A/N: Hello my dear readers!

This is my first story about our dear Sherlock where the reader, a foreign student, arrives in London and witnesses a murder, or rather the remains of the murder. 

If you wish for a following chapter, please tell me.

Hope you enjoy!

Please leave a vote or a comment.

PS: It is quite long.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Near from Baker Street, the famous street where the detective Sherlock Holmes lives, precisely at 221 B Baker Street, when the sun was down and no light from a streetlight was illuminating the alley, a young girl didn't come home this night and the darkness wraps her and her final moments until the morning comes.

The first thing I heard was the cawing of crows above my window. These dark birds with their black eyes peering at the tiniest piece of flesh to eat were unbelievably attractive with their ebony colour and their shape of a dark eagle and their way to move. I have been fascinated by the birds for ages, even before I was born. My mum even said that it was my first word " Crow". Of course, I don't believe her. I opened my eyes. My clock displayed 6 o'clock of the morning." It's too early", I thought putting my blanket upon my head, sheltering the heat of the night for several minutes. It was a new day to live but the previous events still keep me away from the outside. I wanted to leave but at the same time, I didn't want to move from my bed. You must think I am lazy, don't you? Believe me, I'm not. I'm just... a young woman. A twenty-year-old girl who doesn't know what to do after she moved in the flat her parents bought for her birthday saying:

 "We have a surprise for you Y/N! You have a flat for the next year in... London!"

First of all, I couldn't say a word, my voice was stuck in my throat and my brain refused to work. Then, when I understood that I will be moving in a foreign country I 've never visited yet, a flood of panic invaded my veins but I kept my calm and took a big breath. The eyes of my parents stared at me paralysed my legs and my mouth shadowed a smile for the rest of the day. However, from the inside, I was completely shocked. Why did my parents send me over there? It is true that I love England, but is it enough to send your daughter over the Thames? Nevertheless, two months later, during the summer holidays, I was in my new home, a lovely flat which belongs to a certain old lady named Mrs. Olson.

The first time I have seen her, I thought I was in a movie of the late 90's. Dressed in a long black skirt and a white blouse, she yelled my name in the street as if she had found a new jewel. I had my baggage in my hand and the map in the other, I raised my head and saw her, shaking her arms joyfully.

" Where did I land?" I thought, before joining her.

" Are you Mrs. Olson?" I asked.

" Yes. You must be Mrs. Shamrock. Welcome to England, my dear! "

She saw my baggage and how I was dressed: a blue dress with black shoes and a big white scarf on my shoulders.

" You must be exhausted, my poor child ! Let me help you. "

She caught my bag and moved on quickly.

" Well, you have to know that there is a lot of things to visit if you want. I have already prepared a list of places you can go later. Your room is ready and the meal is almost finished. I hope you like bagged beans."

She peered at me, wondering if she hadn't made a mistake.

" It's perfect, thanks", I reassured her smiling.

The city was so vast, with the blocks so common to the British world, people walking in the street with their stuff, the dogs barking and the policemen on their horses staring carefully at the town. Walking behind her, I was drawn by a voice, a male voice saying incredible things with a soft fluidity as if it was completely sensed and natural whereas the construction of the topic of the conversation was not easy. I turned my head and I saw him. Typically of his state of mind, he was rectifying the conclusions of his friend, combining truth and clues to make a perfect scheme of a crime. I didn't realise yet whom I had seen in front of me before I came into my room: it was Sherlock Holmes !

Mrs. Olson announced to me that the meal would be ready at noon, so I put my stuff down, sat on a chair near the desk and called my parents. However, I fell on the answering machine so I left a message informing them that I was settled and I was fine.

I checked the clock which pointed out: 11.59. I removed my coat and ran into the stairs. I didn't want to be late the first day I arrived. It could be interpreted as rude and not polite. I was a guest, a punctual guest.

The rest of the day was spent tidying my little nest where I will live for a year.

I gradually took my marks, as when I could go to the bathroom, at what time to wake up, the passage of the bus to reach the university, the planning of the class,... About a week, I was accustomed.

I was going down the stairs when I heard the voice I heard the day I arrived in the city. Surprised, I didn't see the last step of the stairs and I fell with a huge noise. " It is the last time I will run the stairs," I thought, standing up. In England, we have a uniform, even at the University called the London's Global University, so I was wearing the usual clothes from the University which were a dark blue blazer with a badge, a white blouse and a black tie, a striped red and green skirt and a dark belt.

Unfortunately, my bag had opened during the fall so all my stuff had spread on the floor. I sighed and started to take back my personal objects until a hand took my exercise book and gave it to me in a gentle way. I raised my head and fell in the blueness of his eyes.

" It must be yours." he declared.

I stayed paralysed for a moment and I shook myself up.

" Yes. Thank you." I answered taking back my book.

Inadvertently, I touched his hand and a shudder crossed my entire body. I fell something nasty around, something was coming. I don't know how I could know such a thing but I had the hunch that something was wrong, something wasn't in its place. Was it a premonition?

The man in front of me noticed my moment of confusion and asked: " Are you well, milady? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

I got up and dusted my skirt off.

" No, I'm fine, thank you. Just a little dizzy by this country. "

He raised his eyebrows.

" Hum, you have an accent. I would say French. Your way of speaking reveals you don't know the manners of a true English and your tie is on the wrong side. Well, you're a stranger, passionate by English without being a true lady I would say a student from the London's Global University thanks to the uniform. You're here for two months and you are uncomfortable with strangers. Anyway, have a good day Miss...

" Shamrock. Y/N Shamrock."

" Nice to meet you Miss Shamrock. Welcome to England!"

He turned back and left the apartment with dexterity and happiness as if he had found a new toy to play with. I was still surprised by his analysis when a second man followed him, saying: 

" Good morning, Miss Shamrock. Excuse my friend, he is ... how would I say that...."

" Instinctive, placid, observer and clever" I dropped in a breath.

A tiny smile appeared on the face of the man.

" Yes, indeed. Let me introduce myself: My name is John Watson and my friend was Sherlock Holmes. I heard you 're new in town, so if you need something, don't hesitate to ask Mrs. Olson, she is a wonderful lady. I understood you fall from the stairs, I am a doctor, I can check your legs if you mind.

" I think I'm fine, thank you. I have to go to the University otherwise I will be late. If you excuse me, sir."

"Of course, have a good day, miss"

He made a sign with his hat and left the entrance, letting me here my mind full of questions with no answers. The voice of Mrs. Olson woke me up and I ran out from the flat and caught my bike. I arrived at school 5 minutes late and the teachers held me one more hour to work on English exercises, in particular, grammar exercises. When I came home, around 7 o'clock, it was already night and the lonely light which dazzled my path were the streetlights. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice yet the noise of a fallen bin coming from the alley, completely wrapped by darkness, with no light, no life in this part of the street. I have always been curious, so I took the direction of the dark alley, and put on the light on my bike to illuminate my way. Only the sound of the wheels of my bike echoed in the alley, revealing my presence. I pedalled along the corridor until I saw something unusual. The traces of blood on the ground like black roots intertwined with each other forming an awful spectacle of death. I wanted to follow them but the bike was too much cumbersome so I put it to a wall and took my torch to illuminate my way. I walked, seeing the mark of a fight, noticed the sudden loss of light power from the streetlights, I heard the nasty sound of the crows before seeing them. Once I came to the body, I stopped breathing and I uttered a long scream of terror which echoing in the night. Gradually, I moved the ray of the torch towards the body and enlightened the horrible scene I had in front of me. My heart pounded faster, my hands shook and the wing of a bloody crow brushed against me and flew away in the darkness of the night. I was afraid but I tried to relax myself in counting in my head " One, two, three, don't panic, four, five, six, I have to call an ambulance, seven, eight, nine, no no the person must be already dead right now with the quantity of blood in the alley" I swivelled and a shadow avoided my ray of light. Someone was here and I was alone at the beginning of the night in a dreary alley with a corpse next to me.

Will I be the next target, the next body found in the streets of London?

" Focus, Y/N" I closed my eyes and let my thoughts stem from the scene towards my mind palace. After a moment, I had three options. First, I took my phone and called the police and an ambulance to prevent the murder and find the killer. However, it won't help me if the killer decided to kill me first. Secondly, I used the application of the phone to take pictures of the scene of the crime with much clarity as possible. Then I took my bike back and run away as fast as I can. But if the murderer has a gun he could kill me easily. My third option is more complex and dangerous: Just behind me, there were bins, big bins full of garbage and not stuck to the wall, I have to hide behind the bins, took my phone on and filmed the murderer or the person who killed the girl until he left the scene. It was dangerous and maybe crazy but it was the best idea I had. It was worth it and kept me alive.

I switched my torch off and ran behind the bin, at the same time I sent a text to Mrs. Olson " I'm stuck in Fairfield Avenue, please call the police, and an ambulance, I've found a corpse and I saw someone near the street, call some help, please! Your Y/N, still alive."

I didn't look if my chaperon had received the message, a shrill sound echoed in the alley. I was sure I wasn't alone now. I recessed in my hiding place, and a fear invaded my veins. My legs were paralysed and a lock of my hair fell in front my eyes. I was too afraid to think about moving it, so I didn't make a move. I stayed motionless for a while. Dove in the darkness, there were nothing to sparkle my way to escape. I retained my breath when the sound of a step passed near to me. The sound of his weapon squeaked on the ground frightened the crows who flew away screeching. I had never been as scared as I was that night when the killer walked in the corridor, making noise with his axe to frighten his prey and take pleasure to see the victim run away. However, I stayed in the same position I was a few minutes ago: hidden behind a garbage bin. The smell was bearable but the tiny space compressed me, knelt between the wall and the bin. It was painful. Nevertheless, I endured the suffering and tried to see something despite the total blackout as if a black mist had fallen on the street.

It's in those moments, close to death, you realise all the things you should have done, the words you should have said and the action you should have taken. It's when you have understood there would be no more future that you wish to have done all the things you will do if you survive. The experience of close death allows me to have a new eye on the world, to see things differently and to live life a hundred percent, to live life to the fullest.

I didn't want to die, I wanted to live. I knew the killer was close, perhaps five inches in front of me. Thus with the last piece of courage I left, I threw my lamp torch on in front of me. Immediately, the noise of the axe dragged on the floor stopped and I guessed a smile on the face on the killer. The torch bounced on the corpse of the dead girl and flared the alley in the direction I arrived, where my bike was and the exact position of the murderer. The axe on his sides, he was tall, strong and angry. His eyes were hidden by his red hair and I couldn't see if he was aware or not of what he was doing. But as soon as he spoke, his whole body freed an aura of blood, he was addicted to blood. I realised it when I saw the streak of blood on his clothes and his axe. Then I took a look at the corpse and the violence of the crime touched my soul. He had taken pleasure to see an innocent girl dying under his blows, one by one until he heard no scream of agony. I understood his personality just in observing the scene. He was a bloody psychopath, who likes to make people suffer. Dressed in a white dungaree, he looked like a bloody butcher ready to cook its next beef. A few drops of blood covers his axe and a part of his clothes but the worst thing which terrified me were his eyes. His cold bloody eyes who were staring at me in the darkness regardless of the flash of light. I thought it was my last minute but invaded by adrenaline, I rose up, clutched the bin and pushed it over him with all the strength I had. Then I took to my heel and ran away as fast as I could. I left my bike and my bag behind me but I didn't care. Everything I wanted was to breathe and live. I didn't know if the person I hurt was still on the scene of the crime or right behind me. The last thing I heard was his dreadful laugh echoing in the darkness of the moonless night. Finally, I stopped when I rang at the door of Mrs. Olson's flat. " Riiiiiiiiiiing, ring, riiiiing!" I kept on pushing the button once the lady opened the door.

 " Oh my God! Is that blood on your skirt?" she asked, a hand in front her mouth. I looked down my clothes and saw the trace of blood, probably those of the dead girl in the alley.

" Did you call the police? " I wondered in entering in the hallway. I couldn't stay outside. I was too much afraid.

" No, Y/N. I warned someone else", she mysteriously answered.

I turned back and nearly suffocated. 

" What? Why?! There is a corpse outside and a bloody man tried to kill men and you didn't call the police?!"

She stayed calm, acting as if everything was normal. I didn't understand why she was so quiet until I realised , there were not only Mrs. Olson and I in the room, but someone sitting on the sofa.

" She called me, Mrs. Y/N", said a male voice I immediately recognised. This typical voice who annoyed you each time he opened his mouth because you have the impression you are an idiot next to him, as though you were incapable of understanding a simple problem whereas it is absolutely not the case.

" You,... Sherlock Holmes" I whispered.

I made one step, little by little and I diminished the distance between us. He was comfortably settled on the sofa, dressed all in black and white, his hair a little tousled and the look envious. He was perfectly calm and looked at me, waiting. I had no adrenaline left to fight against this surprised guest. My legs shook against each other, and my heart beat faster.

" It's the shock" he announced, stoical, "you have to tell me what you saw, Y/N."

I fell on my knees, taking a long break to calm myself down. Gradually, I felt my body relaxed and my mind stopping to wild as if a storm was raging in my head. Only my mind palace was intact and I took a refuge in it, for a while. Slowly, I gave him my phone. My eyes didn't see his reaction but I knew he was surprised.

" I took pictures" I said before passing out. The last thing I heard was Sherlock yelling his friend.

" Watson! We need you here! She collapsed!"

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, alone. No one was in the room and only a bunch of flowers was put down on the bedside table. I looked around and noticed it was morning. The window was closed and the curtains pulled so I could see the view in which I was settled. I tried to get up but a series of wires were attached to my arms, pierced the skin and reached my veins. I hated this feeling. I dug them up and joined the edge of the window. From where I stood, I could see, people going to work, the morning activity of London. I felt nostalgic and I put my hand over the pane as if it was a veil which could disappear and take me to a safe place and where I could live my life in peace. I never asked for this. All I ever wanted was to discover London and become famous one day. Now, I would be famous for having discovered a dead girl in the alley of Fairfield in the night. I already saw the headlines of the Times " The Miraculous Girl" or " The Survivor".

" He got away", said Sherlock, against the open door. He was looking at me, worried.

" How?"

" When the police arrived, he was already gone and every evidence which could have helped us had vanished. The only thing left was the pictures of your phone. You even took the killer. Besides, it was clever and completely stupid. Nevertheless, I have one question to ask, Miss Y/N"

" Oh he called me by my nickname now whereas he said my name before", I noticed.

"Go ahead."

" What did you see?"

"You already asked me this question, Mr. Holmes."

" You didn't answer. Well, not quite."

" It was dark, I couldn't see."

"But you heard something, didn't you? What was it? Tell me."

His eyes were shining as if he took pleasure in this puzzle.

"I heard his axe dragged on the floor, I heard his steps approaching from my hidden place, I heard his bloody laugh, I heard my heart beat as fast as it ever had, I thought I was going to die, Sherlock. "

"You didn't."

" I didn't because I wanted to live. I pushed the bin over him and he fell. I heard a scream but I ran away before I turned my head back. He was a predator, and I was his prey. For now, I won, but it is not over. We have to find him."

" We?"

" I know you will hunt him, Sherlock. I want to be in. "

" I already have an assistant."

"I don't care. I will investigate with you and if you don't want, I will do it by myself."

We were glaring at each other, observing our opponent for a battle. Any movement was analysed, any signs were observed and interpreted. I wouldn't be useless, I saw that man, and I will find him. I won't let the murderer kill more girls. A new path was opened to me, a puzzled path, ready to be undertaken.

" Fine. Join me at Mrs. Hudson place in the evening. Have a good day.", He dropped, closing the door.

As soon as he was gone, I seized my clothes on the chair, dressed myself up, and looked at myself in the mirror. The reflection I had was a young girl, tired, with blue eyes and auburn hair fallen on her frail shoulders. I was exhausted and so excited at the same time. I had never felt something like that. The adrenaline not to find the piece which allows linking of all the pieces of this elusive puzzle. I thought I had found my path. Nonetheless, I took my coat and left the hospital room. An hour later, I arrived at the apartment and went into my room. I fell on my bed and watched the ceiling. My thoughts were intertwined in a thousand possibilities for the identity of the killer could be that at least, I took a shower to be clean and in a better condition. Then I joined Mrs. Olson who was in the kitchen cooking, cookies and pancakes for breakfast. It was a little late for that, given that it was 10h30 in Saturday but I smiled because she remembered it was my favourite meal since I had come to England.

" Thank you, Mrs. Olson, you're amazing. You're always here when something is wrong", I said.

She smiled and told me.

" Have a seat, my dear"

I obeyed and watched her cooking my breakfast. Five minutes later, I had eaten my meal and a pleasant feeling invaded my body. I was ready to unmask the killer. My strength was back and the events of last night were still fresh but not enough to darken my reflection. I took my phone and noticed that I had one message " 221 B Baker Street, in the room, 2 p. m . SH."

I checked the time and took my coat. It was 1h30.

 " I have to leave, Mrs. Olson. Thanks for breakfast, it was delicious. I'm coming back for dinner. See you tonight"

I had already closed the door before the answer of my housekeeper. I crossed the street and found the apartment easily: composed of white walls and a black door, well it was a typical British flat of London. I knocked at the door with the gold latch. I waited a few seconds when the door opened. A man dressed in a grey jacket and dark pants with a blond moustache welcomed me " Kate Shamrock! How are you? "

" I'm better, John. Thank you. I'm here for Holmes."

" I know. He is in a bad mood today. Be warned", he announced me with a gentle voice.

He moved forward to let me in and made a sign to guide me to the detective. I went up the stairs, opened the door and saw Holmes go back and forth. As soon as he saw me, he stopped and seized my shoulders, telling me " I need you to focus your pictorial memory, can you do that?"

" Yes" I said, my eyes dived into the ocean of his pupils, But I took pictures, aren't they enough?"

"No, I missed something and I know you are the final piece to find the identity of the killer. Tell me what you feel, what about you thought, what you heard, everything"

I couldn't make a move, his fingers clutched to me like a precious object you care about. I took a long breath and closed my eyes. I felt his look on me, piercing and insisting. Nevertheless, I tried to not think about it and focus on the scene.

" The first thing I saw was that there were no light in the alley as if it was on purpose. That's why I drove to the alley. It wasn't normal and I wanted to see London in the night so I took this path. "

I guessed Sherlock rolled his eyes and I heard his sigh. The shadow of a smile passed onto my face and I kept talking.

" Then, I heard the shrieking of the crows and their flapping wings. Their echo frightened me, and when the ray of light reached the corpse, I was paralysed. I looked around the alley and I saw a shadow moving through the darkness. Fast and furious I think. I understood that something was wrong so I analysed the crime scene. I took pictures Sherlock, and then I threw the lamp on to illuminate the alley.

I stopped talking while my memories from the night came back. A feeling of cold and fear invaded my veins.

" What did you do next?" He asked.

I took a deep breath and let the words come out from my mouth." The lonely hidden place I could see was the bin so I pushed the bin enough to go behind it and then I waited. The lamp was still on and I saw him. He had an axe, a mortal axe full of blood dragged on the floor with a hoarse sound. My ears seemed to bleed and scream."

" Describe him, Y/N."

I looked at him, numb and the eyes lost in the haze of my memories.

" He was wearing an overall covered with blood, a white shirt under. He had big black boots and each time he took a step, he left a big fingerprint on the floor. He had red hair I think. He had something on his face, I don't know but it was abnormal. His eyes were so cold and evil. As black as the coal with a glimmer of anger inside. "

John Watson came into the room, looked at me and said.

"All right, it's over, Sherlock. She needs some rest. "

" No, she is almost at the climax of it. Get out, John."

John moved and took my arms. As soon as he touched me, I felt all my fear leave my body.

" He is evil, John", I whispered trembling.

John got up and stared at Sherlock.

" Seriously Sherlock. Let her move on, she was traumatised and you, you want her to tell you everything she saw. She 's not a robot or insensitive person like you. She is a human being with feelings and emotions. "

He turned his head to me.

" Would you like some tea Y/N?"

" Yes please, John."

He walked noisily out of the room. I sighed and took a seat on the chair near from Sherlock who was lost in his thoughts. Discreetly, I looked at him, the famous detective from London. I didn't realise that he was so clever behind this white face and these blue eyes.

" Stop looking at me Y/N, it's annoying".

I blushed and let my look wander over the room. Many newspapers were hung on the wall, pictures of killers or thieves were hung as war trophies. Then I saw a skull on the chimney and what I took for family photos. I went to the chimney and had a closer look at the photography. It was Sherlock Holmes, surrounded by old woman and men, probably his parents and a taller boy next to Sherlock Holmes. " Was it his brother? I thought. The time I touched the picture, the detective was next to me, watching me with a severe look. " Maybe, I shouldn't touch it" I thought.

" Don't" he only said and returned to his favourite chair, the hands clasped and the eyes closed.

I didn't realise yet that I had missed mentioning an important element. However, that's when Sherlock whispered " bike, bag, lamp torch, black,..." that I realised that I had forgotten my school bag with all my stuff inside at the scene of the crime, on the bike!

" My bag!" I yelled, "I forgot my damn bag in the street. I have to get it back. "

Immediately, I moved on and got out of the apartment before anyone could stop me. I almost jostled Watson coming back with his three cups of tea on a tray.

" What the hell is going on, again? What did you say this time?" he asked Sherlock when I violently closed the door and ran into the street. So many people, so little time, I was hurried and stressed. In my bag I have all my important belonging, including where I live, my wallet, my furniture, and my apartment keys. " Mrs. Olson!" I thought.

" Oh God!", I said running towards the place when I was staying.

I glimpsed at Sherlock Holmes and Watson leave the apartment, wearing their coat and hat.

" He might have my keys!" I screamed. 

He nodded and said something to Watson I didn't hear. The route to the apartment was filled with a flurry of a crowd. As soon as I reached the flight of steps, I noticed the door had been broken into. Someone unwelcome was inside. Perhaps, it was the murderer? I relaxed myself convincing myself that everything was alright and that Mrs. Olson was still alive. I hoped so. I picked up my phone and texted Sherlock. " I think he is in the flat. The door is open. I'm going to go in and check if Mrs. Olson is all right. Y/N"

Very slowly, I opened the door and entered the vestibule. There were still the umbrellas on the side and the keys on the other. As a precaution, a crazy idea crossed my mind and my hands did the rest. I took one of the umbrellas and went in the kitchen. Step by step, I checked if there was any sign of violence and I understood when I opened the door of the kitchen that he was here. A long trace of blood on the floor immediately caught my eyes and I tightened the umbrella as a weapon for defence. The window was broken and many pieces of glass were on the ground, mixed with the blood of my housekeeper. I held up my tears and moved on. Given the circumstances, I surmised that Mrs. Olson had been attacked while she was cooking a chocolate cake because I saw it in the oven. I turned it off and sighed. I was afraid but I couldn't let Mrs. Olson be killed because of me. If I hadn't left my property in the alley, she would be alive and fine.

" Bip, bip" I took my phone and read the message " On my way. S.H" I tidied up and looked the ceiling. A sound of step and groaning caught my attention. They were upstairs, waiting for me. Nevertheless, who was he? Why did he do this? Last night, it was too dark to see him so I couldn't be a threat to him unless I knew him. But who? Everything I knew was that he had red hair, dark eyes and he is good with a sharp knife. I remembered the people I knew since I have arrived and only one person matched this portrait: the fellow who helped me the first day I lost myself in the corridors of the university and who gradually talked to me more often. It's Robin Crimsony. Even his name was linked to the colour red. His hair, his axe and his name were bounded to the same colour: scarlet.

Immediately, I texted Sherlock. " I know who he is, it's R.........................................."

Too late, he was here, at the entrance, waiting for me, his red axe at his sides. I had the impression to be in a horror movie but I didn't scream. I won't let him be delighted by my fear. I just had the time to send the message even if I hadn't finished to write it down and put my phone in the back pocket of my trousers before he said:

" You are going to die, Y/N."

The sound of his voice was so different from what I had heard a few days before. It was a possessed, envious and hoarse voice. My blood rose and I tried to close the door but he grabbed me and gave a big blow to the door. I uttered a little scream and moved back.

 " Oh, oh, I love when you scream. Do it again" he said, his eyes blazing.

" Where is Mrs. Olson, Robin?"

"You recognised me, Kate? No, no , you shouldn't. I have to kill you now. You know, this hobby is my own precious little secret. If someone knew it, I would have to keep it quiet. What a better solution than death, Kate?"

" Where is she"? I asked again.

"Ttt, ttt, you should focus on your own life, Kate. Time to play now." He threw himself on me, with his axe upon his head. Immediately, I raised my umbrella and hit him with it. He cut it down to one shot and looked at me, a big smile on his face. " Is that it, Kate? I'm disappointed. You were cleverer last night" He raised his axe upon me with the aim to kill me but I saw an opportunity to put him down. I kicked between his legs and ran away. I went upstairs as fast as I could and locked the door of my room. When I turned back, I saw Mrs. Olson trussed up on a chair. I tried to help her but the rope was too tight and thick to be removed. She was hurt on her arms and on the head. He had beaten her. When I understood exactly what he had done, I became really angry. Even furious. How dared he hurt her for pleasure? Because I saw the welts he made on her skin to take his time while the victim suffers. I heard him roar and groan but I wasn't afraid anymore. Of course, the fear of death was still present but I didn't take care about. I had to focus on a plan of escape both of us: Mrs. Olson and I.

I still had my phone I thought but I realised putting my hand into my pocket that I had lost it during the fight. " Oh God, what would I do now?" I thought when Robin Crimsony gave a big blow of axe on the door.

 " Open that door, Kate! Right now!"

I heard Mrs. Olson moan but I didn't pay attention. My mind was looking for a solution while my body was motionless. At each blow of axe, my heart seemed to get out of my chest. I looked around me and an idea emerged from my mind. A crazy one but it was worth the shot to try. I opened the big wardrobe and pulled Mrs. Olson behind it because there was an edge large enough for her. I pushed her until I reached the corner, then I explained the plan to her. She nodded as much as she could and then she looked at me move into the room. My idea was supposed to attract the killer in another place where Mrs. Olson wouldn't be because in a sense she was an easy prey. Even if we were not very close, she supported me last night and I wouldn't let someone kill her. I opened the wardrobe where I put all my clothes. The first time I arrived here, I had seen a baseball bat inside and if I remember well, it was still here. I found it behind my dresses and I took it in my hand. It was white with blue stripes and the team of England written on it. Now I had a sort of weapon against the axe of Robin. Suddenly the blows against the door stopped. I didn't make any move and put a finger against my mouth in front of Mrs. Olson aiming at making her understand to be quiet. She seemed to have understood and stared at me, a glimmer of fear in her brown eyes. I took my baseball bat in my hands, bent my legs a little and waited. I heard the stairs creak under the weight of the murderer. Then I heard the lock unlocked by the key of my room hooked in the entrance. Finally, Robin had used his brain instead of strength to open a door. Slowly, he opened the door and said:

 " I know, you are here, Kate".

Full of adrenaline, I slammed the door as fiercely as I could, opened it again, and then slammed it again until he fell to his knees and dropped the axe. However, I didn't anticipate the second weapon he had hidden under his clothes. I was trying to beat him with the bat when he attacked me with his sharp knife and gave me a wound which bled a lot. I screamed in pain and gave him a big blow with the bat despite the pain it caused my hip.

" I owe you" he said when he rose up.

I was trying to stop the blood when an enormous smile of pleasure crossed his face. He was delighted by the scene and this look stopped something into me. Something which broke my fear. I put my eyes into his dark eyes and faced him for a while. My hand was still pressuring on the wound and many drops of my blood fell on the floor creating a little red puddle whence I saw my reflection. Panting, I took my baseball bat with one hand and watched Robin move on towards me with his bloody body while I moved back until I reached the window. I was stuck. The window behind me and a killer in front of me. I was his prey, he was the predator.

 " Oh, you're bleeding. Perfect! Where will I hurt you again now? The arm maybe? The thigh? Or the foot?" he said. Each time he said a part of my body, he moved his axe to show how he will do it.

" You're a bloody psychopath,", I said, a disgusted air on my face. I was horrified by Robin.

Whereas he was ready to put an end to my life, a voice tore me away from the eternity of death 

" Actually I'm a high functioning sociopath Y//N, with your number".

 I trembled and whereas I felt my strength vanishing, I saw Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and a policeman with a gun pointed on Robin. I smiled despite the pain which slowed my mind down. Nevertheless, Robin, completely destroyed and caught red-handed, saw my face and a glimmer of rage switched on in his eyes. Immediately I understood he didn't care about being caught or not. He was addicted to blood and the way the blood gets away from the human body. He clutched his axe and with a scream of rage, jumped on me. Instinctively, I jumped aside in spite of the wound which made me scream. The last thing I saw from Robin Crimsony was his blazing eyes and his red hair reflecting the sun rays which looks like flames, he broke the window and fell from the top floor.  He shouted one last time as the axe head landed right on him with a  loud thud. 

Fortunately, I had avoided his attack but the wound he inflicted on my waist throbbed increasingly painfully. My five senses were weakened and my breath slowed down. I glimpsed at Sherlock and John run up whereas the policeman checked the edge of the window and called 991. I felt a hand pushed on the wound and John saying :

" Y/N, stay with me, stay with me." 

I dove my eyes into Sherlock Holmes's who told me : 

" Well done, Y/N"

These last words went with me when I fell into the darkness of morphine after the ambulance appeared and a sleep without dreams got told me.

I woke up in a white room with two bushes of flowers this time on the table. I tried to get up but an acme of pain crossed my whole body. I couldn't move because the wound was still healing. I was wearing a white cloth typical from the hospitals and a lot of wires were tied in me.... again. Curious, I lift up the dress until I could see the mark made by Robin. There was a big bandage which covered my waist but my insatiable curiosity pushed me to look under the bandage. I took one extremity and removed it until I saw my skin. It was red, inflamed and really painful. A long scarlet scar was fixed on my skin, leaving the last mark made by this murderer. This investigation left his trace on my body, however, I was glad to be alive. I looked at it one last time, thinking about the previous events and put the bandage back as fast I could. Then I stared at the flowers: one was blue and the other was particular: a hundred clovers with four and three leathers were gathered in a red vase. I guessed it was from Sherlock Holmes, only him was able to tease people with a peak of memories. The clovers were linked to my name Shamrock which symbolise luck whereas the red vase was a recall from the case. However, I was attracted to a note put next to the flowers. With difficulty, I managed to take it and I groaned. I panted and my heart beat faster but I calmed down and my cardiac rhythm came back to normal. I opened the envelope and started to read it.

" Dear Miss, Kate Shamrock,

Robin Crimsony is stone-dead now. You have no reason to worry about. You're safe. What you did was amazing but also completely stupid. Have you thought about the causes of your fail? If you had lost, you would be dead and Mrs. Olson too. Never mind, I guessed you don't care about the possibilities of your failure. You survived, that's what matters. Let me ask you one question,Y/N : you survived, but at what cost?

Your body is marked by the murderer. You were a victim, a prey and a warrior. I have to confess, that when I saw the broken umbrella in the kitchen, I laughed but I saw also the clever mind you have. Of course, an umbrella cannot beat an axe but it can slow it down, give you time to escape. You have a good instinct, Y/N I recognised you that. Then, the bat of baseball, you arrived to touch the killer but he touched you and the moment he touched you, you were down. It was over. Any kind of person would scream and be scared to death. Not you. You stayed up and faced him. I suppose you also managed to be close enough to the window because you knew he would attack you violently. You understood what he is, what he needs, what can make him angry. That's astonishing for a girl like you. Of course, I noticed it too but you surprised me and you have to know that there is few person who is able to surprise me.

Nevertheless, if you want to live, don't make crazy things, Y/N.

Good recover.

Besides, I hope you like the flowers.

PS: You should check the newspaper, you are on the front page.

Consultant detective, Sherlock Holmes."

When I reached the last line of his speech, I took the newspaper and saw my picture facing the killer just before he attacked me and crashed on the window. I realised that the picture had been taken at the entrance of the room and I understood it was Sherlock who had taken it. Why? I have no idea. Nevertheless, I have to confess, it was a great picture even if it wasn't an easy thing when you think you are going to die.

"Bip, bip." I picked up my phone on the desk and look at the message:

" Ready for another case? S.H"

I smiled and answered.

" Whenever you want, Sherlock".

E.N.D.

A/N: So any thought?