A/N: Gaaaaahhhh! I HATE it when collage final projects practically take over my life! *glares at the half finished projects on the desk*

This is all I could get within two weeks between breaks of FIVE different final projects. It probably isn't my best work but I hope it'll relieve some of the waiting anxiety for those still following it.

Remember, feel free to point any mistakes!

The fight club was what one could expect. Rather crowded with fighting rings, heavy punching bags, and tall muscular shirtless men hitting the bags or their opponents if they were in the rings. Some trainers were nearby, couching their protégées while other men, a mixture of the poor and rich class, were there to bet on the matches. Women very rarely, if ever, visit these places but Sherlene was not a stranger to fighting clubs. Although it had been some time, she had been one of the exceedingly rare women to participate in fighting rings before, although no one had known her name.

Pushing memories of the ring aside, Sherlene sauntered calmly through the club, ignoring the looks she was getting from the boxers, trainers and gamblers, who were unused to seeing a potential beauty on the fighting premise. But they were also especially unused to seeing potential beauty dressed in trousers, since Sherlene had still forsaken putting on her black skirt.

Behind her, despite his battered state, Dr. Watson fallowed her closely. He had absolutely refused to allow Sherlene to come here alone, regardless of how well she could defend herself or how battered up he was. He could still use his revolver, even though his gun hand was currently wrapped up in bandages. He still had his other hand he had argued.

Sherlene walked up to the one black-skinned man in the club that was Steve Dixie. He was easy to put since he stood out like a sore thumb in this place. She knew that he had seen her enter the club, but was trying (and horribly failing) to pretend he did not notice her. He kept on going with practicing his hits the punching bag, but the hits were obviously getting weaker with every step she took as she got closer to him. By the time Sherlene stood right next to him, the strength of the hits were barely there at all. The other men may think it was because the site of a pretty face was distracted him, but Sherlene knew it was because he was growing nervous, though he was doing a good job of hiding it.

Sherlene decided that it was now time for Steve Dixie to learn that true intimidation did not come from one's fists. She took a deep breath in and put on her game face.

"Steve…" she started, her voice clear-cut "Grosvenor* Square, five months ago?"

Dixie paused in his striking. Sherlene had to stop herself from smiling and keep her expression vacant of emotion, but she could tell that she got him where she wanted. After all, Dixie had forgotten that she knew his secrets.

Dixie looked over at her, shaking his head.

"That won't me, Miss Holmes," he said defensively, but his tone had failed to convince her (and clearly himself) that he was telling the truth. "You can't put that on me."

"It doesn't matter whose boot killed Douglas Maberley," Sherlene told him, her voice steely and sharp as a freshly sharpened blade.

Watson, who was now standing only a few paces behind the woman detective, keeping an eye on the people in the room, could not stop himself from lookin over his shoulder at Sherlene in an amazed astonish. It was rare for Sherlene to use that sort of voice. But when she did, its tone would warn everyone that she was not to be crossed or misjudged.

"You are all guilty!" Sherlene added her voice almost in a shout, but it was enough to cause every single person in the room to stop what they were doing and turn their heads toward her.

With the silent brought on after Sherlene's accusing shout, the sound of an acutely familiar wheezy breathing filtered into the room. Sherlene turned her head towards a nearby wall covered in printed boxing sport advertisement posters. The breathing seemed to be coming from the wall.

"Ah, Susan!" Sherlene said to the wall, her tone of voice unchanged.

A bit of the wall moved, revealing a well-concealed door. From the doorway, Susan, the wheezy spying maid that Mrs. Maberley had hired, stepped into the room. For a moment, she and Sherlene just stared at one another. The woman detective seemingly unaware of the fact that some of the more experienced boxers were starting to block off the way Sherlene came in. But Watson could tell by just looking at his lady friend that Sherlene was not ignorant of what was going on, though her gaze stayed on Susan.

"Guarding the coop while your husband is in prison?" Sherlene asked, "Watson, you may remember Mrs. Barney Stockdale?"

"Ah, yes," Watson replied. It made sense now on how Susan got involved in all this.

In a specific operation like this one, no random person off the street could be trusted go and spy on Mrs. Maberley, even if paid handsomely. It had to be someone who had close connections to the Spencer John gang, Isadora's hired thugs. An outsider could give away the gang's intentions, but a loyal member would know how to tread carefully. But since most of the Spencer John gang members could not successfully infiltration the house without drawing suspicion, then it had to be a wife of one of the members. And who better then the wife of the gang's leader to send off on an infiltration/spying mission?

Watson felt himself go rigid when he saw that now all the boxers had taken positions half surrounding the woman detective, and cutting her off from him. However, Watson forced himself to keep calm. He had to trust that Sherlene knew what she was doing.

"Take care Holmes," he said to her

Sherlene did not give an outward hint that she heard him.

Susan bared her teeth at Sherlene. "You! Get out of here!" she tried to hiss but her wheeze swept any real threat out of her words. As such, Sherlene easily ignored her and turned back to Dixie.

"That woman will put you behind bars for what you did last night," Sherlene told the tug, pointing a finger at Susan "And her employer, Mrs. Klein of Grosvenor Square, will see you all hanged for murder."

Sherlene mentally smiled in victory when she saw uneasy fear grow in Steve Dixie's eyes. Cowed he was and she planned to keep him that way.

"Unless…" She paused for a dramatic effect. "You do what I tell you, when I tell you. Remember? Perkins of Holborn."

She nodded satisfactorily at Dixie's fearful expression. She had in him grasp now. Her intimidation method had worked perfectly as she knew it would. Calling Watson, she made to leave through the door Susan had opened, intending to leave through the back door through the Stockdale's resident.

Some of the other boxers made a move to go after her and give her a trouncing for daring to threaten one of their own. But Dixie put up his arm and blocked their way.

The boys couldn't see it, but he knew now they had angered a far more dangerous kind of woman then Isadora Klein could ever hope be. It would be in all of their best interests if they did not lay one hand on this one woman.

Prison, they could handle. The gallows, they could not.

After leaving the fighting club behind, Sherlene and Watson boarded a cab and headed toward West End. Upon reaching the residence of Mrs. Isadora Klein, Sherlene pause and stood next to a bench, placed conveniently across the street of the fine corner-house. Watson, feeling the fatigue brought on by his injuries, sank onto the bench and waited for Sherlene to compose herself.

John Watson knew that Sherlene Holmes was going to have to bend the law into her favor again. Once he would have berated her for doing such an act, but now he knew what Sherlene had always known. Sometimes the law does not always convey what is right or wrong, morality did that. Law just guided what justice is supposed to be, but the law in itself was not always justice Watson had learned. But it was never an easy thing to decide what was the right kind of justice.

Whenever she was in this kind of situation, Sherlene always paused to consider if the justice she had to deliver was indeed the right kind…if her change of the rules was, without a doubt, a good judgment of human morality. All too often, people were too quick to judge and they would pay for the mistake. For Sherlene, it was vital she kept any personal judgment out of these kinds of decisions. And Watson was thankful that she knew that and allowed her to take her time to decide.

What seemed like a long and quiet eternity ended when Sherlene raised her head and said, "I'm ready now."

Watson made to get up from the bench but Sherlene raised her hand to stop him. "No stay here," she told him, her tone soft and heartening "She's not Moriarty. She's a woman, like me." As she turned to begin to move towards the entrance door, she pointed to his bandaged hand. "That hand needs redressing."

From where he sat, Watson watched Sherlene walk toward the four stone steps that lead to the tall oak double-door entranceway of the house. Those doors might as well be the entrance to a snake's den.

"You know all too well, Holmes," the doctor said quietly, watching Sherlene climb the steps and use her cane to knock on the doors "The female can be more deadly then the male."**

But Watson found himself not too worried as he watched Sherlene enter the house, giving the machine-like doorman her card on her way in.

If Mrs. Klein was indeed a snake, then surly Holmes was a hawk about to snatch it's pray.

It was a practiced ease for Sherlene to ignore the apparent wealth that was all over this house as she walked up the rich dark scarlet red carpet stairs to reach the second floor, where the object of her visit was said to be awaiting her. The house practically smelled of wealth and spoiled behavior. If one knows how to judge people by the house they live in, then Isadora Klein's persona was all over the place. Even the servants' machine-like behavior reflected on her character.

When the woman detective passed yet another stiff-back servant coming down the stairs, she paused to snort quietly to herself, "Value an option here? My foot!"

She continued on up the stairs.

Upon reaching the second floor landing, she easily spotted Isadora Klein awaiting her. She was wearing a fulvous*** colored gown, the only dull color in this whole house. From the way the beauty's eyes widen slightly as she neared, Sherlene could tell Isadora recognized her as the stranger who walked past her during the party last night.

"Ah, Madame," Sherlene said in a way of greeting as she removed her filly from her head.

The woman detective was not surprised when the Duke of Lomand had chosen that precise moment to appear at his fiancé's side. Sherlene had suspected he would be here. Many young and foolish men in love would rather live with their (outwardly) beautiful lovers then with their (in this case, rightfully) overly worried mothers despite that they were not yet married.

His chin was up proudly as though he was sizing himself above Sherlene, even though he was only taller then the woman detective by a couple of inches. His face was stone-set on endeavoring himself look powerful and older then his young twenty-something years of age. For most people, this stance would command respect and expected obedience for him, but Sherlene couldn't help but think how ludicrous he was making himself in her eyes. It would take more then what he was throwing at her to get her to respect a love-struck fool.

The Duke had also recognized her. But unlike his bride, he had more familiarity with the woman detective, having met her years ago when his father was still alive. But as far as he was concerned, Sherlene was just a friend of his mother who shared the same views against his beautiful bride. In his mind, why else would Sherlene have come to party last night, then disappear into his childhood home and then be here in his fiancée house the next day, if not to try and bully her.

"You again, Holmes?" he said with revulsion. He was quite tired of his mother's reprimands towards his lover. He would not put up with another. "If you have something to say to my bride, speak out before I kick you out."

Much to his surprise, Sherlene ignored him. Her attention did not wither away from Isadora and Isadora's attention never strayed away from the other woman. For a moment, the two women just stared at each other before Isadora spoke

"No," she said, causing the Duke to look at her with confusion etching his features. "I have been expecting Ms. Holmes. Leave us."

Though deeply surprised, the Duke scuffed, "I have no intention of leaving you with this—"

"Go James!" Isadora interrupted sternly. She put a hand lovingly on his arm and repeated her command, though the sternness was still there "Go."

With a huff, the Duke turned and left, leaving the two women in the hall.

"I am only surprised you look used to them," Isadora told Sherlene.

"I am only surprised you thought bullies could frighten me," the younger woman detective said unwavering but with a hint of amusement. She had seen it the Duke's stance that the threat was a pretense. Isadora could not afford the presence of police in her own home with the danger of her secrets being accidentally discovered. So instead, she had her fiancée try to intimidate her away, but he had failed much worse then Steve Dixie did earlier yesterday morning.

"No woman would take up my profession if danger did not attract her."

Knowing the excitement of being attracted to danger herself, Isadora just smiled, almost as if in agreement.

* This Square name was pain-in-the-neck to figure out. Jeremy's accent made it sound he was saying "Tra-vel-ga" instead of "Grosvenor." Originally, I thought he meant Trafalgar Square, but then I realized that it did not make any sense. After going back to reading the book, I found Isadora lived in Grosvenor Square and after listening to Jeremy again, I figured it out.

** I had to change this line a bit to better fit the change in the story. The original line Edward says is "Just remember, Holmes, the female can be more deadly then the male."

***A dull, almost tawny, yellow. It was the closest I could describe the color of that dress Claudine wore. I'll admit I thought that dress was H-I-D-E-O-U-S!

Only ONE MORE chapter to go. Hopefully I'll get it done before the Final Exams in two weeks. Root for me!