actually, old man…" I smiled proudly, revealing the butt end of my revolver sticking out of my overcoat pocket. "Your eagerness for the bizarre did not go unnoticed, even by me."

Holmes shook with silent laughter. "Good old Watson! Well, we can accomplish nothing by loitering here. Let us go; and keep your eyes on the alert."

We both left the alley and moved about the dark streets, our eyes darting about us. I saw very little in terms of activity. A few nightbirds sang, and the wind faintly blew at our cheeks. After a few moments, Holmes stopped.

"Watson, do you know where we are?" he asked.

Glancing around and seeing nothing familiar, I once again resigned myself to Holmes' superior knowledge. "No, I do not."

"Nor do I, and that is what's bothering me," Holmes muttered. "It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London, and yet I can't…"

Holmes trailed off, furrowing his brows as he studied the area. I followed his lead, trying to comprehend every detail and extract its meaning. The buildings on the street were nondescript, with no business signage. There were streetlamps every few metres, and trees lined the sidewalks. The leaves on the trees puzzled me, for the chilly time of year didn't warrant such greenery. I even glanced down at my feet, realizing there was no scuffling or dirt upon the pavement. It was as if no living man had ever tread upon those cobblestones. What was I to make of this?

My inspections were interrupted when Holmes cursed, wringing his hands. His memory, apparently, had failed him.

"Damn!"

"Easy, Holmes, easy," I said soothingly. "Your nerves are on edge, as are mine. It's perfectly natural to forget something once you've had a fright. Let us try to find something to lead us out of…whatever this is."

Holmes scowled at my advice, seeing it as a weak excuse. Nonetheless, he nodded in agreement.

"As usual Watson, you get to the heart of the problem," said he. "Very well. Take out your revolver, cock it, and be at the ready," he instructed.

I did so, and Holmes began to walk forward. He moved very slowly and gingerly, almost on tip-toe, as if the very stones beneath his feet were made of glass. I continued to dart my eyes in all directions, holding my weapon in readiness. After several minutes of these painstaking motions, Holmes began marching at normal pace. I lowered my gun slightly and also began to walk faster, fairly confident that the danger had gone.

The silence was abruptly broken by a piercing sound, and a large, clawed hand seized Sherlock Holmes by the collar. He cried out as the beast lunged, running towards the direction of the building opposite with Holmes in its clutches. There was a hideous crash of glass as the window shattered with the force, the monster slamming its victim against the brick wall. Holmes struggled to get loose, his feet dangling nearly two metres above the ground.

The monster's grey, furry back was to me, standing on two legs like a man, yet it growled and snarled like the most savage animal. Clenching my teeth despite my fear, I raised my pistol. My heart turned to flint, I aimed, and fired two shots. Blackish blood spurted out from the demon's back, and I heard it growl and whimper in pain. This was enough to loosen its grip, and Holmes wriggled free with a well-placed kick to the creature's stomach.

The beast fell to its knees, and Holmes raised his walking stick. He struck the creature hard across the face twice, and was about to deliver a third blow, when the animal suddenly appeared to be engulfed by the same burning steam that assaulted Holmes and I before. Holmes shielded his eyes, and when he looked again, the monster had all but vanished. I gaped in utter shock. Whence did it go? The steam had only covered a small area, so if the beast had run off, surely I would have noticed it from that distance. But I saw nothing flee as the steam shot up and back, as if a mere instant was all that was needed for our attacker to retreat.

Holmes glanced up at me, his palm outstretched. He shook his head for me remain, reassuring me that he wasn't seriously hurt. But I saw blood trickling down his neck, and he was breathing hard. Holmes wasn't daunted though, and he knelt down to examine the ground where the beast once stood. I wasn't too surprised that he was able to keep a scientific, curious state of mind after his experience. As for myself, I could barely contain my terror. What manner of creature was that? What kind of hell had Sherlock Holmes and I stumbled into?

"Upon my soul, Holmes," I gasped, "they were right!"

The detective continued to search the immediate area. He examined the broken window, the tears at his coat, and even bent down low to sniff the ground where he had struck the beast. Finally, he gave a furious snarl, not unlike an animal himself.

"There's nothing here, Watson!" he cried. "No traces of any kind! No blood splatters, no singed fur, not even paw-prints! It's as if the creature was never even he-"

Holmes stopped short and drew back, his face blanched and drawn with horror. His gaze was focused behind me, but before I could even turn around, I felt a sharp pain shoot up my arm. My revolver clattered to the ground, followed by a scarlet splash.

It was the daimon! It had ripped my hand open and the blood was pouring out all over the place. I fell backwards screaming in pain and clenched my wrist. The animal loomed over me, appearing with no sign of hot breath or life warmth to warn me of its attack. Its sharp teeth seem to curl over its mouth in a sort of smile, as if it was pleased to have avenged itself for my having shot it.

"Keep away!" I shouted. "No no, keep away from me!"

"No!" A shrill voice made all freeze.

The beast suddenly looked up at the cry, for it came from a woman's lips.

I followed the animal's gaze to see Miss Mimi Hanyu, standing there firmly. She didn't seem afraid at all, and shockingly, the daimon itself seemed to shirk at her commanding voice.

"Bad Lycanthy, bad boy!" she scolded, stamping her foot. "You've got it wrong! Forget that old coot! I want his heart! His!"

Miss Hanyu pointed directly at Holmes, and the monster turned away from me. It glowered at Holmes with a dripping jaws. It crept forward, remembering how my friend had hurt him before. But I sensed a horrid intent in both the monster and Miss Hanyu for vengeance, to rip Holmes to pieces!

I implored for Holmes to run, but seeing me bleeding on the ground made him cast all instinct for self-preservation to the winds. With a blood-curdling howl, the monster charged, and Holmes assumed a fighting stance with his weapon raised. Just as it pulled itself up to its full height, a powerful call echoed forth from above us. I couldn't tell where it came from at first, but it was decidedly feminine, familiar, and furious.

"Fire…. SOUL!"

A sudden blast of light and heat came pouring out from all sides. Horrified, I covered my eyes, fearing that Holmes was being burned to death by an archangel arsonist. But, happily, it was only the monster that lay whimpering on the ground, its fur black and smoking. Miss Hanyu had managed to avoid being burned, as did Holmes and myself. When the smoke cleared, I saw them. All three of our girls stood with arms akimbo, with resolute faces.

"Not so fast, you witch!" one of them demanded.

Miss Hanyu balked at the insult, but considering her demeanor, the term was fitting to my mind. Her face contorted with frustration.

"Oh, no, no!" she fretted. "Not you again!"

For response, the girl with the black hair stepped forward. Gone were the conservative petticoats and shawls, and her legs lay scandalously exposed from her short crimson skirt. Again she wore a red sailor collar and her red heeled shoes clacked with precision. Her eyes blazed at the creature as she declared her threat.

"Vile daimon!" she cried. "You hurt a man who vowed the Hippocratic oath to do no harm, and shed his own blood in the Second Afghan War! For daring to attack John Watson, a doctor and veteran to the Crown, I will not forgive you!

I am the Pretty Guardian who fights for love and for passion! I am Sailor Mars! In the name of Mars, I'll chastise you!"

The monster had struggled to its knees, growling with impatience and confusion as the second young woman pointed a derisive finger. It was the azure haired girl, her blue battle dress a cool sight for my eyes. She looked briefly at Holmes, then back at Miss Hanyu, her jaw set firmly.

"In this wicked world of greed and lawlessness, a consulting detective is its only salvation! To target Sherlock Holmes, who devotes his life to giving hope to the desperate and justice to the wicked, is unforgivable!"

Holmes' expression softened slightly at this damning address as the guardian continued.

"I am the Pretty Guardian who fights for love and intelligence! I am Sailor Mercury!

Dowse yourself in water, and repent for your crimes!"

By now the monster was on its feet, and Mimi's face was red with temper. Finally, the youngest and most lively of the three stood at bay. Her blond hair was still done in twintails, and the seriousness of her voice was almost funny with her childish manner. A sailor collar and short skirt of naval blue contrasted with her red boots, and large bows covered her chest and the small of her back. She did indeed resemble a child's doll like her friends. All I could do was stare in bafflement. These declarations were absurd, yet it appeared to give them a tremendous surge of confidence and control.

But surely they weren't meant to fight back against this monster! Even self-assurance of that sort was reckless to the extreme. But the girl with the moon earrings didn't care. Her blue eyes were shining with a leaders gleam as she stood between Holmes, the monster and myself.

"To target people for their pure hearts in one reality is bad enough!" said she. "But to hurt people in a fictional London makes even Shakespeare furious!

I am the Pretty Guardian who fights for love and for justice! I am Sailor Moon!

For England, home and beauty, and in the name of the Moon, I'll punish you!"

At that, I barely stifled a chuckle. Here Holmes and I were fighting for our very lives, and these girls, these 'Sailor Guardians', were indulging in speeches so saccharin it would make Sir Henry Irving faint? Perish the thought!

Miss Hanyu scowled. "This isn't fair! How did you find me?" she demanded.

Sailor Mercury turned to her. "We followed you."

"You're lying!" Miss Hanyu continued her childish rants. "The Professor would have made sure of that! Besides, I didn't see anyone!"

Mercury's companions smiled as she waved a scolding finger at the witch woman. "That is what you can expect to see when we follow you."

I heard Holmes give a short, barking laugh. Apparently Sailor Mercury was a student of his methods, and despite the horror of the moment, Holmes allowed himself a twinge of pride at this. Miss Hanyu, however, was nothing less than enraged. She turned wide-eyed at the monster, which had been panting and awaiting orders.

"KILL THEM!"

I struggled to rise, but I felt Sailor Mercury's hands upon my shoulders, holding me back. Sailor Mars proceeded to perform backwards somersaults to avoid the creature as it lashed out. As she landed on her feet, she struck a rather odd pose, before attacking with high kicks.

"Kii-aii!" She gave an odd cry with each hit, which surprised both the monster and myself. The beast unsheathed its claws again, but Mars stood nimbly on tip toe, ducking and spinning out its path. It was a very queer fighting style, like a mixture of bartitsu and ballet. Presently, she fell to her knees, just as Sailor Moon jumped atop her shoulders.

The blond guardian leaped upwards until she was face to face with the creature, her body revolving like a toy top with her arms outstretched. Her fists crashed again and again into the monsters mouth, delivering blow after blow. And she did this while being suspended in mid-air for nearly thirty seconds! I shook myself out of my torpor and turned to Sailor Mercury.

"Pay me no mind!" I said urgently. "Protect Mr. Holmes! He's the one who that beast is after!"

"One moment, Doctor." Sailor Mercury abruptly dashed forward as her companion landed on her feet, barely dodging the monster as it tried to maul her. Mercury thrust her hands outward in a protective manner, and an icy mist formed before my eyes. Mercury raised her arms above her head and began to pirouette, her feet lifting from the ground. The mists were literally raising her up, and with a shout, Mercury thrust her right hand outwards.

"SHINE AQUA ILLUSION!"

The freezing mist shot out directly at the daimon, and as it shielded itself, frost and ice began to quickly form about it. Its clawed hand and feet were bound in glassy ice, binding it to the spot, and I felt a small glimmer of hope when I realized the creature was trapped. Sailor Mars ran to my side as Mercury called out.

"Now, Sailor Moon! Do it!"

Sailor Moon clasped her hands to her bosom, and there suddenly appeared in her hands a scepter. Its handle was shimmery brass with a blood red garnet jewel topping it. Such a bonny thing, I thought, glinting and sparkling in the night air. Sailor Moon held it aloft like a weapon as the daimon snarled in her direction. She spun on her heel, and as she traced her line of action with her staff, a bright line of rosy pink light appeared at her feet.

"MOON SPIRAL….HEART…ATTACK!"

The pink light suddenly engulfed the entire area and flew headlong into the creature's path. It howled in its helplessness, but as it sat on its haunches, it appeared to once again disappear as the light died down. Sailor Mars glared in alarm, seizing my shoulders.

"What the hell?" she swore in aggravated surprise. Sailor Moon too, went wide eyed in confusion as we all realized the creature had avoided this cleansing light and had hidden itself.

"Not again," I muttered anxiously.

"Careful!"

That sharp command came from Holmes. We all whirled around to see him and Sailor Mercury standing back to back in defensive postures. Holmes had one arm outstretched in front of the girl protectively. This action didn't really surprise me. Sherlock Holmes disliked and distrusted the fair sex, but he could be a chivalrous opponent if needed.

"Sailor Mercury, stay close to me," he said.

Mercury grunted an assent, and the two of them began scanning the area, searching for a sign of the monster's return. I tried to do the same, but found myself merely lost in a disarray. For several moments, there was no sound except the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I turned back to Holmes, his jaw set tight, clenching his stick. I marveled at how strongly Sailor Mercury's expression mirrored my friend's, her blue eyes shining with intent and intelligence. Yet I was so confused. Somehow I knew the danger had not past, yet why wasn't there movement or sound? It was if we were all stuck in a dead, airless catacomb with no escape.

I heard Holmes exhale in impatience, wanting certainty in either case, and Sailor Mercury shut her eyes. I stared in disbelief. Could it be the Sailor Guardians had second sight, able to feel an aura of danger without the aid of physical senses? Suddenly, Sailor Mercury's eyes shot open and she grabbed Holmes from behind.

"MERCURY!"

That scream came from Sailor Moon, and we all reeled in horror. The monster had appeared within a split second of Mercury's movements, and as she tackled Holmes to the ground, she cried out as the daimon's hand savagely tore at her.

The sight of it turned me cold and sick. Sailor Mercury lay sprawled on top of Holmes with hideous gashes on her back and arms. Her blood gushed freely onto the ground as she had taken the blow meant for the detective. I could do nothing but tremble as the Guardians beside me sobbed and cursed. The monster towered over its victims and Mercury groaned in pain, still clenching Holmes as he lifted his head. He winced on the pavement, and as he realized the blood on his hands wasn't his own, Holmes turned upon the beast in rage.

"Damn you!"

Hurling curses at the creature, Holmes attempted to lift the injured girl. But the daimon opened its mouth wide, and a foul smelling stench came forth. It was deep black like charcoal smoke, and it set Holmes coughing as he fell to his knees. The smoke continued to swiftly surround us. It burned my eyes and throat, and I heard Sailor Moon and Mars cry out.

"What's happening? I can't see!" I felt Sailor Mars grip my shoulders.

"I can't-breathe!" Sailor Moon choked and coughed painfully.

Barely able to breath myself, I called out to Holmes, as I was entirely blinded. I groped about, wrenching myself free from Sailor Mars grasp.

"Holmes!" I cried. "Where are you?"

I heard nothing but pained coughing and the angry snarl of the beast. I knew it had us in its power, and within the hellish black cloud, I heard Holmes cry out in a near panicked voice.

"Stop! Stop!"

Suddenly I felt a powerful force push me down. It was water, soaking my head and shoulders, but powerful enough to completely dissolve the black mist away. When my vision cleared and I could breath comfortably, I stared around us. Sailor Moon and Mars were dripping wet, and I saw in the distance the great grey beast lying on the ground. Its fur was soaked and it wasn't breathing. I saw Holmes with Sailor Mercury in his arms, gaping in utter shock at the sight. I sighed with relief but suddenly winced, as my wet, bloodied hand throbbed with a sharp, yet familiar sting.

"Salt water?!" I exclaimed. I was baffled as to how it came to drown the animal, yet save all of us. I saw Holmes' hand shoot upwards, and I followed his aquiline features to the tallest building behind us.

"Up there!" Holmes shouted. "Behold our young knight errant, Watson! The rooftop! You see her?"

We all turned to see, in startling prominence, a figure on the roof. I saw the same white leotard and short skirts, large breast bow and white gloves. The only difference was the color scheme, but the similarities made it clear. It was a fourth Sailor Guardian! Nimble as a cat, she leapt from those heights to land on the street before us. Her collar and skirts were of dark green, her chest decoration a deep blue. Her shoes were laced up like a ballerina, and she walked with silent pride towards her comrades.

"How did-?" Sailor Mars stopped short, shaking her head in disbelief.

I struggled to my feet as our rescuer looked me over, then gazed impatiently at her friends.

"It was simple enough to see through the witch's barrier and into her battle space," said she. "Your skills and intuition should be sharper by now. You disappoint me, Sailor Mars."

I felt Sailor Mars body tense and she hung her head. I started to speak, but something in the new girls eyes prompted me to hold my tongue. She looked at Miss Hanyu and the fallen monster with a hard gaze, and despite her youth, her face and demeanor spoke of a confidence that comes only from years of lonely hardship.

"Well, Mimete, do you surrender?" she asked calmly.

Miss Hanyu, whose real name was Mimete, only scowled. With a mere clap of her hands, she seemed to turn away into nothingness, as if the darkness of the night swallowed her up. The monster's body sank into the ground like it was sod, and the new Sailor Guardian turned to me.

"The daimon and the witch have retreated, Doctor Watson," she stated. "Have no fear, they will not attack again tonight."

"How do you know this?" I gasped.

A simple shrug of confidence indifference was her answer. I nearly forgot myself as she marched onward, with her wavy emerald hair and a countenance of stone. Presently, I heard Sailor Moon sniffle and run clumsily forward. We all followed, Sailor Mars at my side as we gazed sadly at the carnage.

Sherlock Holmes knelt on the pavement, holding Sailor Mercury tightly. Her breathing was labored and she grimaced in pain with heartbreaking simpers. Holmes looked frustrated and heavyhearted, and seemed to not even notice Mercury's companions kneeling before him. They clasped Mercury's hand in concern, and Sailor Moon's face crumbled. Holmes started, and when he finally acknowledged my presence, the cold mask returned to his face.

"Watson," he said solemnly, "take care of her."