"Look across the street." I did as Sherlock asked, now back to being professional and serious, and looked behind me, "Taxi. It's stopped." And so it had. "Nobody getting in and nobody getting out." It was true. The taxi was situated at 22 Northumberland Street but it did not move. I could not fully see the driver or the passenger.
"Why a taxi?" I whispered, as though worried he would hear us, and then realized it. "Oh, that's clever…" Apparently, Sherlock had also come with the same conclusion.
"That's him." He replied and I nodded. "Don't stare." He suddenly warned me. I looked at him.
"You're staring. You told me to look." I reminded him but he didn't seem to hear me. At least, not the last comment. Selective hearing, I reckon. Stupid cocky bugger. "We can't both stare." He remarked and then grabbed his jacket. "Come, Natalia." He said when he looked down at me. And when he did, I saw the joy in his eyes.

We exited the building quickly, Sherlock still pulling his coat on. I definitely regretted not wearing a jacket. It was freezing. And it felt like it was beginning to rain. May have been my imagination actually. I could now see the passenger clearly and I looked at him. He appeared to be in his twenties and had dark hair. He peered around a little and then he turned and his gaze rested on us. He then settled back in his seat and the taxi moved. "Now, Sherlock!" I shouted and we raced across the road.

We hit a car and had to climb over the bonnet but neither of us apologised, instead keeping our eyes fixed on the taxi that we now would never catch up to. I looked to Sherlock for a plan. "Ideas?" He hunched over a little and raised his hands, lowering his head. He then began muttering to himself. I didn't listen; I was trying to figure out where the taxi would end up so that we could intercept it.

Sherlock looked up and his gaze fell on a man unlocking a door. He sprang into action and raced across the road, me not far behind him. He pulled the man out of the way, ignoring the 'Oi!' and we bolted up the stairs inside. We came to even more stairs that went in a spiral and we sprinted up those too. Damn, I hate stairs. We came to a door leading to outside. It was very dark and it was difficult to see. We ran across the top of the building and then vaulted over a small metal fence.

My legs were beginning to tire as I followed Sherlock across the roof. He leaped without a second thought to the next roof and I did so as well. Gliding through the air over a very high drop. Wheee. I landed rather gracefully actually, surprising me.

More stairs. Ugh. I don't know whether you could tell but stairs really irked me. Thankfully, we were descending these stairs. I nearly tripped a few times in my rush to get to the bottom but I managed to stay upright, thank the Lord. Oh, yay, a drop. Both Sherlock and I dropped quickly and we continued sprinting. The rest of the chase seemed to be just pathway and alleys. I think. And then, there it was. The taxi drove past the mouth of the alley and I cursed. "This way!" Sherlock shouted back to me and I followed him, going the opposite way to the taxi.

Run, run, run, run, run – CAR. Sherlock hit the car and it stopped abruptly. "Police, open her up!" Sherlock ordered and I must say, it amused me. Sherlock threw open the door while gasping for breath and immediately we were both disappointed.

Completely wrong. "No…" Sherlock cursed quietly.
"Teeth, tan. What, Californian?" I asked him, gulping in breaths. Damn stairs. They really knock the breath out of me. Uh oh, after this I'm going to be dead on my feet. What a pain. I looked at his luggage. No, he was from LA, Santa Monica and judging by the label, he had just arrived in London. Sherlock shook his head. "LA, Santa Monica." I nodded in agreement as our previous suspect stared at us in confusion. I placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder as we caught our breaths still. "Probably your first trip to London, right?" I assumed. He nodded slowly, still trying to work out what we were really talking about.
"Going by your final destination and the cabbie's route." Sherlock continued for me.
"Sorry, are you guys the police?" The American man asked us, his accent very strong. I grinned for a moment. You could say that. I glanced at the cabbie driver.

He was old and he looked very tired. His hat was pulled over his face and his spectacles glinted in the lights from the street lamps. But even from where I was standing, I could see his grey eyes on me and the intelligence behind them. Something about him screamed dangerous. I ignored the shiver running down my spine and turned back to the passenger and Sherlock.

"Yeah. Everything alright?" Sherlock confirmed and flashed some sort of ID at him. The man seemed very amused and he grinned, his eyes glinting with mirth.
"Yeah." He replied, his gaze alternating between the two of us. Sherlock and I stood still for another few moments and we both smiled.
"Welcome to London." Sherlock said and then we walked off, shutting his door behind us.

Sherlock walked ahead and then we stopped about a hundred yards from the taxi still parked. "So, really, it was just a taxi that happened to stop." I summarised with disappointment in my voice. Sherlock nodded. "Basically." Sherlock said, obviously irritated as well.
"Not the murderer." Least not the passenger. The man's eyes still fresh in my mind confused me and also worried me. I considered telling Sherlock for a moment but I left it. Though my gut told me that there was something more to it.

"Not the murderer, no." Sherlock's voice was definitely angry.
"Wrong country, good alibi." I continued. Sherlock looked tempted to go punch something.
"As they go." He gritted out through bared teeth. I sighed and shook my head. Stupid passenger. I then noticed the ID still in Sherlock's hand.

"Hey, where did you get this?" I asked, picking up his hand and turning it over so that I could see it. I didn't let go of his hand because I noticed that neither of us were wearing gloves for once. I examined the ID. "Detective Inspector Lestrade?" I read aloud with an amused tone. He seemed a little sheepish.
"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he's annoying." I grinned and pulled something out of my own pocket. He frowned and grabbed my hand, doing the same I had been doing to his. As in, not letting go of it. Sherlock then grinned and laughed loudly. "Sergeant Sally Donovan."
"I pickpocket her when she's annoying." I winked and he dropped my hand, instead putting an arm around my shoulder. This was weird. But nice. I had never received a hug before. This was something new. It may not have been an actual hug but it was close to it and I had never had much contact with people.

Something occurred to me and I broke into a grin. Sherlock looked down at me with a slight frown. "What?" I shook my head a little.
"Nothing, just… 'Welcome to London'." I repeated his previous line and he began to chuckle too. Sherlock looked down the street and I did so too. The American man was talking to a real police officer, high-visible jacket and everything, and pointing at us, no doubt complaining or reporting our behaviour despite the ID. "Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.
"Ready when you are." I returned one of my own and he clapped me on the back and lowered his arm. We began to jog home.

I shut the door behind me, careful not to slam it. John and Mrs Hudson were probably asleep by now. I sighed happily at the warmth and rubbed my arms. Sherlock put his scarf on a peg and his coat on the nool post of the stairs. He looked back at me and he frowned a little. "Why weren't you wearing a coat?" He inquired and I grinned somewhat sheepishly.
"I went outside for the cold. Then you dragged me off to a non-existent dinner and a 'high-speed chase'. I hardly had any time to grab a jacket." I explained with a slightly accusing tone, but still in a joking manner. He tilted his head.
"You could have said something." I just shrugged and continued breathing heavily. I then leant against the wall and Sherlock leant next to me.
"I would say that that was one of the most ridiculous things I've ever done, but I've done a lot more ridiculous things than that." I grinned as I remembered some of them.
"Such as?"
"Such as when I dropped a tuba on a criminal's head and kicked him around in a fountain." I replied. We burst into laughter. The memory was still fresh in my mind and the criminal has a vendetta against me now. Still, all's well that ends well.

Mrs Hudson came into view. I smiled at her but she didn't return it. She looked distraught. I frowned. "Mrs Hudson, whatever's the matter?" She sniffed and then looked at Sherlock.
"Sherlock, what have you done?" She accused with anxiety and fright.
"Mrs Hudson…"
"Upstairs." She replied. Sherlock and I looked at each other and then dashed up the stairs.

We pushed open the door rapidly and found Lestrade lounging in an arm chair looking rather proud of himself. There were people all through the flat, inspecting different items and books, looking behind things and looking under things. "What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded immediately.
"Well, I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid."
"Could have fooled me." I hissed at him and he shook his head.
"Natalia, what are you even doing here? Go home."
"I live here, moron!" I shouted and he frowned.
"What? When did this-." Sherlock cut across.

"You can't just break into our flat." Sherlock reminded him angrily.
"You can't withhold evidence – and I didn't break into your flat." Lestrade added, still glancing at me with confusion. Sherlock threw up his hands in irritation.
"What do you call this, then?" He yelled.
"It's a drugs bust." What the actual hell?

"A drugs bust? Are you bloody serious? Lestrade, you are just infinitely stupid. In so many bloody ways!" I screamed at him. What a stupid man. He pointed his finger at me.
"And what do you mean, you live here now? What happened to your old house?" I rolled my eyes and ran a hand through my hair.
"I was sleeping at the station, Lestrade." I informed him as though I was speaking to an idiot. Which I was. He frowned and shook his head.

"No, that can't be right… We lock all of the doors. I usually lock the doors when you're right beside me!" He exclaimed and I laughed humourlessly.
"I'm a high-functioning sociopath. I easily found my way in without triggering alarms and I wiped the film. Honestly, 'I'm not stupid'. See why I don't believe you?" I used the air quotes when repeating his claim before. Lestrade shook his head again and then he looked between Sherlock and I.

"And are you two together? Nat, I told you he was dangerous and you move in with him." This had gone far enough.
"Shut up! Just shut up! For god's sake, Lestrade, you assigned me as his assistant! You're just inconceivable! You know how difficult it is for me to trust people and you know that you're desperate for this criminal to be caught. There is no point in this whatsoever." I hissed at him and jabbed my finger at him, emphasizing every 'you'.

Sherlock clenched his fists. "I'm not your sniffer dog and Natalia isn't your property." He growled at the Detective Inspector. Honestly, it's a wonder that Lestrade even made the job. The majority of the cases he took on were solved by Sherlock or myself. "No, Anderon's my sniffer dog." Lestrade replied, not even twitching, "And actually, she is." Time stood still. The flat was silent.

"… What?" I whispered and he lowered his eyes, refusing eye contact. "Lestrade, look at me." He didn't. "LOOK AT ME!" I screamed and he finally did. His eyes were filled with regret but I seriously did not care. "I'm your property?" He swallowed thickly. "How am I your property?" Lestrade didn't look away but he didn't answer. "Answer me, god damn it!" I felt like crying. A sociopath? Crying? I've never heard of it. But I really felt like sobbing my pathetic human heart out.

"When you were kidnapped by the terrorists, we made a deal with them." Lestrade mumbled, "Your talents were too good to waste. We had to have you back." I looked at him incredously. "You were due for release after three months. Three months was the earliest we could get you out. You escaped after two, however. We had to give them twice the amount of money because of it."
"You're blaming me?" I simply couldn't believe my ears. This man was just… Ugh!
"No, I'm not. We still got you. If it weren't for you, many people would have died, been kidnapped or raped or whatever." Didn't make me feel any better.

"So, you… bought me? I was like merchandise on a shelf and you bought me. I am a HUMAN BEING despite my sociopathic tendencies. I have rights. I can't believe you just… I don't…" I was at a complete loss for words. I wasn't my own person. I was owned by someone else. Owned by Lestrade, no less. Owned by that insufferable man who at least had the decency to tell me the truth and look me in the eye when he told it. "Natalia, I'm sorry, I'm so-."
"No." I cut him off coldly. I then looked around the room.

Everyone was staring at me. Stupid people. They took their freedom for granted. Some stared at me in sorrow, some in irritation. Only Sherlock watched me emotionlessly. But I had a feeling that murderous thoughts were running through his mind. Anderson shook his head and Sally made eye contact with him. "Dramatic…" I saw her whisper. My eyes narrowed and I stalked over to her.
"You want to be bought like a slave? Do you want your life to be a lie? No? Then shut the hell up and stay away from me." I then turned and surveyed everyone around me. "I don't want your pity." I sneered, "I'm leaving the case."

"No, Natalia, wait…"
"NO!" I shrieked and ran out of the door, nearly barrelling into Mrs Hudson.
"What's wrong, dear?" She asked and I ignored her, tears spilling over my eyes. Tears that had been spilt too recently. I thundered down the stairs but kept my voice silent. My throat had to be strong to let out the screams. "Your taxi's down there, Natalia." She called from the top of the stairway and I froze. I didn't order a taxi. In my maddened state, I didn't care. That taxi could get me away from the horrific situation upstairs. "Natalia! Come back." I heard Sherlock shout but I continued on. I was about to open the door when Sherlock came down the stairs.

"Natalia…" He murmured and I turned away, hand still on the door handle. No way was I facing Sherlock now. "Natalia, come back upstairs. Please." I shook my head fervently and I heard him sigh softly. I then felt hands on my shoulders and he turned me around himself. He stooped his head a little. "We'll take this to court. We'll abolish the ownership. We'll free you. I'll free you." He said passionately, shaking my shoulders vigorously. I gulped and shook my head. He frowned.
"What's the point, Sherlock? At least ten years of my life haven't been my own. I thought I was free, I thought I was my own person. I thought that I could do what I want because I could do it, no questions asked. But now…" I swallowed and averted my eyes.
"Natalia." Sherlock whispered, his voice giving me shivers. I peered up at him.

We stared at each other. I noticed that on one of his eyes, he had a little spot in his blue iris. Almost like a freckle, only darker in colour. "I have to go." I whispered.
"Will you come back?" He asked, almost desperately.
"Of course I will." I replied. He nodded and went back upstairs. I didn't look back when I opened the door and exited 221B Baker Street.

Sure enough, there was a taxi waiting for me at the kerb. I walked over to it a little suspiciously. The window rolled down and there he was. The man from the taxi before. The man with the frighteningly intelligent eyes.

Sherlock's POV (Oh, a new perspective! Only one I'm doing though ;) )

Sherlock looked out of the window as Natalia walked up to the taxi. He frowned at it. Neither of them had dialled for a taxi. It just didn't make sense. "Sherlock…" Sherlock looked away from the window for a moment to gaze at John. "It's… right in front of 221B Baker Street." John informed him uneasily. He looked back at Natalia and even from the window he could see her tense up. Sherlock then walked over and looked at the computer screen. So it was. Either Natalia had it, or… Who do we trust, even if we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd? His phone made a noise and he opened the text absentmindedly.

I have her.

Immediately, Sherlock flew into action. He raced back to the window to see Natalia getting in to the taxi, serenity on her face. But he could see the fear hidden behind the mask. "We've got him!" He shouted and dashed down the stairs. He threw on his coat and scarf and bolted over to the door. Just before he opened it, he remembered what had taken place in front of it not even five minutes ago. He gulped when he thought about what would happen if Natalia didn't come back. What it would mean. No. I'm getting her back.

John was suddenly right behind him, without his crutch. "You had better be right about this, Sherlock…" He muttered, pulling on his coat.

Natalia's gone with the cab driver! Oh em gee! We'll find out what happens next chapter! Does Natalia survive? Or does she take the pill before they can rescue her? I'll just let you know now; there WILL be something unexpected and sad happening next chapter. But is it Natalia's death? Am I being a mean author? Mua ha ha haaa, that was my intention. Cheers folks. Adios.

Luna