Hey guys. Welcome to my new Sherlock/Rebecca fanfic.

For those of you that have not already read my first two fics this one is the prequel to The Laws of Familiarity and tells the story of how Sherlock Holmes and Rebecca Francis first met.

If you have not read my other fics don't worry as it is fine to start from this as no other info is really required.

All you really have to know is that this fic is set in 2006 and that Sherlock has not yet met John.

Oh and for those who have read my previous fics then they might notice that this chapter has already featured as a flashback.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this story. Leave me a review if you do.


Rebecca was late.

Her first new client since starting her job at Emmett & Spinkley Lawyers Co. and she was running fifteen minutes late.

First she had got caught in the rain, and then there had been severe delays on the tube.

Now she ran through Greater London in the pouring rain, attempting to juggle her umbrella, her briefcase and an overpriced cup of coffee.

Oh how she hated London...

Her parents had emigrated to Australia at the beginning of the year, leaving Rebecca alone with nothing but her little puppy Toby and a worrying amount of student debt. Having done both a degree in politics then later in law she had been snapped up by Emmett & Spinkley as soon as they'd interviewed her...

But on a day like today she wondered why she'd ever chosen to stay here in London at all.

She was 24, she had no friends, no family close by...and if she lost that client she doubted she would even have a job either.

Running across the rainy street towards her meeting place, Rebecca groaned as she stepped into a deep puddle and water flooded over her new suede high-heels.

There was no way this day could get any worse...

"Just great," she muttered staring down at her ruined shoes.

The young lawyer made to turn and walk into the high office building before her, but as she did so she bumped into a tall, dark-haired figure, sending the coffee that she was holding flying into the air.

Rebecca watched in a horrified slow motion as the lid from the cup flew off and the dark brown liquid came teeming down all over her crisp white blouse.

"You idiot!" she cried angrily staring up at the man before her, whose brow suddenly furrowed.

He was no more than a couple of years older than Rebecca herself with a mop of short dark hair and a long tailored coat.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. She knew that she was more in the wrong than he was, but he could at least give her an apology.

But there came no reply from the dark-haired man's lips.

Rebecca huffed staring down at her blouse and shoes sadly. They were both ruined. Her client would never agree to see her looking like this.

It was just so... unprofessional.

"Out of my way," she said, brushing past the man who had bumped her and flouncing into the building through the revolving doors.

A moment later she was standing at the reception desk her head held high, but the coffee stain only soaking deeper and deeper into her blouse.

"Hello," said a blonde receptionist, eyeing Rebecca's ruined garment with distaste. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm here to see...um..." the young lawyer began rifling through her briefcase for the sheet of paper with her client's name written upon it.

Finally pulling the document from her case she was horrified to find that some of the coffee had soaked through into her briefcase and half of the name was now obscured by a large brown smudge.

She looked up uneasily at the pouting receptionist, but as she did so a shadow appeared over her shoulder and Rebecca turned, to see the dark-haired man from outside, standing right behind her.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked rudely, giving him a sharp frown.

The man stared at Rebecca blankly. "You dropped these," he muttered holding up a set of keys with a silver dog keychain attached to it.

Rebecca' eyes widened and she snatched the keys from the man's' grasp.

Well at least the idiot had done one good thing today.

Losing those keys could have made this day the worst of her life.

"Thanks," she muttered brusquely, turning back to the desk.

But the man remained close behind her.

Rebecca turned to face him again.

"Was there anything else?" she said raising her eyebrows.

"No, though I don't believe it is a crime to stand in line," he said in a low voice, giving Rebecca a forced and very much fake smile.

Rebecca frowned and meant to make a retort about personal space, but before she could do so there was a loud 'ahem' from behind the desk.

Rebecca turned back around, forcing her own smile. "Yes," she said glancing down at the paper in her hands. "I'm here to see a Mr Mycroft Ho- Holt?"

Rebecca saw the receptionist roll her eyes before turning to the computer.

Rebecca bit her lip, the presence of the man close behind her was so distracting.

"He left ten minutes ago," said the receptionist suddenly turning back to face Rebecca. "You were late."

Rebecca froze a little shell-shocked.

She had lost her first client. She was sure to be fired for this...

"Is there a chance-" started Rebecca but the receptionist cut across her brusquely.

"I'm afraid he's a very busy man and has no patience for time-wasters," said the snooty blonde.

Rebecca let out a slow nod and a quiet sigh.

She turned, pushing past the dark-haired man, who the receptionist immediately addressed.

"Ah Mr Holmes, I'm afraid he's in a meeting," she said in a much more cheery and alluring voice.

Rebecca made to turn away, walk back out into the rain in her sopping wet shoes and stained clothes, but a figure suddenly stepped in front of her.

"Leave me alone," said Rebecca staring up at the man the receptionist had called Holmes, who gazed back at her with such intensity.

He didn't speak but simply remained in Rebecca's way, blocking her exit.

"What's your problem?" she said bluntly, shoving past him, her shoulder meeting solidly with his arm.

When she was only a couple of feet away the man suddenly spoke, his voice deep and engaging.

"I need a lawyer," he said purposefully as Rebecca stopped in her tracks.

She swung slowly around to face him.

"H-How did you know I was a lawyer?" she said with a frown, staring up at this strange man.

"I have cases, they won't be too difficult for you to write up I'm sure. I often work alongside the police so as long as you follow the standard format then I don't that there should be a problem," he muttered, rifling through his pockets.

Rebecca gaped as the tall man handed her his card. "Sherlock Holmes," he said confidently.

Rebecca studied the small card with interest.

"Consulting detective?" she said raising an eyebrow.

The man named Sherlock suddenly looked at her with a frown. "Problem?" he said quickly, brushing past her. "Give me a call and we can set up a further meeting. Actually make it a text."

Rebecca swung around and made to go after him.

"Wait," she cried, tottering behind him as he made his way to the doors. "How did you know that I was a lawyer?"

Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks swinging around to face her. At this Rebecca stepped back nervously.

He was a looming spectre and his eyes bored into hers.

"Oh I know a lot more than that Miss Francis," he said with a smirk, his eyes glinting, before he turned on his heel once again and made his wait through the revolving doors.

Rebecca gaped. How had he known...?

"Wait up!" shouted Rebecca, following him hurriedly out of the doors and back onto the rainy street, forgetting all about the closed umbrella in her hand.

She ran towards the slowly retreating Sherlock, grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face her.

"Who are you? How did you know my name?" she asked her eyes wide, searching consulting detective's blank face.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, before finally answering. "The notepaper you'd written your client's name on...it was headed Rebecca Francis. Probably a gift when you began your work for Emmett & Spinkley, as was the briefcase," he said pointing down toward the briefcase Rebecca held. Emmett & Spinkley's gold emblem stamped upon it.

"Its new, so you've haven't worked there long. Perhaps a month," continued Sherlock. "The urgency in your voice when you found out that your client had left means that he was important to you. Probably you're first. So you were nervous...late."

He paused, his eyes roving over Rebecca's appearance. "You're twenty-four, young but very well educated. Oxford most likely. Your parents are well off, but you're in debt. You won't go to them for money. So you're stubborn and proud," he muttered, his eyes shining.

Rebecca stepped back a little shell-shocked. Who was this man?

"What the hell are you some kind of psychic?" Rebecca demanded almost stomping her foot. Maybe she was stubborn after all...

Sherlock cocked his head at her. "No. I'm not. Consulting detective," he said in a low voice. "Besides not only are you stubborn but you're too intelligent to believe in things like that. Logic is much more your forte Miss Francis and it doesn't take any sort of deduction to figure that out."

Rebecca stared at this man, frozen to the pavement as his icy eyes bored into hers. She had forgotten about the rain and the client and ...well, everything. Now it was just her and Sherlock, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

"And finally you're intrigued; I can see it in your eyes. That's why you ran after me. You're disillusioned with your own life. You want something more...Something better...You're bored."

She stared at him, unable to believe her ears.

Who the hell was this guy? This Sherlock Holmes? And how the hell had he deduced all that?

Rebecca had no idea. All she knew was that she didn't like it.

His eyes upon hers made her shiver.

How can a person know that much after just one meeting?

He knew exactly what she was thinking...feeling...she was bored. He had been right about that.

Her face formed into a dark scowl.

She didn't like this man. Or what he was capable of deducting.

"Piss off," she said suddenly, storming past him, bumping his shoulder as she went.

She was angry. This man had messed up her day.

Ruined everything!

Rebecca walked across the busy street as rain fell all around her, it was only when she was half way across the road that she noticed a cab speeding towards her, its tires screeching along the slippery concrete.

She stopped.

Still.

Trapped.

She hadn't noticed in all her anger and now she was frozen to the spot with no escape.

Like a rabbit in the headlights...

Her eyes widened as the car tried to brake, but it was only mere feet away from her...

It would never stop in time...

Suddenly Rebecca felt a strong arm grip her tightly around her waist and drag her out of the way as the cab sped past, its horn beeping loudly.

Rebecca stumbled onto the wet pavement, falling on her hands and knees and panting heavily as her rescuer tumbled to the ground next to her.

It was a few moments before Rebecca re-gained her composure and gazed up at the man who had saved her.

"You?" she said looking up into Sherlock's icy blue eyes as he caught his breath beside her, slowly getting to his feet.

The man said nothing but sniffed and brushed himself down before offering Rebecca a hand.

Rebecca gazed up in awe before taking the man's hand and allowing him to pull her up off the rain-strewn pavement.

She was trembling badly as she clambered to her feet.

She had almost been killed.

She tried to mumble a thank you but no words seemed to come out of her mouth.

No fitting words at least, to thank this man for what he had done.

The road was filled with busy passersby, barely taking any notice of the two death-defying figures huddled near to the pavement edge, both sopping wet and shell-shocked.

"Come on," said Sherlock after a few moments, glancing this way and that. "I'm starving."

Rebecca frowned staring at this impossibly mad man and shaking her head in disbelief as he began to walk away.

A few feet away he suddenly looked over his shoulder. "You coming or not?" he commanded.

Rebecca bit her lip.

She knew she'd probably regret this...

A few seconds later Rebecca was running along after him, her high-heels clattering on the rain sodden pavement.

Just at that very moment, across the street, Mycroft Holmes had clambered out of his town-car.

His eyes suddenly latched onto the two retreating figures.

"Is that my brother?" he said questioningly to his PA who was lingering at his heels.

She looked up. "Yes, the receptionist text me and told me he'd called in."

"Then why the hell didn't he wait?" muttered Mycroft, more to himself than anyone else.

The PA shrugged her shoulders, texting furiously on her blackberry.

"Hmmmm," said Mycroft leaning on his car door. "Who is that woman with him?"

The PA glanced up momentarily. "A friend?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes watching after the two figures as the ambled down the street deep in conversation.

"Hmmmmm, funny thing is my brother doesn't have friends..." he said quietly, closing the car door with a slam. "I'll have to keep my eye on those two..."

Mycroft watched as his brother disappeared around the corner.

The young girl close at his side.


Next chapter coming soon...

Please review!