Rose walked along the streets of London deep in thought. She had been stuck in this universe for all of three years with no way to get back. She was lucky this time, having made connections before crossing over. Immediately after she arrived through the rift she met a Mr. Mycroft Holmes who provided her with an identity in exchange for some advanced technology. So Rose travelled back and forth across the bridge. Working for Mycroft and visiting home. Months went by with no problems at all.

Then the rift started to grow. It became very clear if they didn't find a way to close it, they would rip both universes apart. The final decision had been made. They couldn't risk another trip. Rose would have to stay forever in a universe where she didn't belong. Mycroft had been surprisingly helpful in easing her into a new life there. Allowing her to continue to work for him and finding her a flat. His generosity made her suspicious. She had read the works of Doyle and according to the books, Mycroft was anything but generous. Still she couldn't afford to turn down help, even from him…especially from him. So it happened three years later, Rose Tyler walked the streets alone.

Rose thought about Mycroft. How he still hadn't done anything worthy or suspicion. In fact they had become rather close over the years. Well as close as you can be with a Holmes. Today for her birthday he had taken her to a concert featuring the works of Chopin, her favorite composer. Of course it wasn't exactly just for her. His parents were in town and he made arrangements for all of them to go together. She laughed at the memory of him begging her to go. You know how ordinary my parents are, Rose I'll never survive it. But still he could've chosen any production, yet he chose one for her. Rose often thought or herself as Mycroft's Dr. Watson.

She continued her walk enjoying the solitude when suddenly…

BAM!

Rose flew forward bracing herself on the wall to keep from falling. She turned around to see the man who had so rudely shoved her. Then she noticed it. Her mobile was missing. The idiot had pick-pocketed her. She turned and sprinted, following him.

He was fast, but years of running with the doctor and then Torchwood had made her quick. There was no way anyone was getting that phone. Realizing she was never going to catch up with him, she started trying to think of some way to stop him. Her sonic. If she could just…bullocks she left it at home! Ok gun it is then. She thought grimly. She hated using her gun. Pulling it out she waited till he neared a street light. Bingo! Bingo? Nope never saying that again…

Bang!

Rose watched the lamp drop from its holder and onto his head rendering him unconscious. Running over to the unfortunate man she checked to make sure he was ok. Steady pulse, no sign of any skull fractures. He seemed fine. Grabbing her phone she checked for any damage or tampering. Everything seemed in order. Finally, she called Lestrade and informed him there was a man unconscious on the curb waiting to be arrested for robbery.

After everything was settled she gave in to the feeling that someone was watching her. She had been trying to ignore it but it hadn't gone away and she figured now was as good a time as any.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" She yelled out staring straight up into the sky.

Sherlock had been wandering the streets after a particularly ugly spat with his blogger, when he spotted woman running. She was chasing something, or rather someone. His curiosity quickly got the bett of him and he decided he best follow them. After all she might be in trouble. She was surprisingly fast which didn't help in his pursuit. Finally he decided a shortcut wasn't above him so he cut off on the next ally where he waited to stop the man who had clearly stolen something.

The detective smirked when he saw he had predicted right. Getting ready to take him down he saw the woman had a gun and to his bewilderment she wasn't pointing it at the robber. She instead pointed it above him. What? She fired shooting off the wired that held the street lamp in place. He watched as the miscreant fell to the floor unconscious. Oh she's clever! He smiled to himself. He was trying to figure out whether he should make his presence known but dismissed the idea settling instead on watching to see what she would do.

He was astounded to find the first thing she did when she caught up with him was to search him for any injuries, checking his pulse and pupils. Why should she care if he was alright? Then she snatched a mobile which he assumed was hers. And dialed a number.

"Greg? Hey listen, I was just robbed…" He could tell she'd been cut off. "No, No I'm fine."

She paused again.'

"Gregory Lestrade! I swear to you I am perfectly fine!" She almost yelled into her phone. Wait Lestrade? How does she know Lestrade? His curiosity was growing by the second.

"I know it's not your division but I was hoping you could just get someone to pick him up. He's waiting oh so patiently after all." She said sweetly looking down at the poor man smirk on her face.

"Thank you sweet cheeks!" She said grinning. "I'll be in to fill out paper work tomorrow, is that okay? Awesome, thanks. Goodnight."

Then she did something he had not expected.

"Come out, come out wherever you are." She couldn't possibly have seen him. He had been extremely careful, taken every precaution to stay hidden. He watching as she once again took out her gun and pointed directly at him. Shocked, he stood up, hands in the air.

"Oh it's you." She sounded almost bored.

"Who exactly did you think I would be?"

"Not someone familiar.

"You know me, yet I don't know you. Tell me how."

"Spoilers."

Sherlock was slightly taken back by her answer. Or maybe it was the unacceptably distracting smile that came with it. He looked her over. Soldier, no MI-5, no, MI-6, no. Her posture suggested some kind of military training, but her demeanor said another thing. Not to mention the way she had avoided shooting the robber and opted to knock him out instead. NA. Law enforcement? No she was much too composed for that. She knew Lestrade…

"How are those deductions coming?" She said with a small smirk.

Sherlock gave up her profession and moved on. Mid-late 20s, honey brown hair. Previously bleached regularly. He couldn't see much else. He couldn't place her accent or mannerisms. Why was she smiling at him? And did it really have to be that smile? He groaned. Comfortable clothing, not too high maintenance. Definitely clever.

"Well I had a great time tonight. Let's not wait to do it again." She turned to leave. "Accept maybe next time you could help out a bit, yeah?" Then a wink and she was gone.

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AN: So all of my stories are some kind of crossover but I'm not someone who browses that section so I just set them in whatever category is most relevant. I am in the process of writing another story, which I haven't stopped, I just need something to switch to when I get writer's block. Thanks for reading. Please Review!