**I do not own Sherlock! I only own Sarafina and Liza Holmes!**

Chapter 6

We walk upstairs to find Uncle Sherlock lying across the sofa with his arm up in the air. He noisily breathes out and relaxes. As Uncle Sherlock keeps clenching and unclenching his left fist, John stares at him in the doorway.

"What are you doing?"

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think." I roll my eyes and head towards the kitchen. "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." John walks further into the room.

"Its good news for breathing."

"Oh, breathing. Breathings boring." Uncle Sherlock says dismissively.

"Oh, you say that about everything!" I yell from the kitchen.

"Is that three patches?" John asks Uncle Sherlock.

"What?!" I yell from the kitchen again.

"It's a three patch problem." Uncle Sherlock says. He puts his hands under his chin in a prayer like stance as I come out from the kitchen.

"You're wearing three patches?" He closes his eyes. "What the hell is the matter with you? I told you not to do that anymore!" I yell.

"Liza, don't yell, you're going to wake the neighbors." Uncle Sherlock says, eyes still closed. I sigh loudly and go back to the kitchen.

"Well?" John asks. "You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important." A couple minutes later, Uncle Sherlock replies.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

"My phone?"

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website."

"Mrs. Hudson's got a phone."

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear."

I walk out of the kitchen with a cup of tea and sit on one of the chairs in the room to watch whatever played out in front of me.

"I was the other side of London." John said. I could tell he was starting to get angry.

"There was no hurry." Uncle Sherlock says mildly.

John glares at him and looks up at the ceiling, as if to calm himself down. Pretty much the same stance I have when dealing with Uncle Sherlock. After a few moments, John takes out his phone and holds it out towards Uncle Sherlock.

"Here." He says.

Without opening his eyes, Uncle Sherlock just holds out his hand. John glares at him again and then steps forward and slaps the phone into Uncle Sherlock's outstretched hand. He puts his hands in his "thinking position" again with the phone between the palms of his hands. John turns and walks a few feet away and turns around.

"So what's this about – the case?"

"Her case."

"Her case?" Uncle Sherlock opens his eyes.

"Her suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake."

"Okay, he took her case. So?"

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Uncle Sherlock says quietly, almost as if he's talking to himself. He holds the phone out to John, still not looking at him. "On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text."

John half-smiles angrily in disbelief. I snorted.

"You brought me here… to send a text."

"Text, yes. The number on my desk."

John continues to glare at him. I almost thought John would crack and shoot him right there on the spot. Eventually, John stomps over to Uncle Sherlock and snatches the phone out of his hand. Uncle Sherlock refolds his hands under his chin and closes his eyes while John walks over to the window and looks out to the street below. Uncle Sherlock opens his eyes and tilts his head slightly towards John.

"What's wrong?"

"Just met a friend of yours." Uncle Sherlock frowns.

"A friend?"

"An enemy." John clarifies. Uncle Sherlock immediately relaxes.

"Oh. Which one?"

"Your arch-enemy, according to him." John says and turns towards Uncle Sherlock. "Do people have arch-enemies?"

Uncle Sherlock looks at me and I nod my head, confirming what John had said. Uncle Sherlock looks at John and narrows his eyes.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"
"No."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time." I giggled.

"Who is he?" John asked.

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now." Uncle Sherlock replies softly. He raises his voice a little more. "On my desk, the number."

John gives him a dark look, but Uncle Sherlock had already looked away. John walks over to the desk and picks up a piece of paper.

"Jennifer Wilson. That was… Hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number." John shakes his head and gets out his phone to enter the number. "Are you doing it?"

"Yes."

"Have you done it?"

"Ye… hang on!"

"These words exactly: "What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out."" As John types, he looks over at Uncle Sherlock, concerned. Uncle Sherlock continues. ""Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come."" John looks at Uncle Sherlock again.

"You blacked out?"

"What? No. No!" He flips his legs off the sofa and steps over the coffee table. "Type and send it. Quickly."

Uncle Sherlock goes into the kitchen and grabs a pink suitcase and brings it into the living room. He grabs a chair from the dining table and sits it down in front of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. He sets the suitcase on top of the chair and looks at me. I sigh and get up from the chair and move to the couch. He sits down in his armchair.

"Have you sent it?" He asks John.

"What's the address?" John asks.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!" Uncle Sherlock says impatiently. I shake my head and lean back on the couch. Uncle Sherlock opens the case and inspects the contents. John realized what he's looking at, staggering at his shock.

"That's… that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case."

"Yes, obviously." Uncle Sherlock says as he studies the case further. Uncle Sherlock realizes Johns still staring at him and he rolls his eyes. "Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn't kill her." He says sarcastically.

"I never said you did."

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" Uncle Sherlock smirks.

"Now and again, yes." He puts his hands on the armrests and lifts his feet up under himself so that he's perching on the chair with his backside resting on the back of the chair and clasps his hands under his chin.

"Okay…" John limps across the room and sits down on one of the armchairs by the fireplace. "How did you get this?"

"By looking."

"Where?"

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it in the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes from Lauriston Gardens… and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Tooke me less than an hour to find the right skip."

"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?"

"Well, it had to be pink, obviously."

"Why didn't I think of that?" John asked himself.

"Because you're an idiot." John looks at Uncle Sherlock shocked. Me, I just laughed. "No, no, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is." He folds his hands and points out his index fingers at the case. "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"

"From the case? How could I?"

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one – that's her number there; you just texted it."

"Maybe she left it at home." John offers. Uncle Sherlock lifts himself from the chair and sits himself down on it normally.

"She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home." He puts the paper back into the luggage label and looks expectantly at John.

"Er…" He looks down at his mobile on the arm of the chair. "Why did I just send that text?"

"Well, the question is: Where is her phone now?"

"She could have lost it."

"Yes, or…?"

"The murderer… you think the murderer has the phone?" John asks slowly.

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone." John looks, confused.

"Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?" Suddenly, his phone starts to ring. He picks up his phone and looks at the screen. He looks at Uncle Sherlock.

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer…" Uncle Sherlock pauses dramatically as the phone stops. "…would panic."

He suddenly flips shut the suitcase and stands up. He walks across the room and puts on his jacket. I follow as John continues to stare at his phone. John finally looks up.

"Have you talked to the police?"

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police."

"So why are you talking to me?" Uncle Sherlock reaches behind the door to grab his coat. As he looks at John, he says,

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull."

"So I'm basically filling in for your skull?"

"Relax, you're doing fine." Uncle Sherlock says as he puts on his coat. I smirk as I do the same. John continues to sit there. "Well?" Uncle Sherlock asks.

"Well what?"

"Well you could just sit there and watch telly."

"What, you want me to come with you?"

"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so…" John smiles briefly and looks at me, who is staring shocked at Uncle Sherlock. Uncle Sherlock looks at John. "What?" John nods towards me and Uncle Sherlock looks. "Oh, come on now, Liza. You know what I mean. Besides, you talk most of the time. I never get a word in edgewise with you." I continue to glare at him as he looks again at John. "Problem?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan." Uncle Sherlock looks away exasperated.

"What about her?"

"She said… you get off on this. You enjoy it."

"And I said "dangerous", and here you are." Uncle Sherlock says nonchalantly and walks out the door. I follow.

After a couple of minutes and a "Damn it." from John, he was following us down the street.

"Where are we going?"

"Northumberland Street's a five minute walk from here."

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" Uncle Sherlock smiles.

"No – I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught."

"Why?"

"Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, John: it needs an audience." John looks pointedly at Uncle Sherlock.

"Yeah." Uncle Sherlock spins around to observe the area as he continues to walk.

"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go." He puts his hands on either side of his head, focusing his thoughts. "Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?"

"Dunno. Who?" Uncle Sherlock shrugs.

"Haven't the faintest. Hungry?"

"Yes!" I say excitedly.

John just smirks and follows Uncle Sherlock into a restaurant. The waiter at the door, oh bugger I forgot his name, gestures towards a table near the window.

"Thank you, Billy." Uncle Sherlock says.

'Billy! That's his name!' I think to myself.

Uncle Sherlock takes his coat off and sits down on the bench and immediately focuses towards the window. I sit down next to Uncle Sherlock as I take my coat off and John sits down on the other bench, back towards the window. Uncle Sherlock nods his head towards a building on the other side of the road.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it." He says to John and I.

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad."

"He has killed four people." John hesitates.

"…Okay." The manager/owner, Angelo, comes over to greet us.

"Sherlock." He says as they shake hands. "And you brought little Liza with you too." He says as he pats my shoulder.

"Little?" I say, slightly offended.

"Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." He lays some menus on the table. "For you, your niece, and your date." I snort and cover my mouth with my hands, shocked. Uncle Sherlock turns to John.

"Do you want to eat?"

"I'm not his date." John says to Angelo. I'm still trying to keep my composure.

"This man got me off a murder charge." Angelo says.

"This is Angelo." Uncle Sherlock says to John. Angelo offers his hand to John and he shakes it. "Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking."

"He cleared my name." Angelo said to John.

"I cleared it a bit. Anything happen opposite?" Uncle Sherlock asked.

"Nothing." He looks at John. "But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."

"You did go to prison."

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic." I snorted again and John says,

"I'm not his date!" Uncle Sherlock puts down his menu.

"You may as well eat. We might have a long wait." Just then, Angelo comes back with a candle, sets it down in the middle of the table, and gives John a thumbs-up. He walks away as John says, "Thanks…"

Later, John and I are eating and Uncle Sherlock is still staring out the window, quietly drumming his fingers on the table.

"People don't have arch-enemies." John says. Uncle Sherlock turns to him.

"I'm sorry?"

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen." Uncle Sherlock looks back out the window.

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull." He says disinterestedly.

"So who did Liza and I meet?" I pause and look at Uncle Sherlock, wondering if I should say something.

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?"

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like… Girlfriends, boyfriends…"

"Yes, well, as I was saying – dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

"Mm." After a moment, John speaks again. "Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?" I drop my fork and turn slowly to John and Uncle Sherlock. Uncle Sherlock looks at John sharply. "Which is fine, by the way."

"I know its fine." John smiles.

"So you've got a boyfriend then?"

"No." Johns smile stays but gets a little more fixed and awkward.

"Right. Okay. You're unattached. Like me." He looks down at his plate, looking as if he's running out of things to say. "Fine." He clears his throat. "Good."

At that, John continues eating as Uncle Sherlock looks suspiciously at him for a moment. He turns his attention back out the window, but then looks at John again.

"John, um… I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any…"

"No." John interrupts. He turns his head to clear his throat. "No, I'm not asking. No." He fixes his gaze onto Uncle Sherlock's. "I'm just saying, it's all fine." Uncle Sherlock looks at him for a quick moment and nods his head.

"Good. Thank you." At that, he turns his attention back out the window. John looks away with sort of a, "What the heck was that all about?" look. Then Uncle Sherlock nods out the window. "Look across the street. Taxi." John turns and looks as I get up on my knees to look over Uncle Sherlock's shoulder. "Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out." I see the passenger of the taxi looking through the windows as if he's looking for someone in particular. "Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?" Uncle Sherlock says to himself.

"That's him?" John asks.

"Don't stare." John looks at him.

"You're staring."

"We can't all stare."

He gets to his feet, grabs his coat and scarf, and walks towards the door. John picks up his jacket and follows him. I get up and follow. Outside, Uncle Sherlock puts on his coat and keeps an eye on the taxi. The passenger looks out the back window and his gaze goes to Uncle Sherlock. Then the passenger turns back and the cab starts to leave. Uncle Sherlock darts out into the road, right out in front of a car. The driver slams on his brakes but Uncle Sherlock, always wanting to find the quickest route, rolls onto the bonnet of the car, lands on his feet, and keeps following the taxi. It was almost comedic how fast he went over the car. John runs in front of the now stopped car and apologizes to the driver.

"Sorry." He says. We chase after Uncle Sherlock before he completely stops. "I've got the cab number." John says.

"Good for you." Uncle Sherlock says. He puts his hands up on either side of his head again and concentrates on the mental map he's looking at, I'm assuming. "Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights." Uncle Sherlock says quick fire.

"What are things you find on the side of the street?!" I ask excitedly. Just joking, of course. Didn't really think this would be a great time to play a guessing game.

Uncle Sherlock lifts his head and looks at a man who's unlocking a door at a building nearby. He then runs towards the man and grabs him, shoves him out of his way, and charges into the building.

"Oy!" The man shouts. John and I both raise an apologetic hand to the man.

"Sorry." We say.

We race up the stairs after Uncle Sherlock. He takes two steps at a time while John and I struggle to keep up. (Before you say anything, I'm very active and I had no trouble, but I was stuck behind John so I couldn't move that fast. In my defense. Anyways…)

"Come on, John." Uncle Sherlock yells back.

We reach the top of the stairs and make our way down the staircase on the side of the building. Uncle Sherlock climbs onto the railing and leaps across a gap between the two buildings. John and I follow. Uncle Sherlock and I run across the roof and jump across to the other building. John stops at the gap, unsure of whether he'd make it across or not.

"Come on, John. We're losing him!" Uncle Sherlock yells across.

Finally, John backs up a little and jumps. We drop down onto a walkway on the side of the building and continue. We go down another staircase, run to yet another ledge, and drop down into an alley. We run down the alleyway onto D'Arblay Street, where the taxi drives past us.

"Ah, no!" Uncle Sherlock races out of the alley and goes to the right. "This way." I follow Uncle Sherlock to the right as John goes to the left. "No, this way!" Uncle Sherlock yells back at him.

"Sorry." John says, turning around.

We keep running down different streets and alleyways until Evil Kenivel decides to jump in front of another cab. It screeches to a stop and Uncle Sherlock crashes onto the bonnet. He takes, what looks like an I.D badge, out of his pocket and flashes it at the driver as he runs to the right side of the cab.

"Police! Open her up!" He opens the door and stares at the passenger. "No." He leans down to look at the passenger again. "Teeth, tan: What – Californian?" He looks at what the passenger has on the floor in front of him. "LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived." He straightens up, grimacing.

"How can you possibly know that?" John asks.

"The luggage." I look and on his luggage label, it says that he'd flown from LAX to LHR. "It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?" Uncle Sherlock says to the passenger.

"Sorry – are you guys the police?" The passenger asks.

"Yeah." Uncle Sherlock says, flashing the I.D at him again. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." The passenger says smiling. Uncle Sherlock pauses for a brief moment and smiles falsely.

"Welcome to London." Then he walks away, leaving John and I staring blankly for a moment. John steps closer and looks at the passenger.

"Er, any problems, just let us know." The passenger nods and John shuts the door. John and I walk towards Uncle Sherlock. "Basically just a cab that happened to slow down."

"Basically."

"Not the murderer."

"Not the murderer, no."

"Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go." Uncle Sherlock says as he switches the I.D from one hand to another.

"Hey, where – where did you get this? Here." John reaches for the I.D and takes it. "Right. Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he's annoying." I turn to Uncle Sherlock.

"Seriously? I told you to stop that!" He ignores me and keeps talking to John.

"You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat."

"Uncle Sherlock!" John nods and starts giggling silently.

"What?" Uncle Sherlock asks.

"Nothing, just: "Welcome to London"."

Uncle Sherlock chuckles and looks down the road. I look in the same direction and see a police officer talking to the passenger. I watch as the passenger turns and points in our direction.

"Got your breath back?" Uncle Sherlock asks John.

"Ready when you are." At that, we all turn and run down the road.

Sorry it took me so long to update. Im working like crazy. Im scheduled everyday this week plus I have classes Monday-Wednesday... :/ Ill try to update faster. Oh and quick question! Do you like what im doing? Do you think the chapters should be longer or shorter? Should I update more or less? Is there anyting you think I should change or do differently? I need your opinons! Thank you! :)