Hey! Here comes the plot, just like I promised! Okay, you know what would make me reeeeeeally happy? If I got more reviews. I've got, like, five million story alerts (thanks you guys!) but only nine reviews! More reviews would be great. Thank you to all who read, and enjoy!

~Lillibella

5

"...May the Lord guide you in all your steps this coming week. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen." The words of my priest were echoed by a hundred 'Amen's' and then the slam of kneeling stands as we all got up to leave. I was wearing Maryanne's dress, which I was going to give back to her when we lunched today after church. It was funny, though. I didn't see her come in or get up to leave... I shrugged. She must have left early to get ready.

I made my way through the crowd of people gathering to leave and out the door. I felt like a small girl again, leaving church to go home, where Mother and Maryanne would make my favourite lunch, a tuna-fish sandwich with crisps and lemon cakes with cream for dessert. That what they were going to make today...

But then I remembered. There was no 'they' anymore. Only Maryanne and I would be having Sunday lunch. My parents were gone...

I snapped out of my reverie as I almost collided with a slick haired man walking in the opposite direction.

"Sorry, sorry, really sorry sir," I hastily apologized. He smiled.

"Don't worry. Nothing broke, and no one died, so it's all okay," he joked, and I laughed. "Good-day, Ma'am."

"Good-day," I replied, and continued my journey.

I reached Maryanne's house a couple of minutes later. I had made sure not to spill anything on this dress (unlike the unfortunate white-and-light-blue work dress that now had a red-wine stain the size of an apple on its skirt) and I planned to show Maryanne. I rapped on her door and stood back. Hmm. No answer. I tried again. Same outcome. I tried the door. That was strange, the door was unlocked. That was really unlike Maryanne. I stepped inside, and immediately I was frightened. There was no noise coming from the kitchen, no smells of busy baking, no attempts at singing a tune...only silence and darkness greeted me at Maryanne's house.

I checked all of the downstairs rooms, but Maryanne was nowhere to be found.

"May? Maryanne? Maryanne Black, it's Emily. If this is a joke, it's NOT FUNNY. MARYANNE?" My cries became more frantic as I searched the upstairs. I finally came to her bedroom, and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. This was the only room I hadn't checked. I slowly opened the door, and screamed, almost falling to the ground.

There was Maryanne, on the floor, with a knife stuck in her chest. Her dark eyes, once bright with life, now stared at me, dull and blank. There was a piece of paper next to her. I walked unsteadily toward it and picked it up. The note was with paper from her own desk. It had the aroma of the fragrant vanilla perfume she used, yet it was not her handwriting. It was plain, straight, and boxy, done in black ink. It read:

I TOLD HER SHE COULDN'T RUN FROM ME.

I PROMISED HER SHE COULDN'T ESCAPE ME.

SHE TRIED.

I KEPT MY PROMISE.

I stared blankly at the note, at first not comprehending. It slowly dawned on me. My sister, my beautiful Maryanne, had been murdered.

I was suddenly running, out of the house, into the street, tears clouding my vision. I could have taken Haven Street to get to the police station, but I went in the opposite direction. I ended up on Baker Street. I searched my memory quickly for which house it was. I decided on 221B. I raced up the steps and banged on the door. Mrs. Hudson opened the door with I tired expression.

"No solicitors. It's Sund- Oh, my dear! He's in his room." She seemed to read my mind. I raced up the stairs and banged on his door. Holmes opened the door and a shocked look came over his face.

"Miss Black! What in the world-" He cut off when I threw myself at him, just wanting comfort.

"M-Maryanne! S-s-she's dead!" I sobbed. He froze, then slowly pried me from him. He looked me in the eye.

"What?" he said quietly. I tried to calm myself down, but I couldn't get a handle on myself. He helped me over to a chair, and then sat down in his.

"What exactly happened, Miss Black?" he asked delicately. I tried to speak between sobs and hiccoughs.

"We were...going to have lunch...after church...and...I went to her house...she wasn't answering and...her door was unlocked... I checked her bedroom...and she was there...with a...a knife in her chest..." When I reached this part I could not speak anymore. I remembered I was still clutching the note. I gave it to Holmes with shaking hands. He read it over quickly, maybe twice or thrice. He looked up to me.

"MRS. HUDSON!" he bellowed, not breaking eye contact. I heard a footsteps coming up the stairs, and then Mrs. Hudson appeared in the doorway. He looked over to her.

"Telegram Watson. Tell him Emily Black is here, and it's an emergency." Mrs. Hudson nodded.

"Right away, Mr. Holmes." She quickly left, and I heard a distant clicking of buttons. Holmes turned back to me. He gazed at me, and for a few moments, everything was silent.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Black. I heard how close you two were. I'm sorry it had to happen that way," she consoled me. I nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I...I think I would just like to be alone for a moment," I said. He nodded.

"Of course." He stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

I curled up in the chair, closed my eyes, and cried while I thought of Maryanne.