As I stroll down the lamp-lit street away from Anthoni's flat, I hear someone run up behind me.

"Hey John." I say casually, not slowing my pace.

"Hey." he says, keeping my pace evenly.

"Lost Sherlock huh?"

"What? Oh, no. We split up."

"Split up, hmm? Why, I wonder?" I ponder out loud to myself. "Ah, but I suppose you won't tell me."

"You'd be correct." he clarifies, and we fall into silence. There really isn't that much to talk about; considering all my thoughts were on the recent mass murder I had witnessed.

After several minutes of awkward silence, John and I find ourselves in front of my apartment door. I fish around in my trench coat pocket for the key.

"Now where did I... Oh! Here it is." I exclaim as I slide the silver key into it's lock and turn it, listening for the click. As I push open the door, I feel my phone vibrating in my jeans' pocket, and slide the red thing-a-ma-jig to answer.

"Now, who on God's green earth could this be?" I think sarcastically.

"Yes?" I say impatiently, while waving my arm to indicate John should make himself comfortable. He kicks off his shoes so he doesn't trod mud on my rugs (I have hard wood floors you see) and hangs his coat on a chair. I close the door behind me a slip out of my coat to hang it on the peg behind the door. My boots I leave on; fight or flight mode you know.

"Helloo," I hear Anthoni's voice through the speaker. "You aren't busy on that case thing-a-ma-bob are you?"

I scoff. "Just thinking about it actually." I said, facing John and rolling my eyes. I point at the phone and mouth; 'This girl.'

"Sherlock won't stop raving about it ever since I mentioned it. He's actually trashing my flat as we speak."

I laugh heartily. "Figures." I finally manage after a moment. "John seems to be 'inspecting' the leftovers in my fridge.... Hey! That pizza is a two month old experiment, don't disturb it!" I say as John scours one of the drawers. He pulls a face and carefully sets it back down where it had been.

"You're as bloody bad as Sherlock!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

"Oh ho, not that bad." I muse to myself. I mean honestly. The man might be brilliant, but he's a bloody slob.

"Why didn't Sherlock follow you?!" Anthoni exclaims from the other end of the phone. "Sherlock, I told you! I threw the crochet needles at the chair, those are not claw marks!"

This makes me double over in laughter. "You sure about that, Anthoni?" I say, looking around my tidy apartment. I didn't spend much time in my flat.... so how could it be otherwise?

"I'm coming over," Anthoni states bluntly.

"Oh great. Just when I thought this night would be getting better."

"Why?" I ask. "A little chaos might be good for you!"

John, who has moved to the navy blue three-seater couch to flip through channels on the television, laughs. "She needs more chaos like she needs a hole in her head. Trust me, I've lived with Sherlock long enough to know."

"True, very true." I answer. And it is.

"Why do you think I'm coming over there?" Anthoni said, and I hear her hang up.

I resist the terrible urge to throw my phone into the wall. "They're coming here." I state, and plop onto the couch beside John.

"Just when I thought I'd get a moment of peace." John sighs, and pushes the power button on the remote to turn off the tele, but I stop him.

"Wait," I say. He had flipped to a news channel, where an Asian-looking reporter woman was standing just outside a certain restaurant.

Luigi's.

"Police investigators are searching the scene of the mass murder that seems to have occurred around 6:45 PM this evening, killing every worker present, at the famous Italian bistro fondly named Luigi's after its previous owner Luigi Barteloni. New York Chief of Police Andrea Stein thinks she may have the answer to our newfound riddle. What are your thoughts, Chief? Do we have a murderer on the loose?"

The reporter turns to another woman with a plump figure and entirely too much make-up.

"Well Lisa, we found some footage on the security cameras that we think the public should see." She waves to the camera and indicates that they should follow her. She leads the reporter to the hood of a nearby police car, which has a lap top propped on it.

Playing over and over on the screen is a video of me, walking into the manager's office, and leaving hastily.

"We believe this murder to be the work of an insane psychopath, by the name of Savanna Jackson. We encourage the public most strongly to report any sightings of this woman to the police immediately, and every ounce of info counts." Stein finishes, shutting the lap top and stalking off into the building.

"You heard it here first," the reporter concludes. "Tune in tomorrow night for more on the Mysterious Mass Murder. This is Lisa Vishcoffman, signing off for your New York News Network."

The screen goes blank as I hit the power button and slump against the couch. I'm a wanted criminal. And I hadn't done anything wrong.

"What was that all about?" John asks, eying me quizzically. I decide to answer; John is a trustworthy man. So I told him everything about that night, up until Sherlock fired the gun.

I finish by laughing ruefully. "Never a moment of peace here either, John."

Suddenly, John's phone vibrates and he fishes it out if his pocket. He holds it out so I can see as well.

"Heading over. SH."

Just as he is about to turn off the phone, another text appears on the screen.

"It wasn't Anthoni's idea. SH."

John and I laugh together. "Sure it wasn't, Sherlock." I say, clutching my side. "Care to make a bet?" I ask John.

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

An hour later, Sherlock bursts through the door, Anthoni on his heels.

"That should not have taken so long." she scolds.

"Really? Because in my opinion, it should've taken much, much longer." he retorts.

I look up from my Horse Illustrated magazine and mutter, "I won," to John. He grudgingly hands over five dollars, and I grin as I pocket the money.

Anthoni whips off her scarf, tosses it onto a nearby armchair, and groans. "What are you two doing?" She asks.

"Probably making bets on how long our trip would take us, seeing as the two have their bets written on slips of paper... most likely to use against the loser." Sherlock says, taking steps toward the kitchen while his eyes dart everywhere, taking in every inch of my flat.

"Would you stop being such a know it all, Sherlock?" Anthoni says, and I deduct that she is thoroughly exasperated, by the tone in her voice.

Sherlock lets out a short laugh. "Oh, believe me, you would be too, if you didn't waste your abilities on selfish reasons." He makes it to the kitchen and begins to rummage around in drawers, still talking.

I notice that Anthoni is rubbing her temples and appears to have a headache, so I stand up and head for my bathroom. I retrieve a bottle of ibuprofen and tip two round pills onto my hand. I really am not sure why I'm giving them to her; probably to ensure my entertainment doesn't go flat. When I return to the main room, I hold the pills out to Anthoni. "Here." I say. "This will help your headache."

I then cross the flat to the kitchen, where Sherlock is rummaging around in the utensil drawer. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock looks up, his hand poised over the knife section. "Searching."

"Searching for what?" I ask.

Sherlock seems to debate on whether to tell me or not, and finally says, "Nothing."

I shake my head and roll my eyes to look at the ceiling. "What is this bloody world coming to?" I mutter.

Anthoni drops the pills into the garbage and John shoots her a confused look.

"What was that for, those were going to help--" but Anthoni cuts him off.

"Probably poisoned."

"WHAT?!" John shouts, so loud I am sure the neighbors could hear. "Savanna would never do that!"

"Meh, you don't know me that well," I think, but keep that thought to myself.

Anthoni waves her hand tiredly. "Nothing serious, just an incapacitating drug...."

John shook his head. "Happen often?"

Anthoni laughs shortly. "Enough times for me to know when to take them and when not to." She sits on the couch next to John and rests her head in her hand.

John seems exasperated. "I choose the worst friends." He mutters.

Anthoni groans and closes her eyes. "I can't even remember why we're here.... something about me.... and Sherlock.... mostly Sherlock wanting to be on the case.... ugh I hate this."

I whirl around to glare at Anthoni's slumped figure. "It was NOT poisoned." I say, completely pissed off. "If you need more proof, check the bottle in the bathroom."

John stands up and walks over to me, placing his hands on the countertop. "I'm a doctor, I could help--" but is cut off again by Anthoni and Sherlock yelling in unison,

"Not now John!"

Anthoni sighs again. "Savanna, I'm not in the mood, nor in the state of mind to find out whether you're telling the truth or not." She glares up at me. "Besides, don't you have better things to do than worry about me?"

"That's true, I do. You should be flattered."

A smile creeps onto John's face as he mumbles, "Apparently not...."

I roll my eyes and sit on my armchair, tossing Anthoni's scarf out if the way and onto the floor. "Quite right." Without another word, I take out the manager's file and begin to study the contents.

Anthoni rests her head on the back of the couch. "Let me know if you figure anything out, and remember: I'm not helping, I'm just along for the ride." she says as Sherlock glances from John to me with subtle concern. VERY subtle concern, but John and I pick up on it.

"What?" We ask in unison, confused.

Sherlock straightens up and fixes his coat collar. "Anthoni, you haven't been poisoned today, have you?"

Anthoni pulls a face that suggests he is crazy. "Um no, I have not been poisoned.... Why, might I ask, would you ask such a question?"

Sherlock does not answer but instead turns to John and I with the same hint of skepticism. "Nothing. Forget I mentioned it." And he waves his hand dismissively.

This pisses me off even more, and I look up from my work to shoot Sherlock a dirty glare, not buying his answer. "Yeah right. 'Nothing' my eye. Now I want a straight answer FOR ONCE from you Sherlock Holmes! If you want to be in on this case, I suggest you practice giving more descriptive answers."

Sherlock grows a bit agitated at my answer and I can't help but feel pleasure. Anytime I can get Sherlock on edge is a good time. John takes a seat on one of the stools under the counter and rests his chin on his hand, clearly unsettled.

"I don't believe I need your approval to be on a case you aren't even hired for. I can figure this case out without your help, I just needed to be updated on everything...." He swings my case file in front of my nose loosely between his thumb and forefinger. "I do believe I have all the information I need, but is it so hard to discern the fact that Ms. Louis is in fact poisoned?"

Anthoni raises her head from her hand. "Excuse me?" She asks as Sherlock heads for the door.

"You heard me, didn't you John?" Sherlock says as he puts his scarf on and completely ignores everyone else.

"Of course I heard you, but--"

"Good, repeat it for her then." Sherlock states coolly.

I clench my fists and fight to keep my voice at a normal octave. I stride right up to Sherlock, and while I am several inches shorter than him, I am not so much so that I have to tilt my head too much to stare him down.

"Now see here, Mr. Holmes," I start as normally as I can muster, "you won't get any filling in on anything unless you can answer my questions with some form of respect.... If you can dig any up in that darkened soul of yours." I then turn to Anthoni, who seems to be turning paler by the second. "Unfortunately, I fear you are correct about one thing. Anthoni is most certainly not looking her best, is she?"

Anthoni glares and sticks her tongue out at me.

Suddenly a thought strikes me, and I turn to Sherlock again, allowing a smile to spread across my lips.

"And since when," I say in a low voice, "did not being hired for a job ever stop you?"

Sherlock scoffs, and when he speaks, his voice is faintly dark.

"I have been hired on many cases Ms. Jackson, and I can assure you that not being hired has never stopped me from solving a case.... but I know what might stop you." He glances over my shoulder at Anthoni, who is now lying unconscious on the floor. John is kneeling on the floor beside her trying to feel her pulse and check to make sure she is all right.

Sherlock's eyes flit back to me and take in my expression before he turns away, opens the door, and leaves with my case file.

After a moments shock, I race out the door and run like the wind down the hallway to where Sherlock is still walking away at a brisk pace.

"Good thing short track wasn't my worst subject," I think to myself as I also congratulate myself on my excellent fight or flight mode and keeping my boots on.

"I'll take that," I say smoothly, snatching the file from Sherlock's hand and striding back to my apartment to find John lifting Anthoni onto the couch.

"How is she?" I ask, studying my enemies' pale face.

"Not well." John replies, looking over at me with a concerned expression. "We need to get her to a hospital immediately."

"Great. I'm a wanted felon going out to take a poisoned person to a hospital. Yup. Thats not suspicious."

I fold up the papers from the file and stow them in my pocket, not letting on about my thoughts. I wasn't letting anyone slip away with them again.

John gets up and grabs the landline phone from its place on the wall.

"It's disabled." I say, looking over at him. "I never use it, so what's the point in paying useless bills?"

Anthoni groans, seeming to come into focus, but not completely. "Don't call.... Savanna.... Can't have.... That...."

John looks from one of us to the other. "What is she bloody on about?"

I laugh half-heartedly. "She knows I'll never let her live it down."

Anthoni tries to sit up. "So shut up, will you? Poison running through my system, remember?"

I narrow my eyes. "So lay back and let us take care of it, will you? Poison running through your system, remember?" I mock.

John creases his forehead. "I highly recommend a hospital.... For both of you...."

"And I highly advise the opposite.... at least until you find out what kind of poison I've been dosed with and how!"

"Ha!" I laugh. "And just how do you expect us to do that, your Highness?" I say with a mock bow.

"Oh please, don't act like I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Actually, I assure you I don't."

"Okay, let Anthoni die. I don't care!" John exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air.

Sherlock has quietly re-entered the room, and leans against the door after closing it. I find that I am extremely irritated with myself for not hearing him approach. "See, now we're all on the same page!" He says.

I clap John on the back. "Ah, I see we have come to the same conclusion."

Anthoni interrupts the sudden understanding between John, Sherlock and I. "Okay. We've been going on about poison for about fifteen minutes now, but we still haven't determined how I got this bloody crap in my system.... Can we please do that so I know how I died when I die?"

I rub my temples in a circular motion, trying and failing to come up with a solution. "I wish I could tell you, but I honestly don't know."

"Unfortunately for her, that's the truth."

Sherlock seems to ponder for a moment, then asks; "Where have you been and what have you been doing the last few hours?"

Anthoni cocks an eyebrow weakly. "You mean aside from almost getting shot by you?"

"Let's try and look past that, Anthoni? Please? For my sake?" John pleads.

Anthoni rolls her eyes. "Oh John...." She massages her temples. "I went out, trashed a police station, went to dinner with Savanna," John raises a suggestive eyebrow at this, and I smack him hard on the arm. "was a semi-witness to a mass murder," This time it is Sherlock's turn to be intrigued, "and then, well, you know the rest." She chuckles.

I consider the story for a moment. "What if something happened at the police station while you were out?" I muse.

Anthoni seems to be thinking hard, and I can't help but take advantage of yet another perfect opportunity to mock her.

"Don't think too hard on it now dear."

"Don't get the people up and talking Savanna." Anthoni jokes.

"You know I wouldn't dare."

John is silently enjoying every second of our arguing behind our backs, his eyes showing a glimmer of amusement.

"Shut up John." I say exasperatedly over my shoulder.

"What? I didn't say anything!" he protests.

I shake my head. "You were thinking. That's annoying."

John is about to respond when Anthoni cuts him off once more.

"Okay," she mutters. "As much as I'd love not to admit this, I'd rather not die today." Suddenly she begins to shout. "All of you can drive! Hospital would be great!" She laughs hysterically. "Even if its not poison...." She suddenly becomes serious, "CAN WE AT LEAST MAKE SURE?!"

I raise my eyebrow and stride to the door where I hung my coat. I pull it on and loop my navy blue scarf around my neck. John pulls on his coat and shoes as well.

"Sherlock, help her up." I order. "Please," I add sweetly, after a moments thought. He hates it when I'm nice.

Sherlock glares at me. "Promise me one thing."

Anthoni's eyes widen. "Oh for the love of God!"

"Case information, and I help her up."

"Hello, bloody DYING over here!" Anthoni exclaims.

"Pffft." I think. "They underestimate me."

"Honestly Sherlock, you're such a bloody prat!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up. But just when Sherlock thinks he's got me, I cross the room and, with a smirk in Sherlock's general direction, I help Anthoni up, walking her out the door, through the hallway and into the street.

"Taxi!" John yells, holding his hand up.

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A/N

Hey! Here's the next chapter, now go over to Animalsandadjectives for the next one!