London could be bleak at any time of the year, but winter definitely was the bleakest. That was the only thought that ran through her as her body decided to disobey her mind and lied down on the table without fighting. She wondered how she had ended in the position she was. Then she remembered it all started one day some years before with a photo and a detective. Who knew that day she and her sister had outwitted the great Sherlock Holmes that she would end up in this position ready to be sacrifice like all the other girls. He owed her big time and then some. Then again if he hadn't let her help she would have found some way to be in the middle of it all. As she kept wondering about her life she felt herself rising from the altar. She felt like a broken puppet that someone else was controlling. She was definitely worrying now. That's when she heard them, the footsteps. Either the man controlling her didn't hear them or he didn't care. At the moment she didn't care either all she wanted was to take control of her body. That's when the chants started to get louder and louder, or was it all inside her mind. That's when she realized what her body had done, without any thought she had reached out for the knife and was pointing at herself now.

'HOLMES! SHERLOCK' she kept shouting in her mind. That's when she felt it, a hand stopping her from plunging the knife into her heart. Yet her body decided to fight him and move up to the knife. Finally with some struggle Holmes took the knife from her. Simultaneously and eerily the candles extinguish and a rush of air departed the tunnels. As she started getting control of her body she looked up at the man that had change her life so completely.

"Sherlock Holmes," said the man behind her, "and his loyal dog. Tell me, doctor, as a medical man, how did you like my work?"

"Oh yes let me show you how much I have enjoyed it." She heard John said to the man who was still concealed by the hood. She felt more than saw Sherlock leave her side. She had always been aware to his movements around her.

"No Watson, don't. Observe," said Sherlock.

"How did you see that?" She heard John ask. She tried with all her might to turn around and see what they were talking about but she was too tired.

"Because I was looking for it," she heard something breaking, it almost sounded like glass.

"Lord Blackwood?!" Yes that was the man that had kidnapped her that was his name. She felt herself getting weaker and weaker to the point where even her mind wasn't responding now.

"You seem surprise," said Blackwood. It was almost like he was taunting John. Or was that just how he spoke to people. Her mind was far from forming coherent thought.

"I'd said the girl deserves your attention right now." Oh no he did not dismissed her like that. Not after everything she had done for him.

"Indeed," said John. He was definitely not happy about the situation. Then again happy wasn't the right word yet it was all she could think about at the moment. That's when she heard it then unmistakable thud sound of someone hitting someone else. John was a nice person but he was also a doctor and seeing what had happen to the other girls had really affected him. As she looked up into his eyes she couldn't help but remember how they met. Then again she really couldn't remember how they had met.

"Oh I'd leave that alone if I was you Boyle." Lestrade was here now she would finally be able to leave. "Good lad."

"Impeccable timing, Lestrade. We've gone for the doctor... and one for the rope."

She was either going deaf or going unconscious. She couldn't hear the people around her anymore.

"This woman needs a hospital, now!" That she heard clear as day.

"No John wait," it was the first words she had utter since the whole night started and her throat hurt. As John held her up so it was easier for her to speak she gained some consciousness. Sherlock had started moving forward toward her when he heard her speak but Lestrade stopped him for a second.

"You were supposed to have waited for my orders."

"If I had, you'd be cleaning up a corpse and chasing a rumor. Besides, the last murdered girl's parents hired me to find their daughter's murderer, not the Yard. They wanted the man who killed their daughter caught. I can't imagine why they thought you'd need any assistance."

"Well, London will breathe a sigh of relief," said Lestrade.

"At the excellent work of Scotland Yard. As usual."

"Sherlock." she called out with a weak voice.

"Holmes she wants you," called out John putting her back down to rest.

"Ah yes, bravo, Lestrade. Have a cigar." He gave Lestrade the cigar while walking away from him.

With the last ounce of energy in her body she looked up at Sherlock. It was definitely amazing how much he had change and yet so little since they had met. As Holmes looked down on her the look in his eyes could tell you a lot of the feelings the man was experiencing. Hers only had one look and it became pretty clear what it meant when with her last energy she punched him with a right hook right under the nose. She was weak she had an excuse for her poor aim.

"Good Lord Isabel why did you hit him like that," asked John trying, without succeeding to force down a laugh.

"That's for cutting it so close," she said as she once again leaned on John for support.

"Yeah she doesn't seem like she needs a doctor Watson," said Holmes while holding his nose trying to see if he was bleeding.

"Well you were the one who married her. You should know how strong she is. Still she needs to be taken to the hospital."

As they took her away to the hospital she could hear a police photographer said, "Gentlemen cheese."

She smiled knowing that would be another photo where her husband's face would be obscure.

221 B on Baker Street had seen better days. Autumn had given way to winter and John would be moving out at the end of the week. She knew her husband wasn't taking it great and she didn't need to hear the gun shots to tell her that. That didn't mean that the moment she heard she didn't dive for safety.

"God Sherlock what are you doing up there," she asked herself.

"Missus please, help me I don't feel good going up there," said Mrs. Hudson as she came in with John's last patient. "The doctor asked for a cup of tea."

"Of course I was actually doing some for him." Isabel knew that Mrs. Hudson didn't like Sherlock but she tolerated him because of her and John. Also Sherlock was not leaving the apartment any time soon. Heck they didn't leave after they got married because 'this is where my job is established Isabel'.

"Go one Mrs. Hudson I will escort the captain out and follow you up."

"Thank you dear," Mrs. Hudson said as she left the kitchen with the tea Isabel had made.

After letting the captain out Isabel moved up the stairs. As she entered her husband's office she heard him said to Mrs. Hudson "is it poisoned, nanny?"

Mrs. Hudson replayed to him with a sneer saying "There's enough of that in you already."

"Beside you should really worry as it was I who made the tea Sherlock." Isabel had come in and was trying to see what she could take from his office without being screamed at. She decided to remove an old tray from behind him.

"Don't touch that. Everything is in its proper place, as per usual."

"Yes well unless this is one of your experiments to see how quickly tea can grow fungus this tray is going down to the kitchen." Isabel says as she ignores him and removes the tray then crosses back towards the door to give the tray to Mrs. Hudson. As she moved she noticed their dog didn't look so god.

"Here we go Mrs. Hudson thank you. John he killed the dog again."

"What have you done to Gladstone this time?" Both Watson and Isabel moved toward the unconscious dog.

"I was simply testing a new anesthetic. He doesn't mind."

"Holmes! As your doctor..."

"He'll be right as a trivet in no time."

She could see that John was getting tired of his friend. She understood what both Sherlock and John thought about Sherlock's time in seclusion that did not mean she like it. Yet her time with Sherlock would come. At the moment it was John's turn to scream at him.

"... and your friend, you've been in this room for two weeks. I insist you get out of here."

"There's nothing of interest to me out there, on earth, at all."

"Nice sweetheart," she sneered at Sherlock.

"Except for you darling," he said back to her looking her over.

"So, you have nothing to do?" asked John. The question seems innocent enough but Isabel knew John and the tone behind the question. It was the same tone that had made her agreed to checkups after every case. Even the ones she had nothing to do with. Yet Sherlock didn't seem to notice it. So she sat back to see who would win this match.

"Nothing," said Sherlock

"Then you're free this evening."

"Absolutely."

"For dinner."

"Wonderful."

"The Royale."

"My favorite."

"Mary's coming." And just like that John had won the match. With a little smile on his face at Sherlock's almost completely shock face John walked away.

"Not available." Sherlock said trying to get out of what he had just walked into completely willing.

"You're meeting her, Holmes!" John screamed at Sherlock. It had been an ongoing war between them as to when they would finally met Mary.

With a weird look on his face Sherlock turn back to John, "have you proposed yet?"

Knowing where this was going John sighted and looked back at his friend. "I'm still looking for the right ring."

Sherlock smiled at his friend, "then it's not official."

John had enough. It was the same every time they talked about Mary. For the light of day Isabel had no idea why Sherlock was so against John marrying but it was getting tiresome for everyone.

"It's happening, like it or not. Half past eight. The Royale. And wear a jacket."

"You wear a jacket," was Sherlock's response as John left the two alone. Isabel smile as she looked at her husband when she saw something she hasn't seen that much through the year in his eyes, fear. There was definitely fear in Sherlock Holmes eyes.

"Alright then could you please explain to me why you are so against this whole thing?"

Isabel walked to her husband and sat on his lap putting her arms around his neck. She felt him moving his hands around her hips and snuggling into her neck. Yes for everyone out there who mouth is hanging as low as the floor, apparently Sherlock Holmes loves to smell his wife neck. John had been right about a lot of things except one. Every night Sherlock would leave his office and sneak into his bedroom trying not to wake up his wife. Every night she would wait for him awake. And every night he would hold her while she slept in his arms. Actually it was more common for him not to sleep in their bedroom while on a case than when he was between, but then again she didn't sleep through a case either.

"I just don't like her," he said in her neck.

"How can you not like her already, you haven't even met her."

"Exactly. Watson is not a man of staying inside all day and never having an adventure. But she is going to try and change him. And that is the start of a really miserable marriage. They are completely different."

"Alright first you and I were completely different if I remember correctly and we are good together. Second how would you know how she is going to react before you meet her correctly? I thought you never made a conclusion without all the evidence."

"My dear in the only way you and I were different was that at one point I was following you for being a bad girl," he said with a smile. "Still you are right I don't know her yet, and I repeat I know Watson too well."

"Sherlock Holmes listen to me very carefully," Isabel scolded him turning around so that he would look at her directly in the eyes. "We are going to go to dinner tonight, you are going to be a perfect gentleman, and after we are able to talk to her for at least ten minutes we can make our own conclusions."

Isabel stood up from her husband's lap and started walking toward the door.

"Do you remember what happen the first time we met?"

Isabel smile, "you mean after the three times you almost caught me? Yeah, you tried to read me in that weird way you do. Do you remember what happened after that?"

"Yeah and my cheek still hurts," responded Sherlock while rubbing his cheek.

"Good, the remember that for tonight, go and take a bath," she called back to her husband remembering how the slap she gave him that night was not compared to the punch she gave him the night after when they met for a second time.