Note: I'm sorry the second chapter has taken so long to arrive. It's been a touch challenge this and there will be more to come!

Never had I been so- excited since my return to England. I had been hungry, nay, starving for the old thrill of which I had become accustomed to from my days behind fire. It was an illness I had yet to conquer but it was a secret addiction I had yet to fight. Maybe it was due to the war's icy grip that I had not eased myself into normal life. Of course in a way I had been able to return to normal life however deep down I have held many of my own dark demons which even to this day is difficult to confront them. For now there was little time to consider my own needs, it was time now to consider how to discover the outcome of this horrid case but to also discover the assailant who not only saved my life but endangered it by dropping me down a trap door.

That morning I had a rather unappetising cold breakfast and was picked up not long after by a police carriage (which didn't give a fantastic impression with the inn keepers who weren't overly keen on me in the first place.) After a long and shaky ride, I found myself once more in the heart of London. The streets were thick with people, the sound of market goers shouting, the news sellers shouting even louder to pass on the gruesome news of the poor girl who had been cruelly shot on the theatre stage merely the night before. It was a horrid thought back then that such news would be screamed so loud in the crowds just to earn a living. It was true though... The need for money pushing the boundaries on common courtesy and kindness over a poor girl's murder. None-the-less, it came in handy when need be.

Eventually, I and a police officer by the name of 'Clarkson' (aka Clarky), arrived at a quaint but busy road. On one side there was a collection of shops, rather surreal little places which anyone could find anything their heart desires. It was a rather nice but busy. A rumbling little street of business and life. Almost poetic now that I think about it. Sadly I wasn't there for the sightseeing, nor in the mood to. No, I had a much larger event on my hands. London would always be there to see in greater depths. But at that moment I was about to witness one of London's greatest attributes.

Clarky was quick to get out of the car, removing his hat and tucking it beneath his arm and escorted me to the black door up four white steps. He knocked once- there was nothing- he knocked a second time and a dear old woman opened it for us. She had light golden hair with the kindest of smiles. For a woman of her age I was to be surprised of her role of keeper of the house. Everything about her spilled a rare warmth of welcome I had yet to know of Mrs Hudson. Everything she did she did with grace but with dignity.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice firm but kind. "Oh, Clarky, how wonderful to see you again."

"Thank you madam. We are here to see Mr Holmes. May we seem him?" The police officer announced, giving Mrs Hudson a kind smile, obviously they had met on many occasions. It was rather pleasant to see such friendly welcomes.

With an almost half-hearted sigh, the house keeper nodded and turned to lead us up a large pair of stairs to the rooms above. "You are lucky, he has only just returned from a three day excursion to god knows where." She commented, taking surprising long strides up the stairs. Every step proving to almost be a stamp into the carpet. A little louder than it should. It soon became apparent that Mrs Hudson was making an early introduction- to warn this 'Mr Holmes' that company was arriving.

As soon as we came to the top of the stairs, we came to a large black door to the right. It was big and looked worn. It had scratches and marks- though it did appear that there had been a fresh coat of paint it appeared that this was not needed since new marks had been made.

Mrs Hudson knocked once, waiting for a reply. Then there was a second. Still nothing… After a third knock, Mrs Hudson opened the door anyway, leaving Clarky to wander in first with me following.

I am not even sure to this day what I was expecting. Instead I found myself in a room- a room of pure chaos. There was a strong and distinctive smell of metallic essence in the air, soon followed by the pungent aroma of decaying food. There was barely any light- even if the curtains were drawn it appeared the windows had yet been cleaned- for quite some time… There was barely anywhere to move, especially with the amount of clutter (including stacks of paper, a collection of vials and experiments).

The very atmosphere was… muggy. Not dirty, in some strange way it looked like a mess but everything was in some strange order that to the naked eye would think of it as sheer chaos. It was just… strange. There was also the smell of tobacco in the air and it looked almost foggy. I couldn't help but to think I had walked into a poppi den.

Little did I know the occupant acted just like one of the rather troublesome establishments occupants…

A small screech came from a abused violin from the corner. A gentleman sat there, feet on a window sill and pipe placed neatly in his lips. He didn't notice us at first. Mrs Hudson had to be the one to break the silence.

"Mr Holmes…" She muttered, trying to break the awkward atmosphere lingering between us three and the man sitting in the corner. There was no reply. "Mr Holmes, you have company." She said a little more sternly.

Once again there was no silence before the man eventually dropped the violin, the door instrument landing with a thud while the bow string was still dangling between the thumb and forefinger.

"I heard you the first time nanny." Came the voice in a low and teasing droll. With a deep and almost strained sigh, the man slipped onto his feet and turned on his heels, revealing a rather scruffy looking man in his thirties with deep brown eyes. His face was rather regal, rugged with the lack of a shave but an almost charm which could sweep a woman off her feet and the slyness of a weasel.

He wasn't tall either. In fact he was rather short for a man of the current time. Yet with his baggy dress sense and limp shirt I wasn't able to see the real power and cunning lurking beneath his dress sense.

Once Mr Holmes had faced us, those sharp brown eyes looked at 'Clarky' with a familiar glee but as soon as he turned to me, both he and I immediately realised something. I was in shock- it was strange but I was quick to recognise the perk lips and the hawk-like gaze. It was him. The man who saved me… then sent be down a trap door.

The man was quick to approach, an almost cocky but bright smile growing quick on his lips. "Dr Watson! What a pleasure it is to finally meet you on more comfortable terms. I-"

Before he could finish his sentence I finished it for him…. By reeling back my arm and punching him square between the eyes… I was still rather sore about the other evening.

The room didn't seem very shocked. Mrs Hudson merely gasped and Clarkson blinked and held his hands firmly behind his back. I cracked my knuckles after, merely returning the feeling of relief. I felt good. Really good.

Holmes on the other hand- well he started to laugh! Even if his real nose was finally bent out of shape slightly, it seemed the act actually amused him!

"Well, I did deserve that. I'm sorry I had to run out on you like that my dear fellow. You didn't deserve it but I was merely protecting you."

"From what? Angry stage hands?" I spat angrily, my early frustrations still lingering on my nerve.

"From a mad man looking to clear up loose ends." The man explained, removing a grubby handkerchief from his pocket and rubbing his sore nose. "You wouldn't understand. A little bit too complex from a mere former medical soldier as yourself."

I stared in utter shock as he made the point without any input to my personal details. It took me a second to just stand there and think. I grasped the walking stick in my hand and looked to Clarkly confusingly. The man just shrugged his shoulders at me as though this was a common occurrence.

"How did you…?"

"It didn't take a lot my dear fellow. I knew most of the details but your 'warm welcome' seemed to confirm my suspicions."

"Did you speak to detective Lestrade?"

The man threw his head back and laughed. "That man can barely remember his own officer's names let along your personal back story my dear fellow! I admire the man for his efforts in justice but his brain function doesn't seem to challenge even a mere pigeon's intellect." He explained fondly of the Scotland-yard detective. "But no. It didn't take long to figure out much about you from your clothes, your limp and your cane. You're an open book just ready to be studied. And I must say doctor~ I'm already very interested in your story."

I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or worried… it seemed this man was quick to put ideas together and made so many assumptions about my life. "Then how?"

"The stitching on your cuff follows that of a medical following from your profession and I could tell you were of military pursuit from your cane- it may look the admirable object but hides a deadly sword which the last battalion of Afghanistan soldiers were rewarded with on returns to England. Why they returned to England I am slightly fuzzy on. It appears there is a leg injury however there is something else. A leg injury would need to lead to complete dismemberment… however I still see your leg is fully intact."

"I was shot…" I plainly explained. "In the shoulder. Straight through one end and out the other. I was sent home in fear I would lose it…. I am only thankful I still have it."

Sherlock smirked and got to his feet once more. "Then you certainly do have substantial knowledge and skill my dear fellow. Your talents of observation the other evening was quiet amusing. However I must ask you to leave this investigation. There is too much to lose. Lestrade was a fool for putting on you on such a case full of spider webs leading to death. Stop this now Doctor and you will come out of this unscathed."

I was surprised to even hear the man say this! I wasn't one to give up- many times in my past of military work, my fellow soldiers told me I was too stubborn for my own good. With a frown, I shook my head.

"I can't. I simply can't see a young girl lay dead and just leave it. I was asked to be put on this case and I would like to see it through. As you see I am not married nor do I have anyone to worry of me. I have nothing to lose but my pride."

"And you wish this so much?" The detective asked, approaching me quickly until we were almost nose-to-nose. Even though it was less intimidating since he was slightly shorter than me… "Are you WILLING to put your very life on the line?"

At first I wasn't sure what to say… Uncertain of how to react. Yet it looked as though the other was studying me. This was a test.

"Yes. I want to do this case with every fibre of my being."

Sherlock continued to stare at me for another ten seconds until it seemed the brightness of the world had flooded onto his face. He clapped his hands together and grinned brightly. "Wonderful! Clarky! Get the good doctor's things from that terrible inn he's at and bring them here. Doctor Watson keep your cane on you and prepare yourself!" Holmes spoke briskly, grasping his coat and hat while Mrs Hudson, Clarky and myself watched in utter shock.

"What? Where!?"

"To the very darkest parts of London of course!" The detective continued, strutting out of the door with myself following. "Mrs Hudson, do not bother with dinner. We have a case to solve!"

With that we were already in a cab- on our way to the depths of the criminal world…

After fifteen minutes of turning curves and lingering in dingy streets, we arrived at a dark building not far from the theatre. At first glance it appeared to be a normal home with two beautiful mansions either side. It even looked as though no one was there… until up close, it became apparent the windows had been painted black. Small slithers of light tried to escape through what gaps were left by shady workmanship.

Already I was beginning to worry.

"Where are we?" I asked quietly.

"A very private and very prestigious club. It's rather shady and I hope you're prepared to see some rather unusual sights. In this profession you do see some disturbing sights."

"I think I have seen my share to be rather immune to such a thing. "

"Oh…" Sherlock smirked, approaching the door. "You still have much, MUCH more too see." The man smirked, raising his hand and knocking the door.