A/N: This was a suprisingly hard chapter to write. It didn't help I had to finish mid-terms either. But now that I'm in Spring break, I can relax and was able to finish it. I also went back and did some editing in chapter one. Enjoy!

"This is a case for Langdale Pike…" Sherlene told Watson.

They had just returned to the city and were now in a cab, heading towards a gentleman's club in St. James's where an old acquaintance of Sherlene's was often found. Though normally women weren't allowed inside a gentleman's club, but Sherlene somehow (Watson never bothered to figure it out) always managed to gain access into one. The only gentleman's club she was allowed in without question was the Diogenes Club. Being the younger sister of one of the co-founders allowed her this privilege.

The acquaintance she was planning to meet was one Langdale Pike, an English gentleman with French origin from his mother's side of the family. Sherlene had first met Pike years ago when he was attending the same university her brother, Mycroft. Pike was one of the many men that she had become acquainted with during her many visits, but one of the very few men that did not ask for her hand in marriage, much her late father's disappointment.

"That reptile?" Watson asked her in an aversion tone of voice.

"Nonsense! Don't talk rubbish. He's a gossip," Sherlene told him.

She was well aware of Watson's dislike towards Pike, yet could not exactly figure out why due to the lack of facts presented to her. It may be because Pike's personal profession as a gossiper, or the fact she discreetly helped Pike gather information and was helped on return. Or perhaps, the more likely factor, it was because the doctor did not like (or trust) the way Pike looked at women. Despite her assurance that Pike would never do anything expect look, Watson had still stood very close to her when he was first in the gossiper's presence. Of course, Watson was ignorant to the fact that Sherlene knew Pike long before he became a gossiper.

"He might identify this rich woman," she explained, "Besides, he was brilliant at university. And yet, I've always felt that under that veneer…that he was totally isolated…like me*…"

Any argument he had on his tongue died when Watson realized he couldn't argue against the correspondence between the woman detective and the gossiper, to which Sherlene had just revealed to him.

"You see that? That young girl, there under the tree, with the occasional hat? What do you think of her?"

Sherlene paused in the gossip article she was reading with disinterest and glanced from her standing position behind Pike's chair to the window he was sitting towards. Through the window, one could see the lovely St. James's Park, the oldest of London's Royal Parks. The woman detective barely looked at the young lady Pike was watching with fascination before turning back to her paper.

"She's looking for a dog," was the apathy answer she gave

"What?" For a moment, Pike was confused on Sherlene's answer before he realized the woman detective was not thinking along the same lines as he was concerning the girl. "Oh surly—"

Sherlene interrupted by adding, "It's a Saluki** with a turquoise collar perhaps. She's a stranger in the park. So is the dog. There it is now."

Through the window, Pike watched a young and dashing gentleman ran up to the young lady he was watching. In his hands were his cane and the end of a dog leash. Attached the end of the leash was a cream and fawn colored Saluki wearing a turquoise ribbon around it's neck, just as Sherlene said. The young lady thanked the gentleman then proceeded to scorn the dog for running away from her. But very quickly afterwards the young lady dropped to her knees and petted the dog with relief. The gentleman realizing that a thank you was all he was going to get from the lady left her and the dog alone.

"How did you know that?" Pike did not even look back at Sherlene when he asked, his eyes still fixed on the lady with the dog.

Likewise, Sherlene did not look up from her paper as she answered. "Her boots are country boots, but not so robust to suggest a rough terrain. Wilshire, perhaps."

"Yes, yes, yes but…don't you find her…attractive?"

Pike finally glanced up and over his shoulder at Sherlene, who stayed indifferent, still reading her uninteresting newspaper, not reacting or even acknowledging the joke. It would not be the first time Pike did this joke on her. It sprung up from the days back in university. Pike had often been found watching her reject every eligible man presented to her by her father on the campus with great amusement.

Seeing her thoroughly ignoring the joke, Pike laughed in accepted defeat and turned back to the window. "All right. But why a Saluki?"

"Owners are meant to look like their dogs they say," answered Sherlene, "Wouldn't you say Saluki?"

Pike finally stopped admiring the lady's beauty long enough to see what Sherlene had. The young lady's long curly hair was almost the exact same color as the dog's fawn color, only a few shades darker and more blondish. The white of the lady's clothing matched perfectly with the cream color of the dog's fur as well. And wrapped around the base of the lady's hat was another turquoise ribbon. Finally, both the lady and the dog had graceful and symmetrical features and figures.

"Remarkable…" Pike said still amazed by Sherlene's remarkable deductive power, yet used to it enough where surprise had diminished. "She is, quite in fact, Lady Geraldine Windridge the clos Marlborough Wilshire." ***

Sherlene, finally having looked up from the newspaper with interest in her eyes, hit the paper with her fingers in silent victory. She then moved from her position behind Pike's chair and settled down on the windowsill instead of in the chair across from his. It was because that chair was also turned to face the window and Sherlene wanted Pike's full attention without being distracted by the going ons outside.

"And now my dear Holmes," Pike said, "What is it you really want from me?"

"The late Douglas Maberley."

"Oh boy. What a waste."

Sherlene nodded slightly in agreement. "He was involved with a lady. A well placed, rich lady. Known to you?"

Pike gave her a smile she had classified as the smile he gave when he knew something especially dark that he was willing to share. Sherlene could count on one hand on how many people received that smile from Pike.

Pike took out his pad of paper and pen and wrote down the secret on the paper for a full minute. He then tore the paper from the pad, folded it and held it out for her. Sherlene reached to take it from him, but Pike jerked it out of her reach. "Have you something to trade?" he asked, "Tittle for tattle?"

Sherlene looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Pike, as a gossiper, lived on rumor and talk of personal, sensational, or intimate natures. Sherlene often had seen herself the absolute truth that made rumors real. However, her profession required her to keep silent on certain truths to avoid unraveling dangerous consequences. Her silence was not only to protect the innocent but because some secrets were best left forgotten. But more then that, it was against her nature to reveal secrets deemed too dangerous or unnecessary to reveal. Despite what some may believe, she was not someone who enjoyed causing scandals.

"Langdale…" Sherlene said slowly though the strong hint of warning was present in the undertone, "I'm in a hurry."

Recognizing the look those grey omniscient eyes sent toward him, Pike's mischievous smile fell away and he let her snatch the paper from his hand as she stood up from the windowsill. She quickly read the paper then gave it back to Pike, thanked him, then left the room.

She would have taken the paper with her, but it was their agreement that anything Pike revealed to Sherlene would run the risk of being revealed to all until the conclusion of her case. If she succeeded, the secret would be destroyed. If she failed, the secret would be revealed and she would be the one to deal with the repercussions.

It was a challenge and Sherlene Holmes could never resist one she was sure she could win.

When Sherlene and Watson got back to Baker Street, Watson imminently began packing for his overnight stay with Mrs. Maberley. When he was finished packing things from his room, he entered the sitting room to gather is revolver. He was in the middle of loading it, when Sherlene shouted from her room.

"Her name is Isadora Klein!"

Watson paused for a second before grasping that Sherlene had finally revealed to him the name of Douglas's mysterious woman. "Oh yes! The widow the German sugar king."

It was not clear yet to Watson on how poor Douglas knew this well-known rich widow and celebrated beauty. No woman could match Isadora Klein, a pure Spanish woman. Upon her marriage to the aged German, Klein, she had become the richest and loveliest widow lady to walk upon the earth. But what could this woman want now that Douglas was dead?

"Quite a celebrated beauty," Watson remarked

"The celebrated beauty!" Sherlene corrected from her bedroom and standing in front her dressing mirror for a self-inspection.

Held onto her front was one of the few dresses she owned. It was a rather lovely blue and gray dress made of rich cloth that made it soft to the touch, with white lace and ruffles on the sleeves, neckline and skirt. Yet Sherlene felt alien as she inspected her reflection. There was no doubt the dress would do it's job of making her beautiful and a lady in the eyes of society, but if Sherlene had her way, she'd burn the damn thing for making her into something she never was. However the dress, along with the others, were gifts from her brother. That was the only reason she kept the dresses and nothing more. She threw the dress on the ground in disgust and reached over to try another one, but then she realized it was futile for her to be doing this. She then instead grabbed her skirt.

As she slipped the skirt over her trouser clad legs, she continued speaking to Watson. "She's engaged to married to the youthful Duke of Lomand."

Finishing loading his revolver, Watson asked, "What else did Pike tell you? Anything about her and Maberley?"

"Nothing," Sherlene answered, gathering her hair to the back of her head to fasten it in place.

"I wonder Holmes…" Watson began, pausing for a second to gather his thoughts, "Do you think it could be about some compromising letters she wants retrieved? I mean, particularly with her forthcoming marriage?"

Sherlene stepped into the room, giving her hair tie a firm final yank. "You mean love letters?" She walked over to the settee and sat down before shaking her head. "No, no. It's deeper then that." She turned to look at Watson who was placing the last of his things into his bag. "Listen…I demand that you spend a sleepless night at the Three Gables." She gestured to the revolver with a hand. "With that revolver in hand."

Watson nodded in agreement. "How will you be spending the evening?"

Sherlene waited to moment before answering. "Pursuing the matter from another angle, examining the principle," was the eventual response. She rose and left the room to gather her hat and cape, leaving Watson to wonder what she meant by that.

Meanwhile, in the comfort of her own glorious and visibly wealthy bedroom in the Lomand Family's grand house, the beautiful Isadora Klein, dressed in her gold silk dressing gown addressed her personal butler, Miguel.

"So what is it you wanted to tell me, Miguel?" she asked, walking past the tall gray-haired butler. As she walked, her hand lovingly reached to lightly graze his cheek and chin in a manner of comfort familiarity rather then romantically. She continued to walk to one side of the large canopy bed, as the butler answered, no formalities in his tone. Though it was unusual for a butler to not be respectful when addressing his lady, Isadora had no objections.

"That stupid woman, Susan, has left the Maberley house," was the butler's news

"Left?" asked Isadora

"Was forced, she claimed, by Ms. Sherlene Holmes." Isadora was surprised by the name, but Miguel continued on, "She's refused our request to avoid Harrow."

"Sherlene Holmes…" Isadora tested the name. It was not unfamiliar to her. Sherlene must have been the snooper her hired hand, Mr. Steve Dixie, had warned her about. Isadora frowned then jerked her head back to Miguel. "Then you did not request her hard enough," she scowled.

She paused again, thinking.

"Well…" she said after a minute, "So Ms. Sherlene Holmes is on the case."

"She paid a visit to the old lady," Miguel told her. Isadora looked up with concern but Miguel was quick to reassure her. "But left empty-handed. Have no fear."

Isadora frowned again. "We're losing time Miguel. We must act tonight. Arrange it."

Miguel nodded

Isadora leaned back against the pillows, her thoughts on the woman known primarily as the Woman Detective. "This Ms. Sherlene Holmes intrigues me," she told Miguel "Is she clever?"

"She has a reputation."

"For solving crimes, yes. But for her own kind…" Isadora trailed off, the rest not needed to be spoken.

It was no secret that Ms. Sherlene Holmes was inquisitive, even if a perplexing kind of inquisitive. It was uncertain how she got into the role of man, but somehow she did and no one has been able to get her out of it. The police couldn't arrest her for her unnatural position because they needed her too much. Even Queen Victoria herself could not force her into her natural proper role. On the contrary, for whatever the reason her majesty did not appear to want to. If anything her majesty rewarded Ms. Holmes.

But Ms. Holmes was a paradox in many ways.

In the case of her appearance, she could be a more then a handsome pale beauty. She wore no dress, but rather a vest and long sleeved chemise. She wore a black skirt yet if one looked down at her ankles they'd see the ends of dark trouser legs. Upon her head, she wore a black filly with no netting and finally draped on her shoulders was a hip-length black cape.

According to rumor, she did not wear a corset. She carried no umbrella or a fan, but she did have a cane, a man's utensil. She did not wear make-up to make herself more pleasing to the eyes. Her figure was a tall elegant one but borderline on being too skinny. Her hands, while described as thin and graceful, her fingers were stained with acid burns. Her hair, a stunning obsidian color, was neat and smooth but often hung loose or secured to the back of her head with a black tie.

But in the case of everything else, anyone with enough brains could see that she was not a lady at all. What kind of woman disregards the existing standards of tidiness or good order, preferring untidiness and chaos? What kind of woman leaves the comfort and security of her home to go off in search of dangerous affairs? What kind of woman does not seek the comfort of being with her own sex? What kind of woman does not look for the safety a man can bring to her? What kind of woman walks into the most repulsive places to ever exist? What kind of woman does not know how to cook or sew or paint? What kind of woman does not care for her beauty? What kind of woman does not care for having children? What kind of woman does not wear a dress or carry a fan or an umbrella? What kind of woman wears trousers under her skirt?

What kind of woman pretends that she is a man when she isn't?

That would be Ms. Holmes' flaw, Isadora decided. By acting and thinking like a man, she inherits their ignorance and she will not be able to understand. Because after all, how could a woman acting and thinking like a man really know anything about being a real woman?

*Unlike in the book, Langdale Pike (portrayed by Peter Wyngarde—I got Pike's nationality from him) is slightly more active as a character in the Granada TV series. From the dialogue, it sounded as though he and Sherlock knew each other during their days at university, making them schoolmates and, in a way, kindred spirits.

**Another reason it took me so long to update was because it took me days to find the name of this dog breed. Jeremy's accent made it hard to figure it out. I had almost given up and called it a greyhound mix. Saluki are actually one of the oldest known domesticated dogs going back all the way to ancient Egypt. They were introduced to England in 1840, about 50 to 60 years prior to this story.

*** I have no idea exactly what he was saying but I think I got it close enough

Hope you're enjoying and please remember to review