Howdy! Sorry it took me so long to update but it was the weekend! I had stuff to do. Let's hope it was worth the wait!

Esme

"Well this is slightly more interesting than the repellent, wouldn't you say Watson?"

Sherlock looked up with some amusement at the young woman standing over him, her gun pointed at his forehead. If he was honest with himself, there was slight caution in his heart as well. Normally, one lone gunman, or woman in this case, would be of little consequence. But with Watson currently incapacitated by God knew what, and having been caught so off guard, he knew he had very little control over the situation.

Also, there was something about this woman that Holmes just couldn't place. Something that just didn't add up. And as Holmes could always tell a persons story and motives with a simple glance, this was slightly disconcerting. And it tweaked that old excitement and curiosity that had been lying dormant in Holmes for so many months.

"And do what do we owe this pleasure my dear woman?" He smiled up at her from where he knelt on the floor.

"Lie on your stomach, hands begins your back." She ordered.

"Perhaps it would be a better idea to continue this conversation over tea." Holmes suggested mildly. "Of course I have no tea at hand, but you look like a woman who would appreciate an aged Merlot."

Rachel cocked her gun. "On your stomach!"

Holmes complied, giving a bored sigh as he did so, as though Rachel and her orders were of little consequence. This gesture was not lost on Rachel, which was why when she went to put on her handcuffs, she dug her knee into his back with a little more force into his back then was necessary.

"There may be some men who enjoy such treatment my dear child, but I do not count myself as one of them." He muttered, his mouth pressed to the floor. Grabbing hold of the back of his shirt, Rachel lifted him off the floor and fairly threw him into a chair.

"Shut up, I'm not interested in what gets you off" she snapped, slipping the gun back into its holster, "And I'm not a child, I'm 27." Rachel leant back against the tale, folding her arms across her chest, and eyeing him with that same intimidating looked she used on suspects. "What I am interested in is why you have been threatening me, and why you have brought me here."

Holmes looked up at her with some confusion "What "gets me off?"

"Now!"

"I wonder, if we could I interrupt these paranoid, deluded ramblings for just a moment and offer my colleague some assistance."

Rachel glanced over carelessly at Watson,, who was still lying on the floor, whimpering with his hands over his eyes. "He'll be fine in an hour."

'"Ands I'm quite willing to answer your charges as soon as my friend receives some assistance." Holmes bluffed.

Rachel sighed and went over to Watson, picked him up and deposited the ailing doctor into a chair, and headed to the washbasin by the window. As she began to soak a washcloth in cold water Holmes furtively reached up to his belt where he kept a small file, and began to pick the lock. The handcuffs gave a noisy click as there lock gave way, but Rachel gave it no see. In fact Holmes noticed that she was staring out the window, her eyes wide and her face white.

"Madam?"

"Where have you brought me?" Her voice wasn't strong anymore. It shook with fright.

"That is London madam." Rachel turned her wide eyes to face him. She stared at him for a moment, and then flew out the door. Holmes could here her feet pounding down the staircase and a small shriek and the clatter of china as she brushed past Mrs. Hudson on the staircase.

"Mr. Holmes, what have you done now?" A startled Mrs. Hudson asked, appearing suddenly in the doorway.

Holmes took off the handcuffs and through them on the floor.

"Ah Mrs. Hudson just in time," he said briskly. "Attend to the doctor will you." And leaving a thoroughly confused Mrs. Hudson behind him, Holmes dashed out the door, down the stairs, just in time to see Rachel collapse in the front entrance.

"All in all a most productive and instructive afternoon. Wouldn't you agree, dear Doctor?"

Absently plucking the strings of his violin, Holmes turned to look at his companion, who was reclining in an armchair by the fire, a cold cloth pressed against his swollen, red eyes. Watson simply glowered at him.

"I'll admit there were one or two unfortunate incidents-" Holmes began.

"I was blinded!" Watson shouted.

"Well, yes but you recovered didn't you?"

"Holmes-!"

"The point is," Holmes cut him off, "You wanted me to find a new occupation to busy myself, and now I have one. The mysterious case of Miss Rachel."

Dr. Watson threw his wet rag aside and slowly got to his feet. "May I remind you Holmes, that Miss Rachel did not ask for your help, nor did she confess to any problems."

"That is immaterial. Surely, you couldn't fail to notice the agitation and fright she displayed upon waking up and learning of her location." Watson glared at him. "Oh, I beg your pardon, of course you didn't." he put down his violin and went over to the workbench, picking up his pipe. "And you're wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Perhaps if I add a little citronella." Holmes mused, holding up his repellent.

'What do you mean I'm wrong?" Watson prodded.

"Ah!" Holmes put down the beaker, and Watson noticed that the glint had returned to his eye. That glint of excitement and curiosity.

"Miss Rachel thought she had been kidnapped and mentioned something about a malevolent message. That coupled with the luggage she brought and the disguise she was wearing clearly indicate that she is on the wrong from someone who wishes her harm." With a slightly smug smile, Holmes sat down and lit his pipe.

Dr. Watson thought about this for a moment. 'In disguise?"

"Yes. Well surely you didn't fail to see that she was wearing men's trousers." Watson was about to speak when there was a knock at the door. That excited glimmer returned to his eye.

"Whatever the mystery may be, we shall soon discover." He smiled, getting to his feet.

"How so?" Watson asked wearily. He recognised that smile.

"I have invited our charming captor to join us for drinks this evening."

"Holmes, if the woman had been through all you say I doubt she's in any condition to withstand an interrogation."

"Now don't fret dear doctor. This is going to be a pleasant, relaxing evening." Watson raised a swollen eyebrow.

"I may ask a few questions but," he smiled, his hand on the doorknob, "There's no harm in being neighbourly."

The door opened to reveal Rachel, freshly dressed, her soft curls falling around her face, wearing a pair of jeans and a white cotton gypsy blouse. Though still looking slightly shaken, she smiled warmly at Holmes' familiar face.

'Ah Miss Rachel!" Holmes took her hand and kissed it. "Delightful to see you again. You didn't bring your handcuffs by any chance?"

Rachel stepped awkwardly into the sitting room "Uh yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh don't worry my dear, it wasn't the first time a woman put me in handcuffs. And of course you remember my friend Dr. Watson."

"Ah, yes, I suppose I owe you an apology as well."

"Oh don't worry about it!" Holmes said smilingly, busying himself with the drinks. "Water under the bridge!"

"Yes, well you were rather startled at the time." Watson smiled wryly, rubbing at his eyes. "May I ask what that was exactly?"

"Oh that was mace. You know pepper spray. It's like liquid pepper. It blinds someone temporarily." She explained, seeing that he was confused. "But perfume or liquid soap will work in a pinch. It's standard issue."

"Standard issue?" Holmes asked

"Uh, never mind." Rachel looked around for something to change the subject. "What's this?" she asked, picking up Homes' pistol with his primitive silencer attached.

"Oh I am in the process, of inventing a device, which muffles the sound of a gunshot." Holmes said proudly, coming over to Watson and Rachel with a tray of drinks.

"You mean a silencer?" she asked. Holmes blinked.

"You've… heard of this device before?"

Rachel smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

"Yes, well, sit down." Holmes said gruffly. He thrust a tumbler into her hand. "Here."

Sensing she had said something wrong, Rachel took a sip of her drink and began to cough violently. "This stuff should have an octane reading!" she coughed.

"I think that's one of Holmes experimental cocktails." Watson smiled, observing this back and forth with amusement.

"Wow inventor, brewer. You could fight crime." She smiled.

"Well I do." Holmes sat down and stared at her intensely

Rachel gawked at him "What?"

"Yes, Holmes is the greatest detective in all of London. Possibly in all of England." Watson said.

"A det-detective?" Rachel's voice shook a little

"Yes that's right. One look at you and Holmes can tell you your entire life story. You don't want him to though." Watson warned, "His manner is somewhat…coarse."

"Well it isn't my fault that some do not care to hear the truth about themselves." Holmes shrugged.

"Well, what is the truth about me?" asked Rachel. She knew there was no way he could guess who she was or where she was from but she wanted to see him discomforted. Something about this man just rubbed her the wrong way.

"Oh no." Watson sighed

"Gladly!" Holmes smiled. "The calluses on your hand show that you began your life as a working woman, but you recently came by quite a bit of money, likely by unlawful means, which explains why you're running away, why you are being hunted and why you arrived disguised in men's trousers. The material of the trousers is denim, most frequently used by miners, and based on your accent, I'd deduce that you've come to London directly from the Australian goldfields."

"Wow." Rachel said after a pause. "That is incredible."

Holmes smiled rather smugly. "Thank you."

"You are 100% wrong. I mean nothing you've said has been correct."

Holmes just stared at her. Watson smiled, noticing that his eyelid had begun to twitch.

"Nothing?" Watson asked, trying not to laugh. Rachel smiled.

"Sorry." She glanced over at Holmes, and could tell that she had crossed a line. Quickly she said her goodbyes and departed for her room.

As soon as the door closed Holmes got to his feet, and began to pace the room furiously.

"Well, it appears the genius has departed us." Watson tried to keep the laughter out of his voice. He noticed that Holmes had his hands were balled into fists I his pockets. Suddenly he stopped pacing as he caught sight of his silencer sitting on the side table. Picking it up, he threw the now useless device at the door, just as it opened to reveal Constable Clark, who luckily ducked in time.

"Oh, Clarky." Sherlock said gruffly.

"Good evening Sir."

"What have you got for me?"

"Uh, the Inspector asks that you come with me Sir. Both of you." He added, nodding to the doctor.

"What for?" asked Watson

"We've found a body down by the docks."

"Right, well lets go Watson." Holmes sighed. Clarke nodded and went back outside to wait for them.

"Holmes," Watson said as they gathered up their hats and coats, "You're not going to let your misjudgement tonight bother you are you?"

"Of course not." Holmes scoffed. "The woman is clearly lying. And if I am mistaken on a few details, well no one has deceived me for long." Holmes smiled., pulling on hid jacket. He gestured to the door. "To the docks dear Watson. The game's afoot."

They headed to the door, when suddenly Holmes stopped.

"One moment Doctor." Holmes headed back to his dressing table, and picked up a small bottle of perfume, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Carry on Watson."

And that's Chapter three! To be totally honest I'm not too happy with this one and might rewrite it. Let me know what you think!

Esme