The Adventure Began at Holmes

Sir Boast-a-lot

In my abnormal anxiousness to meet Sherlock, I hadn't even noticed that I had approached Baker Street. I stopped at a door that looked rather worn and old, emblazoned with a gold, slightly rusted " 221". This was it. The moment of truth for both me and my similarly sociopathic uncle. I will walk through that door and nobody will know who I am. I will have to tell the great Sherlock Holmes that I am his niece.

I take a long last look at the door and realize that it is slightly opened already. That was odd. Johns's blog mentioned a landlady named Ms. Hudson that was always keeping things tidy. I put my hand up to the door and slightly push on it. It slowly creaks open to reveal a small, but empty corridor. I walk in cautiously, engulfed in the dead silence, so I let out a meek "hello?"

No answer. I gradually take a few more creaky steps until I get to the base of a staircase. It's certainly nothing special, just an aged staircase to go along with the rest of the flat. Taking one more step forward, I hear a weak crunching noise. I lift my foot and look down. Laying at the bottom of the staircase is a piece of paper that looks to be a note. Bending down to pick it up, I notice words scrawled in bad handwriting, that reads:

"If anybody cares enough about the clever detective to have made it this far into his pathetic flat, maybe you should try my maze. Though we all know you will get killed ;) If I were you, I wouldn't risk it, as you are far too ordinary for the task. Sherlock Holmes is better off dead anyway. It would solve everyone's problem." -JM

I have seen those initials before. JM. It was on Johns's blog, and it stood for Jim Moriarty, the consulting criminal. He had Sherlock, and I deduced that he must have John and Ms. Hudson also. With my mind whirring, I wonder what he could have had against them to have forced them to go willingly. It certainly doesn't look like anyone put up a fight to leave.

I know that I will have to step up and act. Without actually knowing what I was doing, I start rummaging through drawers for something, anything. I find a gun and a pocketknife. John's, going by the types and his history of military service. The gun was a sleek black with several scratches, so it must have been used plenty. I think back to the time I attended a four-week survival camp, despite my mother's worry, and they had taught us how to shoot. Though not an expert, I was a pretty good shot.

I check the gun for ammo: full. The safety is already on, so I slide it into my boot. Then I put the knife into my jean's back pocket and casually walk back outside and close the door to my uncle's flat, note still in hand. I take another look at the words when I notice the sun reflecting through the paper, revealing words on the opposite side. I quickly turn it over and see:

"Pathetic commonwealth. Since you would never find it, I'll make it a little easier for you. 122 Fyrewood Avenue. I love a good game. Have a nice death :)"

Leave it to Moriarty to boast. John mentioned that he does that a lot. I suddenly come to the realization that I am the only one who knows that my uncle and his colleagues are in trouble. Huge trouble. But maybe since I am like Sherlock, I can do this. Not that I have a choice. I have to, as he is family anyhow, whether he knows of my existence or not.

Family. That is a weird word for me because it is supposed to be a word filled with love and understanding, but love is stupid and useless and understanding is never there when it comes to me. Yes, my mother loves me, but her sense of the word only comes with overprotective worry and clinginess. Maybe that is why I want to meet my father and uncle so badly. I have never been understood, so maybe they would because we are alike.

In order to accomplish mutual understanding though, I actually have to meet them. However, that is quite difficult when one of them is taken hostage. The fact that whether Sherlock, John, and Ms. Hudson die or not is in my hands, hits me.

Shaking it off I remind myself that I am a Holmes. I can handle this. I take a deep breath and start running, although my whole body feels numb.

"No Sadie. You can't be scared. You have never been scared in your life, and you can't start now. They seriously need you." I thought to myself. Need. Somebody needs me. Given the circumstances, I was surprisingly touched by this thought. But I must keep calm and prepare for battle...