Sherlock walked back to the restaurant after his and John's escapade around London and he remained smirking, unable to hold it back as he thought about what he and John had just been through. The Doctor Watson was certainly something. He was energetic and full of dynamic which Sherlock liked.

"So...your sister..." he said on the walk back and Sherlock turned to look at him, his brow raised in questioning as he took in John's face. His eyes were looking straight ahead and his mouth was slightly raised. He didn't say anymore, mainly because he didn't get a chance to do so. Sherlock was speaking before he had the opportunity to continue his enquiry.

"She's engaged," he said bluntly, stopping John. "He's a twenty seven year old accountant."

"I gathered she was in some kind of relationship..." John blurted out. "I mean she mentioned she dropped out of university so I guessed it was special..."

"Be quiet, John," Sherlock demanded, making him not go on as he looked up to him with wide eyes. "I can see you have been attracted to her. Her bolshie attitude, natural curls; large blue eyes have made many men fawn all over her much to my dismay considering she had the joy of leading them on. You have not been the first to be enticed by her but I pity you."

John remained silent. Taking in what Sherlock had just said was interesting. He didn't know how to respond. He wasn't even thinking that deeply about her. Yes, she was good looking and she seemed to have the same stubborn attitude of Sherlock but John had thought not that much more of it. He was just intrigued.

Thankfully, he didn't get the chance to be able to say anything else as Sherlock entered the restaurant where the owner was stood, John's walking stick in his hand and Clare's black bag in his other hand as he looked at Sherlock. The detective looked around, expecting to see his sister there but there was nothing.

"Your sister left after you," he said to Sherlock whose eyes narrowed in confusion as he was handed the bag and John took his stick, smirking at it for a second. "She climbed into a cab across the road but she forgot her bag. The driver took her though."

"He took her?" Sherlock checked and the owner nodded once.

"Yes...he seemed happy too...she didn't come back for the bag so I kept it safe...anyway...I have customers, Sherlock."

He scurried off as Sherlock walked outside again, looking around, his brain working overtime as John watched him.

"Something off?"

"How many cab drivers would you know who would willingly take a woman somewhere when they had no means to pay them?" Sherlock snapped at John. "She left her bag too. She would have realised as soon as she climbed into the cab. The first thing she does when she's in one is check her phone. Routine. She likes to know what time she will roughly get home. She wouldn't have gone off without it. And he wouldn't have let her."

"So...what..you're saying the killer...you think the killer has her?" John pieced together the clues as Sherlock looked around, moving his hands into his pockets before he began to wander off into the night, not wanting to answer John's question.

...

Clare didn't know what was happening. One moment she was in the back of the cab and the next she was in what looked like a classroom. Surely she had died and gone to hell. Classrooms were always her idea of hell. Especially science labs like the one she found herself in. Slowly, she sat up, peering around the room and looking for any sign of life. The lights were dimly lit and her head was resting on a table, her body slumped on a stool as she sat up.

"I'm sorry for dragging you here, Miss Holmes," his voice informed her as her eyes began to come into focus, taking in the cab driver as he held something in his hands, his gaze fixed on it. "But your brother has become slightly annoying."

"Sounds like Sherlock," Clare grunted and the driver laughed, fiddling with his cap as he checked the pills in the bottle. It was a game. A game which Sherlock Holmes was about to lose.

"Yes, it does," he agreed with her. "So you see that the only way in which this...matter...can be resolved is via you. We need to stop Sherlock getting into trouble."

"I'm afraid this is nothing to do with me," Clare decided, tapping the desk once and standing up, her legs feeling slightly weak as she did so but she managed to hold onto the surface, pulling herself closer to the door before she heard a click noise and she froze, her shoulders hunched as she rolled her eyes, cursing Sherlock in her head.

"Guns are very powerful, Miss Holmes. If you walk out that door then I will kill you, make no mistake about it but if you stay there is a chance you live," he promised her and she turned around quickly, her brown curls moving over her shoulder as she glared at him.

"I've read about this," she told him, remaining stood as he tossed the glass bottle into the air, the pills rattling around inside of it. "You want me to pick a pill. One could kill me and the other will do nothing. But why would you risk your own life?" Clare asked him simply and he shrugged at her, smirking as he did so.

"Living for the thrill," he informed her and she shook her head, unable to believe what he was telling her as he opened the lid to the jar. "My sponsor pays me well to do this. The money goes into my children's fund...they need something..."

"And why can you not provide for them?" Clare wondered aloud, sitting back down on the stool, her eyes never leaving his as he remained grinning. "Surely it is better than going around as a murderer."

"I don't kill," he snapped at her. "They willingly took the pill. I didn't force them."

"You may as well have," Clare retorted. "Answer the question."

"I have a tumour," he explained to her, pointing to his head as he did so. "Big thing...cab driving...it doesn't pay well enough to support my kids...I'm dying, Miss Holmes."

"That's one more scumbag which the world has rid itself of," Clare snapped at him and he glared at her, pulling his gun back out, pointing it at her chest.

"I would kill you right here and now if it weren't for my sponsors demands," he informed her and she tried to remain brave. She was staring death in the face and she knew it. All because of Sherlock.

"Go on then," she dared him. "I'm dead anyway. Give me the pill."

He looked at her in silence before he drew the pink capsules from their spot, resting them onto the table, indicating that she should have the first pick. Clare looked at them, trying to differentiate between life and death before she closed her eyes, outstretching her hand and picking up one randomly, not knowing what else to do as she looked at it in her fingers.

"Are you sure?" he checked with her and she remained silent, not wanting to talk to him about the matter in hand as she looked at it in her hands.

"Go ahead, Miss Holmes," he urged her, holding his own pill in front of his mouth, still smirking as he did so. Clare took a deep breath, thinking about the choice and remaining hesitant. He held the gun in front of her, pointing it at her. "You're going to die if you don't do it."

"You won't get away with this," she informed him. "Regardless of what happens."

"Oh I have," he promised her. "And I will."

Clare placed the pill into her mouth, contemplating holding it there. She couldn't swallow it. She didn't want to swallow it.

"You need to swallow it, Miss Holmes," he said to her, a smirk on his face as he took his own pill. But before Clare could even force herself to swallow the pillow the door burst open. She turned her face, holding the pill in her cheek as she looked at him. Sherlock.

"Don't!" he yelled at Clare. "Don't swallow it!"

The cab driver popped his pill out, pointing the gun at Sherlock as Clare spat it into her hands. He held the gun up, pointing it at Sherlock who was smirking and he shook his head.

"It's a fake," he told him. "I know you don't have a real gun."

And then time seemed to go slowly. Clare dropped to the floor, her limbs becoming weak as Sherlock looked at her and the cab driver did the same.

"It seems some of the pill got into her system via her saliva." He told Sherlock who glared at him.

"What is the cure?" he snapped, dropping to his knees and holding his sister in his arms, watching her as she closed her eyes, frothing at the mouth slightly and her body turned unresponsive. "Tell me what the cure is!"

"That is something which you will need to find out fast." He told Sherlock before a shot rang around the room. The cab driver fell to the ground, causing Sherlock to jump slightly as blood began seeping out of his body. But he was the least of his concern. His sister was the one he had placed into danger. He had caused this.

...

A/N: More to come soon! Realised I hadn't updated in a while but thought I would have another go! Please review!