#sherlock holmes x oc

[star-girl-05]

Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

There are many ways to describe THE Sherlock Holmes: Eccentric, Determined, Odd, Genius. Those unfortunate enough to meet him in person would describe him as childish. It’s quite amusing to think that someone as smart as Sherlock would be so childish. He throws tantrums and pouts when he doesn’t get his way. Even when he’s solving a case, he’s giddy like his mommy brought him home a toy. So it should be no surprise he acts childish when he’s in love. 

Of course he doesn’t tell you about his new found feelings for you. No, he performs little experiments on you. Trying to inquire if you could share his feelings. He starts off slowly not wanting to alert you. He begins by increasing his physical contact with you. Just a simple brushing of knuckles when passing each other. Or a gentle hand on your back. Light innocent touches, that's all he dares to do. You don’t seem to mind which gives him confidence to continue testing the relationship between you too. 

He moves on from light touches to soft words. He’s not bold enough to openly flirt with you. That's not his style but he does tease you in his own way. He’ll whisper his explanations in your ear letting his lips graze your ear ever so lightly. Giving him the out if you should bring it up that it was accidental. He’ll give you compliments in the form of observations. ‘That colour blue suits you’, there simple barely there compliments but he still notes the reddish colour to come to your face at them. 

So far it seems you share Sherlock's feelings, but he needs something more concrete if he’s going to confess. So tonight he’s going to be more bold. Johns out with *insert girls name* Sherlock and you will have the flat completely to yourselves. Giving him the perfect atmosphere to collect the last bit of data he needs to know before he reveals his feelings. He needs your pulse, he’s been trying to get it the past week but you always evade him. Moving at just the right moment preventing him from gathering this crucial data. Tonight though he’s determined to get it. 

You have a bright smile on your face when you enter the flat holding a bag of take out. If you're being honest you find yourself nervous to be alone with Sherlock in this manner. Of course you’ve spent time alone with him before, though he was always working on a case. This was different, this time his focus would be on you. It is intimidating to have his undivided attention. Honestly you were so surprised when Sherlock texted you to come over. The simple short text of ‘John’s out come over’ It didn’t leave room for you to say no not that you would have. The thought of declining never even crossed your mind. As soon as you got his message you were responding, at first you thought he had a case. Though with a simple text he refuted the idea texting you that he was just inviting you over. 

After staring at the text for an absorbent amount of time you finally get ready. Picking up takeout on your way and that's where you are now. Sitting next to Sherlock watching some random tv program while eating your takeout. You’re the first to break the silence, “Is everything alright Sherlock?” You're trying not to ruin the evening but you can’t help but be curious as to what brought on this on. He’s been acting differently all week. It was subtle changes at least in the beginning.

Yesterday when the two of you were walking to the lab he grabbed your hand. Fully interlocking his fingers with you. He didn’t even acknowledge it so neither did you just letting him lead you to the lab. 

“Do you think I invited you over because something was wrong?” your face told him his answer. “John was out so I thought we could spend time together” you let out a soft ‘oh’. Not that Sherlock was listening, no he was focusing on your body language. Watching closely at the blush forming on your cheeks. Time to get his last few points of data. 

He feels more confident, especially when he moves closer to you and your pupils enlarge. Your voice is background noise to Sherlock, he focused on your pulse. That's beating rapidly under his finger tips. Experiment complete. 

He cuts you off mid-ramble placing a kiss against your soft lips. He smirks against your lips when he feels your pulse pick up. When he pulls away your eyes are still closed. “What- you just kissed me” your voice is shaky. 

“Yes and I want to do it again, if that’s okay?” While Sherlock was confident in his deducing skills. He was still uneasy about romantical advances.

“Please” you're already tangling your hand in his hair, pulling him back to you. 

Sherlock Holmes can be described as many things: Eccentric, Determined, Odd, Genius, and an amazing Kisser.

[hey-its-roseaurum]

Guilty Until Proven Innocent: Part II

A/N: Hello again everyone, it's been a minute. I couldn't post this part until @lainiespicewrites finished her part. This part was fun and extremely difficult to write, so if it ends up being a dumpster fire, then I'm sorry. Hopefully not. Anyway hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts.

Synopsis: After the agreement to work with Sherlock, Olivia was given an address to meet and discuss the plan. Once she arrives, she discovers something about Sherlock that not a lot of people get to see.

“221 Baker’s Street.  You didn’t mention that it would be on the second floor Sherlock”  I huffed to myself as I made my way up the stairs.  The night before Sherlock had briefly explained that I had to meet him at a specific location tomorrow.  He said he would give me all the information I needed.  When asked why he couldn’t mention it here, he mentioned he wanted to be safe before revealing crucial details about a case. 

So here I am, trudging up the stairs.  

And I hate every second of it.

But I push through my heavy breathing until I make it to the final step.  It wasn’t until I could breathe evenly that I knocked on the door.

A heavy pause lingered in the air before the door creaked open.

“You’re late.”  A gruff voice sliced the air.  Sherlock stood right in front of me, one hand on the door, the other holding a pipe.  

“Sorry.  I had a hard time finding this place.”  He stepped aside, leaving a glimpse of inside his flat.  A silent invitation.  “You never mentioned that this place was on the second floor.  Those stairs were brutal.”

“One should always have steps, to avoid people stepping on you.”  Sherlock merely stated, his eyes tracking my movements as I passed the threshold into his place.

“Umm…I’m not sure I entirely follow.  But I’m pretty sure-”  I stopped suddenly as my brain caught up with what was happening around me.  The hairs on my neck stood up as I felt my breath catch in my throat.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Everything, even parts of the floor was consumed by documents of varying sizes.  Some were folded, some were ripped.  There were even some with tea stains.  Not one seat, save for one in the middle of the flat, wasn’t covered by some degree.

How can someone live, let alone work, in a place like this?

One of my main pet peeves is cleanliness.  It’s been instilled in me ever since I was able to move.  My mother always said that a clean house is a clear mind.  I tried my best to make my home as clean and decluttered as I could; even when I was at the small cottage.

But to see someone as put together on the outside live in such a state, especially someone like Sherlock Holmes,   says something about their mind…

I bit my bottom lip and drew my attention away from the mess and towards the smoke trailing behind Sherlock.  It took everything in my power to distract myself

“So…what is it that you need me to do exactly?”

Sherlock had traveled to the other side of the flat, completely avoiding the papers.  He puffed on his pipe, his face strained in thought. 

“There is a performance at The Reform tonight.  It appears to be a central location that the suspect likes to visit.  His latest victim had been a showgirl.  I need you to go in and see if you can retrieve any belongings of the two victims.”  My eyebrows creased together in question.

“Pardon?  Two questions.  You mentioned ‘latest victim’.  There’s more than one victim.  Why has it not been mentioned in the newspapers?  Two, if I go in, how do we know that their belongings are still there?  They could be gone by now.”  

“Due to the budget of the showroom and the amount of performers it takes to run a show, the items won’t be touched.  The show requires six performers to perform without any hindrance.  So far the show has five currently.  It will not run unless they have the right number of people to perform all of the acts.  The police haven’t connected the string of murders to one suspect yet.  They believe that there is no connection and no motive between the two.”  So there has been another murder, but it hasn’t been revealed to the public.  Why?  

It doesn’t make sense.  There was only one mention of a death that had claimed to be murder, at least from what I can recall.  The only other thing that has been repeatedly mentioned is about a new entertainment business coming to London.  It had been on the front page three consecutive times.  But the murders and the entertainment show can’t be connected, can they? 

“Olivia, have I lost you?”  Sherlock’s voice grew in my ears like thunder in a growing storm, shocking me out of my thoughts.

“NO!….no.”  I jerked my gaze to meet his.  My eyes trailed back to the ground and focused on each paper.  It took most of my attention to avoid stepping on any of the documents on the ground.  “Please continue.”  Sherlock stared at me momentarily, taking a puff of his pipe before continuing.

“I’ll need you to pose as one of the new dancers hired for the show.  You will be given access to their belongings.  Look for any personal belongings related to the victim, acquire them, and exit before the show begins.  Do you have any questions?”

“One question actually, um…if there are five performers and I’m posing as the sixth one, what is stopping the showrunner from putting me in the actual performance?”  I felt a slight quiver in my voice when the question left my lips.  My nerves felt like they were beginning to light on fire, and my breathing quickened with each passing thought of having to go on a stage.  

“Because there is a sixth performer.  You are to get in and leave before they arrive. Try not to run into them before you get what you need.”

“Oh…ok, great.”  I swallowed hard, feeling my anxiety growing.  How am I supposed to know what I’m supposed to grab?  I don’t know anything about the victim.  What if I take the wrong item?  What if I can’t even make it inside?  Even if I make it inside, there’s no guarantee that I won’t get caught.  If I did then everything would be for naught.  I’d end up in jail with no money to get bailed out.  I would let the victims’ families down, and let the murderer have another chance to strike.  Worst of all, I’d have the greatest detective in the world disappointed in me and regret ever allowing me to work with him.  

Keep it together Olivia.

“You look troubled.  What is it?”  His words sounded far away with the ringing in my ears.  I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure.

“It’s nothing.  It’s not pertaining to the case.”  My voice felt out of place like it wasn’t me talking.  I felt like I wasn’t in my own body. I didn’t want Sherlock to know my doubts about this task.  We weren’t as close as I would like to be.  And the last thing I want is to show Sherlock how much of a mess I am inside.  He’d label me as just another person possessed by their own emotions.

I mean I sort of am but I didn’t want to divulge that with him.  It would just add to the list of things he’d be disappointed in.

Stop it

“I don’t want this to affect you when you are out there.  So please get it off your chest.”  There was a slight tilt to his head, his gaze analyzing me.  I could feel him already concluding that I was not cut out for something like this.

“It’s just…”  I trailed off.  How could I tell him that what I was about to do was crazy?  Everything I said when I was back at Edith’s place was completely spur of the moment.  At the time I genuinely thought that I would be able to pull something like this off.  Having it mere hours away from happening felt like I had been dowsed in ice water.

“Olivia.”  Just one word, my name, stilled my thoughts and pulled my attention to Sherlock.  His face had less of an edge to it like his demeanor had shifted and began to morph into something else.  I don’t know what it was but he almost appeared gentle and patient.  It was a complete contrast to what I saw several moments ago.  This was not the same Sherlock that had asked for help a fortnight ago.

This made it almost harder to speak.

“Okay, okay It’s just….” I bit my bottom lip, “why is your place so messy?”  I blurted out, completely changing the topic.  Maybe if I talk about something else I won’t have to show my doubts.

“It’s not messy.  Everything is where it needs to be.”  Sherlock appeared slightly taken aback by my sudden question.

“Right…that’s not what I’m seeing here.  It looks like you’ve just thrown around-”

“You’re changing the topic, Olivia.”  Shit…he knew what I was doing.  I guess I don’t have a choice…

“Okay fine.  I’m just worried about tonight, that’s all.”  A long sigh escaped my lips, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t look like showgirl material.  I mean LOOK at me.”  I stretched out my arms showcasing all the bumps, dips, and curves of my body.  “There’s no way I would pass as one, let alone be able to get through the door.  People like me are the ones who listen to the music and the cheering outside the building.  I don’t want to let the victim's family down, or especially you.”  A heavy presence filled the air, choking the silence.  Sherlock just stared at me.  I don’t know if it was out of shock or if he was reconsidering his decision to bring me into this.  

I don’t care anymore.  I let my insecurity out and hung it up to dry for him to see.  

All he has to do is say the words and I’ll be on my way back to my little damp cottage.

“You know Olivia…”  Sherlock cleared his throat, saying, “It’s normal to feel anxious about an uncertain situation.”  He paused, taking a moment to place his pipe on a nearby table.  “I’m going to give you a piece of advice.  Out there, feelings and being emotional poses a risk.  It is understandable for you, given the danger you may face.  However if you feel like this is too difficult for you, then I won’t force you to do this.  I can find other routes to get what I acquire.  All you have to do is say the word.”

He’s giving me a choice. 

He knows that the situation can be dangerous.  He knows that I’m feeling overwhelmed, but isn’t forcing me to commit.  There’s still a chance to back out, and yet he’s still giving me the option, however much that hurts him.  And if I don’t do this, it’s another chance to be another victim.

I can’t let myself back out.  

“No,”  I paused, collecting myself.    “No, I can do this.  I won’t let my emotions get in the way.”  A pleased look crossed his face, a small smirk threatening to reveal itself.

“Good.  I’ll see you tonight.”

A/N: Thank you to the following people who wanted to see this part happen. Stay tuned for part 3!!

Tag List:

@lainiespicewrites

@shellyshellshell

@xblueriddlex

@rosecentury

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Happy Christmas, Mr. Holmes

Sherlock Holmes x OC, established relationship, some fluff, some romance, humor, and sweet holiday feels🎄❤️🎄 four chapters, complete

Christmas comes to Baker Street in a form Sherlock Holmes had never envisioned. There's a sweetness in seeing the holiday through someone else's eyes, and there are lessons in holiday spirit and the nature of giving--as well as how Love makes the season even brighter--to be learned.

(One of my oldest fics, this is also one of my favorites ~ for it was motivated not only by my love for BBC Sherlock, but even more so by my love of Christmas. I put a lot of my heart into this one, and if you should give it a read, I hope you find it pleasing, and in keeping with the season! Excerpt under the cut.)

Somehow, without even meaning to, Sherlock's path had taken him here: Notting Hill, Saint Mary of the Angels Church. He certainly had not intended to end up here, not as he left the shoppe (its final customer of the day), his hot food wrapped up to be consumed along the way. Had he been woolgathering so much that he'd moved without thinking to the place he knew Tessa to be? Or, he asked himself truthfully, had he intended to get here all along, knowing that his heart really did long for the comfort of community which the brightly lit church represented, the warmth that seemed to flow out with the strains of music coming from within? The thought of Tessa inside, joined in prayer and song with others of her faith--was that the magnet that drew him here? A man who stood outside of everything this building represented, yet now wanted nothing more than to do as he was doing--opening the door to feel the tide of shared and simple Christmas gladness wash over him.

Sherlock allowed himself to enter the vestibule, but stopped there, feeling it was enough for now. He knew, not just from what he could hear (and remembering similar services he had attended as a boy), but from the time itself, that the service was almost over. It was quite enough to imagine her inside, singing joyfully, and most likely wishing he was there to share it with her. He felt a sense of peace that had eluded him all day long, a sense of belonging that had for so many years been out of reach. He thought of those who had made it possible for him to feel he finally fit in somewhere--of John and Mrs. Hudson, of Lestrade and Molly, and of his Tessa, who had worked a minor miracle of sorts; they had gotten him to this marvelous threshold, and she had managed to carry him across it at last. Sherlock felt such a swell of love for all of them, that he was grateful to be alone, fearing the light of it would shine so obviously upon his face that he might be taken, by strangers, for a fool...

tagging: @strangedreamings (who may have seen this a few times before😉) @ben-locked (putting the 'ship' aside, just for the Christmas feels?) @mousedetective @darsynia (because you 'get me' enough to appreciate this fic) @aphroditesdilemma @hithertoundreamtof23 (dunno if you like Sherlock, but I'm betting you like Christmas stories) @aeterna-auroral-avenger (for the Faith we share & which makes you a Christmas person 365 days a year)

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Ethereal Limerence - Sherlock Holmes (BBC Sherlock) ~ On Going

Summary:

Pursuing one's dreams is everyone's life goal, even if that means finding a speck of ephemeral bliss in making autopsies. This nefarious enthusiasm combined with a crime-filled capital, like London, makes a certain female feel ineffable. Recently, however, dexterity and wit level of these murders have significantly increased, making the police request the help of a certain Consulting Detective. Are the Angels going to win this war? Or is the Villainous side going to triumph?

Chapter 1 - Blue Effervescent Liquid Bottle Chapter 2 - Ephemeral Aurora Chapter 3 - Shot Through The Heart Chapter 4 - Another Sin Chapter 5 - I AM KATLOCKED

[unusuallysubtext]

If you're still doing the Sherlock life thing, I'd love it if you could sort me :D

I'd prefer to be in a romantic relationship with a man

My love language is mainly physical touch and words of affirmation. I usually wear comfy clothes that have a funky pattern or something I just find cool (kinda like street style). I have short brown hair that I usually just leave messy because I can't be bothered to sort it out lmao.

I spend my days usually just hanging out with people I care about, or playing games on my phone. I enjoy logic puzzles and I'm good with numbers (I have a streak of over 1200 on sudoku). I study History and Philosophy because I've always been interested in those sorts of topics and I love discussing these things with people and seeing their different points of views and opinions on topics.

I love doing crafts in my spare time as well, I crochet, I draw, I can paint decently well, and I love sewing. I usually make little trinkets, sew clothes or draw bugs or skeletons or smth, anything I like the look of tbh.

I hope this is enough information, thank you do much :D

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock first saw you when you were being escorted far away from the scene of a presumed murder

You protested and explained that you were simply trying to draw a replica of the skeleton found seatbelted inside a Prius, but to no avail

On his way out of the crime scene, Sherlock approached you as you sat on the curb kicking rocks, drawing what you could from memory

It was at that point that you accompanied Sherlock Holmes and John Watson to every single case, working on sketches

Your eye could capture details that a camera couldn't, defining characteristics that Sherlock could later read on

One night, late after a case, you sat on the sofa of 221b with a progressing crochet project when Sherlock flopped down next to you, legs outstretched over your lap

Although you were caught by surprise, the two of you spent the next few hours simply hanging out

You spoke of various philosophers and history, knowledge of which Sherlock possessed none

He listened intently to you, understanding why your sketches were so much more lively and telling than a clean shot of photography

Together, you made a great team, seeing things from one another's logic

You were chill, automatically rubbing off on Sherlock and keeping him in check, and soon enough, simply chatting on the sofa late at night turned to laying next to each other and even falling asleep

The first time John came down and saw Sherlock asleep at nine-thirty in the morning, he was jumping with joy (silently), ever grateful the detective had found someone willing to match his freak, as the young people say

He secretly enjoys your comfortable, baggy street-style clothing, a fresh change in his everyday dark block colour polyester/cotton blend button-ups that hug his figure, whether it's (trying to) try it on or simply keeping it with him

And if you're with him, there is no doubt he will hold you close, arms wrapped around you at night, or simply sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa ❤️

-

hope you liked it, anon! tagging @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @that-ace-idiot @the-girl-who-simps-too-much

Your Sherlock Life asks are still open!

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

Can you write for reader x Sherlock where reader is a little like Elizabeth Bennet, likes to read and paint etc. Singing and all the cultural stuffs and Sherlock has fallen for her too hard?

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍

pairing: sherlock holmes (bbc) x fem!oc

summary: in which sherlock holmes doesn’t catch himself from falling quick enough for jane burbank

word count: 3.04k

warnings: none

a/n: this was my first time writing for a request so i really hope you like it <3 i also made it [x/oc] as i'm more comfortable doing it that way but i tried to stay away from descriptions as much as possible to make this little fic as inclusive as possible too <3

he wanted nothing more than to talk to her, even if it was only a meagre apology for accidentally brushing against her in the library isle. she enamoured him and he hated it, even years later as he held the heavy velvet curtains between two fingers and watched her cross over the road and unlock the door to her flat. john smirked behind his newspaper, "you're doing it again."

"doing what?" sherlock huffed, letting the curtains drape back into place over the window. "saying i'm doing something again would mean i'm repeating the action. what's special about me standing by the window." he stalked through the flat and flung himself into an old wooden chair by the kitchen table, seething over his frustration.

he hated it when john was right. nothing frustrated him more than his closest friend seeing right through him as if he were a spirit. more often than not, when he was sulking about not having cases or waiting for results from his less-than-ethical experiments, sherlock would find himself rooted to the floor by the window. sometimes he would play his violin slow and mournful, sometimes he would stand in plain sight.

it would stun him when the sunlight bounced off the wire frame of her glasses, the reflection shooting through her window and right back to his. sherlock found it hard to concentrate on anything else when she would sit in her arm chair with a cardigan that on anyone else would have looked ugly but on her the bright colours did nothing but compliment her. she always had a pen or pencil or paint brush hidden away in her hair, and occasionally she would reach up and fiddle with it as she thumbed delicately through the pages of her book.

sherlock looked up from concentrating hard on the surface of the table when his phone buzzed him his pocket, and he pulled it out. his smile became visible against his will.

you're doing it again, if you want to come over you only have to ask

within minutes he was at the door, ripping off his burgundy dressing gown and trading it out for his thick and heavy belstaff. at john's call of "where're you off to all eager?" he simply shouted "out" as he clattered down the thin staircase. sherlock was out of the door and crossing the road faster than he was able to think, knocking sharply on the blurred stained glass window set into her front door.

there was a crash from inside, a mutter of swearing as she pulled back the door to reveal her haphazard state. sherlock stared dumbly at her, trying to ignore the red splatter of paint on her neck dripping onto her chest, searching for words as when he opened his mouth it turned dry. "you didn't ask," she said, but stood back to let him into her house anyway.

sherlock walked in through the hall, catching himself casting his gaze over the walls like he did every singe time. the university diploma sat pride of place over the mantlepiece of the fireplace in the living room reading 'ba joint honours in history and history of art awarded to jane burbank, graduating with a first from the university of edinburgh'

next to it was a framed photo of the pair of them stood together at a mutual friend's wedding the previous year. sherlock had gone along begrudgingly when he'd found out that jane was attending the party after the ceremony because her cousin was the maid of honour for the bride. they were both standing outside of the venue side by side, smiling into the lens as one of the flower girls was messing with the petal confetti in her small wicker basket in the background.

jane brushed her bangs off her eyes as she moved around the airy living room, shoving wooden crates of paint back into place on the shelf and moving her latest canvas out into the garden to dry completely. sherlock stood awkwardly in his coat and ran his finger under the collar of his shirt sitting tightly against his neck. she stared at him as she returned, wiping a paint stain off the hem of her white dress as she did so.

"sherlock, i don't know why you insist on dressing like a child from the past in the middle of summer." london had been blanketed in a sticky, heavy heat as they hit the peak of august, making being indoors impossible but being outside worse. jane was only glad of her broken window to allow a constant breeze to pass through the ground floor of her house but knew the relief wouldn't last long. it was only a matter of time before the rain came in thick drops and plunged them into everlasting autumn.

he shrugged awkwardly and peeled the coat from his body, and when jane looked at him from behind her easel tucked away in a corner by the bay window he removed his blazer from his shoulders too. sherlock felt too free when he was with her, it scared him, but she made him feel to exhilarated to even care sometimes.

once, when they'd met at a summer research project collating students from different courses at the russel group unis, jane had cleared her throat to catch his attention in the library. at the noise he turned around, still holding the heavy volume, and saw her looking at him through a gap in the shelves perching her chin on the heel of her hands. "hey," jane whispered at him, "d'you want to do something fun?"

sherlock couldn't find his voice to tell her that what he was doing was fun and that he didn't really want to leave the safety of the library that late at night, but her bright eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights hanging from the high ceiling from exposed wires made him throw caution to the wind and join her on their escapade. jane dragged him to a concert and to this day not one of them could remember who it was they'd seen only that they were rubbish and the cone of chips they'd picked at while walking through a grassy park was much more enjoyable.

he'd been dressed for winter then too, despite the thin linen of his shirt trying to cool him down in the muggy night air. but he couldn't care less about the heat invading his skin or the salt from the chips that caught on his finger tips because he was talking to jane burbank, and it had been all he'd wanted to do since she came bursting into the lecture hall for the summer programme two minutes late in a haze of frazzledness as she pulled down the hem of her summer dress where it had ridden up from her haste.

if he had been a better man he wouldn't have looked down past her neck but he couldn't help himself.

perched on the end of the emerald green sofa shoved against a bright white wall covered in artwork and cheap antique picture frames, sherlock fumed silently like the kettle he wished jane was setting over the stove because he could see john giving him his worst 'i told you so' look from the front window of his flat over the road. jane returned with a silver tray laden with small plates holding biscuits, two empty glasses holding ice and a large pitcher of sparkling orange juice.

"d'you want to go out and do something fun tonight?" jane found herself repeating the words every time she saw sherlock, which wasn't as often as she would have hoped considering she bought her house opposite his flat with his proximity in mind. he was always out sleuthing with john, who she'd seen more, and got on well with.

so was it really any surprise that jane took any chance she could get with sherlock, to make the most of the time they had together. he'd intrigued her all those years ago (it hadn't in-fact been too many years ago since they'd graduated with first honours, but life in the wake of sherlock holmes was long and weary) and still continued to do so now. she was pleased she knew him before he made it big as a 'boffin' in the national press and was even more pleased that he still kept up with her completely opposing lifestyle despite his cold-heartedness and want of plain fact.

with a gleeful grin and a shake of his shoulders as she squealed at his minute nod, jane was away to pack her bag and to grab her sandals before rejoining him at the front door. much to her excitement, sherlock had decided to brave the outside world without the protection of his belstaff, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his blazer was tucked neatly under his arm as he waited patiently for her. "ever practical," she muttered and locked the door behind her. the heat of the day beat down on her exposed shoulders from where she'd pinned her hair up at the back of her head and she pulled her sunglasses over her nose.

they set off and june looked at her watch, "quarter to three, fancy going out for something to eat first?"

"whatever you want to do," sherlock agreed, and sure enough half an hour later they were sat on outside tables for a cafe overlooking westminster watching the people go by. well, sherlock was watching the people go by and jane was peeling away the pastry of a croissant she'd ordered while taking occasional sips of her glass of diet coke. he tapped his fingers against the saucer for his coffee patiently waiting for her to finish so they could leave.

jane wanted to look through the markets in camden for old records before they tried to find a pub for dinner and finished off the day at st james' park to listen to the music drift over them from the live festival happening in hyde park that she didn't get tickets to. she was always asking him if he wanted to do something fun even when she'd planned the day to some kind of degree of legible and sherlock just agreed.

but he did so because jane had asked him to, and anything that was fun to her would be fun for him.

after their intermission at the cafe, where jane had stopped to take some candid photos of some couples she'd seen over the green before turning the lens on an unsuspecting sherlock, they suffered the stuffy carriage of the underground before emerging at camden. jane beelined for stalls selling records and cassette tapes she didn't need because her selection was already overflowing. she picked up a sleeve and turned it to sherlock, grinning, "don't you just love them?"

he smirked before saying, "i prefer blur" only to receive a smack on the shoulder for his admission. by the time they'd left jane had bought enough to put a sizeable dent into her savings account made for paying off her student debt and she was dragging sherlock to an art gallery she noticed was free to the public before they sat down to eat again.

there was something about her wide eyes as they walked around the gallery that sherlock couldn't tear his eyes away from. it might have been the sun shining down on her cheekbones from the glass ceiling or the way she looked like one of the twisted statues in her white dress and delicate sandals or her screwed up face as she focused on something in the background through the lens of her camera. being with jane was a break from the world he'd plugged himself into and he loved every second of it.

sherlock didn't love it as much, however, when they were sat outside (again) at a pub jane liked sharing a bowl of chips while she told him about the awful date she'd had with an awful guy who had an awful name two days prior. his back straightened and something curled in the pit of his stomach as jane told him about the bloke's lacklustre effort of wooing her, especially when he lumped her with paying for dinner and their tube fares back because he'd 'conveniently' left his wallet in a different jacket.

"he wasn't even wearing a jacket, sherlock, i mean can you believe it? i go on one date for the first time in months and he's a total prick!" she picked at a chip and dunked it angrily into the splodge of tomato sauce she'd poured onto the plate before soaking up any vinegar that had been left behind, "is chivalry really dead? i refuse to believe it is."

sherlock made a hoarse noise in the back of his throat before leaving for the bar and returning with a drink to replace jane's third glass of diet coke since they'd sat down. he placed down the cocktail in front of her and felt a flush of pride creep down his back as jane placed her hand over his to thank him earnestly. she took a sip, then another until the entire thing slid down her throat with a sigh of relief.

"i really needed that," she said and giggled to herself. sherlock forgot every time he was with her when she drank that jane was the lightest of lightweights, but when she'd had one she was happy and when jane was happy sherlock was well on the way to being happy too.

another cocktail later and jane had reached her happy medium for alcohol intake - she was blissfully unaware of anything happening outside of the six foot boundary around her but could still hold herself upright and kissed sherlock enthusiastically on the cheek when he caught the bill as a waiter was passing by their table. she laughed all along the path and the whole time the two of them were walking to st james' park.

sherlock didn't make it a habit to carry people around on his back, but when jane looked up at him with a pout and wide glassy eyes he acquiesced and hoisted her onto his back with her ankles locked together just below his navel.

she insisted on getting a cone of chips for old times sake even though they'd eaten enough to fuel an army back at the pub, and jane happily handed over five pounds in cash for a cone and a pot of curry sauce to the woman behind the till. "thank you!" she called out from over her shoulders and sherlock walked through the gates to the park and let her down gently onto the grass where they usually sat.

jane fell forwards and caught herself from landing on her face by her knees, laughing as she slumped forwards onto her chest and propped her chin up into her hands. sherlock sat beside her on his jacket and brushed her bangs out of her eyes, and she felt her skin flush where his fingers had touched. the music from the concert in hyde park eventually reached them just as jane thought it would and she began to hum the tune under her breath as she picked at the chips sherlock was holding out for her.

jane rolled onto her back and felt the blades of grass tickle her shoulders and she moved to make herself comfortable. "we never talk anymore sherlock." she huffed, and tried to reach out and run her fingers over his cheek but stopped when she realised her hands were moving in the completely wrong direction.

"you've been talking all day."

"but i mean you and me. we never talk, i talk at you and you listen."

"i like listening."

"no you don't, you'll out live god trying to get the last word in."

he laughed behind his smile, "i like listening to you."

jane pushed herself onto her feet and sank down again so she was eye to eye with sherlock. he could still see the red splatter of paint along her neck and upon closer inspection he found that the drips had dried throughout the day past the neckline of her already low summer dress. "i wish you would do more than watch and listen to me." she whispered, still tapping out the rhythm of the new song against her knee.

"but i like listening to you and i can't help but watch you. it irritates me." lies.

"no it doesn't."

damn.

before sherlock even had a chance to refute or say anything in his defence, jane's hands were placed gently on either side of his neck and she pulled him forwards to join their lips. jane held him so close that their noses bumped together repeatedly and she had to lean forwards to follow him when he pulled away. "jane!"

"what?" she questioned, finding that she'd sobered up at a startling rate when the gravity of what she'd done had truly set in. "oh, sherlock i'm so sorry i didn't mean to-" her words were cut off as he kissed her again, again and again to pepper kisses all over her cheeks and along her forehead where her bangs had fallen over her eyes again.

jane was a breath of fresh air, the calm in the middle of the storm he lived his life by. in the moment with her, sitting on the grass in a darkened london park he couldn't help but not care about what john would say when he finally got home or if jane would soon realise how dangerous tangling her life with his truly was.

she pushed herself onto him and held onto his arms as she kissed him harder, not caring that sherlock was the right-hand-man of every inspector at scotland yard or that his idea of fun was dissecting human bodies and testing them for bruising. the only thing that mattered to her was the boy she'd liked since she walked in late to the lecture hall was kissing her back after he'd admitted to her, drunkenly at their mutual friend's wedding, that it was all he thought about whenever he saw her

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🔎

[ladylaviniya]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

[clairewritesandrambles]

─── Masterlist ───

❀ Denotes Smut/NSFW Content

↠ Fics

↠ One-Shots

↠ Drabbles

─── WIPs ───

❀ Denotes Smut/NSFW Content

↠ Fics ↞

↠ One-Shots ↞

↠ Drabbles ↞

[sunflower-bardic-inspiration]

Another update of the fanfic. Hope you like it 🥹🤗

*Mission Impossible music in the background*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56339464/chapters/158540689

[zealouscanonindeer]

Final Gamble

resistance was no good as the same firm hands with mighty strength threw me into what appeared to be the backseat of a horse drawn wagon. voices circled me.

"put her out!"

"right away sir."

a cloth was hastily used against my nose, the repelling smell allowing sleep to descend and pull me into its firm grip this time.

I woke up in a dimly lit room, full of assorted furniture. my hands were no longer bound but my legs were, loosely in such a way that I could walk at a measured pace but never run. I groaned as I got on my feet, my aching muscles complaining.

Through blurry and disoriented vision I saw two men advancing in my direction, instinctively I moved away, hitting against the cold hard furniture behind me. The blonde man, whom I recognised from earlier smirked,

"Well... My lady, we do owe a lot to you. "

"What does that mean? " My incredulous and tartly tone surprising him.

"You see.. " He continued, having recovered from my vocal violence, "you've led him straight to us.. And now that it's done and you're of no use to us.. We're through here.

With that he ushered the other man in and walked out, the man, whom I recognised to be Williams, carrying a rope and thrusting me into a chair like a sack of potatoes before beginning to secure my arms to the chair arms.

With a stroke of quick thinking I slammed my leg with all the force i could muster into his right shin, sending him into a piles of painful moans. Having freed myself of the remaining ties, I, with slight remorse put the man out using an technique Holmes taught me. With great effort and endless heaving, Williams replaced me in the chair and i made my escape through the back door.

I happened to overhear voices overlapping only to be cut off by the unmistakable sinister tone of the professor.

The trade route's too revealing and must serve as an appealing distraction. The personal ferry? The other side? Just as well. The men have assembled asper their assignments.. Well let's get this thorn out of the way once and for all.

I couldn't hear anymore for at that moment the knob of the adjacent door was turned from inside and i made a necessary beeline to the exit.

After which I took some shelter in a local inn down yonder, found a convincing disguise and was headed down towards the port when I happened to see the fire. They must have never realised it was really Williams in there and not me.. I do hope he came through it.

"He did. " Holmes solemnly replied, filling me in with his side of the story.

"I gather", Watson remarked "that his Moriarty fellow has laid out a pretty neat trap. "

"Yes Watson, it's glaringly obvious, I do apologize on his behalf, you see Watson here has a particularly innate habit of stating the obvious. " Holmes remarked with utter nonchalance as Watson looked at him with slight indignation.

I cleared my throat and continued slowly. " The ferry is to set off from the opposite side, the Regent serves as a ruse. They are smuggling gunpowder via it, along with a pretty plan to present you to their leader, two explosion in London planned I believe, with you out of the way, it is bound to succeed. I believe we must not allow the Regent to set sail.

"Ah, for the first time, it seems that i must serve as bait. " Holmes remarked, his eyes glinting impishly. " The fun never seems to end with this Moriarty chap"

[tirednamelessguy]

Sneak peak into the latest chapter of my wip

Hopefully, I'll edit and post it soon

[self-conscious-author]

“Katherine Rossi.”

Orphan.

Only child.

Athletic.

Linguist.

Ambidextrous.

Italian father parent.

Closer to mother.

Clever.

Guarded.

Unemployed.

Inheritance. Family money.

Beautiful.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Hiding something.

[hey-its-roseaurum]

Guilty until Proven Innocent-Part I

A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for taking the time to look at this story. This is for a collaboration with @lainiespicewrites. She is an excellent writer and I figured it was my turn to stretch my writing muscles and put something out into the world. This is my first Henry Cavill fic, so please don't be too harsh. Anyways, enjoy!

Synopsis: After recent murders in town, You (Olivia) decide to train with Edith in the art of self-defense. In the middle of training, you got a mysterious knock on the door. Sherlock walks in, looking for assistance with his latest case. He offers you to partake in a partnership to help him in his latest case? Do you take it?

Warnings: mentions of death

“You’re progressing nicely Olivia.”  Edith smiled from above me, her elbow pinning me to the floor mat.  There wasn’t a hint of sweat along her forehead.  She had taken me down in less than a minute. The worst part was I thought I was going to land a hit on her this time.

”I’m beginning to think that you’re just saying that to soothe my pride”. I rasped out.  She had eased her hold on me and stood up, extending a hand.

”Nonsense.  Look how far you’ve come since you first stepped in these doors.  Pretty soon you’ll be able to hold your ground with me.”  She exclaimed as I grabbed her hand and hoisted myself up.  My back had long since started throbbing.

For the past few weeks, I have been meeting Edith at her office to train and learn self-defense.  Ever since the first girl went missing and was later found dead in the street I hadn’t been able to sleep soundly.  There were constant, nagging thoughts that made me question if I was going to be the next victim.  It had only gotten worse when they found the next girl a week later in the middle of an alleyway that I frequently visited.  Her throat had been cut. 

In London, it was ill-advised for a woman, especially of noble birth, to consider something as trivial as self-defense.  Women are supposed to be soft, elegant, and passive. All of the trouble and responsibility in making decisions was for the men. 

 Being passive and soft didn’t save those girls from their cruel end.

And I wasn’t going to let myself become like them.  I refuse to be the next girl that falls victim to this.  So I went to my dear friend Enola at her detective agency and inquired about a solution to my predicament.  She sent me over to Edith and had me start training the next day.  I’ve been training every day since then.

I’m still not really good at it.

”Did you say the same thing when you were teaching Enola?”  I inquired as I dusted myself off.  Edith only shook her head.

”Not exactly.  Her response was more witty, thanks to her mother.”  Eudoria Holmes, the mother, the fire starter as people liked to call her.  I’ve seen her wanted poster splayed all across London.  But I didn’t see her as a criminal.  I saw her as the woman who saved my life six months ago.

That morning had been cold and bitter.  I remember feeling my fingers grow numb while I huddled against a mailbox.  Its red paint had chipped away at its base, leaving rust behind.

Which was ironic and poetic now that I think back on it.  And let me explain why.

It all started when my father had recently passed from a sickness that left my mother and me penniless.  With no man in the house and no money to our name, we were cast out of society.  My mother and I were thrown out and the estate that I called my home.   It was sold to another noble family in the south.

We lived off the street after that.  My mother, using what knowledge she had of needlework, had acquired a job as an assisted seamstress.  I was left to salvage whatever pity people gave me and half-rotten food from dumpsters.

Eventually, we were able to afford a small cottage on the outskirts of town.  It was small, run-down, and often had a damp smell to it.  Mother didn’t like to be there for a long period.  She claimed it was because she was so busy with her duties to the seamstress that she didn’t have time to spend there.  I think it was because she missed her life at the estate and living in this small broken cottage was too much for her to bear.

That morning six months ago I decided to go into town to fill my water bucket and get bread before it got too crowded.  When I got there, I sat down by the mailbox to wait for the bakery to open.  I was particularly annoyed when I saw a lot of people around this early in the morning.

I was watching a man get onto a carriage when something shifted from the corner of my eye.  It had been a man, or what I thought was a man walking towards me with a package in their hand.  When we made eye contact I didn’t think anything of it.  I just watched them and noted how stiff they walked. They placed the package in the slot of the mailbox.  Before I knew it, I was grabbed by the elbow, hoisted upright, and pulled away from the mailbox.  

That mailbox exploded, releasing a whirlwind of fliers into the air.

The two of us had run from the police.  I was forced to since they refused to let go of my hand.  We ran until this stranger knew that they weren't being followed.  

When things settled down, the man revealed that they were a woman in disguise.  She introduced herself as Eudoria Holmes and then proceeded to lecture me about being near explosives as if she were my own mother.  All I had wanted to do was bite back, to lecture her on how she shouldn’t be putting explosives where there were people.

Instead, I broke down, not from her lecturing but because of something I couldn’t quite place. All I knew was that I was waiting for a soggy piece of bread and nearly got blown up.

In the end, I told her everything.  I told her my past, my current situation, and why I was even in town in the first place.  One thing kind of led to another.  The next thing I knew I was sitting in Eudoria’s house with a cup of tea in my hand.

I stayed in that damp cottage less and less as time passed and more at Eudoria’s warm, often chaotic home.  That’s where I became friends with Enola, had briefly met her two brothers Sherlock and Mycroft, and felt somewhat happy.  

I don’t know why she pulled me away from that mailbox.  The one time I asked her she said she saw something in me, some sort of fire in my eye.  She didn’t want it to go out along with the mailbox.

I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t tell that to her.

“So what you’re trying to say is that I still have a long way to go,” I asked as my brain jumped back to the present.  I stepped away from the mat and made my way into her office.

”What I’m saying is you’re doing better than you think you are.  You just began learning.  Give yourself a little credit.”  Following me, she made her way to the table by the window.  A stack of teacups were messily stacked up to one side.  She grabbed two, placed them on saucers, and poured liquid into both.  

“I know.  I’m just…worried.  It’s been a week since the last victim was found and the police still haven’t found the suspect.”  I let out a sigh and sipped some of my tea.  I needed a moment to choose my words carefully.  “I just want to be…prepared.”

A heavy pause filled the air before either of us spoke.  

”Olivia…there’s more to that, isn’t there?” Edith’s words were soft and gentle.

“I mean I-“. My response was sharply cut short.

A knock pulled our attention away from our conversation and to the door.  A tall man entered from the training room and to Edith’s office.  I couldn’t place if he looked tall because of his size, or because of the giant top hat sitting snugly on top of his head.  Dark wavy strands of hair peaked through from under his hat. 

”Have you any sense what time it is?”  Edith interrogated, crossing her arms.  The man took off his hat, revealing thick brown locks.  His sculpted jawline and nose complimented the hair.  Blue, mesmerizing eyes glanced around, investigating.

But the feature that I recognized right away from him was his shoulders.  I knew those shoulders.

”Hello, Edith” His attention briefly shot to me “Olivia”  I curtly nodded, averting my eyes.

”Good evening Mr. Holmes.”  I responded softly.  “With what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Holmes.  Sherlock Holmes.  One of Enola’s older brothers. One of the greatest detectives I’ve ever seen.

”There’s no need for formalities Olivia.”  I felt something warm begin to grow on my cheeks at his response.  He’s only being polite Olivia.  We are only acquaintances because of Enola and Eudoria.  He doesn’t like you like that.

Or does he?  

I’m not sure.

Sherlock Holmes is a difficult man to understand.

“What are you here for Sherlock?”  Edith asked again, harsher this time.  Her tone quickly pulled me back to the present and away from my thoughts.  

Sherlock cleared his throat, his blue eyes revealing some sort of inner turmoil within himself.  It was an unusual amount of emotion that I was not used to seeing.  I expected it with Mycroft, he practically wore his emotions on his face at all times.  Sherlock never did.  He’s always been composed, and proper.  Before me now he still was, but a layer of some sort had been chipped away.

”I….need your help.”  He struggled to say the words like it was almost painful to him.  A moment of silence clung in the air.  

”Is it about Enola?   Did she get herself into trouble?”  There was a hint of concern in Edith’s voice when she begged the questions.  The only response he gave was a small shake of his head. I watched as realization flashed on her face. 

”There’s something about this case-“. 

”That deduction cannot solve?”  Edith finished his thought.  He slightly nodded, setting his hat down on her desk.  That was my cue. I softly placed my teacup down and made my way to the table by the window.  I began making some tea for Sherlock while listening to the conversation.

”I may need your…skills to get information from a place I cannot enter.”

“What kind of place?”  He listed off a name that I didn’t recognize.  Edith’s face slightly reddened.

”A showgirl theatre?! You cannot ask me such a thing Sherlock, no matter how close we are.”  My eyebrows raised as I grabbed a cup and saucer and poured some tea into the cup.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have another option.  A woman’s life is at stake.” His tone was calm, but there was something else there.

”But going into this with the possibility of getting murdered is not something I’m comfortable with.  Woman’s freedom and rights is one thing, going after a serial killer is a whole other matter entirely”

”Edith, I-“. I cut them off.

”I’ll do it.  I’ll go instead of you.”  In their arguing, I had made my way back to the two of them, Sherlock's tea in hand.  I had left mine behind.

”Olivia, do you know what kind of place that is, what situations you can get into.  You’re nowhere near ready to hold your ground”. What she said was like a punch to the gut.  

I knew I wasn’t ready, we had that same conversation not thirty minutes ago.  But I knew that if Edith went and something bad had happened to her Enola and Eudoria would be devastated.  I was different.  If I went and something happened to me, Edith would still be here training more girls like me.

”Who else is going to do it?  Enola?  She’s not expendable. I am.  And Edith, what about the other girls you train?” I took a breath, the stubbornness in me growing. “Besides, I know these streets better than anyone.  I’ve lived in them.  I know where to go in case I’m being followed.   And because of the way I look,”. I paused briefly looking down at myself, at my curvy, plump figure.  “No one would suspect me.  They would just see me as a showgirl trying to make ends meet.  I can blend in, go undercover, and get the information that he needs in order to catch this murderer.”

A heavy pause hung between the three of us.

I let what I said sink into the two of them.  I know that Edith is fighting with herself on whether she can let me go.  She believes that I am her responsibility, and I kind of was while Eudoria was undercover.  But since starting to learn to defend myself I told myself that I couldn’t sit and wait.  Sitting and worrying about who the next victim is going to drive me crazy.  If I can help and make a difference, then maybe the suspect will be caught before there’s more tragedy.  

”I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to her.”  Sherlock’s voice broke the silence and my inner thoughts.  “You have my word.”  His eyes met mine at his.  I felt something else there besides the promise.   Edith sighed,  rubbing her temples with both her index fingers.

“Okay, Sherlock.  Just…make sure she comes back in one piece.”   Edith finally concurred.  “You’re going to have to speak to your mother if you don’t.”

A smile tugged at my lips at the agreement.  I finally raised the cup of tea, offering it to him.    

”When do we start?”

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you want to read @lainiespicewrites story about Paul Atreides from the Dune Sage, here is her link: https://www.tumblr.com/lainiespicewrites/747032352877903872/the-atreides-era?source=share

[inklores]

first edit for “champagne problems” !!

also crossposted on my tiktok: @danyscloudswp

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 2 - Ephemeral Aurora

Hello! I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan of your work and uh... I searched you up on the internet and found out you have a very fascinating Forensics blog! I am left speechless by your fantasy work and by the genius experiments you show and explain through detailed videos and pictures! If you would allow me, it would be my highest honour to share a hot beverage with you, as a way of thanking you for your effort and dedication. P.S. : I work in I.T. in the same building as you. I found out yesterday thanks to Molly Hooper.~ James M.

She found this Direct Message on one of her blogs under the name of The_Notorious_JM, an eloquent IT worker who, apparently, had been in the same building as her - And she'd never met him before! Quite certain, it sounded similar to what happened with her and Sherlock, being in association with Lestrade, but not having met for years! My, she wasn't the best at making friends, but when someone so nice goes out of their way to befriend her, she's more than willing to engage! Very excited, yes she was - So excited that she immediately replied to him; The text had been sent the previous week - And what a coincidence, the very night that almost sealed her already doomed fate!

Regardless, she replied to him, setting the time and place for their meeting; A nice breakfast before work, at her favourite vintage cafe she always frequents. As per usual, she dolled herself up very nicely that morning - Nicer than usual, in fact - And she made her way towards the cafe. The weather was unexpectedly lovely for a mundane day in London - It was sunny and warm, just as she loves her days! 

Entering the cafe, she lifted her sunglasses up on her hair ( she always did love how her hair looks, slicked back with those glasses, exposing her lovely features and impeccable make up ) and looked around the tables, looking for the man in cause. He had told her he's quite average and doesn't stand out - A simply tired man in his 30s, black hair and black eyes, dressed in simple and quite boring clothes also - Unfortunately, that hadn't helped much, considering the customers. Thankfully, one man lifted his hand up and smiled like a sweet, bashful dove, and Katrina was simply endeared to sit in front of him. He looked adorable and so kind, this man, and he kept his smile on his face constantly - Though she, of all people, knew not to underestimate how scary people can be, underneath all this social facade.

A gentleman in the right sense, James had gotten to his feet to help her remove her coat, and pull the chair for her - So she was right, the famed British chivalry was NOT dead! Oh, how thrilled she was to witness such gallantry! "Fancy meeting you, Miss Raven." the man spoke; His voice was gentle and rather soothing, Katrina noted. She was highly auditory sensitive, so she naturally leaned towards people with lovely voices that didn't startle or put her on edge. Simply from the calm washing over her with every word he uttered, the lady was content with the idea of making a new friend. "Eh - I'm sorry, I'm not that good with social interactions. It's a miracle I even befriended someone nice like Molly - And that's mostly because she offered to pay for my coffee one day when I forgot my wallet." he chuckled, at little embarrassed.

"oh, yes, Molly is a wonder personified! I, also, would have been friendless in this place, were it not for her being so kind to me when I was hired. We don't meet that often these days, our schedules are conflicting a little, but I always love to take her out to pubs or cafes once in a while." admitting to also being a social failure, the two found themselves unable to stifle their giggles - Were they pathetic? Were they tragic? Were they losers? Perhaps all of them! But it mattered little, in such great company.

"Oh - Forgive my manners, I completely forgot to introduce myself. Name's James, but my colleagues call me Jim. I'm fine with either." the girl smiled dearly at him, and she nodded her head. How she loved this simple fan talk.

"No need for apologies, it's quite alright! It is not your fault we had already gotten absorbed in this engaging conversation." she waved her hand dismissively. "May I call you James? I think it's a beautiful name." he chuckled timidly, looking down, but still nodding in agreement. "Say - Can I ask you something?" he urged her to go ahead. "What do you do in IT? Programming? Accountancy? Hacking?"

"Oh, I - Well, I do some accountancy, yes, but I mostly do programming. I'm not yet allowed to do too much hacking, but it's fine, I'm still learning, so I'm getting there." office work can't always be fun, Kat realised with a little sadness.

"I bet you're bored a lot at work, huh? There's few things that can beat hacking, in this industry, am I right?" James' dark eyes widened with surprise - She was a Forensics Doctor, what did she know about hacking? She couldn't... Or, could she?

"You?" she nodded, wearing the cunning smile of a vixen. "You're a hacker?!" he asked in a hushed tone. "That's wicked!"

"I've always been interested in video games and computers, so this came natural to me. I needed a hobby to pull myself through Med School." her laughter was so charming, crystalline like an angel's lullaby/

"Have you ever done anything fun with it?" he leaned over the table, completely forgetting about his latte. He had to hear more of this little mischief!

"I paid for my holidays abroad." what an innocent princess smile! It hid all the nefarious deeds she's done!

"You're insane! I could never, I -- I'd be too scared to do something like that!" he was flabbergast, yet genuinely impressed. "Say - I have this personal project I've been working on. It's a game based on hacking - Kinda like... A digital escape room? Or - Or, I guess, some puzzles and riddles, you could say? Anyway, it's a thinking game. It's still in it's beta state, but would you be interested in testing it once it's playable?" how in the world could she refuse those beautiful doe eyes of his?

"I would be honoured to! I haven't done anything that fun in so long! I am so excited! I hope it's going to be soon!" she did a little cutesy clap, making the man before her chuckle at her silliness. "Thank you for trusting me so much with your precious project, despite us just meeting for the first time!"

"I can always assume anyone who is Molly's friend is a great person, just like her." aww, wasn't he so adorable~.

"Hey, can I be nosy a little~?" the lady giggled, playing with a strand of her long, blue hair. "You and Molly... You are dating, aren't you?"

"How... How'd you know? Did she say anything to you?" she simply shook her head, smiling enigmatically.

"You're just - You know... I guess you could call it a girly hunch. You're very cute when you mention her name. I just guessed - You're the one who confirmed my theory." the two remained in a glowy silence, smiling at each other dearly, sipping from their coffee.

"I didn't... I didn't realise I was so obvious." his voice went even softer. "I am really like, you know. I'm like to have someone like Molly in my life. She is... She is very kind." 

"Yes, I can completely agree with you. The world is a better place with her around." Katrina placed her hand over his own, squeezing it lightly. "I hope the two of you will have your happily ever after."

"How romantic..." he smiled, nodding in gratitude. "Yes, I - I hope the same also. Thank you, Miss Raven. Thank you - For being such a special friend. I know it may sound pathetic for a man my age, but I've never had anyone being so kind and understanding with me. You, and Molly - I thank you both."

"You have nothing to thank us for - If you weren't a lovely person, neither of us would have bothered with you." with a playful wink, the bluenette chuckled charmingly and leaned back in her seat, ordering another caramel mocha.

"This Sherlock figure - He must be a lucky man." the girl couldn't help but arch an inquiring eyebrow. "Molly spoke about him... A lot." a lot...? Why would she... Oh! Oh... It was only then that it clicked to her - The man Molly has been having a crush on for YEARS and years on end; The gorgeous young man, a genius like no other, handsome, with a masculine jaw and lovely cheekbones, with sharp sky-like eyes and adorable dark curls - And quite possibly, the most dazzling smile in the world - Or so she said; That man... That man WAS Sherlock! And she probably didn't want to say his name, in case she'd make a fool of herself! Goodness - What a coincidence! "Said you'd just meet recently, and he's been praising you for how much you helped with the last case." Sherlock Holmes praised her? In front of the woman who has a massive crush on him? Poor Molly must have been devastated!

"He - He praised me? Truly? I - I'm flattered! That's not something I hear too often." she was surprised, very surprised. "I'm undeserving - Though yes, it was an insane case - Very, very scary, and I'd rather not go through something like that again. I almost died, you see - I was unnervingly close to death. I don't understand why I got entangled in this mess - I'm not smart like Sherlock, I'm just a little intuitive, if anything - So why... Well, I can't tell!" she took out her lace fan from her purse, making a little air for herself. Remembering that whole case and how close she was to death always seemed to make her feel a little suffocated. "I had a lot of fun unveiling the mystery, don't get me wrong - But I'd rather leave Sherlock to unmask the criminals. I don't like being in the line of fire like that."

"That must have been scary. I heard some rumours about it - People talk a lot around the office; And then there's Doctor Watson's blog detailing that case - A study in pink - He called it. The gun, and the two pills - I heard you played that game - How did you know which was the right one?" that nervous smile of hers stirred feelings inside his heart.

"I didn't." she whispered. "I thought the gun was a fake - I've never seen a gun before - So I asked if that was the true way out. The killer said yes, for the others, but not me, I had to play. That's why I thought - Maybe it's not the pills that are poisoned, but the water you had to take them with - So I waited to see if he took his pill with water, and my theory was half-confirmed. I took mine without water also - Bloody awful ordeal - And I was perfectly safe. Whether it was luck or not... I don't want to think about it too much." folding her fan, she tapped it softly to her lips, half-dissociating from reality as she remembered that night.

"That must have been horrible. I hope you're feeling a little better by now." he sounded sympathetic towards her; Before he could say more, however, the girl's phone rang, revealing a most interesting ringtone; The chorus of a Scorpions song, 'Still Loving you'. Fascinating taste in music. "Please, excuse me." she looked at the caller ID; It was an unknown number. "Hello, Sherlock. What is it?"

"How did you know it was me?" came the very man's amused voice. "I never gave you my number."

"You just did." the lady huffed with glee. "Nobody calls me - And I have all my acquaintances' numbers registered in this phone." she explained casually.

"Smart." he noted dully. "We have a date tonight." how could he say something so outrageous, with so much nonchalance?

"Say that again?" she was, in all senses of the word, flabbergast.

"Chinese circus. I'll pick you up at 7." came his explanation. She needn't any more details - This was clearly for a case. A most intriguing case.

"Are we faking, or should I take it as a proper date, then?" perhaps she wasn't even realising, James thought as he was the beautiful woman before him, but as she was speaking of the phone, her fingers were twirling around a velvety strand of blue hair, just like a lovestruck schoolgirl would, speaking with her crush. Fascinating how one's eyes could sparkle, and a smile can become so dazzling; A woman in love with emanating beauty and charm, just like a Goddess of the Sun.

"There's nothing to say it can't be both." he hung up, without allowing room for protest or a continued conversation; Katrina's cheeks were warm, and a huge pinker than usual.

He almost felt bad for interrupting, but he simply had to break her unknown reverie. Their shift was going to start soon, unfortunately for both of them. "Let me guess - Sherlock?" he smiled cheekily at her, almost like an elder brother teasing his little sister.

"Sound deduction, Special Detective M!" she exclaimed all of a sudden. "You won't try to steal our job, will you? First, a hacker, and now, a detective? Ha! What can you not do!"

James simply chuckled, shaking his head. Her theatrical replies amused him greatly. "I'm good, I'm good - I think I'm better at working in the shadows, anyway. I don't consider myself too much of a front guy."

"Oh~!" she made mysterious noises. "M, the Notorious Hacker of London, strikes again! What will he do next - Steal the Queen's Jewels?!"

"I rather like the sound of that - Just like my username! Has a nice ring to it!" he laughed at her silliness. "Perhaps I will do just that! I will stay on the throne, and then - You should see me in a crown!"

"Yes, yes, just that!" she encouraged his villainy. "Then - The Swiss Bank - It's the easiest; Book yourself and Molly a nice honeymoon trip abroad! Maybe the Maldives!"

"The Swiss Bank? You joke! That's too much for me, I'm just a small programming guy who wants to make a game -- I couldn't possibly have the skills for that!" the girl's smirk widened, yet said nothing. "No -- Really? You? Ha! You're far more dangerous than the Notorious Hacker M! Nobody would suspect you!"   "I'll let you figure that out on your own, James. We've got to go clock in soon." the man offered to pay, and before they split ways inside the building, he promised to hand her the USB with the game soon enough.

In the meantime, however, she couldn't help but think - How in the world could a Chinese Circus intertwine with a case worthy of the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes?

Since it was a Chinese Circus, Katrina thought she'd fit in; She had always appreciated the culture - Partially thanks to the introduction into Chinese Imperial dramas that opened this whole new and impressive world for her; In her mind, the hanfu was the prettiest outfit, and although she wouldn't dare wear it on the dirty and wet streets of London, she would be more than honoured to become a Chinese Princess, at least for one day, running through the gardens of the Forbidden City.

For this date, however, she'll choose something a little more tamed, yet still in theme; First, she styled her hair coquettishly yet still appropriate for her age, long and flowing with the wind, yet with some cute flowery accessories pinning two soft braids. She chose a long skirt, pink like a peony and tied tightly to her waist - It was delicately embroidered with the patterns of plum flower branches in blood. The blouse, white with bell sleeves and a small collar, was tucked neatly in the skirt - It, also, had soft petals embroidered across the hems. For once, she had no jewellery, and only sported a small pink purse filled with all necessities. She couldn't wear pot shoes with the troublesome cobbled streets, unfortunately - Though she had a perfect pair of pink and thick mary jane shoes that matched well with her white stockings.

As promised, come 7 o'clock, Katrina heard a knock on her door; She got up from the couch, and she answered. Sherlock was standing tall in front of her. It was the first time he peered into her apartment, and he couldn't help but analyse - He wanted to know more about this genetically successful specimen. 

"If you want to get a glimpse into who I am, how about you come in for a cup of tea? I am sure that would be enough time for you to analyse just about the whole place." she opened the door wider, welcoming him inside.

"Have I really gotten this obvious?" he asked, though he knew the answer. He sat down on the couch in the living room, and waited to be served tea. "Lovely place. Suits your tastes very well." indeed, you wouldn't say this apartment once was identical to his own - In fact, it hardly even looked British at all, were it not for certain elements that couldn't be so easily removed or changed.

"Thank you! I am very happy with this safe haven." she replied, smiling charmingly. "Mrs. Hudson also loves it - She's given me an offer to buy it. Said she'll only give me this offer - So I've been going out of my way to decorate it to my tastes... And save enough money to get the whole thing for myself."

"Great deal indeed." he muttered, straightening up back a little to get a better look at the place - Although, his eyes couldn't help but dart towards the lady who was humming along to the softly-playing melody from the background, and preparing the tea. Just like her outfit, the song was Chinese - Who knew she would be interested in the culture. What a scary coincidence!

"Do you know Chinese?" he found himself asking, watching as she carefully placed the tray on the table. The porcelain set was Chinese; White, and painted with pink flowers and gold. Manually, he deduced. Well painted, but still, not an expert. Did she do it herself?

"Yes, I've been learning it for the past few years." even more of a coincidence. "I can't say I'm an expert - I haven't dedicated my time entirely to learning it - But I think I'm at least around mid-level. I can hold a conversation well enough, comprehend phrases, and even understand and write some of the easier symbols."

"I see... That's useful." he hummed to himself, watching her slender fingers pour him tea with such grace, as if she was recreating the sacred tea ceremony. "What do you suppose is a book that everyone would have at home?"

"Lord of the Rings?" her joked earned a small exhale of amusement from the man, though he didn't deny it. "Back home, every household had two books - The Bible, and a Dictionary. Don't ask why - Take it as it is."

"Duly noted. Good insight, as always." he nodded to himself, leaning to grab the foreign tea cup. "Did you paint these yourself?"

"Oh, yes, I did! It was a lot of fun! I've seen this design in one of the dramas I watched, and I simply had to recreate it." her joy seemed to amp up immediately, he noticed. "I only use this set on special occasions though, it's very precious to me. Usually, we just use Lea's set. It's very cute and fancy - I'd say it has Versailles influences."

"Fascinating." yes, and not quite. He might appreciate art, but he couldn't say he was that much of a die-hard enthusiast. "What about the fan on the table? I suppose you're taking it with you? It matches your skirt."

"Well remarked - Yes, I also embroidered it - Just like with this outfit. I love embroidering. I'm not the best, I know, but I found it relaxes me. Mrs. Hudson saw me embroidering on the window pane one day, and that's how we got so close." he wasn't surprised a doctor with nimble fingers would be dexterous in other crafts also - One needn't create a masterpiece, you create quality products.

They didn't speak more, through the duration of them drinking tea; Normally, this was a time to be sociable, but he was far too lost into the ocean of information, to come up with word-riddle plays, a game of chess, create poems or even indulge in old-lady gossips.

An eccentric woman this one, even if she doesn't quite realise it herself; No wonder Donovan hates her. Few people would step on their normalcy, to indulge in their niche love for another culture, or anything that isn't quite the socially acceptable norm. Does that mean she's brave? Confident? Or simply that she's come to a point where she just wants to find her own happiness without caring for others' erronated opinions?

The whole place was impeccably clean, and tidy; There was nothing out of place, not a single thing. Very meticulous and attentive to details. The apartment was big, and had the stairway to upstairs - Who knows what kind of personal wonders are hiding up there also? All artefacts that would showcase her passions and love for whatever she's interested in.

There is one thing, however, that he noticed, and that is the lack of any family pictures, or anything to remind her of personal relationships she has - Most people have that, don't they? Anything to remind them of home? He could find, in his sight, nothing of the sort. That would correlate in a peculiar way with his own theory - That she is wallowing deep in loneliness. He's never had a problem with that - He doesn't find it a nuisance, in fact, he enjoys his personal space and the ability to be as quirky as he needs; But ordinary people are desperate for interhuman relations.

This impeccable specimen before him was wearing a passive smile, looking at him; Surely, she doesn't always carry herself with such grace, does she? She looked like a scroll painting depicting one of those tragic Four Beauties from the myths. They say, the more beautiful a woman, the more she suffers. What a silly fortune-telling. "Alright, Magnolia flower, shall we?" at once, Sherlock rose to his feet, offering his hand in a gentlemanly way. 

He played cheeky, Katrina thought, immediately smiling with joy; He called her magnolia flower - That was Hua Mulan's name. A most valiant beauty, known throughout history. If she didn't know better, she'd call him quite romantic! Or, perhaps he was hinting towards her tragic fate - That sounded more of a Moriarty route though.

"Much obliged, Zhang Heng." oh, the stellar look on his face! Katrina placed her hand over his own to raise to her feet, then left the house together, hooked to his arm. They passed as quite the lovely couple, she'd go as far as to say that, once they passed by a mirror.

Sherlock called a cab and opened the door for her, just like a gentleman would, and told the driver the location to this Circus. Katrina wondered what this circus was all about - Would it have acrobatics? Gymnastics? Traditional dances? Or some curious kind of entertainment she was unaware of?

She remained hooked to his arms as he guided her up the stairs, and into the building. At the booth, she spotted John with a lovely-looking lady. Was Sherlock's plan to crash John's date? Or was he trying to blend in and investigate without being suspected. John went to pay for his tickets, two, for him and his date; But Sherlock butted-in with an innocent smile. "I phoned back and got one for myself and my date as well." John's face screamed murder. "Hi. I'm Sherlock, and this is Raven, my date."'

"Hello! It's lovely meeting you!" the blue haired lady stood out a little too much, she realised, not that it would let her politeness waver.

"Erh... Hi! I'm Sarah." the two ladies shook hands. "Sorry, I'll be right back." she must have fled for the toilet.

"So... I know you're investigating a case, that much was obvious, but are you also going to tell me what's going on, or did you just take me as your trophy wife?" the serenity with which she spoke almost surprised the detective, yet he didn't hesitate to reply.

"We are here on a date, of course, I promised you that much." he spoke as a matter of factly. "Investigating the case is just entertainment for us. A bonus, if you will." "No, you're not here on a date, stop using Raven as an excuse to ruin my real date just for an investigation!" John immediately snapped at his flat mate. "It was the perfect opportunity." Sherlock answered plainly. "You couldn’t let me have just one night off?" the poor medic was exasperated. "Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England ... " so they've got a secret society and assassins from China. Should be fun. "Dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave!" came the veteran's exhaustion. "We’re looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place ... " the mystery thickens - Oh, how she'd have liked to have been able to have helped with the investigation from the very beginning! "Fine. You do that; I’m gonna take Sarah for a pint." John completely dismissed him. "I need your help." begrudgingly, Sherlock admitted. "You have Raven! She's more than capable of helping you in your blind chase! In fact - I'd say she's better than me! Now leave me alone!" poor John was at his wit's end. "I couldn't possibly - What if she messes her outfit? It would be a tragedy, John, have some empathy!" what a jokester, using her coquette style against his flatmate. "I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!" the detective didn't get it. "You are kidding."

"I don't think he is kidding, John. I don't think he understands." Raven smiled, showing pity to the poor man. "What - What are you two talking about? What’s so important? We've got to solve this case!" Holmes was frustrated with the lack of cooperation. "Sherlock, I’m right in the middle of a date. D’you want me to chase some killer while I’m trying to ..." John tried to explain, but without being so forthright with his intention.

"He wants to pursue Sarah in the future a little more in depth; Romantically, or more." Katrina tried to explain it as diplomatically as she could.

"For God's sake, John - We've got three dead bodies and a running criminal, and all you think about is to get off with--" seeing Sarah approaching, the blue haired lady wrapped her hands around Sherlock's arm, forcing him to shut up as she cuddled into his side.

"Sherlock, darling, I think the show is about to start soon - Shall we go take a look? Sarah's returned also." how inconspicuous, the detective noted, offering a wry smile followed by a nod as he guided her towards the room with the stageplay.

They approached the play, surrounded by candles on the ground. Everything was nicely decorated, and Chinese instrumental music played. "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is... Art." John didn't sound too happy about seeing art. Why though? She couldn't understand. "This is not their day job." the detective looked around, his keen eye scanning every inch of the chamber. "No, sorry, I forgot. They’re not a circus; they’re a gang of international smugglers." why in the world are they dealing with smugglers?! As the show began, a Chinese woman in her middle ages took the spotlight. She was wearing a red outfit reminiscent of a Qing dynasty Peking Opera, embellished with gorgeous jewellery; And even her make up was fantastic! "Her outfit is marvelous! I've always loved Peking Opera!" she watched with complete focus as the woman showed off a large arrow, and then stepped towards a veiled object about as large as her; She took the sheet off, revealing a huge crossbow-like mechanism decorated like a lion, or a serpent dragon. She gracefully placed the arrow in the mechanism, before taking a feather from her head ornament - And as soon as she placed it on the metal plate that activated the mechanism, the arrow was shot at incredible speed, lodging itself into the wooden wall in front. "How wonderful!" Sarah had also gasped in awe, looking at her date.

The assistant, a man wearing a typical male mask painted with the same Peking Opera allure, got chained, and put against the wooden wall. "Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock explained to them. The crossbow’s on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

The gong was hit once, startling Sarah enough to jump on her date; John seemed thrilled being so close to her; Sherlock looked at them with a certain boredom, then looked at the blue haired lady; She was clutching her embroidered fan, hiding that mesmerised smile of her. It seemed, seeing such rare art before her very eyes, got her quite euphoric. In spite of how easily startled she usual was, she hadn't flinched a bit from the sudden loud gong; And it was no surprise, coming from a Peking Opera enthusiast. Those were the perfect cues for the actors to perform certain moves. He was more intrigued whether or not she knew how to perform. The performer lady took a small dagger, showing it to the audience. "She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." she did just that. The audience watched the man struggle, and the weight descend swiftly towards the bowl. "Stay with John and Jean and make sure they're alright." the detective softly tapped his date's shoulder.

"You're leaving me to third-wheel their date?" she looked like a distraught kitten, looking up at him like that. "You can't just abandon our date - You have to take me with you. I already missed most of the investigation." she tried to convince him, but it was in vain.

"Not this time." he seemed very sure of himself. "I'll make it up to you." placing both hands on her shoulders, he turned her back towards the performance. "Don't mind me - Just enjoy yourself. I know you're into this." and he left without another trace.

Just as expected the escapologist just narrowly escaped; Nevertheless, a round of applause welcomed the performers. How fascinating! "Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider." as she walks away, a masked acrobat descends from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the broad red textile wrapped around his waist unravels. The audience applauds and he stops a couple of feet above the ground, holding his body parallel to the floor.  "Did you see that, Sarah?" John looked at his date, fascinated. "Yes, it was awesome!" Sarah replied back with just as much glee.

Katrina, however, was mute; She was far too busy enjoying the show to realise the black curtains at the very back of the chamber fluttering - Until Sherlock was thrown out, and a Chinese warrior right after, ready to annihilate him. John was the first to rush in and push the enemy off of his friend; Katrina followed soon after, hitting the man with a masterful kick to his mask; And Sarah came last, hitting him with some wooden sword or something. The enemy was on the ground, unconscious; Sherlock took off his shoe, revealing a lotus-like tattoo on his heel.

They didn't wait too long around - They grabbed each other and ran away, taking a cab towards the police station. There, they weren't greeted by Lestrade, but some inexperienced punk who didn't seem to have any clue what was going on. Katrina wasn't quite sure what the international smuggling operation meant, or who the people involved were - She was missing all the pieces of the puzzle; All she knew was that a precious item was stolen, and the Chinese troupe came to get it back - Problem was, no one had any clue what they were looking for.

Finally, they returned home to their flat, and stood straight in front of a wall filled with evidence. There was talk about a rendez-vous spot, and how the troupe won't leave without the stolen item retrieved; For once, Katrina felt as useless and out of place as any person who ever stays around the genius Sherlock Holmes, and has no insight into his brilliant brain. She felt awful.

Sarah was the first to speak up - She asked whether she should leave or not; Frankly, Katrina felt the same, she just didn't have the heart to voice it. Thanks to John, she remained, and agreed to order takeout. The medic went to grab something from the fridge - It was empty. In the meantime, Saraj was looking at the evidence board and felt compelled to make light conversation with the detective. "So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living." she found herself wondering. "Consulting detective." came Sherlock's mindless reply. "Oh. And you, Raven?" she tried again, hoping her fellow lady would be more talkative. "I'm a forensics doctor for the police. Part time hacker and blog runner." Katrina tried to make small talk, but was unallowed, for the detective reached for her wrist and pulled her to his side.

"Your talents are wasted on them." he grumbled. "You said you know some Chinese - Look at this. It's a Hangzhou dialect. A cipher. Any ideas?"

"It's Suzhou." the lady corrected him immediately as she bent a little to look at the pictures depicting yellow graffiti symbols. "It's Suzhou dialect. The term 'Hangzhou' was a misnomer of the time. All accord of the term being used, as far as I'm aware, have been corrected to 'Suzhou'." Sherlock turned his face up to look at her, quite flabbergast.

"Fascinating knowledge you have sometimes - But does it have any relevance in breaking the code?" 

"Nope." he could only groan. "I only know a few symbols - Like here, the single symbols on the paintings - That is the symbol for 1 and that is for 5. Together, they make a 15." the man nodded in agreement. "The numerals on the wall are the same - Two symbols put together and you make a whole number. But you don't need me to know Chinese - Your symbols have already been translated. Look at this -- 9 MILL -- Does that mean anything to you? Does it stand for... 9 million in some currency? Chinese people use the Yuan and the Dollar for international commerce."

Sherlock immediately shot up to his feet, yelling for John and pushing the photograph into his face. "John, look at this. Soo Lin at the museum – She started to translate the code for us. We didn’t see it! “NINE,” “MILL.”  Nine million quid. For what? We need to know the end of this sentence." he hurried to put on his coat. "Where are you going?" the medic asked, frowning in confusion. "To the museum; to the restoration room. Oh, we must have been staring right at it!" Sherlock was already almost half-way out of the door. "The book, John. The book – The key to cracking the cipher! Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk." just before he rushed out, the lady called out his name.

"Sherlock!" she cried. "Wait!" this time, in spite of her soft voice, he did hear her, and stop, albeit a little impatiently.

"I don't have time right now, and I can't take you with me. It's too dangerous. Just stay here with John and Linda. I promised I'll make it up to you." though he tried to leave, the girl gripped the sleeve of his coat. "What is it?!"

"Sherlock, listen to me!" her gorgeous eyes looked up into his own, as if pleading to be heard. "You asked me two questions today - If I knew Chinese, and about that book - We already figured out the code, but what's it applied to? A book. What book? The most common book that could be in London, right? A London guide of sorts, a dictionary, something like that - It wouldn't stand out to anyone who'd see it. It's completely natural and harmless. So, perhaps, every number corresponds to a page number, a paragraph, a specific word -- You can't go there and search blindly, while you're being hunted down by professional assassins - At least know what you're looking for, find it, and then get out of there quickly before you get hurt."

"You're worried about me?" he found himself smiling almost tenderly at the lovely lady before him.

"Of course I am!" she exclaimed without the least bit of hesitation.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." he reassured, kissing the top of her head once again. "You've given me all the information I needed to narrow my search. I'll be quick." and thus, he bolted out of there, searching for a cab. What a brilliant young woman.

Katrina was a little lost in her reverie while Sarah ordered takeout - While the two were chatting, however, the doctress had a frightening eureka. Those people were professional assassins, and Sherlock Holmes just thwarted their plans. Surely, they'd want the enemy eliminated, yes? So... What was to say... They weren't already going for their flat? In a panic, Katrina went outside; There were still a few people around, but not much. She quickly dialed Sherlock's number. "I'm busy, make it quick."

"I think we're in danger." the line was silent. "I just realised - These guys aren't just ordinary smugglers right? They're the Chinese Mafia. They're among the best when it comes to silent assassinations, aren't they?"

"Just stick to John and Martha. I'll be back soon." he reassured her briefly. "Call Lestrade if you're anxious." Before the lady could answer back, however, a tall bulky man wearing black clothes and a hoodie spoke to her from behind, making her yelp loudly. "Raven? What is it?"

"Th-There's this creepy Chinese guy who's asking me if I have it - I think he's referring to the thing that was stolen from them, right?" she gulped, making small backward steps. "Wh-What do I do? Quick, What do I do?" her legs were trembling violently like two flowers in the breeze. "Sherlock, I am terrified." her whispery tone, completely petrified, sent a shiver down his spine.

"RUN!" 

His command came in vain - Before she could even react and sprint away, the enemy lunged her way, grabbing her by her long flowing hair, punching her to the ground; Her phone fell to the ground, but Sherlock could still hear her cries of pain and alarm - Nobody came to her aid, not even when she was on the ground, with an assailant choking her to death. Soon, her mind slipped away, and darkness veiled her vision and consciousness entirely.

But before I could do anything, the man attacked me, making my phone fall from my hand and holding me in a choke hold as I struggled and struggled to breathe, but to no avail. Sooner than later, I could feel my mind slipping away at a rapid pace and darkness soon veiled over my whole consciousness.

Once she finally awoke, she was painfully bound to a chair next to John and Sarah. Just as she expected, the criminals burst into Sherlock's flat and took them hostage. Neither of the three even dared to speak to each other for they were far too frightened.

The woman performer from the show spoke in the same melodic voice as before, though now, it made the hair on the back of their necks stand up. "A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket. Chinese proverb, Mr Holmes." Holmes...? Was she mistaking John for Sherlock? John tried to explain himself, but it was for naught. "Forgive me if I do not take your word for it. Debit card, name of S. Holmes." "Yes; that’s not actually mine. He lent that to me." they were so doomed.  "A cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes." she continued voicing her reasons behind believing John was actually Sherlock. "Yeah, he gave me that to look after." their only real saviour would be the very man's genius, or him tracking her phone down - Again. "Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes." they were in deep trouble. "Yes, okay ... I realise what this looks like, but I’m not him." no one was going to believe such an unconvincing man. "We heard it from your own mouth." oh, damn his sarcasm! “I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compare to my massive intellect.” it would have been hilarious, were they not in such a precarious situation. John soon realised any attempt at persuading the woman were completely hopeless. "Did I really say that? I s’ppose there’s no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression."

Before he could finish the sentence, the woman rose a small pistol and pointed it at his head, making John cringe away from it, blowing out a panicked breath and in turn, making the woman grin. She loved tormenting her victims... What a sadist. "I am Shan." that name spoke nothing to the girl, though John seemed to have heard that name before. "Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" she cocked her gun, and with a very long tension moment, she pulled the trigger -- Thankfully revealing it to be a blank. This scenario was a million times scarier than the cabbie from before. Kat was so scared, she wanted to cry - She was good at thinking under stress, but she had no clue how to escape a Chinese gang pointing their firearms at them! "It tell you that they're not really trying." Shan continued her terrifying speech. "If we wanted to kill you, Mr Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?" she cocked her gun again, warning them this one wasn't a blank anymore. "Do I have what?" John asked, completely clueless. This case, once again, quite eluded him in many ways. "The treasure." Shan specified, approaching the barrel of the gun to the army vet. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." poor John was trying to struggle against the restraints, but it was no use. Nothing worked.

"The treasure...? John - The man who attacked me asked me the same thing. Is it about the 9 million thing? Is that what they were searching for?" Katrina asked, hoping he would know more - Alas...

"Ah, Miss Black, what a delight. A sight for sore eyes, just like my client suggested." Shan's comment made Katrina's head shoot up with revelation.

"Your client - Moriarty?!" the Chinese woman smiled sardonically.

"And as clever as expected." her henchman stomped to the victims' side, and took the blue haired lady up by the chair - Shan took the sheet off the ceremonial crossbow, and Katrina was placed in front of it. Great. She's in danger again. When will this end? Hopefully not with her life. "Everything in the West has its price... And the price for her life... Information." Shan turned back to John, threatening him. "After you, Miss Black, if your beloved doesn't tell us where the treasure is, that one is going to die next, facing the same execution." she pointed towards the terrified Sarah.  

Faced with such imminent danger, Katrina would do incredibly poor; She was panicking and thinking irrationally, or rather, not at all. How could she think of a way out, when she can't balance her chair to the side and escape the arrow, she can't undo the ties, and there's no one to save her? It is an equation with no solution! Only Deus Ex Machina could save her.

Shan continued her interrogation of poor frantic John - The treasure was revealed to be a hairpin. "The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr Holmes, have been searching." if Sherlock didn't tell her what the case was all about, Shan summarised it perfectly well. "Please. Please, listen to me. I’m not ... I’m not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for." John was getting desperate, and rightfully so. There was no getting through with Shan. "I need a volunteer from the audience!" the medic was begging her to stop this execution. "Ah, thank you, lady! Yes, you’ll do very nicely." she pointed towards the bluenette, before stabbing the sand bag - The victim trio were watching the sand swiftly fall into the metal bowl of the crossbow. "Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes’ pretty companion in a death-defying act." As John tried to plead for everyone's lives, trying to make the woman understand he wasn't actually Sherlock, she only ignored his words and put a black origami on Katrina's lap; It was a black lotus, masterfully done; But the doctress had no time to analyse the pretty origami - She was close to death... And quite the gruesome death. To think she wanted to be pretty on her death day...

"You’ve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." Shan taunted the blue haired woman.

"I’m not Sherlock Holmes!" John's voice boomed loudly through the echoing underground, but no one reacted. "I don’t believe you!" Shan snapped at the veteran. "You should, you know!" unexpectedly, Sherlock's voice resounded from somewhere behind Katrina. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."

"Sherlock!" she cried out for the first time since she'd been abducted. "Sherlock, please, hurry!" Shan rose her pistol, cocked it and aimed it towards him. He immediately dodged to the side of the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows, making one of Shan’s thugs start to hurry toward the end of the tunnel. "How would you describe me, Raven? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Dramatic!" the terrified bluenette wailed. "And incredibly late!"   "That’s a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second." Sherlock spoke to her, at the same time he knocked out one of the thugs. "Well?" Shan still kept her pistol aimed that-a-way.

"Well -" he hit another henchman over the head with a crowbar. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." out of nowhere, Sherlock kicked away a dumpster-fire, distracting Shan whilst he lunged to untie the damsel in distress. She could feel his warm fingers touching her own - Every touch on her skin gave her hope, it gave her vitality - Though every glimpse towards that descending weight quickly erased any of that. Unbeknownst to her, a henchman took Sherlock by surprise - He looped a long red textile around the detective's throat and joints multiple times, wrestling him away from the chair, from rescuing the victim. Katrina couldn't see the struggle behind her, only hear Holmes' pained grunts and groans of struggle, fighting off the enemy. "Sherlock, please...!" she couldn't look anymore - She didn't want to see the arrow shooting off and piercing through her skull. That was too macabre to even think about. Instead, she hung her head down, letting the tears fall down her cheeks in river.

With her eyes closed, she couldn't see that John managed to get up, struggling with his chair, and kicked the crossbow trajectory elsewhere; Sherlock, also, headbutt the criminal and, with his pocket knife, swiftly cut off her restraints, jumped forwards, dragging her off the chair, and onto the ground. The arrow shot the criminal in the chest, killing him instantly.

Katrina could feel two strong arms embracing her tightly; She was pressed against his chest, shielded and protected. Sherlock, her hero, saved her once again. 

To think she'd be trembling and weeping so much - The detective was looking down at the girl he was holding so dearly, how she was practically nestled like a kitten in his pocket, how she was clinging to him, but couldn't calm down, even knowing she was safe? Normal people, faced with such imminent death, with close calls - They're so pitiful.

"There should be Five Beauties in China, instead of four." it took some straining from the girl to actually hear what he was saying. "You're safe now." his hands found their way cupping her cheeks, wiping away her rolling crystal tears. "I've got you. You're safe." the most response she managed was a nod of her head. He noticed the evident prints of the assailant's hands around her neck, and the burns on her wrists caused by the rope - But he doubted she would be worried about that, above all. "What kind of monster would dirty a lady's outfit?!" he gasped theatrically, knowing it would do the trick.

"THEY DID WHAT?!" as expected, Katrina's head shot up, and Sherlock could see her shocked expression, it was almost comical. She almost had a most grotesque death, and she's worried about her outfit. What a fascinating specimen. "They are quality textiles - This dirt will be horror to clean off! Oh, that Moriarty owes me a new outfit!"

"Moriarty - Again?" Holmes sombered immediately.

"Yes... Shan said Moriarty was her client. We would have been targeted regardless of the hairpin problem." Katrina finally found her words again.

"Things are getting more complicated." the man hummed to himself. "Can you stand up?" she shook her head. Poor darling was still trembling hard. "I'll help you out, come on." he dragged her up, but didn't account for her weakened state - Katrina collapsed in his arms, fully lax, as soon as she was standing up.

"Sorry, I... I really... Can't feel my legs." she muttered softly.

"Well - A damsel in distress deserved the proper treatment, I suppose. Can't bypass the British gentleman chivalry -- That is what you said, didn't you?" in one swift move, Katrina was, once again, being carried like a princess by the cheeky detective. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you quite enjoyed this."

"I do like it." her honesty was bewildering to the detective - Such genuine yet heartfelt honesty... For some reason, he found it endearing. He couldn't stand Molly's evident crush on him - Exploitable, but for the most part, mundane, irrelevant and borderline annoying. Katrina's kindness, however, felt... Different. He found it... Acceptable. Well, more than acceptable, actually. "I'd just rather not have to go through an incident that thrown me an inch away from my death. I don't think my heart can take this much."

"Well - I promised I'd make it up to you for that failed date, didn't I?" he had a half-smile on his face. "I'll try to downgrade the death chances, and up the ordinary. So - A coffee, perhaps?"

"Yeah, coffee sounds amazing. I know a nice to-go place next to this park." finally, her smile was back, albeit, still wavery and uneasy.

"We can do that." his voice remained calm, soothing even. 

They soon returned back to their flat after briefly speaking to the police and the newbie detective. Katrina, in spite of her exhaustion, needed to take a long bubble bath and scrub away the disgust from her body; She needed to relax somehow, to wipe away her fears and anxieties. She'd been through enough - She deserved a break already.

Still, after performing the self-care routine with all of its steps, she finally flopped on her fluffy bed, opening her laptop to watch some movie and pass out. Sometime through the middle of the movie, she heard her phone buzzing twice. She received two messages - One from James, and the other... From an unknown number called M. Moriarty. In a flash, she took a screenshot of the lockscreen, capturing both messages in the same picture, before finally reading them both properly.

"Hello, Raven! Sorry for disturbing at this hour, but I needed some advice. I don't really have many friends, so if it's okay with you, can we meet up for a warm drink and walk through the park? Heard the weather's going to be lovely tomorrow at noon. I'll bring the game USB stick for testing also. - Jim from I.T. "

Moriarty's message, however, sounded quite different - And in a rather teasing, playful manner.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game of Fan-Tan. Next time, let's make it less dangerous, and more fun. After all, I wouldn't want the little black bird to bring her own death before we get to meet and play The Game - M "

They already started playing the game, Katrina thought to herself, all fear vanished as she plugged in her hacking devices and began tracking down the mysterious Moriarty, her #1 fan.

Oh, Mr. Moriarty, I am more than eager to play this little game of Tag with you~.

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