It's been quite a while since I have posted the last chapter and I apologize. Things get crazy around the holidays. Although on the bright side I finally was able to see SH2 again tonight. Even better then the first time I saw it! I found I was able to notice more things and get a better look at the characters emotions. Anyways, here's chapter 3!

They went out the back exit of the complex. Watson caught up to his friend and noticed he was wearing a fake beard once again along with rather large pair of glasses, 'It's so overt it's covert.' He smiled at his friends old words which he used on the night of the stag party. Or whatever that night was.

"How's your leg?" asked Holmes as he quickened the pace, "I've noticed you didn't bring your cane."

"It's in the carriage, but I'm fine."

"Hmm," once again he increased his speed.

"Do you mind telling me where we are going?"

"With pleasure. Do you remember Sebastian Moran?"

"How could I not. Moriarty's right hand man, I almost got killed by the bastard."

"Right you are, Watson. And as you know, he is still at large, possibly still doing Moriarty's dirty work."

"Possibly?"

"Most likely."

"Why? What could he possibly have to gain, Moriarty is dead and as is a large amount of his once vast fortune."

"Being Moriarty's right hand man that makes him second in command, he is now in charge of all of his old goons. With that power Moran can certainly get a considerable amount of work done. I suspect a new series of crimes will start soon, but right now he is preoccupied with something else."

Watson did not need to be told, "Revenge."

They continued walking at a fairly rapid speed until they stopped in front of Verey's, an upscale London restaurant.

Holmes motioned for him to follow him down an alleyway, "Precisely. Although Moriarty was certainly not a fatherly type, Moran looked up to him. He was everything that he wanted to be. Brilliant, cunning, powerful, and many other characteristics that he admired. There is also the fact that he was maintained in a comfortable lifestyle by Moriarty, which with his death, he has had to given it up."

They stopped at a dumpster, Holmes opened the lid, "Right," he turned to Watson.

"...I'm not going in there."

"It would certainly help if you would."

"No."

"I would appreciate it greatly."

Watson glared at him.

"I will forever be in your debt and will personally see to it that Mrs. Hudson thoroughly washes your clothes after this ordeal is over," he climbed into one side of the dumpster.

Watson sighed, "You're in my debt for a thousand forever's," he got into the other side of the dumpster with a grunt. "Ugh, the smell!"

"Brace yourself for it's only going to get worse," Holmes closed the lid and indeed it did get worse.

Already several minutes had gone by, "I think I'm going to pass out," said Watson.

"Do keep your voice down," hissed Holmes.

"How can you take it?"

"Apparently you, my friend, have never been to The Punch Bowl."

"The Pun- you were boxing again!"

"Hush down, someone's coming!"

They heard a door open and someone mumbling curses under their breath. Both men tensed and Holmes pounced up when the lid was opened. He had pulled in the young man who was emptying out the trash and clamped his throat into the crook of his arm. Watson didn't even need to clamp onto his nose and mouth for the man passed out almost instantly.

"Is that supposed to happen," asked Holmes.

"I think the stench got to him."

"Come, come, quickly now."

They both got out of the dumpster and dragged the garbage boy out of it, with a slight gasp from Holmes.

"You alright?"

"Never better," he fished in the dumpster and brought out a half full whiskey bottle, then he threw away the spilled trash and set the bin upright on the dumpster, "Grab hold of his other side, wait, wait, how could I have been so stupid."

From his coat he retrieved out a rather large fishermen's hat and another beard," Put those on, please...the beard is a bit tricky...right, there you are. Hold on, it's missing something...Ah," Holmes scooped up some dirt from the ground and smudged it all over Watson's face, "Perfect."

Once again Watson glared at him, but grabbed one of the man's sides and Holmes did the same, with the bottle of whiskey in the other hand. Together they dragged the man out into the street, "Henry, you sonsofabitch," slurred Holmes swigging the whiskey bottle when two gents stared at them.

Watson gave a drunk chuckle, "A real fine man you is, gettin' drunk at noon!"

Holmes motioned for Watson to enter a doorway, which was to none other then The Punch Bowl.

"Henry, you here," called Holmes.

"Yup," called a voice up to them.

Holmes and Watson carried the man down the stairs and placed him in a chair. "Do you have any rope?"

The man behind the counter reached down and brought some up, "Here ya' go."

"Thank you." Holmes tightly bound the man to the chair and unconsciously started to gently massage his shoulder but stopped at Watson's concerning look, "Allow me to introduce the real Henry," he motioned toward the man now cleaning several glasses behind the counter.

"How do you do", asked Watson.

"Alright, how 'bout yerself. Wait a second, I know you!'

"Oh, really?"

"Pleasure to meet ya' Doctor Watson, Holmes has only said good things about ya."

"Wish I could say the same . Are you okay with us having this man tied up down here?"

"Been seeing worse this past month with Holmes part time living under this roof."

"Wonderful, he's been boxing too then?"

Behind Watson Holmes was desperately motioning Henry to say nothing about it, although he did not get the message much to Holmes' dismay.

"Course he's been! Beats almost all of them, pretty impressive with that shoulder of his. He has to 'ave earned his rent somehow."

"Hmm," he turned around and crossed his arms at Holmes.

"Enough about me! On to this man, this vile man!" He went over and started tapping him on the face, when that didn't work the detective poured the whiskey on him, flies and all.

"Aah! Don't hurt me!"

"That depends on what you have to say."

"Who-who are you?"

"Not important. Well, important yes, but not in this situation."

"I'll give you anything, tell you anything, please don't hurt me!"

"Calm down, there's no need for hysterics. I simply need some information about the happenings of this April."

"Happenings? I don't understand."

"Come now, I don't want to get my hands dirty, they're dirty enough. Professor Moriarty. Now, does that ring a bell?"

The young man's eyes widened.

"He was a customer at your restaurant in that month, funny how the garbage boy can remember a single man coming once long ago."

He said nothing. Holmes slapped him across the face.

"Holmes!" shouted Watson.

"My apologies, it was the pain that did that slap, not me. You didn't happen to bring any morphine with you?"

"If you had told me how much-"

"Never mind, I'll be okay! Tell me, garbage boy, the events of that day."

"They'll notice I'm gone, people will be looking for me."

"You aren't some toddler, if anything is certain you will be out of a job by the end of this. Tell me what happened," he took out his gun and started to tinker with it. The man looked nervously at the gun.

"He knew the owner and manager of the restaurant. All three went to the kitchen and told us that if we told anyone about that day we would be killed."

"One of them are dead, two of them relatively unguided. Besides if you don't tell death will come knocking much earlier."

He gulped, "Moriarty didn't say anything he just grinned at all of us. The owner and manager informed us that all of the customers that day from opening time would be false customers that would leave on Moriarty's command, and when they did the restaurant would be closed for the remainder. Then they said that only one person had a real reservation and that was, um, this woman. I think her name was Ira Adams or something?"

"Irene Adler?"

"Yes, that's it! They said that when she was to come all beverages served to her would be contain the poison that Moriarty handed to the Head Chef. They said that if we talked we would be tortured and killed. The same with our families. What were we to do!"

"Go on."

"So a couple hours had passed and then the manager came in and I saw him talk to the Head Chef. Chef looked close to tears and he put some of the poison into a pot of tea that he gave to one of our waiters. I think for that Irene lady."

"Do you know what happened after."

"You see sir, I've always been naturally curious and so I needed to see what would happen next. I went to one of the door windows and peaked out at the restaurant. The waiter served the tea to this real pretty woman."

"Brown curls?"

"Yup, and fair skin. But I couldn't really see the front of her. Anyways, all of a sudden I hear this tapping on a glass from the other side of the restaurant and almost everybody gets up and leaves."

"Who stayed?"

"Irene did and I knew Moriarty was at the table next to her, because I could tell she was talking to someone. By the way she was turning and I could see her jaw moving. Then all of a sudden she gets up and starts walking towards the door. But she stumbles down to the ground and starts coughing and I think I saw some blood." The man stops and shivers.

"Do continue."

"Moriarty he gets up and goes over to the women and he took something from her. A...a handkerchief, he wiped her mouth with it, and then just took it and left. I'm just about to look away when I see this other man come towards Irene and scoop her up in his arms."

"This man what did he look like? Was Irene alive?"

"Heavy build, brown hair, a beard. As for the woman, I don't know, I couldn't tell."

Holmes said nothing he just continued to fiddle with his gun and then slapped the man again.

"What the H-"

"My apologies! That was not meant for you! Thank you for your time and don't speak of this to anybody or else I will have a slap that is meant for you and much more. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"On your mothers life?"

"She's dead."

"On your mothers grave?"

"Yes."

"Very well, when I untie you run as fast as you can and don't look back! Then maybe, I will spare you your life."

The man didn't need telling twice.

What will Sherlock make of this new information? You'll have to wait and see. But really I can't get over SH2! When I saw it again tonight I saw Watson's face again when Holmes plummeted down with Moriarty. His face with the sad piano music equaled a depressed me who just wanted to give Watson a hug.