"Rise and shine, sweetheart! Wakey-wakey!"

Kendra forced her eyes open, trying to focus on reality. Her vision was still blurry, but she could see Jim standing in her flat, inspecting the desk which was covered in papers from six months ago. She remembered deciding to clean that yesterday, before...

"Oh noooo..."she moaned.

"What?" Jim asked, still looking at the mess of papers.

Kendra rolled over and rubbed her eyes. Her back hurt. She had fallen asleep on the sofa and now it was eleven o'clock...

"Oh no! I'm late! I am so, seriously late!"

She jumped to her feet and flew past Jim. In her bedroom, she threw open the closet while glancing at the clock. She was going to be in so much trouble when she got to work.

"I called in for you," Jim said, coming to lean against the doorway. "I told them you were sick yesterday and still recovering."

Kendra stopped short.

Jim. He was here, in her flat. How had he...?

"Hey," she said, poking her head around the door of the closet. "How did you get in?"

Jim straightened and shrugged.

"The door was unlocked."

Unlocked?! Her doors and windows were never unlocked.

"Jim, are you sure it was unlocked?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes," he replied. "I came inside, found your door, and tried the knob. It was unlocked."

Kendra rubbed a hand on her bleary-eyed face, trying to make sense of it. Maybe she hadn't locked it when she got home last night. But that was so unlike her. She never left anything unlocked, not since the incident.

"Either way," she said, going back to her closet. "You just walking in here while I'm sleeping is a little creepy."

Jim grinned as he took a step into the room. "Creepy is what I do."

Kendra was digging furiously through the pile of clothes in the closet, trying to find something suitable to wear and failing.

"Let me help," said Jim, coming to her side. He began digging through the pile as she stood back. "By the way," he said over his shoulder, "I threw out all of your heels."

"What?! Those shoes were expensive?" Kendra shouted, aghast. "Just how long have you been here, anyway?"

"About an hour."

An hour? While she was sleeping? She shivered, starting to rethink her choice the day before. Maybe she shouldn't have gone after him, spent the day with him. He seemed to be dangerous, very dangerous.

"Here," Jim said.

He handed her a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and she held them to her chest. She wanted to put a wall, not a pair of jeans, between her body and his. He frightened her and she needed to quell that fear. She glanced around nervously, looking for a way out. Suddenly she woke up completely and realized just what was really going on.

"You're in my room!" she exclaimed.

"So?"

"Isn't that a little strange?"

Jim stood straight and pulled his sleeves down. "Had things worked out yesterday, I would have been here anyway."

He went back to searching as she hugged the jeans tighter, imagining the possibility. She had willingly brought him here. She had invited a murderer into her home, not that it was much of a home.

But that was before I knew, she reminded herself. Back then, he was nice little Jim from the coffee shop. He wasn't a murderer then.

Finally, he emerged triumphant with a dark maroon sleeveless sweater. The turtle neck and drop waist belt looked like a nice fit for her. She'd forgotten all about this little piece.

"This with those jeans, your green jacket, and the shoes I gave you yesterday," he instructed. "And brush your hair."

Kendra took the shirt from him and set it on the bed with the jeans, placing a hand on her hip.

"Who are you that you come in here and tell me what to wear and what to do?"

Jim threw his hands up in surrender as he ducked out of the room.

"Just trying to help," he replied.

Kendra rolled her eyes as the door closed. She glanced down at the clothes on the bed, debating on whether or not to put them on or pull on an oversized sweater and yoga pants. Jim seemed to think they were going some where, so just to appease him, maybe she ought to follow his instructions. He was dangerous after all.

"Come on all ready," Jim groaned from the other side of the door.

"Just calm down," she called back.

The shirt felt good on her skin. How long had this thing been hiding in the closet? She pulled on the jeans and slipped her feet into the flats from yesterday. Finally, she looked at herself in the mirror.

"I'm coming in," Jim said angrily, fumbling with the doorknob.

But Kendra never heard him.

How? she thought. This isn't right.

Jim tried to bring her back to reality, waved his hand in front of her face, tapped her arm, but she never stopped staring into the mirror.

Her mind slowed, her heart almost stopped and her vision blurred back into the haziness of sleep.

Ever since the incident, as she called it, that face was all she could see in the mirror. It was her face, yes. And yet it wasn't. Ever since that night, it was the only face she saw in the looking glass. Her face covered in blood, frightened and screaming and covered in blood.

But today, that face was no longer there. She saw her own face again and it stared back at her in shock.

"Kenny? Are you still in there?"

Jim was peering at her strangely, an inquisitive look in his eye. She blinked and looked away, a hand shielding her from his piercing gaze.

"Sorry. Have a headache," she said slowly.

Jim backed away, obviously dissatisfied.

"Well, hurry up. Barry is downstairs waiting."

Kendra picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her flaming locks, avoiding looking at her reflection. She quickly grabbed her army green jacket and left the flat. Jim was already at the bottom of the stairs, his overcoat and scarf wrapped tightly about him.

"So you're finally ready to go," he smiled.

They exited the flat building and slid into the back seat of the car, just like the had the day before.

"Just so you know," Kendra said cautiously. "I have something I need to do today at five so I'll have to leave you at about four to get there on time."

Jim shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem."

The car started the roll forward as Barry pulled into traffic. Kendra looked out the window, watching the world pass by. She felt Jim beside her, his presence overwhelming her. He felt so dark today. The air around him had turned black and the sick cheerfulness that had been plastered to his lips had vanished. He felt cold, distant. She could hardly look at him. The sight chilled her bones.

What happened to nice Jim? Where did he go?

The car stopped suddenly. Jim looked around, obviously irritated.

"What's the matter? Why aren't we moving?"

Barry said something unintelligible over his shoulder. Kendra decided to ignore the incident as they started forward again. They passed another block, turned a corner and then stopped in front of a restaurant called Speedy's. Across the street, Kendra could see police tape sectioning off what looked like a bombing site. She couldn't help but wonder if maybe something happened the night before after Jim dropped her off at her place. It wouldn't be all that surprising.

Jim pulled on a pair of leather gloves before getting out of the car. Kendra followed, placing her feet on the street outside and stepping around to the back where Jim was digging in the storage compartment. A car flew by her, startling her for a moment. She held her chest, breathing deeply to calm her racing heart, following behind Jim as he stepped onto the sidewalk and went to the door that stood beside the restaurant. Kendra read the address.

221B.

Jim didn't knock, but instead pulled out a set of lock picks, handing Kendra the bag he had retrieved from the trunk.

"Mrs. Hudson always locks everything up before she leaves," he said absently while fitting the pieces into the lock.

Kendra looked around nervously, clutching the bag until her knuckles turned white.

"Don't you think someone will see us and find it suspicious? Someone might call the cops!"

"That's why you're supposed to keep a lookout," Jim answered, his voice darkening. "There! I've got it. In you go."

He held the door for her and she slipped inside. It was still rather cold in the front entrance, but at least there wasn't so much wind.

Jim moved past her after closing the door tightly. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking up their height with a smile on his face.

"Oh, it's simply delicious, isn't it? Being here while you're out, my dear. But I'll save going through your flat for last."

Kendra didn't understand any of his ramblings. He spoke quietly, more to himself than to her, and she really didn't want to know what he was talking about.

Jim turned away from the stairs and followed the narrow corridor to the back of the place. Kendra, still holding the bag, poked her head around the corner to see him picking the lock of another door. Once it was open, he waved her over.

"Come on. We have to get everything set up. Sherlock will be getting my message soon. It has to be ready when he sees it."

He took the bag from her, letting her in the room first. It was dark and smelled of mildew. They went through another door into what Kendra asumed was meant to be a sitting room. There was a crumbling fireplace on the far wall and a full length mirror in the corner to the left of the fireplace. The paint and wallpaper was peeling and falling. Dust lay everywhere. Kendra could see why it was uninhabited.

"Here," Jim said, pulling her out of her reverie. "Take this." He handed her a phone. "Take a picture of that wall."

She followed his gesture to the wall opposite them.

"That? You want a picture of a dusty, old fireplace?"

"Just do it," Jim pleaded.

She turned away from him with a shrug, holding the phone up and taking the desired photo.

"There, it's done," she said, turning around to hand Jim the device.

He had pulled a pair of shoes out of the bag that now sat on the floor at his feet. He ignored her, stepping to the center of the room and looking around, then placing the shoes on the floor. A few seconds passed as he looked the scene over from various angles, arranging the laces this way and that. He seemed to care a lot about those shoes.

After he had set them in the correct position, he took the phone from her. She watched him compose a message, selecting first an audio file, then the picture she had just taken moments ago. One tap, and the message was sent. Jim checked his watch, then smiled to himself.

"Right on time."

His phone buzzed with a message that said He has it. Good timing, boss.

Kendra decided not to try and reason this out. Whatever scheme Jim was playing at, it was beyond her comprehension. So she blindly followed him back into the corridor, watched him lock the door again, then head up the stairs. He entered the flat at the next landing without a knock or care in the world.

"Shouldn't you be checking to see if anyone is here?" she asked, stepping just inside the door with her arms crossed.

"Sherlock and John are at the police station with Lestrade," Jim answered, setting the bag down and pulling out its contents. "I sent Mrs. Hudson on an errand before we got here. We need to move quickly. Sherlock will have gotten the message by now and should be heading this way, if he really is as smart as they say."

Kendra nodded, taking another step inside. The place was a mess. It looked like the bomb from across the street had gone off in there. Yet, somehow she knew that wasn't the case.

Jim took something from the mess of things on the floor and held it out to her.

"You are familiar with surveillance, yes?"

Again, she nodded, feeling very uncomfortable with what she knew was about to come next.

"I need you to find a good hiding place for this. Can you do that for me?"

For a moment, his eyes softened. He became more like a man than a ruthless snake. The nearness of his skin as he placed the camera in her hand sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't understand herself. This man was obviously invading someone's privacy with her in tow, yet she felt safe with him. Something was definitely wrong. But, what was it he had said the day before?

You're sick...like me. It's okay to like it.

Was it though? Was it really okay?

She didn't have time to have this debate as he was pushing her off to find a place to put the device.

After a quick survey of the room, she decided that somewhere on the bookcase would be best. Easy to hide something behind books. The shelves were overflowing with them. Yes, this is the place. She moved closer, looking up at the top shelf. There. That little spot would do perfectly. She stepped carefully onto a stack of papers and books and who knows what else, reaching up to place the adhesive onto the wood. She made sure the camera had a clear line of vision as she placed a book in front of it.

"Looks good," Jim praised.

Kendra smiled and dropped down from her perch. "That should do it."

She turned to Jim, who was reading through a file sitting on the table between the two windows overlooking the street.

"What's that?" she asked.

Her confidence seemed to have grown since his compliment. She couldn't decide whether or not she should accept that or not.

"It's the missing link," said Jim, his grin spreading. "I'll use this to tie my plan together. This should get him to come play."

Kendra saw the picture of a young man, a name printed on the paper behind it. Andrew West. She caught sight of another name printed on the sheet. Bruce-Partington.

Just then, Jim's phone buzzed again, startling them both. He closed the file and pulled his phone out of his pocket, examining the new message.

"We need to go. They are close."

With that, he took the bag in his hand and started to leave, stopping short for a moment to look at the wall behind the sofa. Kendra stood beside him, staring at the bizzarre picture.

"Is that...are those bullet holes?" she dared to ask.

"It would seem so," Jim replied with a chuckle. "You really do the funniest things when you get bored..."

She realized that the latter sentence wasn't aimed at her, remembering this Sherlock character Jim seemed to talk to in his head. Who was he and why was Jim so obsessed with him?

Gloved fingers gripped her arm and led her down the stairs and into the street. Jim locked the door behind them and helped her into the car. Soon they were pulling away, another car quickly taking their place.

Kendra saw an older lady get out, one she assumed was Mrs. Hudson, and enter the building. A moment later, another car pulled up and two men emerged from inside, one tall with dark hair, the other shorter and blond. They must have been Sherlock and John.

Jim was watching, too. He smiled as Barry turned a corner and 221B was out of sight. The curl of his lips reminded Kendra of the frightening, yellow smiley face painted on the wall in Sherlock's flat and, for a moment, she wondered if Jim would end up with bullets in his face as well.