A/N: Chapter fifteen here! Woo-hoo! And we finally find out more about Kat's past.

Some notes on reviews:

Fuchsia Grasshopper: I'm glad you like it. That was kind of the point of the projecting. In my head, Sherlock's all like: "She can hear thoughts, maybe I can make her hear specific ones." Thanks for the review.

foxchick1: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you like it.

New Chapter!

Painful Memories

I wake up to a splitting pain in my head. Out of habit, I stay absolutely still while I try to get my bearings. I stiffen. I'm tied to a chair. My heart starts to race before I hear John groan next to me. That's right, Zhi Zhu knocked me out. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm twenty-four years old, and I can protect myself. What happened before will NOT happen again. My heart slows, but I stay tense.

"I see your friend has woken up," I hear the Chinese woman from the circus say. I open my eyes slowly but keep my head down. I can tell we're in an abandoned tunnel. One of the tramways? There are two men behind the woman, and a large object covered in a cloth. The crossbow. "How nice of her to join us." I lift my head up and wince.

"Kat, are you okay?" John asks. I turn to look at him.

"No," I answer tersely. "I have a thing about being tied to chairs." He looks at me in concern. I glance behind him to see Sarah. Unlike John and I, she's gagged.

"'A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket'," the Chinese woman says. I glance up at her. My eyes widen as I realize she's the same woman who's been following us. She raises her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

"I…I'm not Sherlock Holmes," John replies, startled.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it," the Chinese woman says, smiling sarcastically. She reaches down and pulls John's jacket open, rummaging in the inside pocket.

"Ow, ow," John mutters, wincing as the woman pulls out his wallet. She opens it and takes something out of it.

"Tickets from the theater, collected by you, name of Holmes," she says.

"Yes, okay…" John replies. I snort. The woman turns to me.

"He's not Sherlock," I state, smirking. "If you'd been watching when he picked up the tickets, you would have heard another man introduce himself as Sherlock." The woman smiles at me.

"We heard it from his own mouth," she says.

"What?" John asks.

"Any time you'd like to join us, Sherlock," I project.

"'I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone'," she answers. "'Because no-one else can compete with my massive intellect'."

"On my way."

"Did I really say that?" John asks. He chuckles and lowers his head.

"You heard all that, but didn't hear me call him John just afterwards?" I ask, chuckling. "Check his wallet again. You'll find a military ID in the name of Captain John H. Watson." She glances at me before checking the wallet, pulling out a card. At the same time, I focus on her, trying to figure out who she is. She frowns. "Told you so. And you call yourself a General." I can tell she's shocked.

"How…?" she starts to ask before shaking her head. "Never mind." She pulls a small pistol from behind her and points it at my head. I can tell it's not loaded. "I am Shan." John looks up at her.

"I know," I respond, keeping my voice level and my eyes locked on hers.

"You're…you're Shan," John says. Shan nods.

"Three times we tried to kill Mr. Holmes," she says. "What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?"

"He's not really trying," I answer. She pulls the trigger.

Click.

"Correct," she says, pulling a magazine clip from her pocket. She slides the clip into the pistol and cocks it before pointing it at my head again. "Not blank bullets now."

"There weren't blank bullets before, Shan," I retort. "The gun was empty." She glares at me.

"If we wanted to kill you, we would have done it by now," she says, ignoring my comment. "We just wanted to make your friend inquisitive." She looks at John and I sternly. "Do you have it?

"Do we have what?" John asks.

"The treasure," Shan answers.

"Hurry up, please!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," John argues. She turns to me but I remain silent.

"I would prefer to make certain," she says. She gestures to the men behind her. One walks over and pulls the cover off the crossbow. An arrow's already loaded in it. John stares at it and sighs. "Everything in the West has its price. And the price for her life…." John turns and stares at Sarah. "…Information." Shan snaps her fingers and the two men walk towards the three of us. But instead of grabbing Sarah, they pick my chair up and carry me towards the crossbow.

"Hey! Put me down!" I shout. They do: Right in front of the crossbow. I stare at it.

"Gag her!" Shan commands. One of the men takes a cloth and gags me. Shan turns to John and aims the pistol at him. "Where's the hairpin?"

"What?" he asks, struggling against his rope despite the pistol.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling," she replies. "We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you and your friend, Mr. Holmes, have been searching."

"Sherlock doesn't tell me anything," John responds. "You have to believe me. I don't know what you're looking for."

"I need a volunteer from the audience!" Shan announces loudly.

"No, please," John begs. "Please."

"Almost there," Sherlock's voice says in my head.

"Almost isn't good enough," I respond as Shan starts walking toward me. I glare at her as best I can through the gag.

"Ah, thank you, lady," she says. "Yes, you'll do very nicely." I tug on my ropes. Shan smiles, takes out a knife and reaches up to the sandbag suspended from the ceiling. She stabs the knife into the bag and sand begins to pour out. She smiles and looks around the tunnel. "Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of N-W-One, we present for your pleasure: Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act."

"Please!" John begs again as Shan walks over to me. She places a black origami lotus on my lap.

"You've seen the act before," Shan says. "How dull for you. You know how it ends."

"Here."

"About time!"

"I don't know! I'm not Sherlock!" John shouts frantically.

"I don't believe you," Shan responds.

"You should, you know," Sherlock's voice calls from down the tunnel. Shan spins around towards the voice. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Shan raises the pistol and aims it towards Sherlock. A moment later, one of the thugs starts to hurry towards him. "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Late," I project at the same time John says it out loud. "And that's not what she meant when she said she didn't believe him."

"That's a semi-automatic," Sherlock continues, ignoring us. "If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second."

"Well?" Shan asks, still aiming the pistol down the tunnel.

"Well…" Sherlock says just as the thug reaches him. He runs out from wherever he's hiding and hits the thug. The thug grunts and I hear a thud. Sherlock continues, much quicker than before. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." A second later there's a crash and it gets darker. Moments after that, I feel hands behind me, tugging at my ropes. I tense up even more until I hear Sherlock in my head.

"It's alright. I've got you."

"Zhi Zhu's behind you."

Sherlock gets pulled away from me. I glance over my shoulder at the two of them before turning back to the crossbow. The weight and sandbag pass each other. I feel Sherlock behind me again, but only for a moment. I try to focus on the crossbow, but I'm too tense. It's too familiar. I close my eyes. I hear John grunt, I hear Sarah sob. I hear the arrow release….

…And hit someone behind me. I open my eyes. John is lying on the floor behind the crossbow. I look over my shoulder again and see the arrow buried in Zhi Zhu's stomach. He groans before slowly toppling to the floor. I face forward again and close my eye again. I take a deep, calming breath, and focus on John's ropes. I snap them, and he's free. I open my eyes and glance towards Sarah, who's still sobbing. John takes the hint and walks over to her.

"It's all right," he says, soothingly, as Sherlock kneels down in front of me. He unties my gag and removes it. I smile.

"You're gonna be all right," he says softly. "It's over now. It's over." He strokes his hands down my arms comfortingly before moving to untie my ropes.

"Don't worry," John says to Sarah. "Next date won't be like this." I laugh. I can't help it. Sherlock finishes untying me and offers me his hand. I take it as I stand up. I wobble a little but stay standing. We walk a few steps before something solid rams into me. I stumble as I feel a pair of arms wrap around me. It's Sarah.

"I… was… so… w-worried!" she cries, her arms tightening. I stand in shock for a minute before hugging her back.

"I'm okay," I whisper. "I'm fine." I glance over her shoulder at Sherlock as I hear police sirens.

"Took them long enough," he mutters. I pull away from Sarah and hold her by the shoulders.

"Come on," I say. "Let's get out of here." Sarah nods as she stops sobbing. We walk towards the exit. Just outside, the police shout at us to put our hands up.

"They're clear," Dimmock's voice calls. They let the four of us through before separating us. Paramedics lead Sarah and John to one ambulance and me to another. I watch John and Sarah while I'm being poked and prodded. It stings, but I don't wince. They give me a shock blanket and send me to Dimmock. Sherlock, John and Sarah are already standing there, about to walk away. John puts his arm around Sarah's shoulder and walks her away. It makes me smile.

"We'll just slip off," Sherlock says just as I walk up. "No need to mention us in your report."

"Mr. Holmes," Dimmock protests.

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector," Sherlock says, cutting him off. "A glittering career."

"I go where you point me," Dimmock says resignedly as Sherlock walks away.

"Exactly," Sherlock responds. I chuckle and shake my head before following after him.

"Have a good night, Dimmock," I call over my shoulder. We follow John and Sarah to the main road.

"I'm going to get Sarah home," John says as we stand beside them. I nod.

"We'll get back okay," I respond as Sherlock tries to hail a taxi. I step over to Sarah and take her hand. "It was really nice meeting you, Sarah." She nods.

"You, as well, Kat," she responds. A taxi pulls up and John opens the door, leading Sarah towards it. Sarah gives the cabbie her address and the car takes off. I sigh before glancing at Sherlock.

"Walk?" he asks. I nod, and we start walking towards Baker Street in silence. About halfway there, Sherlock decides it's time to get a ride, and hails another taxi. We get in, he gives the address, and a few minutes later, we're walking up the front steps. I pull out my key and unlock the door. Well, try to, anyway: My hands are shaking, and I can feel Sherlock watching me. I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath before opening my eyes and putting the key in the lock. I open the door and the two of us walk in, heading up the stairs. As we reach the second floor, Sherlock walks into his flat before turning around and looking at me. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but closes it again and frowns. I smile slightly.

"Night, Sherlock," I say before turning and heading up the stairs to my own flat. I open my door and walk in, locking it behind me. I take my jacket off and toss it over the back of the sofa. I head towards the bathroom, take a look at myself in the mirror, and grimace. I can see why the paramedics were so concerned: There's dried blood in my hair and down the side of my face. I walk back into my bedroom and take some pajamas out of my dresser. I put them on my bed and head towards the closet in the hallway, pulling a couple of towels out and heading back towards the bathroom, picking the pajamas up on the way. I turn the water on as hot as it'll go without burning me and undress. I wash up, being careful with my head, and step out of the shower. I get dressed and head to bed. I fall asleep just as my head hits the pillow.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Found you! Didn't think you could escape forever, did you?"

"Who are you?"
"Just do as we ask."

"I promise. I won't let them hurt you again."

"You didn't do what you were told."
"NO! DON'T HURT HIM!"
"Too bad. This is what happens when you don't listen."
"PLEASE!"

"NO!"

"You promised."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Kat, wake up!"

I'm being shaken. I open my eyes and turn to see Sherlock leaning over me. He's blurry, so I blink a couple of times before realizing I'm crying.

"Sherlock?" I ask as I move to sit up, wiping my face. He nods. "What're you doing up here?"

"I…" he starts, speaking slowly. "I heard you screaming. John's still at Sarah's, so I came to check on you." I stare at him before sighing and looking away from him.

"Sorry," I respond.

"It was that nightmare again," he says. It's not a question. I nod, still not looking at him.

"It never really goes away," I reply. "It's usually not so vivid, though." I look up at him to see him watching me, standing next to the bed. "Tonight's event reminded me of it, made the nightmare worse." He nods.

"Did you… want to talk about it?" he asks hesitantly. I'm about to shake my head when I catch a look of real concern in his eye. I sigh again.

"I'll tell you about it, but you can't interrupt and you can't ask questions till the very end," I explain. Sherlock nods and sits on the edge of my bed. "It happened fifteen years ago. My mum, dad, little brother, and I were in the airport on our way to Disney World. I'd always been a curious kid, so I'd wandered off a bit while we were waiting." I pause and take a deep breath, closing my eyes before continuing. "My brother, Aaron, was always following me around, always talking to people, and always asking questions. He was such a bright kid, and I adored him. We'd been talking to this elderly Italian couple when Aaron said he had to use the bathroom. We excused ourselves and headed down one of the nearby hallways, where we were grabbed by two men in masks and knocked out. They took us somewhere. They knew I was psychic, demanded that I predict things and the like for them. Sometimes, I'd refuse, and they'd beat me." I pause again, trying to stop the tears threatening to fall. "It got to the point where beating me wouldn't work anymore: I'd grown tolerant to the pain. So they started beating Aaron." I take another deep breath, my voice breaking when I continue. "I promised him I wouldn't let them hurt him again after the first time, and I'd managed to keep my promise for a while. Until they asked me to do something I couldn't: I was incapable of it. They thought I was refusing, and they took it out on him. They tied me to a chair, and made me watch." I feel a tear run down my cheek. "One of the men got a little overenthusiastic, and hit Aaron too hard in the head. They killed him. He was only seven years old and they killed him." I pause again before I become hysterical. I know how Sherlock feels about tears. I open my eyes again and look at him. I'm surprised to see the mix of emotion in his eyes: Concern, rage, and disgust. Maybe he's not an emotionless robot after all. "The police found me a few days later. Someone had seen them trying to dispose of the evidence." I say these last four words in disgust. "They'd called it in, and I was found. They took me to the hospital and had me see numerous therapists, but nothing helped. I was numb: Completely numb. Mum and dad blamed me for his death. They didn't try to help me; not really. And the nurses and doctors all looked at me with The Look." Sherlock raises his eyebrow at that. "It's that 'oh, the poor kid' look, full of pity and caution. I hated The Look." Sherlock nods. I stay silent for a moment, trying to decide whether to finish there or continue. I figure, what the hell, and go on, watching Sherlock's reaction. "So I stayed numb, always thinking something was wrong with me, until one day, a boy a few years older than me just waltzed into my hospital room and started talking to me." Sherlock surprises me by smiling. "And you know the rest of the story from there."

"I do, don't I?" he asks rhetorically.

"You ass," I respond. "You've known since we met at Bart's that we'd met before fifteen years ago, didn't you?"

"I might have suspected it," he replies, smirking. I chuckle before sighing.

"Now you know what happened. Any questions?" I ask.

"How did they know you were psychic?" he asks. I shake my head.

"I really don't know," I answer. "When they grabbed us, just before knocking us out, the one that grabbed me said 'Found you! Didn't think you could escape forever, did you?'." I can see the gears turning in Sherlock's head. "Any other questions?"

"No," he answers. We sit there, staring at each other before we hear the front door open and close.

"John's back," Sherlock mutters. I chuckle.

"No shit, Sherlock," I retort before turning back and lying down again. I can feel him glaring at me. "Now get out of my flat so I can get some sleep." I yawn. "I'm exhausted." The bed shifts as he stands up. I'm about to fall asleep when I swear I feel a pair of lips brush against the side of my head.

"Night, Kat."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

I wake up in the morning feeling lighter. I get dressed and put my hair up in a high ponytail before grabbing my jacket and heading downstairs, hoping the boys are up. Sure enough, when I get to their floor, their kitchen door is open. I knock on the door frame before walking in.

"Morning," I greet. John, who's sitting at the kitchen table, looks up at me and smiles. Sherlock nods in my direction as he pours a mug of tea and hands it to John.

"Ta," John says before looking at a photograph on the table. Sherlock pours another mug and puts some sugar in it before handing it to me. I raise my eyebrows and accept the mug, taking a sip. It's perfect. "So, 'Nine mill'…"

"Million," Sherlock interrupts, pouring a mug for himself.

"Million, yes," John responds. "'Nine million for jade pin dragon. Den: black Tramway."

"An instruction to all their London operatives," Sherlock says. John hums. "A message; what they were trying to reclaim."

"What, a jade pin?" John asks.

"Worth nine million pounds," Sherlock answers. "Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout."

"Hang on," John interjects. "A hairpin worth nine million pounds?"

"Apparently."

"Why so much?" John asks.

"Depends who owned it," I answer. The three of us stay silent for a moment before Sherlock announces that we need to return to the bank. John groans before standing up and heading for his coat. Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf and the three of us head out the building. Sherlock hails a taxi and gets in, John following right behind.

"Kat!" a voice calls. I turn towards the voice and see the same man from a few days ago. He's still got his bowtie, but no fez. The ginger—Amy?—and Rory are right behind him. "Hello!" I turn to the boys in the taxi.

"You two go on ahead. I'll catch up," I say, closing the door as I step away from the car. I turn towards the three walking towards me and cross my arms in front of me. "How do you know my name?"

"Oh, you haven't really met me yet, have you," he comments instead. I tilt my head at him, confused. Something's… off… about him. He's different from everyone else. Even without really looking, I can tell that the goofy grin is just an act: That he's much sadder than he lets anyone see. "Well, that will happen. Time travel and all." I shake my head at him.

"Time travel?" I ask. "Who are you?"

"Well, I'm the Doctor," he answers. "Just the Doctor. That's what they call me." I'm about to write him off as a nutcase, but for some reason, I can't.

"Doctor, who is she?" Amy asks. The Doctor turns to her before looking back at me.

"She's Kat," he answers. Amy and Rory both roll their eyes. "She helped me out with something a while back." I shake my head.

"I've only met you once before, when you were running from Amy and... River, I think her name was? They were trying to destroy your fez," I respond. The Doctor gets an excited look on his face.

"I get another fez?" he asks in glee. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Anyway, we were in the area and I wanted to stop by to tell you something." He stands in silence for a minute, and Amy nudges him. "Oh, yeah. Um, I just wanted to say that everything will be all right." I narrow my eyes at him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"It means that Sherlock's going to take a fall in a few years," he answers. My heart constricts on the word "fall" for some reason. "But everything won't be what it seems. Just…" He trails off, struggling to find the right words. "Have faith." He smiles warmly before continuing. "Next time you meet me, I won't look like me. I'll look different, and I'll sound different, and I'll be different. Don't let it put you off." He turns on his heel and starts walking away. Amy and Rory watch him for a moment before Amy follows after him. Rory turns back to me.

"Honestly, it sounds crazy," he says. I chuckle. "But it's true."

"Oh, I know better than anyone to believe in the impossible," I respond. Rory's eyes widen. "I've met you once before, had a lovely conversation with you, but you don't seem to remember me."

"It hasn't happened for me yet," he replies. I nod. "Anyway, I should probably catch up to them." I nod again as he turns in the direction the Doctor and Amy went. "Nice meeting you."

"Good seeing you again," I call as I turn. I step up to the curb and hail a taxi, asking the cabbie to take me to the bank. I'm walking up the stairs just as the boys are walking out.

"Took you long enough," Sherlock comments. I chuckle.

"I've just met the most confusing man," I respond.

"Oh?" John asks. I nod as we start walking.

"Yeah," I respond, but that's all I say. After a moment of silence, John speaks up.

"Aren't you going to tell us about it?" he asks.

"Nope!" I respond, laughing. "Just going to make you suffer from curiosity." John groans.

This is where I'm going to end The Blind Banker. Because I can. Anyway, let me know what you think, please!