Etheldrea was sitting in the kitchen, still in her jacket and scarf, when Sherlock, John, and Sarah walked in.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John was saying.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for." Sherlock replied, "We need to find a hideout."

Etheldrea stood up and looked at the mirror with all the evidence taped around it. The pictures of the symbols, the numbers translated. It was a complete mystery to them, and there was no way to solve it.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it." Sarah said, looking a bit crestfallen.

"No, you don't have to go. Stay."

"Yes, it'd be better if you left now."

Etheldrea swatted Sherlock on the shoulder, "Be nice."

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like."

Sarah laughed nervously, "Is it me, or is anyone else starving?"

"Oh god." Sherlock mumbled.

"Ignore him." John said, going to the kitchen.

Etheldrea walked out of the room and down stairs to Mrs. Hudson's. She hoped it wasn't too late, but this was desperate. She knocked on the door and waited.

"What's wrong dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

Etheldrea explained, and Mrs. Hudson got to work right away. There was a bowl of punch set aside for the meeting tomorrow, but it could easily be remade. In her cupboard there was a bag of crisps. Mrs. Hudson set everything on a tray and started heading upstairs, telling Etheldrea to grab a dozen of the biscuits they had made as it wouldn't make much difference. How many dozen could eight or less people eat?

Quietly, they stepped into the kitchen where John was failing to find anything to eat.

"I've done punch and a bowl of nibbles." Mrs. Hudson whispered, "And I had Ethel dear bring up some biscuits."

"Girls, you are saints."

"If it was Monday, I'd have been to the supermarket."

"Thank you. Thank you."

Mrs. Hudson traveled back downstairs prepping to leave for the evening, and Etheldrea walked to her room. Technically, John was still on his date, and she didn't want to ruin that for him. She would have tried to convince Sherlock to move to his room, but she knew it would be easier to pull a tooth.

As she lay on her bed playing with the ends of her scarf, she wondered if Sherlock and her mother had ever gone on dates. She would assume so, but then again, her dad didn't seem like a date-person. Or maybe her mom wasn't a date person. How would she know?

There were no memories of her mother. For as long as she can remember, it had always been her and dad. When she entered school, and was asked about her mother, she didn't know how to reply. The night she asked Sherlock. He told her that Amy Smith was a young woman he had met in university. They went out for a year, and in that year, she was born. Then, Amy started doing bad things, things that no child should be around. So they talked, and Amy agreed to get help, and Sherlock took Etheldrea away until she could get better. Etheldrea would hope that she did, but as she got older, the more it seemed like Amy Smith didn't.

Etheldrea stood up from her bed and walked over to the closet. She pulled out the white wood box and sat back down. Turning the key, she popped the top up and examined the photo of Amy Smith sitting near a tree in Hyde Park. She had long, wavy blonde hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. Her cheeks were full, and her body was slender. Etheldrea looked nothing like her, except for possibly the hair, but then again, Grandma Violet had wavy hair as did Uncle Mycroft. Maybe instead of looks, she inherited personality but who knew other than Sherlock? He had never mentioned if Etheldrea took after her mother. He never mentioned her at all.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

It was John, "Hey, we're ordering Chinese. What do you want?"

She shook her head, "I'm fine."

"Etheldrea, to my knowledge, you haven't eaten in two days. What do you want?"

"If I want something, I'll order it myself. There's no need for you to do it for me."

"Etheldrea Holmes, I swear, I will order you those spring rolls you hate so much."

"Alright, alright, don't get crazy. Just some chow mei would be fine."

"There was that so hard?" he chuckled as he left.

"Thank you John."

Etheldrea stood and put the white box back. She grabbed a book from herself and lay down to read. About ten minutes later, she heard heavy knocking at the door. She put the book down and walked out of the room, and down the stairs. She arrived just as John opened the door.

"Sorry to keep you. How much do you want?" John asked.

"Do you have it?" the man at the door asked.

"What?"

"Do you have the treasure?"

"I don't understand."

Without warning, and to Etheldrea's shock, the man knocked John unconscious. The man moved quick as lightening, and Etheldrea turned and ran up the stairs.

"SARAH! HIDE!" she shouted as the man grabbed the back of her jacket.

She struggled to get out of it, but the man just pulled her closer, and down the stars. To her dismay, Sarah was rushing down the stairs instead of hiding. With her final cry of hide, the man slammed her head into the wall and she saw nothing but black.

When Etheldrea regained consciousness, all she felt was pain. Her head, her wrists, and her legs. But it slowly died down, and she took observation of her surroundings. She was tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth. She could hear whimpering directly behind her, and assumed it was Sarah. Off to the left, she saw an unconscious John. In front of her was the covered crossbow from the circus, and the gang.

After several minutes, John slowly came to and the woman walked forward.

"A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket. Ancient Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."

"I- I'm not Sherlock Holmes." John replied.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it."

The woman reached forward, and pulled out John's wallet. She pulled out several items.

"Debit card in name of S Holmes."

"That's not actually mine, he lent that to me."

"And a cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"Yeah, he gave me that to look after."

"Tickets collect by you in the name of Holmes."

"Yes, ok. I realize what this looks like. But I'm not him."

"We heard it from your own mouth."

"What?"

"'I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone.'"

"Did I really say that? I suppose there's no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression."

The woman held up a gun, directly in his face, and Etheldrea began to fidget in her seat trying to talk through the gag.

"Aw, your daughter is trying to save you again. I must admit, you raised a very brave girl."

"She's not my daughter; she's my flat mate's daughter."

The woman tsked and shook her head, "If it was true, it still wouldn't save her. I am Shan. Three times we tried to kill you, your daughter, and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?"

Shan cocked the gun, and Etheldrea squirmed some more, but one of the men in the gang held her chair in place. She could only watch as the trigger was pulled, and . . . the gun clicked.

"It tells you that they're not really trying."

The woman grabbed bullets form her pocket and slid them into the gun.

"Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?"

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I would prefer to make certain."

Shan walked over to Etheldrea and pulled the gag off, "You seem to have a bit to say dear. But I don't care, you're with him all the time. Tell us where it is."

Etheldrea shook her head, "I don't know, but I do know you're wrong!"

"Wrong about what? Identity? That's easily acted."

Shan turned back to John, and Etheldrea became fraught, "Please! Listen to me! Do I look anything like the man before you?"

"I assume you look like your mother."

"But I don't! She's blonde, fair skinned and brown eyed! Do I look anything like that? Do I sound anything like her? Do I look anything like him? No! It's because I'm practically a carbon copy of my father, Sherlock Holmes! The man sitting in front of you is Dr. John Watson! You have the wrong man!"

"I'm afraid I still don't believe you." Shan said as she pulled the cover off of the crossbow, "Everything in the west has its price. And the price for their lives- information."

The men grabbed Sarah and Etheldrea, and carried them over to the front of the cross bow.

"Where's the hairpin?"

"What?"

"The empress hair pin valued at nine million sterling! We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people was greedy. He took it and brought it back to London, and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching."

"Please, you have to believe me. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."

Shan turned away from John and towards the girls, "I need volunteers from the audience."

"No, please, please!"

"Aw, thank you kind ladies. You'll do very nicely."

Sarah struggled to free herself; the ropes tying her down wouldn't budge. Etheldrea kept trying to move, but the chairs were heavy, and she could only move so much on the gravel. The best she could move was backwards and even then, only a centimeter at a time. It made no point to move now, as Shan's henchmen were standing by her sides.

Shan grabbed the knife and punctured the sandbag. The sand fell, and the weight began to lower. Then, she walked over to the girls.

Placing an origami black lotus on Sarah's lap, she said, "Ladies and gentlemen from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion and daughter in a death-defying act. You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends."

"I'M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!" John yelled at her.

"I don't believe you!"

"You should you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him" A familiar voice echoed in the tunnel.

The henchmen turned and ran after him, him being the real Sherlock Holmes. Now, with them all distracted by gun talk, Etheldrea focused on getting Sarah out of here. She rocked forward as hard as she could until she was standing, hunched over, on her toes. Cautiously, she scooted to the side, and backwards until she was directly next to Sarah.

"Sorry, this might hurt." She said as she knocked into her chair.

It didn't budge the first time, but the second time was a hit, and Sarah fell over. Then, there was a problem. One henchmen, the bird spider man, came back and shifted Etheldrea's chair so that it rest between the feet of Sarah's chair. She was stuck.

Behind her, she heard eh signs of struggle. Sherlock had pulled the man away, but now a large red scarf was choking him. Etheldrea rocked as hard as she could, but the chair wasn't moving. Across from her, John saw what happened, and began to rock his chair. He was able to stand on his feet, but he rushed towards the crossbow, and fell.

Etheldrea watched the sand fall, and the weight drop. There was nothing she could do except wait. She sat up straighter, breathed in, and closed her eyes.

WHOOSH

To her left, she felt the rush of wind, and then the sound of embedding into a solid base. Then, a low groan. Opening her eyes, she looked left to see the assassin lying on the ground and the arrow in his stomach. In the distance, there was the sound of receding footsteps. She guessed that Shan had got away.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked as he untied her bonds.

"I'm fine."

As soon as she was free, she stood and hurried to help John. Sherlock helped Sarah, telling her everything would be alright.

John smiled wearily at her, "Don't worry, next date won't be like this."

After the police arrived, Etheldrea wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. However, as soon as her father was finished talking to DI Dimmock, he walked her down the sidewalk to an unknown location.

"It's been what, five days since we've last eaten?"

"About, yeah. John thinks it's been two."

"You don't want Chinese, do you?"

"After tonight, not for a while. How about Italian?"

"Angelo's it is."

"Oh, by the way, Uncle Mycroft bugged the flat again."

"I knew it. We'll take care of it Wednesday."

"Why not tomorrow?"

"We'll be attending a funeral tomorrow. One Soo Lin Yao's friends contacted me earlier this morning. I can't miss the funeral of the woman who saved your life."

The detective and his daughter walked to the restaurant, and ordered their food. They talked for a while, Sherlock filling her in on what she missed, and Etheldrea talked about Abigail. He wouldn't show it, but he was very glad she had made a friend after all this time. Over the past few years, Etheldrea had slowly changed. She went from exploratory and wandering, to silent and unadventurous until the day John Watson and Abigail Grey entered their lives.

Now, things were back to normal, and becoming normal. A case finished a new one tomorrow, and their faithful friends with them the entire way. That's the way their world turned, and would continue to turn for another month.

So I was going to keep going with the story until the end of series 2, but I've decided to split up the plot into sections. This story ends here, the next starts with the Great Game, and will include a made up case, and end just before we go into the Irene Adler plot. You guys should prepare for drama, since we're going to be undergoing some tragic character development in the future.

Thanks for sticking with this story, and thanks to anyone and everyone who has read it all, just one chapter or two. I sincerely hoped you enjoyed it. Story 2, Faults in Personality should be up depending on what time zone you're in, just check out my profile.