Author's Note: I don't own Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 3 Our Visitor Tells Her Story

Miss James was complete healed in a few days. She said it was due to my amazing ability in medicine, which caused me to turn quite a dark shade of red. Even Sherlock was better in a few weeks time (when I refer to Sherlock, I mean the dog. Holmes is the man.). Mrs. Hudson came back one day with some clothes for Miss James seeing as her old ones were too stained with blood to wear anymore. When she opened the boxes, she thanked Mrs. Hudson excessively, but I could tell she wasn't too fond of the dresses. I asked her about it when Mrs. Hudson went to bring up some tea and she sighed.

"It's not just these dresses, they're actually quite nice. It's dresses in general I'm not very fond of. My father thought it did not matter what a woman wore and therefore, since I felt more comfortable in men's clothes, he did not force me to wear dresses unless the occasion arose."

She scratched Sherlock behind the ears and watched he wagged his tail happily as she continued, "He was not very popular among his group of friends to be sure, but he knew I was an intelligent individual and believed in me. For that, he was ostracized and ridiculed but he never minded. He always told me, "I do not care what they say about me but if they mock and ridicule you, they will have to answer to me"."

"He seemed to love you very much," I said gently.

"Indeed, we were all each other had," she said quietly, "Now it is just Sherlock and I."

Not knowing what to say, I left the room so she could put the new clothes on and re-entered when she called me back. She looked at me nervously as she looked in the mirror. I thought she had no reason to be nervous. She looked amazing, although still pale from her ordeal.

"Is this all right?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes it is," I said and held out my arm for her. She grabbed a small notepad on her bedside table and took my arm, but Sherlock budded his way between us. "Terribly sorry, my friend," I said with a laugh, "She is all yours!"

Miss James smiled at me and I showed her the way to our sitting room. Holmes was out at the time, working on another case, so we waited there for him to return. Suddenly, Miss James looked up at me with her mouth open, but she stopped and turned away.

"Is something the matter?" I asked.

"Well sir," she said slowly and I could tell she was choosing her words carefully, "I was only wondering if you and your wife had resolved your disagreement yet."

I stared at the young woman in shock. For a couple moments, I was unable to answer and just blinked. Finally, I managed to find my voice.

"I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about," I said but she just raised her eyebrows at me.

"Forgive me Doctor, but it is painfully obvious," she said, "You fiddle constantly with your ring and stare at it thoughtfully. It is obvious you are married, yet you never mention your wife. There is no sign of a woman's touch in these apartments so it is obvious these are the rooms of a bachelor. And then of course, Mrs. Hudson left a letter from your wife by my bed one night and I happened to come across it."

"Oh," was all I could say at first. We fell into silence for some time until I finally said, "What did the letter say?"

"She misses you terribly," Miss James said earnestly, "She says the argument was silly and wishes you would talk to her. She has not heard from you in weeks. I take it you did not mention your illness her?" I shook my head and she continued, "I thought not, she did not mention it in the letter. She is extremely worried about you."

I nodded and silence fell over us again. My mind swirled with thoughts about my wife. I did really miss her, but it was impossible for me to leave Holmes now. At any moment, he could become bored and return to the cocaine bottle. While the minutes ticked on, Miss James' sharp eyes fell on Holmes' violin. She looked around and picked it up gently, taking the bow as well and running it across the strings.

"Miss James-"

"Victoria is fine."

"Victoria," I said worriedly, looking around, "Mr. Holmes does not like others touching his violin. I think you should put it back."

"Can I just play one song?" she asked, looking at the violin with eagerness, "It has such a beautiful sound. It will be quick, I promise."

"Well…very well, but do it quickly," I said, looking around once more.

She placed the violin on her shoulder and under her chin, raised the bow, and played. The sound that came out of that violin wasn't music, it was magic. She played with such eagerness, such love, that it showed in the music she produced. I could not resist asking her to play on when she stopped and she continued willingly. Victoria played well-known songs, as well as some I still believe she made up on the spot. The mixture was very entertaining and when she played the last note, I clapped enthusiastically.

"That was incredible!" I cried, "Who taught you to play?"

"No one did, I taught myself," she said, resting the violin on her knee expertly, "However, I have not played the violin in almost five years. My father had one, but we had to sell it so we could pay the rent."

She raised the violin again and was about to play when her face went paler that it already was and she lowered it slowly. I turned around and saw Holmes watching her with an angry look.

"Watson," he said, still looking at Victoria, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Holmes, I-"

"It's my fault sir," Victoria said, rising to her feet and walking towards Holmes, "I saw it and wanted to see if I could still play. Dr. Watson had nothing to do with it, sir, he even told me not to."

She handed the violin back to its owner and backed away. However, the entire time she never bowed her head in shame, but held it high and looked at Holmes directly in the eye. Holmes raised the violin and began to play, sweet music filling the room. Victoria watched with fascination as Holmes fingers flew across the instrument. When he finished, he put the violin back in its rightful place and sat down in his seat.

"It is a shame you cannot play it anymore," he said in a bored voice and Victoria frowned at him, "Now, what was it that was so pressing you had to speak to me? I am a very busy man, you know."

"Yes, I gathered that," she said coldly as she opened her notepad, "Which is why I outlined everything that happened for you. I have times, descriptions, and even a little map of my home."

She ripped out the pages and handed them to my friend, who put them aside, not even looking at them. This seemed to make her quite angry, but she kept her temper as she patted Sherlock on the head.

"The night I arrived here, which was the 21st of November, my father was kidnapped by someone-" she started.

"Enough!" Holmes said, rising to his feet, "I do not think you understand what it is exactly that I do. I help solve crimes, not find misplaced fathers!"

"You make it sound as though my father is something you can pick up and take with you!" Victoria said, rising to her feet as well, "He may not be a foreign dignitary or a member of the Royal Family, but he's my father and I need to find him! Without him, you would not even be in business! He used to tell anyone who needed help to ask the great Sherlock Holmes for advice because he is the best detective in all of London, even Scotland Yard asks for his advice!"

"This is all very-"

"I'm not finished yet!" she said over Holmes, who looked outraged, as I cringed slightly at her boldness, "At night, my father would read me the papers about the solved crimes. He had an old army friend in the police force who used to tell him what really happened, about how you were the one to solve the crimes, not those pompous fools who took all the credit. He used to say that you never minded, otherwise you would have done something about it. No, you solved crimes because it was something you loved. Now I see the truth, you're an arrogant, self-centered fool who does not care who you hurt as long as you get paid to buy cocaine or tobacco!"

"How dare you?" Holmes said, shaking with rage, "Get out of here this instant!"

"Fine!" said Victoria, "Come on Sherlock, we'll just find the Professor ourselves."

She turned on her heel and stormed off. But just before reaching the door, she turned to me with a smile.

"Thank you Dr. Watson," she said kindly, "For everything you did for us. At least there are some kind people in this place. Be sure to give Mrs. Hudson my thanks and good-byes for me."

She closed the door loudly and I heard her go down the stairs. I looked at Holmes angrily, and saw he was staring off in his own world.

"You are really horrid sometimes," I said furiously, "That poor girl has never done anything to you and you do not even give her a chance to explain her situation!"

"Yes," said Holmes as he went to his desk and began pulling out newspaper clippings, "Yes, you are right."

"You are not even listening to me, Holmes!" I cried.

"On the contrary Watson, I hear more than you know," said Holmes, looking at me with wide eyes, "She has not left yet and we need to make sure she does not take one step out of this apartment! Hurry Watson, we haven't a moment to lose!"

He ripped open the door and sprinted down the stairs as I struggled to follow. We reached the downstairs hallway to find Victoria and Sherlock saying their final good-byes to Mrs. Hudson. We were making such racket that both women and the dog looked up the stairs at us.

"You must not leave!" said Holmes, standing in front of the door, "Your life is at risk if you do."

"Oh, so now you wish to help me?" Victoria asked, slipping by Holmes and going to the door, "Well, your services are no longer required. Good day, Mr. Holmes."

She opened the door and had not even stepped out when gunshots were heard and she closed the door quickly as a bullet hit the door frame above her head.

"Then again," she said, leaning against the door, "Maybe a little help would be beneficial."

So Holmes, Victoria, Sherlock, and I went up to the sitting room and Victoria told us her story.

"It was the 21st of November when my father was taken," she said, "We had dinner at six-thirty and he came to read to me from the papers at eight. The time in between, he liked to tinker with his inventions. We talked until nine and then he told me to go to sleep.

"At exactly twelve thirteen, I awoke to hear a knock at the door. I checked the time when I awoke," she added, seeing our raised eyebrows, "My father stumbled out of his room, which was right across the hall from Sherlock's and mine. He opened the door and I crept to the top of the stairs to see who it was.

"The man was built like a wardrobe with large, square shoulders and thick arms and legs. He told my father 'The Professor' wanted him to take my father to this man. My father said he did not know anyone called The Professor and snapped at the man for waking us up. He tried to close the door but the man held it open and pushed his way in. My father tried to fight the man off, but the intruder was too large and he easily dragged my father off.

"I quickly threw on clothes, grabbed my hat, and sprinted after them, Sherlock at my heels as I pulled my hair up in the hat. I did not want the people thinking I was a girl. There was a hansom waiting at the top of our street and I managed to ride on the back as they took off. I knew I could not do anything alone and I thought of Mr. Holmes. If there was any man in London who could help me, it was him. So I jumped off the back of the hansom, but when Sherlock tried to, the hansom lurched and the driver looked behind him. Unfortunately, so did the large man. I sprinted off with my dog and I heard men getting out of the hansom to follow us. I turned down a street, I realize now it was actually Baker Street. Two of the shots hit Sherlock and one grazed my side. I fell down so they would think they killed me and I heard them go back to the hansom. Then, I picked up Sherlock and went to the nearest home and knocked on the door. The rest you know."

"Was there anything special about the intruder?" Holmes asked, as he looked over the notepad papers Victoria had given him earlier.

"I was far away so I did not see much, it was also dark. Give me a moment though, I might be able to remember some things," she said, closing her eyes as she thought, "He had to waddle a little when he walked on account of his size, his shoes were custom made, also because of his size, and his skin was white. His eyes were grey and he had horrible teeth when he smiled, which was evil enough without the jagged mouth."

"That is enough for now," said Holmes as he thought, "These notes are very detailed. This will make things easier."

"Thank you," said Victoria with a small smile, "So, you are going to help me then?"

"Yes, this is an interesting case."

"What caused you to change your mind?" she asked curiously.

"You mentioned The Professor," said Holmes darkly, "He is an old nemesis of mine."

"You don't mean to say," I said with horror, "That Professor Moriarty is alive? Impossible, he fell over the edge with you!"

"Yet, here I am," said Holmes with a sigh, "He must have found a way. This time, however, I will make sure he is finished forever."

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'd really like to hear what you think of the story so far. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated but please remember this is my first Holmes story. If there are small spelling or grammatical errors, I do apologize. I always re-read my chapters and look for things like that but I'm only human. I'm more concerned with what you think of the plot than of my grammar or spelling. If you don't have any CC, just hearing you like the story tells me to keep going with this. Thanks to all who have reviewed and those who haven't, I promise the review button won't bite you if you press it! :)