A/N: Finally, a new chapter! Again, guys, I am SO sorry for the long wait. I am going to try to be better about this, because I honestly do feel really bad. Don't worry, I know how the next chapter should play out so hopefully I'll have that up here soon!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to ariedling - thank you for the encouraging message :)

Enjoy! and don't forget to review!! :)

Diclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, Mary (Morstan) Watson, the Baker Street Irregulars, or anything else recognizable.

Dr. John Watson and his wife, Mary, were already seated at a table in the back of the Piccadilly Inn Restaurant by the time Sherlock Holmes and his niece arrived.

"I thought you would never make it," the doctor hissed, leaning over as his friend sat down. "What took you so long?"

Holmes merely shrugged. "Various things."

Watson didn't ask for any more information, and just shook his head at his detective friend. It was actually relatively normal for Holmes to be late for dinner arrangements or other various social appointments; if it didn't have to do with his work, he usually didn't make it one of his bigger priorities. Dr. Watson knew this, so he didn't really take his friend's tardiness to heart.

"And you must be Jacqueline," Mrs. Watson said gently, smiling down at the girl. "My husband told me all about you."

"Oh," Jackie said, glancing over at the doctor. Of course he would go telling everyone all about her. "And I actually go by Jackie. It's very nice to meet you, ma'am."

Mary Watson gave Jackie another friendly smile. Mary, who was just over thirty years old, had been married to the doctor for a few years now. She was an absolutely beautiful woman, with long brown hair and lovely dark eyes. Dr. Watson had actually met her while he and Holmes were solving a case for her family, and it was more or less love at first sight. Although she and the doctor didn't have any children themselves, she was a constant mother figure for many of her husband's patients, and she also couldn't help but reach out to the poor orphaned niece of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"So how old are you again, dear?" Mrs. Watson said as the waiter came around, pouring glasses of water for the four of them.

"I just turned thirteen, ma'am," Jackie said. She fingered the hem of dress nervously and took a quick sip of water. She had never been to such a nice restaurant before, and honestly, she was hating every minute of it. She stole a quick glance towards the string quartet playing some sort of long Beethoven sonata over in the corner. As though the annoying waiter constantly refilling her water, the dim "romantic" flickering candles, and the five forks and three spoons she had sitting next to her plate weren't bad enough; now she had to listen to a string quartet on top of it.

Her eyes wandered back to her own table and she realized that her uncle was once again staring her down, as though trying to figure out what she was thinking. She quickly glanced down to avoid his gaze, but there was no stopping the icy stare of his blue eyes. She desperately wished Watson would attempt to make some more of that small talk he was horrible with, just so the awkward silences and staring would be avoided.

"So Dr. Watson," she blurted suddenly, eager to break the silence. The doctor looked up at her in surprise, as she had never been one to make conversation before. "You said you were going to visit Theodore Hendrickson this morning; how is he doing? Is he feeling any better?"

"Yes, yes, much better, my dear," Watson said, smiling at Jackie. He was very pleased to find that she had taken some sort of interest in his work. "There wasn't much I could do for the poor child besides remind him to stay in bed and rest, and drink lots of fluids, of course. But it seems like he has drastically improved since the last time I had visited him."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Jackie said with a nod. She took a small bite of the sesame seed-covered roll the waiter had just set before her. "Really excellent."

"Isn't it, though?" Mrs. Watson added in agreement. "You should go with John one day, Jackie. I think you'd really enjoy it, and learn quite a bit too. You definitely strike me as one who might go into the medical field someday."

Jackie smiled politely, although she sincerely doubted she would ever be living the life of a nurse or doctor. It wasn't really up her alley. Now, if she had her uncle's job… that would be exciting…

"…and I could show you all the medicines and instruments, and you could possibly even be able to help me with some of the more simple surgeries," Watson was saying. "Oh Mary, that certainly is an excellent idea. She is so clever and bright, surely she would make an excellent apprentice. You wouldn't mind of course, would you, Holmes?"

"Not a bit," Sherlock replied, glancing up suddenly at the mentioning of his name. He had been busy slowly turning his wine glass in circles, trying to catch a glimpse of the group sitting behind him in its reflection. "You certainly have my consent."

"Well, any day you would like to come, dear, you certainly should," Dr. Watson said to Jackie. "Just stop by. You know where we live."

Jackie nodded. Truthfully, it might actually be quite fun to help out the doctor with some of his patients. And it certainly would be useful, too. She and the Irregulars had already started plotting some grand adventures for the coming months, and she figured that perhaps a bit of medical knowledge might be helpful, especially knowing some of those boys…

Dr. Watson and his wife continued chatting away excitedly, but the mind of Sherlock Holmes had slowly drifted away from the conversation. He was staring out the window of the restaurant with a very bored look on his face, watching as the carriages and buggies hurried down the road outside. He soon realized that Jackie was watching him, and he turned back towards her to give her a smile. But soon enough something else caught his eye, and he stared past his niece and out the window behind her. Jackie, immediately curious, spun around to see what he was looking at.

The next few seconds was a flurry of movement, and even the great detective Sherlock Holmes didn't see exactly everything that happened.

Through the window directly behind her, Jackie caught just a glimpse of someone running away. Holmes stood up upon seeing the running person and prepared to run out the side door himself to see what was going on. But in this exact moment, a young man burst through the front door and screamed, "Someone's been killed!"

Jackie's mouth dropped open and her heart practically skipped a beat. She whirled around to face her uncle, who was standing tall and frozen beside his chair.

The restaurant was in a state of silent shock for just second, but no longer than that. Because the young man barely finished yelling his message when a shot rang out and he went careening forward, falling flat onto his face on the wooden floor of the restaurant.

The room immediately burst into screams. Jackie was able to steal a quick glimpse of the young man who was now lying more than likely dead on the floor, and then the waiter came by and shoved her underneath the table. Jackie fought back for a few seconds, but as she realized the immense chaos surrounding her, she consented and scurried underneath the tablecloths. Mrs. Watson had fainted, and the doctor was already at the scene of the crime trying to revive the poor young man. And of course, as she had expected, Sherlock Holmes was nowhere to be found.

"Police! Call the police!" cried the waiter, tripping over Mrs. Watson's overturned chair and landing on top of several other extremely confused and distressed people.

Dr. Watson, kneeling beside the young man, looked up immediately. "Where's Sherlock Holmes?" he said, but his voice was lost amidst the screams and shouts.

His eyes scanned the room and suddenly found Jackie, who had begun crawling out from underneath the table. He gave her the best fatherly "don't you even think about it" look he could muster, but obviously it didn't work. Jackie gave him a very small, extremely Sherlock-ish half smile before pushing through a group of shouting people and hurrying out the door. No one was going to stop her; she was going to go follow her uncle.