A/N: I'm thinking of making this whole thing Sherlock's POV instead of switching back and forth like I usually do, what do you guys think? Do you want a Victoria chapter? Comment in reviews please.

And yes, in case you were wondering, I am steering clear of my sister's preferred Adlock ship (see our fanfic Rare Edition). I don't ship them, so I decided not to put Irene into this one at all.

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything recognizable, unfortunately.

Chapter 3- Sherlock

Victoria left shortly after, claiming she had an appointment to set up- an appointment I would also be attending, apparently, as her bodyguard. I can't say I was especially looking forward to it.

The clock on the wall read past ten- at night, judging by the lack of any light coming from the bolted shut and enforced window. Perfect time to get some sleep, but of course I wasn't tired. Last night, in fact- at least I thought it was the last night-while I had still been at my flat, I hadn't planned on sleeping, and even though I had ended up drifting off then, I knew I wouldn't now. I wasn't nearly stupid to fall asleep willingly in a kidnapper's house, however much I was being accommodated, and if I wasn't going to sleep, I might as well do something remotely useful, like checking for cameras. After a thorough search, I came to the conclusion that there weren't any in the room. A good call on Victoria's part, considering that any videos filmed of me in this room would be more then incriminating evidence against her.

Next I looked at the door and window. The window was, as I had noticed earlier, vertically crossed by metal bars, and therefore could be eliminated as means for an escape. I'd heard her double-lock the door earlier, and I had no doubt that there were guards standing outside it. It would be idiotic to try to get past them without a weapon, and it wasn't like Victoria had carelessly left her gun behind. So I was stuck here, with nothing to do but wait for morning.

That was exactly what I did. According to the clock, it was around eight the next day when Victoria rather over-dramatically burst into the room.

"I hope you slept well, Sherlock." She greeted me. I almost rolled my eyes. Not that I looked tired, because I wasn't, but it was clear that the bed hadn't been slept in. I'd purposely avoided it since I'd woken up in it after she'd knocked me out the day before.

"Today I have a meeting with a client." she quickly reminded me, after seeing the look on my face at her first comment. "And you know you'll be coming with me." She held out my coat and scarf.

Not bothering to ask how she had gotten ahold of them, I unceremoniously pulled them on. "We're leaving already?"

She nodded.

"And you're just telling me to come with you?" I had anticipated that there'd be a threat attached.

"You will come, one way or another. The question is whether you walk out of here or get dragged out."

And there was the threat. "I think I'll walk."

"That's what I thought." She tugged a blindfold out of her pocket and tied it over my eyes. I had expected that. She had experience and she also knew who I was and what I could do; she wasn't about to let me get a good view of my surroundings. What I was not prepared for was, after she'd finished tying the ends into a knot, that she ran her fingers quickly through my hair. I automatically flinched away.

She didn't say anything as to my reaction, but fortunately her hand dropped. "Let's go, then. I don't like to be late." She tugged at my arm and led me out of the room. I carefully kept track of the turns: left, right, left, right, right, right, and left. Soon I found myself being pushed into a car, the car door shutting behind me, and then we started moving, Victoria sitting uncomfortably close to me. A long hour later, the car stopped and we got out. Victoria pulled off my blindfold. We stood outside of an abandoned house- classic. Whoever we were meeting wasn't very creative, which was probably why he needed Victoria's help.

I didn't recognize where we were, but it wasn't anywhere in London, I knew. The open space and insolation strongly suggested the country.

I was having trouble believing that she already trusted me enough to let me just go freely, out of my own will. "No more intimidating warnings?" I asked, half-kidding.

"I didn't give you a weapon, did I? And, anyway, I've dealt with this guy before. He's not about to try to kill me. You won't be necessary today. This is only a test for you."

I could accept that answer. It was less cryptic than most of the others she'd given me the day before. I only had one more question. "What's he done to need your… services?"

Victoria looked at me, a more serious expression on her face then I'd seen before. "I don't ask questions, and neither should you. I keep myself oblivious. It's better that way. Don't say a word to my client. I'll do the talking."

I nodded, surprised by this abrupt change in her manner. She cautiously entered the building and I followed.

Whatever I had been anticipating, it was not this. A man in an ugly tweed suit that didn't quite fit (a gift from a sibling or maybe a cousin) stood inside, leaning against a rotting column. He was in his mid-forties, an avid smoker, and owned a large dog. He was married, with children, and his family was completely unaware of what he did for a living outside of any normal, law-abiding job. He wasn't rich, probably got most of his money from dishonest means as well as a bit of gambling. He lacked the self-confidence of an experienced and successful criminal, most likely a petty thief who sometimes got himself into situations that were far over his head.

"Victoria." The man greeted her. He gave me only a fleeting glance. Apparently he'd been expecting her to bring me along.

"Hello again, Briggs. It's been a while since you've contacted me. Is another prying neighbor giving you trouble?" She smirked, remembering some other conversation, presumably about the first time he had needed Victoria's assistance.

He gave her a dry smile. "No, actually. I'm afraid I lied when I told you I came here for my own appointment. I only told you that so you'd come. There's someone else that's interested, though."

Victoria rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. "And who would that be?"

Before the man she had called Briggs could reply, there were three loud bangs. Gunshots. Briggs let out a sharp cry of pain, coughing up blood, and crumpled forward. He was killed instantly, three bullet holes in his back.

A floorboard creaked, and a tall figure stepped into the brightly lit entryway from the dark recesses of the inside of the house. I recognized him immediately.

Sebastian Moran.

He gestured to the dead man in an offhand way. "Just cleaning up a bit. He knew too much, anyway. Couldn't let him leave." He spoke only to Victoria. "I'm Sebastian Moran, by the way. I expect Sherlock Holmes over there-" he tipped his head toward me. "-knows who I am." He smiled at me. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Victoria stiffened when he addressed me. "You've met?" her voice had raised an octave, sounding even higher than usual.

"Not technically." I replied, still staring at Sebastian. He was an expert at what he did; he was careful. What could he possibly want with Victoria?

"Oh," I detected an odd note of relief in Victoria's tone as it smoothed back to its normal pitch. "Well, Sebastian, I'm going to have to ask you to ditch your gun. I don't like dealing with people who are armed."

"And you aren't?" He tossed the gun away, and it skidded far back into the black interior of the old house. Then he walked up close to Victoria, towering over her so that she had to look almost straight up to see his face.

She stood her ground, not backing away an inch. "Let's get down to business, then. What do you need me for?"

"See, that's the thing," Sebastian's voice grew soft as he leaned toward her. "I didn't come here so you help me, Victoria. I came here to kill you." He pulled another pistol out of his jacket and just as quickly shot her point-blank, not hesitating for a moment. She didn't even have time to turn away. She fell to the ground, a look of horror on her face and a crimson spot blooming across her chest.

He turned to me, a curious, triumphant expression on his face. "I didn't think you would try to stop me." Sebastian threw his second weapon at me, and instinctively I caught it.

Before I could say anything, he nodded once in my direction and loped off back into the darkness. As soon as he was gone I bent down next to Victoria. She wasn't dead yet, but the life was bleeding out of her by the second.

She looked at me with wide eyes. "Tell her… the code…"

"Who? Tell who?"

"Celia." She gasped. "It's his name, the code. Celia… will know." And with that, she breathed her last, and I was alone.