Disclaimer:This is my first attempt at a Holmes fic. Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson et. al. are not mine, they belong to that wonderful writer Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Please, please please tell me what you think. I always love suggestions and encouragment. I hope to post the rest of it soon! Read and enjoy!

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The Irregulars


The last bass chord echoed in the speakers as the crowd went wild. Lead vocalist Lorelei Moriarty waved and bowed while the rest of the band, James Mortimer on guitar, Alexander Holmes on bass, and me, Solei Watson, on drums, waited for Lorelei to stop bantering with the crowd.

Lorelei declared that our set was over but that we'd be back in a half-hour. The crowd cheered again and dispersed over the lawn. We were playing at our university's back to school party. I thought that going back to school was a weird thing to celebrate. But, we are a weird group, or as James described us "irregular", hence the name.

But that's all beside the point. The point was the set was over, and Holmes and I went and sat away from the crowd and the speakers.

"Not bad." Said Alex, "Not bad at all."

"Considering we've barely practiced together lately." I chuckled, "That was fantastic."

"Which reminds me, we really haven't been properly introduced. Alex Holmes," He made a face, "I hate the name Alex, just call me Holmes."

I laughed, "I know what you mean. Solei Watson." I shook his hand. "Just wait until people hear, Moriarty, Holmes, and Watson playing in the same band. They'll be sure we're using fake names."

Holmes chuckled. "I was obsessed with those books when I was a kid." He turned and looked me up and down. "For example, I can tell that you are American, an athlete, probably in basketball, but you quit, and now you are a excellent student with bad handwriting who is right handed."

"That's incredible!" I exclaimed right before I realized that I'd said the exact same thing Watson always said in the stories. "Okay, I know how you got American, right-handed, and athlete. But the rest of it, how did you know?"

Holmes shrugged, "You have calluses on your hand from the basketball, but they are starting to heal. From the ink stains on you hand, you write a lot, and most people use a computer for everything except notes. And you're in pre-med right?" I nodded. "All doctors have bad handwriting."

I was just about to say 'That's amazing, Holmes!' but caught myself in time. "That's just freaky." I said.

Being the newbie in the band was an interesting experience. My mom dragged me across the Atlantic a couple of years ago when she dumped my dad's sorry ass. Lorelei and I went to high school together, so when The Irregulars lost their drummer, I was nominated to replace him. I was still getting to know Holmes and James. James was hyperactive, chatty, and incredibly fun to be around. Holmes was, well Holmes. Quiet and brooding, he rarely spoke, and had the weirdest hobbies. For example, no one would be his roommate because he kept this giant chemistry set in his room and was always cooking up something. He set off the fire alarm five times in one semester.

We were pretty good, considering we'd practiced together, like never before this gig. I liked these guys a lot, but James was starting to get on my nerves, in a little brother sort of way. He kept going on about the Sherlock Holmes stories and our last names, he swore there was a Mortimer in a Holmes story and that he was going to find him. I tried arguing with him all the way to the van, but he did have a point. Moriarty and Holmes weren't common names, and now they had a Watson to complete the set.

"You sir, are an idiot." I told him while I was loading the speakers up. I loved that van. It looked exactly as a punk rock band's van should, complete with our name spray painted across the back. By the time we left the party, it was well after midnight, and I just wanted to get to sleep after a hard night's partying.

I walked over to Lorelei, who was shoving some stuff off the driver's seat. "We ready?"

"I think so." Holmes answered me as he came around the front of the van. Moriarty was saying something about our next gig when the sound of someone peeling out caught my attention. I always hated those guys, they thought they were so cool cause they could make some stupid noise. Anyway, I looked around and saw a car coming straight for us with its lights off.

Before this all registered in my head, someone stuck their head out the window. Holmes tackled me before I could realize that person was holding a gun. The car pulled up next to the van and fired seven shots. I dunno how I knew there were seven, but some part of my brain counted.

The car spun its wheels for a split second and showered us with gravel. By the time it had spun around the nearest corner, only fifteen seconds had passed.

Holmes and I scrambled to our feet, shaken. The first thing I saw was the bullet holes that riddled the sides of the van. The next thing was Lorelei's body slumped over the steering wheel.

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Until next time, please review! .·´¨`·»¦«·Kerowyn ·»¦«·´¨`·.