#mephone never felt good about himself again after that

[just-a-toast]

I wanted to think of mephone4 holiday headcanons and I came up with eggnog

But the problem with that…. Is in the name….

mephone4 Commits cannibalism

[bcimbatmandude]

More Human Than Meets the Eye-A Study in Pink, part 4-chapter 5

Hey guys! Thanks so much for the follows and love. Here’s the next chapter! I’m gonna try to make a masterlist later, but I have no idea how to do it. sooooo we’ll see what happens.

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Previously: "Yeah, but if you were really, really clever.." his voice trailed away. "Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers; she was clever. She's trying to tell us something."

Just then, Mrs. Hudson walked into the room. "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

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Adaline frowned at Mrs. Hudson's words. That was odd…no one had called for a taxi that she knew of. "I didn't order a taxi," Sherlock confirmed her thoughts. "Go away." Adaline glared at her father for his tone of voice. The woman was merely trying to help.

"Oh dear. They're making such a terrible mess," the landlady fretted. "What are they looking for?" "It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson," John supplied patiently. Adaline was a bit surprised when a very worried look came over the older woman's face. "But they're just for my hip!" she cried, gesturing to the mentioned body part. "They're herbal soothers!"

The blonde haired child's face now adopted a puzzled look, wondering why Mrs. Hudson would be so concerned about her medicine. She looked over at John in question, but the doctor was pointedly looking away from her.

"Shut up!" her father yelled suddenly. "Everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, I need you, especially, to face the other way. You're putting me off." "What?" Anderson cried, obviously affronted. "My face is?!"

Adaline could not for the life of her stop the giggles that erupted when she glanced at Anderson's face, and in all honesty, she wouldn't have stopped them even if she'd had the ability to. She did have the decency to cover her mouth though, not that it did much good.

Anderson heard the freak's daughter start to laugh and scowled. She was laughing at him. Embarrassment filled the man and he threw the girl a very dark look.

Adaline had a feeling that if looks could kill, she would either not be breathing any longer, or would've at least found herself extremely maimed judging by the level of scowl she was receiving from the officer at the moment. It was quite obvious just how much the man despised her. Her glee at Anderson's plight only grew when John, having looked over in time to catch the exchange between the two, casually stepped into Anderson's line of vision, ceasing his ability to glare at the Holmes girl any longer. John lifted an eyebrow, silently warning him. Anderson seemed to understand what wasn't being said, wisely looking away.

"Anderson!" the officer jumped when his boss addressed him in a gruff voice. "Turn your back," the Inspector ordered. Anderson opened his mouth to protest, but Lestrade, having had enough, snapped. "Your back! Now, please!" "Oh for God's sake!" he cried, but did as his boss instructed.

"Come on," Sherlock murmured to himself. "Think, quickly!" "What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson said worriedly. "MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock shouted, entirely fed up with the interruptions, making Adaline and the older woman both jump. Mrs. Hudson gasped and hurried downstairs.

Sherlock had been furiously pacing back and forth when suddenly he stopped, whipping around to stare at his daughter in excitement. He ignored the glare she was throwing him for his treatment towards their land lady, telling himself he would apologize to the woman later.

"Oh," he began, eyes lighting up. "She was clever, clever, Adaline. Yes!" He turned and faced the entire room. "She's much cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone. She never lost it. She planted it on him." He began to pace yet again. "When she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" Lestrade threw in. "What…?" Sherlock asked him, truly stumped at Lestrade's ignorance. "What do you mean, how?"

Lestrade hesitated for a second and then shrugged helplessly. "Rachel!" Sherlock provided, looking around the room triumphantly. He visibly deflated when he was only met with blank stares. "Don't you see? Rachel!" he repeated, as if that would help them suddenly understand everything.

Nothing.

"Oh, look at you lot," he sneered, utterly disgusted at the lack of intelligence before him. "You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing."

"Dad."

Sherlock heard his daughter call to him, her voice low and soothing. Calm.

The father immediately stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath inward. John took note of the fact that when Sherlock next spoke, the venom in his voice was no longer present. The doctor looked over at the little girl, intrigued at the power she apparently had over the headstrong man.

"John, on the luggage, there's a label. Email address."

The shorter man didn't bother asking questions and walked over to the luggage, locating the label and reading out the address. "It's uh…jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk." Adaline watched her father stride over and sit down in front of the computer screen. "Rachel is not a name," he said simply, typing in the website. "I've been too slow," he scolded himself. "She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smart phone. It's email enabled."

John watched as Sherlock pulled up the Mephone's website. "So there was a website for her account," the detective continued. "The username is her email address…" Adaline thought hard, mentally sifting through all of the information they had gathered, and adding up the clues. Rachel isn't a name….

Finally, it clicked.

"Rachel is her password," she gasped out. Now that she had figured it out, she was able to view the entirety of the case, and felt foolish upon realizing how obvious it all was. She was disappointed at her slowness.

Her father however, held completely different feelings towards his daughter. "Oh how the mighty have fallen." Lestrade looked to him questioningly. "What kind of day must it be for you all when a child is able to grasp clues before the majority of the Scotland Yard?"

"So what?" A voice dared to say. Anderson. Of course. Adaline rolled her eyes. "We can read her emails." "Anderson please cease talking. You wound the IQ of the entire street." Sherlock didn't waste time even looking at the tiny minded officer. "We can do much more than read her emails. 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."

Mrs. Hudson hesitantly peeked her upper half back in through the doorway. "Sherlock dear. This taxi driver…" Sherlock got up from the computer chair and walked over to the woman. "Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" Mrs. Hudson puffed angrily and left, heading back to her own flat.

Adaline stared after her worriedly, hoping very much that she wasn't too upset at her father's obstinate rudeness. She threw a sharp glare in his direction and got up from her armchair, heading for the doorway. "I'll see what he wants," she informed them. Her father glanced over and nodded at her absently.

The young girl threw on her trainers and headed downstairs. She absently chewed at her lip, her mind whirling. Adaline opened the door, sending a gust of cool London air into the warm flat, and peered outside. The curly haired girl confirmed that there was indeed a taxi sitting in front of the flat for them. An older man was leaning against the vehicle waiting patiently. He was wearing glasses, his hair was grey and he was sporting a driver's cap.

"Hello," Adaline greeted politely. Her mind began shooting out warning signals. Something about this situation didn't feel quite right..

"Hello," he welcomed back just as nicely, nodding to her. She cautiously stepped outside, closing the front door quietly behind her. "I think there's been a mistake," she informed the man, secretly studying him. She gathered information about him very quickly, beginning her deductions just as her father had taught her.

-Shaving cream left forgotten behind left ear. Most likely lives alone.

"We didn't call for a taxi," she conveyed sweetly.

-Clothes are clean but have several holes throughout the fabric; at least three years old. Not planning for the future

"Oh no," he agreed, shaking his head. "You didn't Miss Holmes." He smiled at her then. "But I believe your father did."

Alarmed, Adaline took a half step back before catching herself. She mentally shook herself and thought about what her father would do. She stepped closer to the man. "Who are you?" she asked, cutting straight to the chase. It was obvious the man had information they did not. The man smiled wider at the little girl's spunk, properly amused by the child.

"I'm just a taxi driver little miss," he said to her innocently. "No one important." "How do you know my dad?" she demanded. "You shouldn't worry about that," he tutted to her. He gestured to the cab. "How bout you get in the cab, and me, you, and your dad can take a nice little cab drive." "I think I might pass," Adaline said slowly, her mind practically screaming alarms at her now.

She began backing up towards the steps, her heart beating wildly. "Now calm down little miss," the cabbie soothed, taking a step in her direction. "I don't wanna hurt you and your dad. I'm just gonna talk to you." The man took another step towards her, and Adaline couldn't help herself.

She turned around quick as she could, shooting for the flat. Right before she made it to the door, she was grabbed from behind. The girl made to scream and the man threw a hand over her mouth. Adaline kicked and struggled against his arms to no avail. He slowly moved the two of them closer to his vehicle and Adaline, growing more desperate, bit the man's hand as hard as she could.

"Ah!" he gasped, his grip on her body lessening just a tiny bit. Adaline jumped on the opportunity and pushed the man away from her as hard as she could, running up the three steps that would bring her to safety. She made it to the top stop, her fingertips touching the door handle, when she was suddenly jerked off of her feet. She fell the ground face first, gasping as her forehead connected with the hard ground. The seven year old whimpered at the pain now flooding through her, tears coming to her eyes.

The man took advantage of her stillness and quite literally, began dragging her closer to him, causing her to scrape her hands and holes to form in the knees of her pajama bottoms as she weakly attempted to fight back. Her pitiful tugs were ignored though as the man finally was able to open the cab door, tossing the child roughly inside the backseat.

Adaline scampered as far away from the man as she could, cowering into the left corner of the backseat. Every ounce of the courage she felt earlier was gone, drained dry by the abuse she was receiving. The man panted and shook his hand, and she noticed with a bit of satisfaction that it was bleeding from where she'd bitten into it. "Sorry about your head, love," he apologized with false sympathy. "Would've been a bit gentler if you'd cooperated." Adaline bit her tongue and hugged herself tightly, wishing very much her father was with her.

The man smiled at her creepily one final time, and slammed the door.

Meanwhile, back inside the flat, Sherlock was staring disbelievingly at the computer screen. "How can the phone be here?" he inquired, voice rising. "How?"

"Maybe it was in the case and when you brought it back it fell out somehow," Lestrade offered. Sherlock scoffed. "What, and I didn't notice? Me? I didn't notice?" "Anyway," John turned to Lestrade. "We texted him and he called back." Lestrade began talking to his crew and Sherlock easily tuned them out, his mind going back to the conversation he'd had with John earlier.

Who do we trust, even if we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of the crowd?

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone dinged from inside of his coat. Sherlock removed his phone from his pocket, reading the text.

COME WITH ME.

Feeling eyes on him, Sherlock looked to his left towards the door way of the flat, only to see a strange man slowly making his way down the stairs to the front door.

"Sherlock, you okay?" he heard John ask. Absently he answered. "What? Yeah, yeah, I..I'm fine." "So how can the phone be here?"

"Dunno," Sherlock quietly answered, still watching the taxi driver. John walked over to his coat where his own phone was sitting inside his jacket pocket. "I'll try it again," he told the dark haired man.

"Good idea." Sherlock made his way to the door. "Where are you going?" John called to him, puzzled as to why he was leaving at such a crucial time. "Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long."

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock ended, and hurried down the stairs after the man.

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aaand that’s it. Thanks for reading! next chappie will be out soon. hopefully.

[khadij-al-kubra]

Thomas In Wonderland (Full Fanfic) Chapter 1

Characters: Thomas (fictional), Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Remy, Emile, Joan, Talyn Deceit, Nate, the Dragon Witch (i mean jabberwalkie), Possibly fan adopted shorts characters

Pairings: None (although knowing me and my love of ships, this may change)

Words: 1368

Summary: Thomas seems to have lost his inspiration, his creative drive, and in short has a seriously BAD case of writers block. Perhaps an accidental trip down the rabbit hole into a land of nonsense and madness will help him find that flighty spark he’s been looking for.

Author’s Note: Greetings guys, gals, & non-binary pals! Looks like this is going to be my first multi-chapter fanfic of the new year. This chapter is more of a prologue than anything so it won’t be as long. If you know my writing though, than future chapters are pretty much guaranteed to be MUCH longer. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Also, if you would like to be in the tag list for this fanfic, feel free to message or inbox me and I shall happily and gratefully add you to the list. I’m super excited about this, and I hope you all enjoy.

Prologue

Writers block. The bane of his existence and possible the only thing that Thomas hated even more than he hated bigoted jerk faces. ...Okay he hated the latter way more, but writers block was definitely up there on the list, right behind mucky Florida heat and cold pizza. His current bout of creative block however was making its way up that list.

“Come on brain...think of things. Come on brain, be so smart,” Thomas mumbled to himself, disappointed he couldn’t even come up with something more original than a borrowed line from that Lin-Manuel Miranda vine.

He certainly felt like the embodiment of it though.

He had been sitting at the table in his living room for the past two hours. His laptop was opened to a mockingly blank page, a lined yellow notepad next to it covered in scratched out bad ideas, crumpled papers were scattered around him, and his Steven Universe mug half emptied of coffee that was cold by now. To add insult to injury, it was an actually nice crisp yet sunshiny autumn day and Thomas could only sit inside as the beauty of it mocked him from the other side of his living room window. The jerk!

He would’ve loved nothing more than to go for a walk outside or visit his friends, but sadly Thomas had a new script to write. Normally he and Joan were pretty good about keeping on top of schedules and they’d even gotten the last two scripted videos out in pretty good amounts of time. Which hopefully made up for that six month dry spell they both swore never to speak of again. However, Joan reminded him that a new scripted video was due soon and Thomas for the life of him just COULD NOT seem to come up with any new or exciting story ideas! It was like his creativity was wandering around a blank page desert and the oasis of is imagination had dried up.

“Say, that could make for a neat Sanders Sides video,” Thomas mused to himself perking up...only to deflate back down after realizing they didn’t have the budget for that kind of a green screen effect. “Besides, the sides never debate outside of my living room and moving them to a location outside of my house wouldn’t make any sense.”

Thomas groaned and plonked his forehead onto the wooden coffee table. Making videos and writing scripts used to be so much fun. Until it started being his job more than a passion. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was signing up for. He wanted this, and he knew he was luckier than most that he got to get paid for creating art and doing what he loved. Not that he and his team did it for the money. Except lately creating felt more like a chore. Not something eh wanted to do but like something he had to do. Like dusting, which was his least favorite chore. Creating felt like a chore! But he couldn’t let Joan or Camden or his wonderful famders down. So he needed to come up with something good...Thomas just wish he could feel that rush of wondrous joy and colorful excitement about his work again. He missed coming up with ideas that were so out there yet he felt a surge of pride every time they worked. Lately all his ideas felt, well, like looking at a faded rainbow. Which was sad as both and artist and a gay man...But deadlines were deadlines and he had to create something to post for the next video.

“That is if i could come up with something period!” Thomas sighed. “Maybe i need a break. Just five to ten minutes of something fun to get the ol’ juices flowing again. Something exciting...”

He looked at the very cold coffee with a pouted lip. Or maybe I just need a boost from my favorite caffeinated drug, he thought. With that decided Thomas picked up the mug and got up to go to the kitchen. Before he even reached the entryway however, a flash of purple in the corner of his eye stopped him. It was from outside. Curious, Thomas went over to the window to peer outside, hoping to see what that thing was. Maybe it was a pretty hummingbird or something, he mused, on its way flying south for the winter. He squinted as he saw the bushes across his yard tremble and this time he caught the flash of purple as it popped our from the foliage.

Only it wasn’t a hummingbird. It was a rabbit: A black rabbit wearing a velvet purple waistcoat. Thomas did a double take. he rubbed at his tired eyes to be sure he wasn’t just seeing things after staring at a blank screen for so long. Nope. It was really there. And if that weren’t jaw drop worth enough, now the black rabbit was taking out a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket.

“Well that’s not something you see every day.”

Too curious to pass seeing this delightful oddity up close, Thomas quickly set down his mug, pulled his jacket over his favorite faded circle shirt and slipped his sneakers on. He was out the door and across faster than you could say Jeemanetty. When he was a few feet away from the rabbit, who was paying more attention to his pocket watch, Thomas slowed down to a tip toe so as not to scare the rabbit off. As he got closer Thomas saw that there was an elegant storm cloud design engraved on the back of the watch. What a cute little fella, Thomas thought to himself. But where did he come from? How did he get a fancy watch and threads like that? Should I call animal control though? As he was debating this, something even weirder happened.

“Ah geeze,” said the Black Rabbit. “I am so late! He’s gonna have my ears and whiskers for this, along with the rest of my head.”

Thomas literally felt his jaw drop and his eyes bug out near cartoon level.

“You can TALK!?” Thomas shouted.

The Black Rabbit jumped at this voice. The silver watch shook in his trembling hands, the poor thing. He hadn’t meant to frighten the little guy. It’s just a talking black rabbit wasn’t something you saw every day, not even in the Bermuda Triangle of America that is Florida.

“It’s okay little guy,” Thomas said, hands held out carefully. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.”

The Black Rabbit anxiously looked from Thomas to his watch and then back again.

“No time to talk,” he said. “I’mlateI’mLATEI’MLATE!!!”

And then quick as a lightning strike the Black Rabbit dashed into the thicket of shrubbery and trees. Without thinking about it Thomas ran after him.

“Wait, I’m sorry! Come back! Maybe I can help you,” Thomas called out to the purple clad creature ahead of him.

He chased the Rabbit through brambles and bushes, across lawns and through low hanging leaves. If Thomas had taken a moment to think he would’ve realized that there was no way he could possibly catch up to a wild animal, least of all one with a waistcoat and pocket watch, which was surely proof that he was smarter than the average bunny even without the talking. He also would’ve noticed that the hole that the Black Rabbit had ducked into was much larger than a normal rabbit hole and was probably dangerous if someone were to get too close. Most of all, had Thomas slowed down for a moment to think, he would’ve realized that when he left the house in a hurry, he had forgotten to tie the laces of his sneakers that he’d slipped on.

But Thomas did none of those things. As a result, what he did do was trip on his laces just after seeing the Black Rabbit go down the whole. And because he was so close when he tripped on his laces, even if he wanted to, Thomas could not stop to think now.

All he could do was scream loudly as he fell headlong down the rabbit hole into the unknown.

Next =>

Tag List:��  @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters @icecoldparadise @the-pastel-peach @justisaisfine @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6@hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @ab-artist @unikornavenger  @queer-human-being  @grey-lysander @asofterfan  @fangirltothefullest @tinkslittlebelle @allsortsofgeekery @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @ironwoman359 @a-valorous-choice @broadwaytheanimatedseries @sugarglider9603 @xx-fandom-potato-xx @mycatshuman @punsterterry @journalanxiety @stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting @elementalshadowwitch @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @the-psycho-pie @satanblessi @thesassiersilv101 @bat-fangirl77-fan @icantbeme71097 @chituri @dangerfishie @grade-a-trash-blog @justsomerandomhooman @romano-cheesy @llamaavocado @pinkbea09 @aliceofscarletflames @backatthebein @em-be-lievable @mephonic @impatentpending @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans @loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @book-of-charlie @ierindoodles @thatsthat24

[bcimbatmandude]

More Human Than Meets the Eye-ch. 5-A Study in Pink, Part Four

A/N: This is the last one for today and then we’ll be all caught up until I type the next one, which will be very soon! Thank you all so much for reading!! Enjoy!!

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Previously: "Yeah, but if you were really, really clever.." his voice trailed away. "Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers; she was clever. She's trying to tell us something."

Just then, Mrs. Hudson walked into the room. "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

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Adaline frowned at Mrs. Hudson's words. That was odd…no one had called for a taxi that she knew of. "I didn't order a taxi," Sherlock confirmed her thoughts. "Go away." Adaline glared at her father for his tone of voice. The woman was merely trying to help.

"Oh dear. They're making such a terrible mess," the landlady fretted. "What are they looking for?" "It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson," John supplied patiently. Adaline was a bit surprised when a very worried look came over the older woman's face. "But they're just for my hip!" she cried, gesturing to the mentioned body part. "They're herbal soothers!"

The blonde haired child's face now adopted a puzzled look, wondering why Mrs. Hudson would be so concerned about her medicine. She looked over at John in question, but the doctor was pointedly looking away from her.

"Shut up!" her father yelled suddenly. "Everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, I need you, especially, to face the other way. You're putting me off." "What?" Anderson cried, obviously affronted. "My face is?!"

Adaline could not for the life of her stop the giggles that erupted when she glanced at Anderson's face, and in all honesty, she wouldn't have stopped them even if she'd had the ability to. She did have the decency to cover her mouth though, not that it did much good.

Anderson heard the freak's daughter start to laugh and scowled. She was laughing at him. Embarrassment filled the man and he threw the girl a very dark look.

Adaline had a feeling that if looks could kill, she would either not be breathing any longer, or would've at least found herself extremely maimed judging by the level of scowl she was receiving from the officer at the moment. It was quite obvious just how much the man despised her. Her glee at Anderson's plight only grew when John, having looked over in time to catch the exchange between the two, casually stepped into Anderson's line of vision, ceasing his ability to glare at the Holmes girl any longer. John lifted an eyebrow, silently warning him. Anderson seemed to understand what wasn't being said, wisely looking away.

"Anderson!" the officer jumped when his boss addressed him in a gruff voice. "Turn your back," the Inspector ordered. Anderson opened his mouth to protest, but Lestrade, having had enough, snapped. "Your back! Now, please!" "Oh for God's sake!" he cried, but did as his boss instructed.

"Come on," Sherlock murmured to himself. "Think, quickly!" "What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson said worriedly. "MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock shouted, entirely fed up with the interruptions, making Adaline and the older woman both jump. Mrs. Hudson gasped and hurried downstairs.

Sherlock had been furiously pacing back and forth when suddenly he stopped, whipping around to stare at his daughter in excitement. He ignored the glare she was throwing him for his treatment towards their land lady, telling himself he would apologize to the woman later.

"Oh," he began, eyes lighting up. "She was clever, clever, Adaline. Yes!" He turned and faced the entire room. "She's much cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone. She never lost it. She planted it on him." He began to pace yet again. "When she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" Lestrade threw in. "What…?" Sherlock asked him, truly stumped at Lestrade's ignorance. "What do you mean, how?"

Lestrade hesitated for a second and then shrugged helplessly. "Rachel!" Sherlock provided, looking around the room triumphantly. He visibly deflated when he was only met with blank stares. "Don't you see? Rachel!" he repeated, as if that would help them suddenly understand everything.

Nothing.

"Oh, look at you lot," he sneered, utterly disgusted at the lack of intelligence before him. "You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing."

"Dad."

Sherlock heard his daughter call to him, her voice low and soothing. Calm.

The father immediately stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath inward. John took note of the fact that when Sherlock next spoke, the venom in his voice was no longer present. The doctor looked over at the little girl, intrigued at the power she apparently had over the headstrong man.

"John, on the luggage, there's a label. Email address."

The shorter man didn't bother asking questions and walked over to the luggage, locating the label and reading out the address. "It's uh…jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk." Adaline watched her father stride over and sit down in front of the computer screen. "Rachel is not a name," he said simply, typing in the website. "I've been too slow," he scolded himself. "She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smart phone. It's email enabled."

John watched as Sherlock pulled up the Mephone's website. "So there was a website for her account," the detective continued. "The username is her email address…" Adaline thought hard, mentally sifting through all of the information they had gathered, and adding up the clues. Rachel isn't a name….

Finally, it clicked.

"Rachel is her password," she gasped out. Now that she had figured it out, she was able to view the entirety of the case, and felt foolish upon realizing how obvious it all was. She was disappointed at her slowness.

Her father however, held completely different feelings towards his daughter. "Oh how the mighty have fallen." Lestrade looked to him questioningly. "What kind of day must it be for you all when a child is able to grasp clues before the majority of the Scotland Yard?"

"So what?" A voice dared to say. Anderson. Of course. Adaline rolled her eyes. "We can read her emails." "Anderson please cease talking. You wound the IQ of the entire street." Sherlock didn't waste time even looking at the tiny minded officer. "We can do much more than read her emails. 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."

Mrs. Hudson hesitantly peeked her upper half back in through the doorway. "Sherlock dear. This taxi driver…" Sherlock got up from the computer chair and walked over to the woman. "Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" Mrs. Hudson puffed angrily and left, heading back to her own flat.

Adaline stared after her worriedly, hoping very much that she wasn't too upset at her father's obstinate rudeness. She threw a sharp glare in his direction and got up from her armchair, heading for the doorway. "I'll see what he wants," she informed them. Her father glanced over and nodded at her absently.

The young girl threw on her trainers and headed downstairs. She absently chewed at her lip, her mind whirling. Adaline opened the door, sending a gust of cool London air into the warm flat, and peered outside. The curly haired girl confirmed that there was indeed a taxi sitting in front of the flat for them. An older man was leaning against the vehicle waiting patiently. He was wearing glasses, his hair was grey and he was sporting a driver's cap.

"Hello," Adaline greeted politely. Her mind began shooting out warning signals. Something about this situation didn't feel quite right..

"Hello," he welcomed back just as nicely, nodding to her. She cautiously stepped outside, closing the front door quietly behind her. "I think there's been a mistake," she informed the man, secretly studying him. She gathered information about him very quickly, beginning her deductions just as her father had taught her.

-Shaving cream left forgotten behind left ear. Most likely lives alone.

"We didn't call for a taxi," she conveyed sweetly.

-Clothes are clean but have several holes throughout the fabric; at least three years old. Not planning for the future

"Oh no," he agreed, shaking his head. "You didn't Miss Holmes." He smiled at her then. "But I believe your father did."

Alarmed, Adaline took a half step back before catching herself. She mentally shook herself and thought about what her father would do. She stepped closer to the man. "Who are you?" she asked, cutting straight to the chase. It was obvious the man had information they did not. The man smiled wider at the little girl's spunk, properly amused by the child.

"I'm just a taxi driver little miss," he said to her innocently. "No one important." "How do you know my dad?" she demanded. "You shouldn't worry about that," he tutted to her. He gestured to the cab. "How bout you get in the cab, and me, you, and your dad can take a nice little cab drive." "I think I might pass," Adaline said slowly, her mind practically screaming alarms at her now.

She began backing up towards the steps, her heart beating wildly. "Now calm down little miss," the cabbie soothed, taking a step in her direction. "I don't wanna hurt you and your dad. I'm just gonna talk to you." The man took another step towards her, and Adaline couldn't help herself.

She turned around quick as she could, shooting for the flat. Right before she made it to the door, she was grabbed from behind. The girl made to scream and the man threw a hand over her mouth. Adaline kicked and struggled against his arms to no avail. He slowly moved the two of them closer to his vehicle and Adaline, growing more desperate, bit the man's hand as hard as she could.

"Ah!" he gasped, his grip on her body lessening just a tiny bit. Adaline jumped on the opportunity and pushed the man away from her as hard as she could, running up the three steps that would bring her to safety. She made it to the top stop, her fingertips touching the door handle, when she was suddenly jerked off of her feet. She fell the ground face first, gasping as her forehead connected with the hard ground. The seven year old whimpered at the pain now flooding through her, tears coming to her eyes.

The man took advantage of her stillness and quite literally, began dragging her closer to him, causing her to scrape her hands and holes to form in the knees of her pajama bottoms as she weakly attempted to fight back. Her pitiful tugs were ignored though as the man finally was able to open the cab door, tossing the child roughly inside the backseat.

Adaline scampered as far away from the man as she could, cowering into the left corner of the backseat. Every ounce of the courage she felt earlier was gone, drained dry by the abuse she was receiving. The man panted and shook his hand, and she noticed with a bit of satisfaction that it was bleeding from where she'd bitten into it. "Sorry about your head, love," he apologized with false sympathy. "Would've been a bit gentler if you'd cooperated." Adaline bit her tongue and hugged herself tightly, wishing very much her father was with her.

The man smiled at her creepily one final time, and slammed the door.

Meanwhile, back inside the flat, Sherlock was staring disbelievingly at the computer screen. "How can the phone be here?" he inquired, voice rising. "How?"

"Maybe it was in the case and when you brought it back it fell out somehow," Lestrade offered. Sherlock scoffed. "What, and I didn't notice? Me? I didn't notice?" "Anyway," John turned to Lestrade. "We texted him and he called back." Lestrade began talking to his crew and Sherlock easily tuned them out, his mind going back to the conversation he'd had with John earlier.

Who do we trust, even if we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of the crowd?

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone dinged from inside of his coat. Sherlock removed his phone from his pocket, reading the text.

COME WITH ME.

Feeling eyes on him, Sherlock looked to his left towards the door way of the flat, only to see a strange man slowly making his way down the stairs to the front door.

"Sherlock, you okay?" he heard John ask. Absently he answered. "What? Yeah, yeah, I..I'm fine." "So how can the phone be here?"

"Dunno," Sherlock quietly answered, still watching the taxi driver. John walked over to his coat where his own phone was sitting inside his jacket pocket. "I'll try it again," he told the dark haired man.

"Good idea." Sherlock made his way to the door. "Where are you going?" John called to him, puzzled as to why he was leaving at such a crucial time. "Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long."

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock ended, and hurried down the stairs after the man.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

A/N: I hope I'm not making Adaline seem too grown. As I said, she is more mature than other 7 year olds. I would say that her maturity level is at least up to a teenagers. Saying that, she's gonna handle situations a lot differently than a normal 7 year old would. I just hope I'm portraying her well enough.

As always, the next chapter will be up very soon. I can try setting certain dates to upload the next chapters, but I don't think it would work, mainly because I'm just as excited to get the chapters out as you guys are to read them. Like, some authors choose to just post a chapter on a Saturday. I should try that so I can pace myself...buuut I don't think it's gonna work. Anyway, we'll see what happens.

Because I'm a mean person, I'm gonna pump you guys up for the next chapter before I go.

All I'm gonna say, is Sherlock ain't gonna be too happy to see his daughter in the back seat of this guy's car, bruised up and bleeding. Angry, protective father Sherlock will be bursting his way through in the next chapter. I'm excited myself to see what happens.

 As always, thank you guys so so much for your support of this story. Till next time!