You know who you should talk to in addition to Sherlock is John Watson. I can give you his number." said Lestrade.
"I wouldn't want to bother him." she said as they ate their lunch.
"No bother. He'd be glad to speak with you. He has first hand experience with Moriarty and Sherlock. He wrote a blog. You should look that up and read over it." he said.
"I'll keep that in kind." she said as he passed her a slip of paper with John's number and name.
"Well, can I give you a ride back to you flat?" he asked.
"No, thanks, I'll get a cab." she said.
"Ok." he said as his phone signaled. "Uh, work. Are you sure I can't give you a ride? If not, you be sure to get a cab these aren't the kind of streets you want to get lost wandering."
"A cab. I promise." she said.
"Ok, well, this meal is on me. Sorry to rush off." he said.
"You're fine, Greg. I appreciate it and next one is on me." she said.
He smiled at her, "I'm looking forward to it."
She waited for the waiter to take up the money and she made sure he knew to keep the change. She had met Lestrade for supper as her schedule kept her busy at the practice. He inisited she call him Greg. He seemed like a nice trustworthy person and she needed some of those while she was in London. She walked out to the sidewalk to hail a cab. She made several attempts to no avail. She knew Lestrade had warned against walking but she was sure it was just a few blocks down. She took out her phone to map it. It looked like a few blocks and clocked it at ten minutes. It was dark but surely ten minutes was good. She started walking. She got a little nervous as she hit a stretch that made her a bit uneasy. Othing was looking familiar but she thought it waa just the dark. She sped up her pacing. She took note of a man walking behind her. She contemplated crossing the road. She thougt perhaps she had passed her building in her panic. Unfortunately no one else was on the street. She took a deep breath and hoped it was just paranoia. She turned around to change direction and the man grabbed her pretending to bump into her.
"Sorry, ma'am." he said.
"No problem," she said as he held her wrist.
"American?" he said.
"Excuse me." she said trying to walk past but he kept a grip on her.
"Let go." she demanded.
The man grinned deviously.
"Seriously?" she said. "You're going to mug me?"
"Among other things." he said.
"I don't think so." she said.
"You're fiesty." he replied.
"Among other things." she said. He smiled and pulled her into the alley. She punched at him and yelled. He put his hand over her mouth. He wrestled with her and pulled a knife. He hit her as the knife tore against her arm. She kicked him in the groin and ran from the alley slamming into a man walking by.
"You should've listened to Lestrade." came the deep familiar voice. She looked up to see Mr. Holmes.
"Run!" she said pushing against him. He moved her behind him.
"Stay close." he said as the man appeared from the alley.
"Sorry, this one's mine." said the main pointing the knife at Sherlock, "get your own."
Without a word Sherlock moved towards the man disarming the knife from him and shoving the man face first into the brick wall of the building. "Do you have a phone?" he asked the man.
He looked confused, "Yes?"
"Are you right or left handed?" asked Sherlock.
"What the hell?" he said again confused. Sherlock shoved against him pressing his face further into the bricks, "Right." he groaned.
"Yet you held the knife in your left." he said as a crack rang out in the alley. Sherlock let go of the man as he dropped to the ground writhing in pain as he held his left wrist.
Erna looked in shock as the scene unfolded. Sherlock walked to her. "You're bleeding. " he said wrapping an arm around her to lead her away. She looked back at the man.
"He's hurt." she said.
"Yes and he has a phone and one good hand. He can dial for help." he said walking her down the street. He brought her to his flat a street over to look at her arm and make sure she was ok.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes but I can just go back to my apartment it's not far." she said.
He looked at her. "You really should stick to cabs. You're apartment, Ms. Thompson's apartment, is two blocks north."
"Uh, no. I put the address in my phone." she said showing him her phone.
He looked at the phone. "I beleive the address you meant to type was 1132 North James, you typed 132 North James."
"Wait, how did you know-" she paused, "nevermind."
"Your arm has quite a deep cut. You need medical attention. Most likely three stitches." he said cleaning her arm.
"I'll be fine." she said looking at him as he kneeled before her studying the wound.
"I have no doubts about that." he said. "But I have an appointment next week so I have to make sure."
Sherlock smiled at her. She was a bit confused. In the moment, he seemed human?
"Thank you." she said smiling at him. "But I think I should be going. It's a superficial wound. I'll use some butterfly closures. It should be fine."
"Then let me call a cab." he said.
"Why were you following me?" she asked pulled up the sleeve of her sweater and stood to leave.
"Sorry, what did you say." asked Sherlock.
"You followed me, why?" she asked.
He dared not tell her he was having his homeless network keep tabs on her.
"Well, the safety of my therapist is of the utmost importance. I'm troubled, remember?" he said tryig to make light of it. His homeless network let him know she had passed by his flat. He knew she must be lost and that the dark waa no place for a lost American on the London streets.
"Interesting." she said leaving his room and heading down the stairs. "I can wait down here for my cab."
"I meant no harm." he said.
"No, you protected me from it and I'm thankful. I just think we need to keep professional. You're my client and I should go." she said staring at the door.
"He walked out and flagged a cab. "1132 James." he said handing the cab driver some money.
"Goodnight, Ms. Halbeck." said Sherlock as he opened the cab door for her and shut it once she was in. Erna nodded to him. She just wanted to get back to the apartment, take some tylenol, and rest.