A/N: Check this out - another update! I'm p. awesome with the posting business. Thanks for the reviews Zan, An, Es, and Gypsy! I'm glad y'all stuck through chapter 2. I'm also glad the short chap thing is something no one minds. A little clarification: Holmes is still an independent detective, not an actor. With the short chapters, I tend to make many more context mistakes and now that I read it, that passage doesn't say what I want it to. Sorry about that - my bad. Also, I'm having a bad format day, so please excuse the crap. And so, without further ado, here's chapter 3!


Sabina exercised "getting into the writing zone" as though it were a ritual and the value of the work to follow depended solely on external variables. Cup of coffee in the left, fine point Pilot pen in the right, she settled into a pillow and flipped open her hardcover notebook. Today was especially important: the beginning of her newest mystery. The last book received considerable recognition, but never made it to the bestseller list. This next one would be different, however, as she as certain of her lead character as her plot, and the previous fame would draw the readers.

Fate, she decided happily. Fate that I would meet Andrew and fate that I'll write a best seller. She blushed – a rare occurrence – as she thought back on their meeting. Raven hair fluttering in the breeze, his scrunched up nose when he was struggling for an answer, and that intense look of concentration over a book…but surely he wouldn't favor a girl like her? She shook all romantic ideas from her head. She was supposed to be in "the zone", not pining like a harlequin romance. Dead puppies and cigarettes, highballs…and she had induced herself into thinking like a dockworker, but not before mischievousness got the best of her, and she profiled herself into the second lead – living out her fantasies in a safe, controllable world.


Many furious pages later, Sabina was rudely snapped out of her trance by a fierce pounding at the door. She uncrossed her stiff legs and cursed softly as pain shot up them for lack of blood. Hobbling toward the door, she grumbled, "This had better be worth my time."

The intruder didn't say a word once Sabina opened the door and thrust the front page of The Times in her face as a way of greeting. The header shouted, "SECOND MURDER MAY BE SERIAL". "Hm, that's odd," she noted as she skimmed. "Thanks for today's paper, by the way. I haven't had the chance to pick it up yet." She wandered as she read, settling at last at her writing spot, not even bothering to look up and greet the intruder.

Deep, rough Cockney rang out with, "Gimme aw youw money and maybe awi won't kiw you."

"Sonuvabitch!" Sabina leaped up. "Please don't…you bastard, I should stick a knife in your ribs!"

Holmes shrugged and said, in his normal accent, "Serves you right for not checking on who you let into your house."

"Murderers don't exactly knock me up every day."

He raised an eyebrow. "And detectives?"

"…Whatever!" She knew he was right and therefore, she swallowed her pride. "I'm assuming you didn't bring the paper only because I'm an avid reader."

"Correct. Read the article carefully."

She performed the task as requested, but once she had finished, she looked up bewildered. "So there was another murder, supposedly the work of a serial killer. Isn't this more your concern than mine?"

He didn't give her any indication, except "Read closer."

She began again, this time reading slower, and as she did so, she paled to a sickly color. Mouth dry, she could only squeak out, "My god." Then a deep breath, followed by, "I wrote that. This is…my fault." Bile rose in her throat and the most horrible moment in Sabina's history ended with her in the bathroom.


And the plot thickens! How'd you like a longish chapter? Hopefully, I'll have more for tomorrow, but I can't promise much on that end, because I have a final tomorrow, and I'll be pretty wiped of brain power. I'll give it a go, though ;)