Unfortunately, i don't own Sherlock Holmes. Everything here belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle and Guy Ritchie. The Bennett family are mine, though :)

This is my first fanfic. Criticism is always welcome and reviews are like virtual cookies to me. I love cookies :)

Enjoy :)

Sherlock Holmes

An Emerald in the Dust

Chapter one

Riding through the damp, dark streets of London in a carriage, we headed for our destination in quick speed. Clarkie had loaded his shot gun as did Watson with his pistol, and Lastrade had glanced at both of them, with a look in his eyes that said he was completely prepared for whatever situation may face us at the end of our journey. Watson looked at me, and handed me a small hand gun. I smiled my thanks to him and glanced at Lastrade, who gave me a deep glare back. I had seen that glare many times before. It was a glare that said he disapproved. It was a glare he gave me every time I accompanied them on a case. It was a glare I had grown accustomed to.

As we drew nearer to our location, Lastrade loaded his pistol and both he, Watson and I shared a look with the constables in the carriage. We were all prepared, it seemed. I heaved a sigh. Making our way to the scene we were approaching always seemed to take longer than it actually did. Finally, the carriage did stop and Lastrade nodded at his constables and they stood and left the carriage. All three of them vacated, then Lastrade, leaving Watson and I bringing up the rear. Lastrade and his men walked straight ahead. I went to follow, but before I could take more than three steps away from the carriage, someone grabbed my wrist, pulling me to a halt. I whirled around, hand tightly clenched around my pistol and saw Watson with a finger to his lips, signalling for me to stay quiet. I frowned at him, my eyes questioning what was in his mind. He said nothing, gently pulling me towards the door of the building we were to enter. He let my wrist go and he silently opened the door and we sneaked in, I gently and quietly closed the door behind us. Inside felt warm and quite welcoming, more so than I was expecting. I approached Watson, who was taking in the layout of the building, which was certainly bigger than it looked from the outside. I looked up and down the staircase which we had found ourselves at.

I sighed. "Where do you suppose he is?"

Watson, not needing to ask who I was referring to, answered almost immediately. "I have no idea."

That statement blew out any confidence I may have had. "Where do you suppose we start?"

This time, Watson took a moment to answer, considering all options. "Downstairs. There's less ground to cover so it can be done quickly. And before you ask, I don't think it wise to split up to search." He made his way down the stairs. "We don't yet know the perpetrator of these crimes, therefore don't know how dangerous they are. It is best to stick together."

I followed him, no longer asking questions. By this time, even an imbecile like Lastrade would have noticed our absence, so we had to work quickly and quietly, working our way around the maze. After turning what felt like the same corner for the hundredth time, I heard something. Muttering. Definite muttering. I clasped Watson's shoulder, as it was obvious that he hadn't heard it. He stopped and looked back at me. I nodded my head to the left, the direction of the muttering, and his gaze followed the direction. A seconds silence was all it took. Once he had heard it, his eyes lit up and we began to tip-toe towards the location. It steadily grew louder and clearer and we knew we were on the right path.

Suddenly, Watson held his arm in front of me, blocking my path. I stopped and looked at him. Once again he had his finger to his lips, signalling for me to keep quiet. In front of us was a big built man of about six foot, muscles like weights and fists the size bricks. And in front of him was a man, completely unaware of his presence.

The man placed a large hand on the smaller mans shoulder, and without a seconds pause, he retaliated. Watson and I ran towards the fighting duo and Watson grabbed the larger man from behind by the neck, ensuring he didn't move. Meanwhile, the smaller man held his hand at the mans nose, making it harder for him to breathe. Throughout the larger mans struggling, the muttering continued from downstairs. I had moved from behind Watson to overlook the activity below us. Whilst passing the smaller man, I glanced at him, a slight smile on my lips.

"I like the hat."

Without looking my way, he replied. "I just picked it up."

The large man still struggled, but my friends refused to let go of their grip, and working ever so quietly. I sneaked another peak to what was below us. No one heard or suspected a thing.

"Did you remember your revolver?" Watson asked.

"Ah. Knew I forgot something." Our friend replied calmly, expression not changing. "Thought I left the stove on."

"You did." Watson confirmed as the large man in their grip slumped into unconsciousness. Even though our friend had removed his hand, Watson refused to release him.

"I think that's quite enough." Our friend reassured him. He looked at the mans face. "You are a doctor, after all."

Watson released the man and let him drop quietly just beside my feet. Both men stood. Watson held out his hand. Our friend looked at it and then took his hand without hesitating.

"Always nice to see you, Watson." he whispered. Both men took off their hats and Sherlock Holmes looked at me. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You never can resist adventure." He smiled at me and I returned it. All three of us looked down to the scene still unravelling below us. "Where's the Inspector?" he asked us.

"He's getting his troops lined up." Watson informed him.

Holmes looked at him before handing Watson his cane walking in the direction we came. "That could take all day."

The three of us rushed downstairs, making our way towards the scene and soon came across the men acting as guards. We all took different angles, covering more ground and saving time, and we all struck without warning.

I struck the first of two men with a kick behind his knee cap, sending him to the floor, and hitting him with my gun before he could grab someone's attention, or a weapon. No more than a second after that, someone attacked me, throwing a punch and hitting me in the jaw. I staggered back a few paces and forced myself back up. I kneed the closest man to me in the groin, making him double over in pain, and then brought his head down to my knee, and threw him aside. The second man came at me and I gave him my hardest punch. It wasn't enough to stun him, but it was enough to distract him and take his weapon. Although I had a loaded gun in my hand, I was never partial to use it. The phrase 'trigger-happy' applied to Holmes more than it did me.

I took the mans weapon and threw it across the side of his face with every bit of strength I had within me, which knocked him into a wall, which did stun him. Suddenly there was a loud gunshot and my ears began to ring, making the room spin a little. I looked around for a second, dazed and confused after the shock of the gunshot and I felt the first man grab me by the waist and push me into a wall, knocking all the oxygen out of me, and giving me my hearing back thankfully, but also giving him the opportunity to throw in some punches. Once again, I brought up the weapon I had picked up, which I realised was a baton, and threw it over the mans head several times, hoping for luck, rather than skill to kick in. His hands left my waist and made their way onto my neck, despite the thrashing from the baton. His huge hands covered my small neck and he pushed into my throat, blocking my airwaves. Panic set in before anything else and I used all of my energy to hit the man with the baton again and again, before I realised that it was pointless.

My senses left me and I could feel myself suffocating. All of a sudden, I felt one last push of strength against my neck and the man looked at me… and slumped down in front of me. I regained myself, breathing for the first time in what felt like years, my senses returning. I realised I was sat on the floor, Holmes' arm around my waist supporting me. I looked into his dark eyes and felt a jolt of electricity through me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"Are you alright?"

All I could do was nod. So I nodded without ever breaking eye contact. As I looked deep into his eyes, I remembered, like I always remembered every time I looked into his eyes, why I did this job and risked my life. For him. Everything I did, was for him, entirely.

Eventually, my breathing slowed, despite my heart still pounding as loudly as it could, and we were both dragged back to where we were supposed to be. Holmes suddenly looked at where the chanting was still coming from, which I hadn't realised. We both saw Watson raise his gun to the cloaked figure and I suddenly realised there was a woman on the table. She raised a dagger in her own hand and aimed it for her abdomen. Once again, Holmes looked at me, and I let out a sigh I didn't even realise I was holding onto. I nodded once, giving him piece of mind that I was okay and he rushed off towards the woman. Before she had a chance to place the dagger where it was aimed, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks and the figure stopped chanting. Holmes snatched the dagger from the woman's hand and threw it down onto the floor. A wild wind swept through the room, thrashing my already wild hair around, and blowing out the torches that lit the room. Silence entered the crypt and Holmes raised his baton, which I had just realised he had been holding, to the hooded figure.

Watson had come to me and offered his hand to me. I took it and he helped me up before resuming his previous stance, holding up his gun to the figure. I stood by him, looking the part, though not holding my gun.

The man spoke, his ice cold voice filling the large empty room, even though it was barely above a whisper. "Sherlock Holmes," Holmes lowered his weapon, never taking his eyes off the man. The mans head tilted slightly, though not enough for Watson and I to see his face and his voice raised a little. "And his loyal dogs. Tell me, Doctor," he said chillingly, addressing Watson. "As a medical man, have you enjoyed my work?"

"Let me show you how much I've enjoyed it." He lowered his gun, raised his cane and headed straight for the man, who had turned around and faced us, as if he were expecting to be attacked. Holmes rushed from where he was to his friend.

"Watson, don't!" He stopped Watson and the pair froze. They both appeared to be looking at something. "Observe." Holmes said quietly, and I walked over to where the pair were stood. Right there, just centimetres from Watson's face was a weapon, though none of the like I had ever seen before. It was made entirely of glass and very small and innocent looking. However, it also looked very long and very sharp.

"How did you see that?" Watson asked shakily, looking up at the figure, whose face we still could not see.

Holmes looked at the figure also. "Because I was looking for it." He answered simply and shattered the tiny yet dangerous weapon with the two batons he was using. Watson lowered his cane and brought up his gun again. Holmes brought up one of the batons and moved the long dark cape from the mans head, revealing a very familiar face. He looked at Holmes and I drew in a breath and frowned.

"Lord Blackwood."

He looked at me, and I felt myself shiver under his gaze. "You seem surprised."

Holmes turned to Watson. "Watson, I would say the girl needs your attention."

Watson lowered his gun. "Indeed." He raised his cane once again and hit Blackwood in the jaw, forcing the man to stagger before he went to see to the young girl. I looked to where Watson was going and felt Holmes' eyes on me. He had an annoying habit of doing that, watching me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I'm sure that most of the time he was making sure I stayed out of trouble. Other times I just think he enjoyed the view. I smiled slightly to myself and glanced over at him. He gave a quick smile before turning his attention back to Blackwood.

Suddenly, footsteps filled the room and Lastrade and his officers walked into the room. The inspector pointed a gun at one of the men, who was reaching for a gun.

"Oh, I'd leave that alone if I were you, boy-o." he said confidently, and pointed a gun at the man who raised his arms, showing that he was no longer a threat. "Good lad." He then kicked the man in the face, probably to show who was in charge.

Holmes turned to him. "Impeccable timing, Lastrade." Lastrade looked up from the criminal he kicked in the dirt to Holmes then to Lord Blackwood. "We've one for the doctor," Holmes continued. He turned back to Blackwood. "And one for the rope." Blackwood gazed back at Holmes as Lastrade stared at Blackwood as though he couldn't believe what he saw.

"Clarkie?" he asked.

"Sir," Clarkie answered, lowering his gun, and walking past Holmes and I to get to Blackwood.

"This woman needs a hospital immediately." I heard Watson say loudly and I turned towards him.

"Put her in the back of the Moriah." I heard someone say, and I realised I was feeling very dizzy and suffocated. I began to wonder how much longer I could last down here when someone jolted me out of my thought train. I looked up from the floor and stared into Holmes' face, which was full of concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked again.

I cleared my throat and nodded, glancing quickly back down at the floor before looking back at him. I smiled at him, and he attempted to smile back, though his heart wasn't in it.

"I don't like that you risked your life down here," he told me. His grip on my waist tightened. I placed my arm around his waist also.

"What are you going to do? Stop me from doing it again?" I joked and smiled at him.

"If I have to," I looked at him and his face was straight. Not even the slightest hint of a smile. "It was dangerous for you here tonight. It is every time you work on a case. It seems you won't be happy until you are either in the hospital or the morgue."

I groaned, looked at the floor and shook my head. Not this. Not again. I wanted to argue back and tell him how much I enjoyed, no, loved the job, no matter how much my life was at risk. However, I let the matter drop and said nothing. I would let him have this round, but the next time this subject came up, he wouldn't be so lucky.

I looked up to see Blackwood being escorted out of the building by Clarkie and Lastrade approaching Holmes and I. We fell apart from each other and Lastrade looked at Holmes. Holmes, however, was watching Blackwood leaving.

"And you were supposed to wait for my orders." He told Holmes.

I turned to the inspector. "If we had, you'd be cleaning up a corpse and chasing a rumour."

Holmes looked at me and smiled, then turned to Lastrade. "Besides, the girls' parents hired me, not the Yard. Why they thought you'd require any assistance is beyond me."

I hid a smile and looked to the floor. When it came to insulting people's intelligence, Lastrades especially, Holmes never cut short.

"Well, London will breathe a sigh of relief." he said to all three of us.

"Indeed," Watson said from his post. "Congratulations, Lastrade."

Holmes fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar. "Bravo, inspector. Have a cigar."

Lastrade took the cigar and I heard a man call for our attention. All four of us looked at him. There he stood with the most awful contraption ever invented. A camera.

"Cheese." he called and a huge flash filled the room, but not before Holmes could hide his face, and I turned away.

I suppose I really should introduce myself. My name is Florence Bennett. Although, it won't be for much longer.

Hope you enjoyed it :) remember, reviews are virtual cookies and I love criticism. It helps build character. Chapter Two will be up shortly :)