I just couldn't help myself by posting another chapter. :) Thanks for all the PM's and the one review I got! Yeah! Kidding, of course, but I'd like to hear from some of you guys in reviews? Maybe? Yes?

Okay, cool, awesome. :)

Appréciez s'il vous plaît ce chapitre.

About a block down the road she stopped running, her heavy breath formed clouds as the exited her mouth. She clutched her arms around her, freezing.

"Very clever, Emma." She said to herself as she began to walk down the street slowly, trying to remember how to get back to Baker street.

She turned a corner and looked up at the street sign.

"Darenger street? That sounds familiar." She continued walking. The longer she walked the colder and darker it seemed to get. And paranoia began to set in as that feeling of being followed rose upon her.

Great, not only am I lost and freezing, I'm probably gonna be the damsel in distress as well.

"Ugh..." Emma turned another corner and it seemed even more foreign than the last. With every step she took she scolded herself for being so dumb as to run out into a city that she hardly knew all alone.

She began to hear footsteps not far behind her. When she slowed, they slowed. She began to speed up her pace until she broke out into a run.

She passed two streets and didn't hear anything behind her, no steps at all. She slowed and turned her head to look behind her to confirm her theory that no one was behind her. But as she turned her head back around she bumped into a dark hooded figure.

Like I didn't see that coming, Emma thought to herself.

"Are you...loooost, little girrrrrl?" The man purred in a high pitched slur. He brought up a pale, wrinkled hand and grabbed a lock of her hair, twirling it between his long fingernails.

She moved back quickly, "N-no. As a matter of fact I'm just out for a small stroll."

The man's hands moved in an odd way as he talked, "Hmm...I see. A small stroll for a small little girl, in a small little dress, in the small little night...all aloooooone..."

Emma shifted her eyes around her, unsure of what to do.

The man stepped closer to her and she backed up, trying to keep a good foot between them. He brought his hand up and stroke her cheek with his long, yellowing fingernail.

"Um...yes, so, I best be on my...little way. Good to...meet...you." Hurriedly, Emma began to walk off.

"Do you know what it's like when the sun sets and sorrow is knocking at your door, little girrrrrrl?"

She stopped. His words seemed familiar, so familiar. 'Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;'. That poem Thaad had read to her, so long ago.

Emma turned around to see that the strange man had disappeared. A chill ran up her spine and it wasn't from the cold.

A few hours of walking around London Emma had finally gotten to the conclusion that this was by far the largest, never ending city in the world. She grew up here for god's sakes and she could barely find her way around. And its was just her luck that it started raining at around five A.M.

Emma sighed, but still continued to walk. She didn't want to know what would happen if she stopped.

At around six-thirty when the world around her began to get lighter, the rain had stopped and business and fancy aristocratic people started to fill the streets.

"Excuse me, sir?" She walked up to a homely man standing on the street corner. He turned and looked at her.

"Shoo, you filthy rat, I have no money for you." And with that he waltzed away.

Emma stood there, and scoffed slightly in disbelief. He thought she was some homeless beggar.

Well, she was soaking wet with makeup probably running down her face, but she hardly looked homeless.

It had taken her two hours later, but she'd finally gotten directions to Baker street and who would've guessed that it was just three blocks down from where she stood.

When she spotted the 'Baker St.' sign, she ran with all her might and hugged the pole.

"Finally!" She exclaimed, earning some questionable and appalled looks, but she ignored them. She was so happy to be back on Baker street. Pitch black nights in India's wild animal filled jungles were nothing compared to a long London night, in her opinion anyway.

She let loose the pole and began to ascend quickly down the street sidewalk. When she neared her apartment she saw a large moving carriage and a few men standing around talking to John and Sherlock. She walked closer and that's when John lifted up his head and saw her.

He pushed passed the men and rushed over to her.

"Where have you been, Emma?"

She looked over to Sherlock who was looking at her with an expressionless face, and looked back to Watson.

"Oh, I decided to take a walk around London. All...of London." She spoke the last sentence louder so Holmes would hear it. She knew he did because after she said that he walked over to the two of them.

"What a very foolish thing to do, you could have put yourself in a terrible situation, could have gotten yourself hurt." Holmes spoke, puffing away at his pipe.

"She did." Watson said, and Emma looked at him questionably. "Where did you acquire that gash on your cheek?" He brought his hand to her face and inspected it, "It's going to need stitches, luckily I have some with me up in my room. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Holmes, you can take care of these men, can't you?"

Watson ushered Emma into the house without waiting for a response from Holmes.

"You nearly gave Mary and I a heart attack when Holmes had said you ran off, we looked for you for nearly two hours. What happened?" Watson asked as he cleaned the blood from her face, she had had no idea of the cut on her face whatsoever.

"I just let my anger get the better of me, I'm sorry, I should've st-stayed." Emma winced as feeling started to come into her cheek.

"Was it something Holmes did? Something he said? Because if it was, I can assure you he meant nothing by it." He began to thread the needle through her skin and she squeezed her hands so hard her fingernails began to break skin on her palms.

"That man is insensitive, unfeeling, ba―ow!" Emma jumped in the pain as Watson finished stitching her up.

"Emma, he doesn't mean anything by it."

"Oh, he does. Or else he wouldn't say it."

Just then, the door opened to reveal Holmes. He looked apologetically towards Emma who just ignored his stare.

"Watson, will you give Miss Gitali and I a moment?" Watson looked between the two and nodded, though unsure if he should.

Holmes replaced Watson as he took his seat in front of her.

Emma said nothing to him. Didn't even look at him.

"Why did you do that? What happened to you?"

It was a long moment before she spoke. "I walked around London. Lovely town this is. Full of rude, crude, and terribly strange people. And I love the weather too," she said sarcastically. Holmes rolled his eyes.

"You walked around London all night. An intelligent woman would've stopped somewhere or came back."

"I didn't want come back and be judged by a man who only goes by his own experiences." She crossed her arms in a huff.

Holmes sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Your piano arrived."

Her face lit up and she shot of the room like a bullet, and Sherlock followed.

Outside the men were moving a piano out of the back of the carriage. But when she saw the piano her face dropped.

This wasn't her piano. Her piano has a beautiful brown oak structure, this one was a dark black piano and that alone scared her.

"Are you...Emma Livingston?" Emma nodded to the man.

"Yes I am."

"Awright, where would you like this?"

Emma shook her head, "That's not my piano."

"Well this is Baker Street, 221A, no?"

"Well, yes, but this isn't my piano. Who is it from?" The man took a paper from the front of the carriage.

"Huh, there is not a returning address, Miss." Emma looked at Sherlock.

"I don't want this piano, it's not mine and I don't know who sent it. Just take it back, sell it, do...whatever." The men nodded and loaded the somber piano back into the carriage and road off.

First that man last night, now this. "Things just keep getting stranger," Emma said to herself.

"How is that?" Holmes said from behind her.

"I dunno. But I wouldn't be surprised if something even more odd were to happen. Excuse me, Mr. Holmes, but I must get cleaned up, and changed out of yesterday's clothes. And I'm sure my flowers are missing me as well."

Sherlock watched her as she walked up the steps and went inside her apartment.

"I will never, ever understand a woman any less that I do her."