Hello All! wow it seems like my story has suddenly gotten popular! yay! cookies all round! Anyway I'd like to thank Deathcab4kimmie , Vampire Solidarity1 , itsadowneyworld and TayLoed39 for either favouriting or adding my story to story alert! Thanks guys! And a thank you SPEEDIE22 and Fury of the Acheri for reviewing! its great to hear what you think! and while I'm here im ust going to throw a shout in for my Iron man story if anyone wants to take a look ...

Disclaimer: I would own Sherlock and Watson if I could ... but unfortunatly, I dont ...

"Ladies, would you excuse us? It appears we have an emergency to get to." Holmes said getting to his feet and sliding on his coat that was handed to him by a waiter that had seemed to materialize from nowhere, "Come along Watson, it seems someone wants our attention." Watson sighed and stood, bending to kiss his sister and fiancé on their cheeks, "Please forgive us ladies, I will pay the bill on my way out, stay an enjoy yourselves. And please get a cab home, and do be careful. We shouldn't be too late back." He said directing the last part of the sentence to his sister who nod,ded and search through her hand bag, checking she had the key John had given her to 221b Baker Street.

"Does this happen often?" Bonnie asked Mary as she took a small sip of her wine once again, waiting for their main course to arrive. Mary sighed and tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear absent mindedly, "Not all that often, but still more than it should, but it's something that comes with their occupations and fame here in London." Bonnie almost choked on the fruity red wine, "John is famous here? I'd never have thought. Our contact has been strained over the past five years. So everything I hear is like new to me." Mary smiled kindly at her, before picking up her silverware, spearing a carrot elegantly with her fork, "Oh yes, everyone around here knows of the incredible cases solved by the Great Sherlock Holmes and his faithful Companion Dr. Watson. They like to keep a low profile though, not many people know them by appearance, only by name, they like to keep the quiet life, which I am thankful for." Bonnie nodded, chewing her own vegetables delicately, but her she remembered what Mrs Hudson had said earlier about the detective, and choosing her words carefully voiced her curiosity, "Mrs Hudson does not seem to think 'quiet' is a word to describe Mr Holmes." Mary choked back a small giggle, but her eyes gave away her urge to laugh. "Mrs Hudson wouldn't, that poor woman has been to hell and back with Sherlock. He might seem charming to you now, Bonnie dear, but he has some fairly appalling habits that make him difficult to live with. I'm not sure how John deals with it, all his mood swings, strange disappearances at night and that dreadful cocaine habit, no wonder he drives the poor woman mad." Bonnie listened in silence nodding her head, but something told her to give Holmes the benefit of a doubt, she could make up her own mind on him in time.

"Where is he then Clarkey?" Sherlock asked impatiently as the trio made their way through the dirty and broken down streets of London, walls of buildings dripping with green water, a distinct smell in the air and shop doorways crowded with poor and hungry homeless families. "Just two streets away Mr Holmes, Lestrade found him on his way home from the yard. Said I had to fetch you at once sir." Holmes nodded as they rounded the corner and stopped abruptly in front of a uniformed policeman, who was hanging from a street lamp. "You finally get here Holmes." Lestrade commented making his way over to the pair, "Yes, well, we were otherwise engaged." Said the detective bending to examine the pavement beneath the body, getting as close as he would to the stone. "The letter is addressed to you two, made any enemies recently?" Lestrade mocked, pulling the envelope from the dead man's coat and handing it to Watson, who leaned heavily on his cane as he read letting his eyes skim over the text. "What does it say Watson?" asked Holmes who had gotten to his feet and was now rifling through the dead man's pockets, looking closely at any items he could find through a magnifying glass. "It doesn't say who it's from. It just says 'Death is only the beginning.' Very odd." He put the paper back into the envelope and turned toward Inspector Lestrade "He will need to come down for me to take a proper look at him."

"We are in the process of bringing him down now Dr Watson." Lestrade said nodding to his men w ho were stood nervously looking at one another on the other side of the street. "Hmm" Said Sherlock Holmes, standing and taking his place beside Watson once more. "Exactly what stage of bringing him down Lestrade?"

"So what did you find Holmes?" Watson asked as the pair made their way through the darkened streets of London back to Baker Street. "There was a boot mark in the mud of the gutter, judging by the size I'd say it was a man with feet at around size 9, wearing round toed boots, possibly military like your own, The mud splattered on Wicker's uniform was also heavily laden with salt, indicating it was mud from around the docks. There were strips of the rope on the ground beneath him, showing he was winched up the lamppost with some difficulty, meaning our murderer was either short or has a weaker stature." Watson nodded and limped up the steps to their house, the events of the evening having been too much for his old leg injury, and opened the door attempting to be as quiet as possible as it was late and he didn't want to wake Bonnie or Mrs Hudson.

Hearing the key scraping in the front door's lock , Bonnie looked up from her book, the living room only being lit by a single candle flame, sending a yellow light over the pages. Hushed voices at the bottom of the stairs alerted her that her brother and Holmes had arrived home. Closing the book , she placed it on the small mahogany table by her chair and made her way as quietly as possible to the top of the staircase, her nightdress swishing and her bare feet tapping on the wooden flooring as she walked. Stopping at the top step she watched the two men below her in great discussion over the night's earlier events.

Holmes stripped his coat off and hung it on the stand beside the door, "What can that note mean? I swear I've heard it before." Whispered Watson as he too shed his outer layer. A small cough caught the attention and both men looked towards the stairs where Bonnie was leaning against the banister, one slender hand gripping the wooden railing, and the other resting on her hip. "Bonnie dear, I was sure you'd be asleep, it's late." Bonnie nodded and yawned, using her hands to push some loose hair away from her face, and attempt to tighten her loose French plait. "I was reading, I didn't realise the time. Did you find anything with the hanging policeman?" The question was directed to Sherlock, but he was unable to reply, his eyes fixed on her beautiful face. He realised he was staring and coughed shaking himself free from his stupor. "Nothing inconclusive, but a few things that can help us in our investigation." Bonnie nodded and stretched tiredly, "Well if there is anything I can help you with, please let me know. Goodnight." She said with a smile as she made her way back to her bedroom, leaving Holmes and Watson in the dark hallway.