Hey, I updated within a month! Okay, it's not that good... but it's an improvement, right? Special thanks to Mylifesnofairytale and xClutteredxChaosx for being super awesome and reviewing!

Narrated by Gerald

It was still to dark to see two inches in front of you, but I could tell that people had started to leave. I could hear their staggering footsteps, and see patches of light when the door opened and closed. It was almost kind of comforting to know that the concept of light still existed after being kept here for... I didn't even know how long it had been. There was no sense of time here.

Yes, I knew there were people leaving. But I didn't know why. There were few things I wouldn't have done to get out of here (although I never showed it), I had no reason to believe they weren't being taken somewhere worse. I didn't know whether to pity or envy them.

Narrated by Phil

When we left off I was following two dryads out of a house I had previously never been to in my life and had some how ended up under arrest. So next on the agenda: erase the 'following two dryads part' from the situation.

We were still within sight of the residence of the innocent bystanders I'd crashed with for the past day or so, which was why my escorts were still trying to pull off an act of complex intelligence. Of course they couldn't handcuff their precious little 'intern' (as if I would come within two feet of them if I had free will), but they had insisted that I was still weak from my fall and they wouldn't let me carry either my backpack or my broom.

Know what's ironic about that? They were both guys. And I'm willing to bet I'm manlier than both of them put together.

I believe I might have mentioned witches are pretty good liars. I was having fun playing along. "Sir, are you sure I can't carry my backpack? You see it's really my big sister's and I'm not sure how much she trusts me with it... she told me never to let anyone else touch it so I just know she'll be mad, but I don't want to lie to her about it."

I frowned towards the end of that little speech. I was making myself look way too soft. Jeeze, I hate seeming like a nice person!

The guy looked behind him suspiciously, as if he was the one trying to get away from the police (I'd like to see him try), except that he was just making sure he couldn't be over heard by some nice old housewife and her psychokid.

If they considered senior citizens and little kids worthy opponents, they were going to have a hard time with me.

"You might as well cut it out," he told me, "They can't see us anymore and you've earned yourself an all expense paid trip to jail."

"Was that an attempt at sarcasm?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was pitiful. And aren't I too young to go to jail?"

"Um... how old are you?"

I smirked. "If you seriously think I'm going to tell you, I feel sorry for you."

"In that case, you're old enough for jail. By the way, you're awfully mouthy for someone in your position, so I would suggest-."

Word of advice: if someone stuck up ever starts talking to you for more than a full sentence, don't let them finish. Of course I had tons of smart responses I could have interrupted with, but I figured they were all to good to waste on this sad little person. So I just stared at something over his shoulder and started screaming.

He completely bought it! That's the best known trick in existence (I've used it at least four times including that one) and this 'trained and certified' cop guy whirls around and gawks at... well, nothing. There was nothing there. Anyone with half a brain would know that.

Now what does that imply about you, Mr. All-Expense-Paid-Trip-To-Jail?

So I grabbed my stuff and sprinted full speed in the opposite direction. If this were a cheesy movie, that would be the point when I would scream "You'll never catch me alive, coppers!". But it isn't, so I didn't. Why would you do that anyway? I doubt it's been proven that the most efficient way to lose whoever you're trying to sneak away from is by shrieking at them.

If you ask me, that technique should be reserved for parents and siblings, but I'll have to tell you about those experiences some other time.

Which reminded me: Gerald was going to go deaf when I found him. Every time I'd woken up since leaving home, I had been somewhere I didn't want to be, which may have had something to do with why I got more worried every freaking day. What if he was already dead? Those creeps wouldn't have abducted (damn, I hate that word) him if they didn't intend to do something with him. What if they were... pedophiles or something?

That's a great thought, Phil. Actually it had me somewhat preoccupied and I, like the genius I am, had forgotten to watch where I was going. I crashed into someone. Yeah, saw that one coming, didn't you? It was a huge collision, worthy of an action/comedy flick. Thanks to my little fall, I hadn't exactly been shipshape to begin with, so when both I and whatever moron hadn't bothered to get out of my way both ended up on the ground, I swear I could see little birdies flying around my head.

I got up, rubbed my forehead (just to make sure it was still there), and looked at the kid I'd run into. Another dryad. Okay, how many of them could be crawling around this place? Weren't they supposed to all be in New York? He looked about my age and was a an inch or two taller than me, but about as buff as a pencil. Didn't look like he posed much of a threat.

I glanced behind me. Sure enough, the 'coppers' were practically at my heels. There was no chance of losing them at this point, so I'd have to hide somewhere. Except the pencil-shaped kid wasn't as likely to be as keen on shaking them off as I was. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was their nerdy little sidekick.

I grabbed his wrist and ducked into the nearest building. It was a dusty little ice-cream place; no business and no one at the desk. That was the second time I'd lucked out today, so I was expecting something really suckish to happen any moment.

The pencil kid was amusing himself by rubbing his head and looking confused. "Who're you?"

"Your conscience. Just stay quite and don't get me caught, or you'll have hell to pay in emotional angst."

"Hang on -you're running from the police!"

"Thanks, Sherlock."

"You're a fugitive!"

"Just shut up! If we're lucky, they won't come in here..."

"You mean if you're-."

"No, I mean if we're lucky. If your buddies find me I'm gonna make you regret it. I grew up with two other siblings, so don't think I'm not capable of putting you in pain."

"But you're a girl."

"You're a sexist pencil!" Apparently my comebacks aren't at their best when I'm stressed out.

"What'd you do anyway?"

"I dunno. Stole some stuff. Now please just be quiet." You can tell I've sunk really low because I said the P-word.

He shot a look at the broom in my hand. "What did you steal a broom for?"

"If I tell you, will you gain some control over your vocal cords? Yes? Okay, then. My brother went missing, so I'm finding him and dragging him back home."

"Missing... when?"

I smacked him and just hoped that his face swelled up too much for him to say anything else. He seemed to get the message.

I watched the police through the window as they questioned the people in the other shops and outside. One of them looked at the door of the ice-cream place, appeared to decide it was closed, and walked away. They took their sweet time in clearing up and going to look somewhere else, but eventually they did.

The kid was going to be a problem. He barely even had a bruise. Note to self: I need to hit harder, work on that when I get the time.

"And now you're going to run back to wherever you came here from and whine to your dryad friends that I threatened you and... something stupid like physically assaulted you... aren't you?" I predicted.

"Not necessarily... Your brother didn't go missing last Thursday night, did he?"

That was messed up. Just messed up. "Okay, how the hell did you know that?"

"Well, my dad went missing the same time-."

"I don't believe you."

"No, listen. I looked it up and so did about eighty other people. All Americans and none found yet. What are the odds that most of them aren't in the same place?"

"Cut to the chase."

"Chances are, if we find my dad, we'll have found your brother. Or vise versa. Do have any clue as to where your brother might be?"

"Some."

"I don't. So it works out better for both of us if you take me with you."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

He shook his head slowly, enjoying my pain like the sadistic little demon he was.

Well, I was right: some thing suckish did happen.

That's all folks. Until the next chapter anyway. Let's see, did I mention anything trademarked in this chapter?... Oh, right. Sherlock. I don't own Mr. Holms, though I kinda wish I did.