Greetings fellow readers and authors. Well I just curious with this idea and it turned into a story. Plus I've always wanted to know what the great Sherlock Holmes would do if he had to work with a woman for a long that isn't Irene Adler. My Sherlock is based off of the late Jeremy Brett (man he was awesome!) I'm trying to be true with dates and cases as I can with causing any major upsets. Feedback is welcome but NO SPAMMERS (I've had a big problem with that with another story). Anyway I'll shut up now and let you read. Enjoy!

CH 1: The Female Detective

The body wasn't gruesome but the scene around it was. Everything was a mess, ranging from the shattered vases, ruffled carpets, and scattered pieces of paper. The victim had been shot three times in the chest. Death had occurred sometime in the early morning. Khristen Leger looked down at the carpets surrounding the body. She found three sets of footprints. She told the other investigators to stay away from the crime scene while she worked. She hated being disturbed in her work, especially by amateurs. For most of her life, Khristen trained her eyes and mind in what the police called a "detective agency." She was considered a vigilante but was surprised at how many times the police came to her.

"Two women were here." She stated. She pointed to one foot print then other one. "Two sets of heels of different sizes. One heel is smaller, indicating that she has more of an arch in her foot. The other impression is bigger indicating that she is more of a flat foot." She showed the trail of footprints and easily explained the order of events just form the angles of the shoes.

"Thank you for your help detective." One investigator said sarcastically to her as she left.

***

Khristen sighed in slight boredom while walking down the alley. After looking at the papers it was quite obvious that a former client of the victim was taking revenge for dealings gone bad. She pulled the hair tie tighter on her long brown ponytail. For all this technology in the year 2258 people were still needed to investigate crime. Khristen hated the police at times because they never got the full picture of the crime. Even with her advice they would catch the girls for at least two weeks, trying to find the evidence to support her facts. No plane tickets had been present and the man's car and keys were missing. It was a road trip for them.

***

Three weeks later

The police finally found the two girls. She was surprised they took this long to get a result. They obviously searched for one woman first. Caused by someone either overlook or ignore her advice. She had to laugh. She went on alert when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't turn to stop because that would alert the intruder. She just kept on her usual late night stroll.

Her body tensed when the footsteps turned into a run. She waited three seconds then turned to deliver a blow to the gut. The intruder dived out of the way and grabbed her wrist, put a metallic bracelet on it, and grabbed her form behind. She struggled in his grasp for several seconds, until he started to drag her toward a carriage. Carriage! Wait a sec how the heck did that get there! He went to get something out of his pocket when she grabbed his free wrist and twisted his arm behind her back. He gave a grunt as his face slammed into a brick wall. Khristen was suddenly smacked on the side of the face with a wooden stick. She let out a quiet growl and snatched the cane out of his hand.

Reacting quickly she swung the stick and hit the other attacked in the chest causing it to snap. She was pushed off balance and fell back onto the street as her kidnapper pushed away from the building. Giving a sneer as she saw the approach of a glinting knife, she hurried to her feet.

"Oh the Professor will be glad to have you." The attacker said in a deep voice. His face was still hidden in the shadows. She ducked several times and the swings of the knife. Making an unexpected turn the blade connected with her hand, slicing through her knuckles very deep. She only caused more cuts by grabbing the knife with her palm. She grunted in pain as the blade slice through her palm.

She managed to secure his wrist and sent her clean palm into her face, causing him to stumble backward. Finally, the man ran past her and into the carriage, which quickly drove out of sight. She looked at the unconscious man. Grabbing him by the collar, she shook him awake.

"Where am I?" She growled.

"London, England 1889." The man stated. She stared at him amazed but quickly regained her focus. The man struggled to get free. After getting some directions for the address on the card she found in his coat pocket. She knocked him out cold. She gave a chuckle reading the address again. She put her hair in a bun and put on the man's hat to disguise it She casually tried to find her way to 221B Baker street.

P.S. I don't own Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, or Professor Moriarty or any other characters. They all belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Khristen Leger is mine (I can say that right?)