(Author's Note: Okay, so this chapter I'm going to do something a little different. So that we are able to see everything that is going on, I'm going to be switching point of view just a little bit. I will clearly mark everything, so don't worry, but let me know whether you like this or not. If so, I could make things interesting and switch around like this on a regular basis. Thanks for reading! Also- this is the last chapter for this 'episode', and I may not be able to post more until later this week. I'm working on a Merlin fic that I will post tomorrow if anyone's interested :)

*About 5 minutes previously*

(John)

I watch Sadie leave with Mrs. Hudson, but I don't comment. I know Sherlock's comment about the daughter upset her, though she'd die before admitting it. I resolve to check on her later.

"Oh," Sherlock breathes. "Ah… She was clever, clever, yes. She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead!" I stare at him, once again struck by his insensitivity. "Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him!" He says all of this as if it leads to an obvious conclusion, but I can't quite figure it out yet. "When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" asks Lestrade, voicing all of our thoughts.

"What… What do you mean 'how'?" Sherlock looks at us all in disbelief.

"Uh…" Lestrade trails off.

"Rachel!" he exclaims, hoping to trigger some sort of comprehension. "Don't you see- Rachel!" Seeing that we still don't understand, he gives a superior smile. "Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name."

"Then what is it?" I ask loudly, fed up with his narcissism.

"John, on the luggage, there's a label," he replies without missing a beat. "E-mail address." He sits down in front of his laptop.

"Uh, .uk," I read to him.

"Oh, I've been too slow," my friend sighs. "She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smart phone. It's e-mail enabled, so there was a website for her account. The user-name is her e-mail address and- all together now- the password is?"

"Rachel." I'm the only one who answers him.

"So we can read her e-mails? So what?" Anderson says disdainfully.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." I resist the urge to chuckle at Sherlock's words. "We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smart phone. It's got GPS, which means if you lose it, you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it," says Lestrade.

"We know he didn't," I say quickly, but I don't elaborate, as it was my cell phone they used to text the murderer. "Come on, come on, quickly!" Suddenly, Mrs. Hudson comes back up the steps.

"Sherlock dear, this taxi driver is still here," she says worriedly.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" He says dismissively. He turns back to Lestrade and leaves her by the door, wringing her hands. "Get vehicles, get a helicopter. We're going to have to move fast; this phone battery won't last forever."

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name," Lestrade objects.

"It's a start," counters Sherlock. I glance at the screen, where the map is narrowing down to a specific location.

"Sherlock?" He ignores me.

"Narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead that we've had."

"Sherlock?" I try again.

"Where is it, quickly, where?" He looks over my shoulder at the computer.

"It's… here. It's in 221 Baker Street," I say, confused.

"How can it be here?" wonders Sherlock. "How?"

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it… fell out somewhere," Lestrade suggests.

"What, and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice?" Sherlock asks incredulously.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back," I say logically.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belongs to the victim," Lestrade orders the team, ignoring us. I can see the wheels turning in Sherlock's head as he deduces where the phone is. Distractedly, I look out the window and to my astonishment, I see Sadie getting into a cab.

"Why is Sadie getting in the cab?" I ask him, confused. Sherlock's eyes snap over to mine.

"Give me your mobile." I don't hesitate. I whip out my phone and toss it to him. He deftly catches it and begins dialing her number- I'm surprised he's got it memorized.

"She's not answering," Sherlock mutters frustratedly. Suddenly, he runs toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade shouts. Sherlock gives no reply.

Everyone stares at him a moment after he's gone.

"I'll try the phone again," I say after a minute. I dial and wait. "It's just ringing out."

"Well if it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade says.

"I'll try the search again," I offer.

"Does it matter?" Sally asks, disgusted. "Does any of it? You know, he's just a lunatic and he'll always let you down, and you're wasting your time. All our time." I ignore her because I know she's wrong. Sherlock must have had a reason for running out like that. Lestrade, however, doesn't.

"Okay, everybody. We're done here."

(Sadie)

"How did you find my father and me?" I ask curiously.

"Oh, I recognized your dad," the old man says proudly. "As soon as I saw you him chasing my cab- Sherlock Holmes. I was warned about him. Heard about you, as well, but just that you're his daughter. I had no idea you were into solving crimes yourself." I have to remind myself that now is not the time to be offended by statements like that.

"Who told you about us?" I ask steadily.

"Someone out there who's noticed you," the man says passively.

"Who?" I ask again. "Who would notice us?"

"You're being too modest, Sadie," the cabbie tells me.

"I'm really not," I say irritably.

"Your dad's got himself a fan. Maybe you too, if you keep up the crime scene work."

"Tell me more," I say casually, careful not to seem too eager.

"That's all you're gonna know," he says after a pause. "In this lifetime." Strangely, the statement doesn't scare me.

(John)

"Why did he do that?" Lestrade complains. "Why did he have to leave?"

"I've only been his flat-mate for a month and a half. You know him better than I do," I say.

"I've known him for years, and no, I don't," he replies, shaking his head.

"So why do you put up with him?" I wonder. This is the first case I've ever seen Sherlock on, but I can tell he's not very easy to work with.

"Because I'm desperate, that's why," Lestrade admits. He walks to the door. "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one."

(Sadie)

"Where are we?" I ask as the cab pulls to a stop.

"I know you've been reading the road signs. You know exactly where we are."

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?" The taxi driver shrugs.

"It's open. Cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie, you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out." I ignore his abysmal attempt at humor.

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" In response, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun, leveling it with my chest. I'm a little alarmed, but I hide that behind a mask of disinterest.

"Oh, I really did think you were clever than that. I'm rather bored."

"Don't worry; it gets better," he claims.

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint," I say scornfully.

"I don't. It's much better than that." He lowers the gun. "Don't need this with you. 'Cause if you're anything like you're dad, you'll follow me." He is right. I follow him inside.

(John)

I'm just about to head out the door to look for Sherlock when the computer beeps. With a jolt, I realize that the phone is in a new location. I grab my mobile and call Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" I'm more than a little surprised when he answers.

"Yes, John?" I can hear him panting, and I know he's running.

"The phone's somewhere else. Roland-Kerr Further Education College."

"John, go downstairs and see if Sadie's in Mrs. Hudson's flat." I can't believe it. I have the location of the murderer and he doesn't even care!

"Didn't you hear me? The phone-"

"Yes, John, I heard you, but Sadie's missing. See if she's in Mrs. Hudson's flat," Sherlock says impatiently. My eyes widen. I run downstairs to check for Sadie, but she isn't there. I know where she is, and Sherlock does too.

"She's not here, Sherlock. I think-" He hangs up and the door swings open.

"Come on, we're going to Roland Further Education College. Call the police in the cab." I follow him out the door and we jump into the cab. I don't know how he's being so calm; I'm close to freaking out! I suppose he has to separate himself from it all, so that he can find her. I only hope that by the time we get there, we won't be too late.

(Sadie)

We enter into a large room filled with long tables.

"Well what do you think?" The cabbie asks me. "It's up to you. You're the one that's gonna die here."

"No I'm not," I say confidently.

"That's what they all say," he tells me. "Shall we talk?" He sits down across from me and I follow suit. I sigh.

"Bit risky, wasn't it?" I ask him. "Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policeman. Not to mention my dad. They're not that stupid. Mrs. Hudson will remember you."

"You call that a risk?" the man asks. "Nah. This is a risk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle. Inside it is a pill covered with little brown spots. I stare intently. "Oh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do you? But you're about to. I just have to do this." He pulls out an identical bottle with an identical pill. I lean back, eyebrows raised. Two pills? He must be going to make me choose one. "Weren't expecting that, were you? Oh, you're gonna love this."

"Love what?" I ask quietly.

"You know, your fan told me about you. He'll be so excited to know you're just like your dad. Brilliant. Maybe even a proper genius. Deduction- now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting here, why can't people think? Doesn't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?" I don't want to agree with him, but I can almost understand him. Almost.

"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too."

"Don't look it, do I?" he asks. "Funny little man driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are, it'll be the last thing you ever know."

"Okay, two bottles. Explain," I say firmly.

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live. Take the pill from the bad bottle, you die."

"Both bottles are of course identical." A statement, not a question.

"In every way," he confirms.

"And do you know which is which?"

"Of course I know."

"But I don't."

"Wouldn't be a game if you knew." He smiles. "You're the one who chooses."

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on," I say coldly. "What's in it for me?"

"I haven't told you the best bit yet." His smirk disgusts me. "Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one. And then together, we take our medicine." I give a wry smile. "I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't." He looks at me with unconcealed humor. "Didn't expect that, did you Sadie?"

"This is what you did to the rest of them? You gave them a choice?" I ask.

"And now I'm giving you one. Take your time. I want your best game."

"It's not a game, it's chance," I say contemptuously.

"I've played four times: I'm alive. It's not chance, Sadie, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this? This is the move." He slides a bottle towards me. "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one."

(John)

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade! I need to speak to him! It's important. It's an emergency!" I glance down at the tablet. "Uh, left here, please, left here," I tell the cabbie. I find it more than a bit ironic that we're taking a cab to rescue Sadie who was kidnapped by a man in a cab… But there really was no alternative. I sigh.

"They won't let me talk to him, Sherlock."

"Then we'll just have to handle this one alone."

(Sadie)

"You ready yet, Sadie?" The taxi driver asks. "Ready to play?"

"Play what?" My voice holds barely constrained anger: I'm angry at myself for getting me into this situation, at the cabbie for forcing me to choose, and this mysterious 'fan' of my fathers who is the source of this mess. "It's a 50-50 chance."

"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me," he chides. "Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff, or a double-bluff?"

"It's still just chance," I whisper.

"Four people in a row? That's not chance."

"Luck."

"It's genius," he counters. "I know how people think. I know how people think I think. I can see it all like a map inside my head. Everyone's so stupid, even you." He leans back in his chair.

"You're wasted as a cabbie."

When we arrive at the college, we don't hesitate to get out of the cab.

"You go around to the other entrance: see if you can catch sight of them. I'll go to the other side." We both head off. Either way, we'll see Sadie soon.

(Sadie)

"You risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" I ask.

"Time to play," he deflects.

"Oh, I am playing," I assure him. "This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. There are traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own. There's no one to tell you. But there's a photograph of children in your window and the children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there. The photograph's old, but the frame's new. You think of your children, but you don't get to see them. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts." I clasp my hands with only my pointer fingers pointing up, unconsciously mimicking my father. "Ah, but there's more. Your clothes: recently laundered, but everything you're wearing is at least three years old. Keeping up appearances, but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree." I knit my eyebrows. "What's that about?" Staring at him, I realize. "Ah. Three years ago. Is that when they told you?"

"Told me what?" he asks evenly.

"That you're a dead man walking."

"So are you," he points out.

"You don't have long, though," I say, ignoring him. "Am I right?" He gives a sardonic smile.

"Aneurism, right here," he indicates his head. "Any breath could be my last."

"And because you're dying you've just murdered four people."

"I've outlived four people," he corrects me angrily. "That's the most fun you can have with an aneurism." Something still feels off, though.

"No," I decide. "No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter." I look at his face and frown. "Somehow, this is about your children."

"Oh," he says appreciatively, "I underestimated you, didn't I? When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money; I'm driving cabs."

"Or a serial killer," I can't help adding.

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me."

"I have a sponsor," he tells me mysteriously.

"You have a what?" I honestly have no idea what he means.

"For every life I take money goes to my kids. More I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think."

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" I wonder.

"Who'd be a fan of the Holmes family? You and your dad aren't the only ones to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just one person. And they're so much more than that."

"What do you mean 'more than a man'?" I ask him. "An organization? What?"

"There's a name no one says. And I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter. Time to choose.

"What if I don't choose either?" I say finally. "I could just walk out of here." Without flinching he immediately pulls out a gun. I glance down the barrel of it and give a slight smile

"You can take the 50-50 chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funny enough, no one's ever gone for that option."

"I'll have the gun, please," I say calmly.

"Are you sure?" he asks me.

"Definitely. The gun."

"You don't want to phone a friend?" he verifies. I smirk.

"The gun." He pulls the trigger and a tiny flame comes out of the end. "I know a real gun when I see one."

"None of the others did." He's almost sulking.

"Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case." I stand up and walk towards the exit.

"Just before you go, did you figure it out? Which one's the good bottle?"

"Of course," I scoff. "Child's play." I open the door a crack.

"Well, which one, then? Which one would you have picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?" I let the door close. "Come on. Play the game. I walk over to the table and snatch the bottle closest to him.

"Oh. Interesting." He grabs the other bottle and shakes out the pill. "So what do you think? Shall we?" I pause. "Can you beat me? Clever enough… to bet your life?"

(John)

I run down a hallway, calling her name. I look on both sides as I run, trying to catch sight of her curly black hair. I know she has to be here somewhere! I burst into a room and then stop. I can see her through the window of the building next to us. She's standing next to an old man. And she's got a pill in her hand.

"Sadie!"

(Sadie)

"I bet you get bored a lot, don't you?" the man taunts me. "I know you do. Girl like you, so clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it?" I hold my pill up to the light, inspecting it. "You've got the addict personality, just like your father. But this, this is what you're really addicted to. You'll do anything, anything at all to stop being bored. You're not bored now, are you?"

Suddenly a shot rings through the air, and the old cabbie falls to the ground. I turn wildly around to look through the window, but no one is there. There is only a bullet hole. Then I hear coughing and realize the man is still alive. Seized with a sudden desire to know, I hold up the pill.

"Was I right?" I ask forcefully. When he doesn't answer, I throw the pill across the room in disgust. "Okay, fine. Tell me this. Your sponsor, who was it? The one who told you about me and my dad, our fan? I want a name!"

"No," he says weakly. I don't want to be cruel, but I know this is information we need. Simply hurting the man is an option, but it's not one I want to take. I decide to try a different tact.

"You're dying. Nothing can hurt you after this. Your kids are taken care of. Tell me this and maybe you can do a tiny bit to make up for those murders. Tell me this and I can help make sure more people don't die!" He gives me a pained look.

"Moriarty," he croaks finally. And with that, his eyes close and he dies.

Dazedly, I make my way outside, and within a minute or two, the police and the ambulance arrive. I guess they finally put it together that I was taken after they heard of a break-in at the college. A hospital worker leads me over to an ambulance, sits me down, and puts an orange blanket around me. Lestrade comes up and sits beside me.

"Why have I got this blanket? They- they keep putting this blanket on me."

"Yeah, it's for shock," he explains.

"But I'm not in shock!" I protest.

"Are you sure? No one's blaming you after what you just went through," he says seriously. I roll my eyes.

"So the shooter, no sign?"

"Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him, but we've got nothing to go on."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," I assure him.

"Okay, give it to me." I stand up.

"The bullet they just dug out was from a handgun. A kill shot from that distance with that kind of a weapon? That's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimated to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so a strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel…" I trail off as I see my father running up while John waits near the police perimeter. It must have been John that shot the cabbie.

"Sadie! Are you all right?" my dad asks. Ignoring the incredulous looks from most of the police, he pulls me into a hug. I think quickly.

"Er… I'm all right, but actually Lestrade, ignore me."

"What?" He can't quite believe it. A Holmes, telling him to ignore them.

"Ignore, all of that. It's uh, it's just the shock talking. I'm in shock." I stand up and my father, understanding me, puts his arm around me and leads me towards John.

"Where are you going?" I make a deeply upset face and turn back towards him.

"I- I just need to go home with my dad right now," I sniff.

"But you were- I've still got questions!"

"What now, Lestrade? She's in shock!" Dad tells him with fake astonishment.

"I've got a blanket," I add.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade exclaims.

"And she just caught you a serial killer," Dad adds. "More or less." I muster up a few fake tears.

"Dad, can we just go home, please?" I say pitifully. If I wasn't so into character I would laugh.

"You see? You're upsetting her. She's just been kidnapped and watched a man been shot and you're making her cry," Dad guilt-trips him. He looks at both of us. He knows something is off, and that my tears aren't genuine, but he can't do anything with the whole squad watching. To them, it looks like he's making a little girl cry.

"Okay," he says after a moment. "We'll pull you in tomorrow. Off you go." Relieved, Dad and I walk to meet John, where he is leaning against a police car. Without really thinking about it, I toss my blanket inside.

"Sergeant Donovan's been explaining everything," John says. "Uh, two pills?" I nod. "Dreadful business, isn't it?"

"Dreadful," Dad agrees.

"Good shot," I say quietly.

"Yes, yes, must have been… through that window," John says humbly.

"Well, you'd know," I say. John doesn't reply.

"Did you get the powder burns out of your fingers? I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case," Dad suggests. I look at John closely.

"Are you all right?" He clears his throat.

"Yes, 'course I'm all right."

"Well, you have just killed a man," Dad points out.

"Yeah," John says after a moment. "That's true."

"But he wasn't a very nice man," I say brightly.

"No. No, he really wasn't, was he?" Dad remarks.

"And frankly, a bloody awful cabby," John adds. We chuckle a little bit.

"That's true. He really was a bad cabbie. You should have seen the route he took us to get here!" Dad starts giggling and I giggle along with him.

"Stop!" John hushes us. "No, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene."

"You're the one that shot him. Don't blame me," I defend myself.

"Keep your voice down!" he exclaims. We pass a couple of the ambulance crew. "Sorry, it's just, um, nerves, I think."

"Sorry," I add.

John turns to me.

"You weren't really gonna take that damn pill, were you?"

"You were about to take the pill?" Dad asks sternly.

"Course not. Just biding my time. I knew you'd turn up," I claim.

"No, you didn't. You're just like your dad: You risk your life to prove you're clever," John says exasperatedly.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot," he says affectionately. I smile.

"Thanks for coming after me, both of you."

"I will always come after you," Dad promises, putting his arm around me. "But don't ever do anything like that again!" I look up at him.

"You would have been upset if…" He catches my allusion to his earlier callous statement.

"Of course I would have been! What I said earlier I said without thinking, and that was wrong of me. But I didn't know what it was like to be in that situation. After tonight… I'll never make that mistake again."

"Okay," I agree. "Can we get dinner?" We stop walking suddenly as Mycroft appears out of nowhere in front of us.

"Sadie! Are you all right?" he asks concernedly, hugging me. What is up with everyone hugging me? I suppose though my dad isn't fond of him, he genuinely does care about us.

"I'm fine. Just glad it's over," I tell him honestly.

"Putting on weight again?" Dad asks. I nudge him. Honestly, sometimes he can be such a child!

"Losing it, in fact." Mycroft gives him a pleased smile.

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home; you know what it does to the traffic," Dad says sardonically. I give him one last grateful smile before my dad leads me away. I am more than ready to go home.

(Author's Note: Did you guys like it? Did you hate it? Good or bad, reviews are amazing :)