Disclaimer - I don't own any of this, I'm just playing with it all.

Summary - Alright! This chapter will lead in to the movie and include the beginning scene. The more I watch this movie, the more quirks I see that could easily belong to a Time Lord :D I do intend to continue on to the bbc series after I finish this :) I'm just having too much fun!

"Right then, we'll surround the place and catch 'im unnawares," Inspector Lestrade was pacing. In front of him was none other than Doctor Watson and his Detective Holmes. It was the latter man who had him on edge. His second in command, Constable Clark, and a few other of his Officers were present as well. Even so, with that man involved, who knew what would go wrong. That is why Lestrade was making him stay behind. Hiding a smile, he ordered his men out. They'd gather troops and head over to the church's cellar, picking up Holmes on the way.

At least, that's what the man was to THINK they were doing - He had no intentions of actually following through on those plans - He was going to catch this murderer without any "assistance" from Holmes. He was a damned good Inspector and he was determined to prove it. "Remember," he told the meddlesome man who barely looked up from plucking at his violin. "You wait for us. Here. Until I give the order. We will get you once we've gathered the troops."

His only reply was an affirmative nod and a small, "Hmm? Yes, yes," before he continued attending his violin. Lestrade had a funny feeling he wasn't listening to a word he'd said as he left the apartment.

The Detective ran down the streets of London at top speed. Passing carts and people who would never see his face in the dim lighting, and therefore, would only wonder at a man who could run as he was - not only with great speed but also with great precision. He would jump over barriers and puddles and make turns with ease. When he finally reached the church where they believed the girl to be held, he actually vaulted off the staircase onto the brick pavement (rolling to diminish the momentum, of course) with nary a pause or scratch to his body. Kicking down the bolted metal gate, he entered the cellar of the building.

It wasn't long before he found the first hired guard, limping and using a cane, and it took even less time to assess him. Head cocked to the left, partial deafness in ear. First point of attack. Two, throat. Paralyze vocal chords. Stop screaming. Three, got to be a heavy drinker. Floating rib to the liver. Four, finally, dragging left leg. Fist to patella. Summary of prognosis, unconscious in 90 seconds. Martial efficacy, quarter of an hour, at best. Full faculty recovery, unlikely.

Just as the man turned back to his paces, he moved. Hitting the man's ear before he even realized there was an intruder, then following swiftly with a jab to his throat. Next, a punch to his lower left ribcage, easily hitting through to the liver. As, the man attempted to not fall over, he sunk to the ground, grabbing his left leg and positioning it so as to affect a blow directly to the patella, dislocating the joint entirely.

As the man finally fell, Sherlock picked up his cane as a possible weapon and, noticing his hat, grabbed that too. A friend of his had a thing for hats, at least, in one life he did, in another he was always talking about bananas. Barking mad he was though, never even bothered to fix his TARDIS' Chameleon Circuit. Grabbing the lantern as a last-second thought, he continued down the spiral staircase. He didn't really need it, but figured the man he left at the top would find it even more difficult to get any warning out if he couldn't see.

He entered a well-lit cavernous catacomb to a mumbled chant that sounded something like Earth-Latin, and when he looked saw a crude type of alter that had been at the other four murders. A young woman was convulsing and moaning, at her head a cloaked figure with his arms outstretched - the source of the chanting. Other hired thugs stood around but it was the entrance of another cloaked figure that caught his eye.

However, he only got a glance of the man before he was distracted by a sound and, turning to it, was grabbed by the shoulder. He removed the arm and was pushing the man to his knees when John grabbed the man's head in a choke hold. To speed-along the process of eliminating the thug, he blocked off the man's remaining airway - by plugging his nose.

"I like that hat," Watson greeted, struggling to hold the wrestling man's throat.

"I just picked it up," Holmes responded simply.

Of course, "Did you remember your revolver?" Watson reminded.

"Ah, knew I forgot something," the man they were slowly suffocating was beginning to fall unconscious. "Thought I'd left the stove on."

"You did."

"I think that's quite enough," He said effectively stopping their bantering as well as focusing John's attention on the man passed out in his arms. "You are a Doctor, after all." And after quickly checking for a pulse, John let him fall the rest of the way to the ground. Standing up and extending a hand to his friend, he smirked. The Inspector actually believed that he'd tricked Sherlock Holmes, he was definitely writing this one down in his books.

"Always nice to see you, Watson," he shook his hand. Removing their hats as that joke was now finished, he asked, "Where's the Inspector?"

"He's getting his troops lined up," John straightened his tie, proud that they'd gotten here first. As Lestrade was 'lining up his troops', he'd snuck away to see if he'd beaten Sherlock to the place for once. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't, but that didn't bother him. Also, the hat had made him smile.

Sherlock handed him the cane, "That could be all day." They quickly descended the remaining staircase, to the floor of the cellar. Sherlock went around to the left and John took the right. And while Sherlock did get fired at, John got bitten. It took all of thirty seconds to incapacitate the men, during which, Holmes noticed the second cloaked man slipped out in the bustle.

Watson pulled out his gun but before he could fire it, was grabbed by the leg. While Watson clubbed the man on his leg, Holmes grabbed the knife from the girl before she could harm herself. When he did, an ethereal wind swept the room, affectively blowing out all the torches, leaving only the moonlight. He pocketed the knife and brandished the club at the cloaked figure.

"Sherlock Holmes," The man stated. "And his loyal dog. Tell me, Doctor... As a medical man, have you enjoyed my work?"

This angered the already brassed off Watson, "Let me show you how much I've enjoyed it." He stormed up to the man, intending to hit him with the cane. He was stopped by his friend, however, grabbing him about the waist and yelling his name.

"Watson! Don't," He pulled him back, "Observe."

John looked, following his line of sight, until he noticed a faint glimmer directly in front of his eyes. It was a shaped piece of glass that, had he hit the man as intended, would have impaled his head. "How did you see that?" He lowered the cane, glancing at the faintly lighted windows. He could barely see the man standing in front of him, let alone a nearly invisible weapon.

"Because I was looking for it," and he smashed it in between the two clubs he had collected. Watson raised his gun to the man again, this time at point blank range, as Holmes pushed back the man's hood.

"Lord Blackwood," John recgonized.

Blackwood glanced at Holmes then returned his attention to Watson, "You seem surprised."

Sherlock stepped in before he could say anything further, "I think the girl deserves your attention more than he."

"Indeed," he acquiesced. However, he finished his demonstration of his 'appreciation' to Blackwood, striking him with the butt of his gun before walking past to attend the girl. Sherlock smirked and twirled the billy clubs a few times before tucking them under his arms to greet the entering Inspector.

He turned in time to see him kick a gun away from a crawling thug, patronizingly. "Oh, I'd leave that alone if I were you, boy-o," pointing his own gun at the man on the ground.

"Impeccable timing, Lestrade," He would have clapped were his hands not resting comfortably on the end of his two new favorite weapons. "We've one for the Doctor," he gestured with his head to the girl still on the alter. "And one for the rope," his gaze rested on Blackwood. The Inspector had his men take Blackwood and at Watson's insistence, take the girl to Hospital on their fastest cart.

Turning to The Detective, he glared, "And you were supposed to wait for my orders."

"If I had, you'd be cleaning up a corpse and chasing a rumor," he circled the man, knowing what his intentions had been. But no one was better than him, especially on this planet. "Besides, the girl's parents hired me, not the Yard." He stopped and looked him directly in the eyes, "Why they thought you'd require any assistance is beyond me."

"Well," he stopped him. "London will breath a sigh of relief."

"Indeed," John spoke to the Inspector directly. "Congratulations, Lestrade."

Not wanting to be shown up by Watson, The Detective added in his own praise, "Bravo, Inspector. Have a cigar." But was denied any response, by a man attempting to take their picture. Fortunately, Sherlock was able to cover his face in time. He had grown fond of this planet (Gods help him) and were he ever to somehow get another TARDIS, he would visit it at it's other times. But, having his picture in a 1890's paper would not sit well with someone in, say, the 25th century. Just another day finished.

A/N - I'm not happy with that last pharagraph :( But I'm honestly too tired to bother at the moment. I'll probably tweak it later. I intend to update this about once a week, as weekends are my only days off, but I'll probably do two chapters at a time :) I atayed up to post this chapter because it was brought to my attention that the system said I already had Chapter two up, even though I didn't. Well, here it is :) Enjoy!