Summary: chapter story of two college students in present day who get shipped back into the time of Sherlock and Watson, and pair up with the two to stop Blackwood. Some simalarity to the movie regarding quotes and such.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Watson, I only own Spencer Holmes, Ben Murdock, and Asher the cat!

"Holmes!"

This cry was not uncommon in the apartment of Ben Murdock. And it was very likely that he was the one yelling it.

The man in question had been the one sounding the familier call through the college door on this evening. The twenty-one year old received no reply from the depths of the building, much to his annoyment. He growled under his breath as an old housekeeper hurried toward him.

"Please, sir,-" She began, but was cut off by Murdock's risen hand.

"What's she done this time?"

The 'she' that was the subject of the conversation was the anti-social, cunning, exceedingly brillient, smartass, beautiful, aggrative, athletic, young, nineteen year old detective-in-training, Spencer Holmes.

"She's firing bullets at whoever enters sir! I'm afraid to go in there by myself!"

Murdock sighed, and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Holmes. God damn the woman. She was more trouble than she was worth between cases,and yet during them he wouldn't be able to live without her.

"I'll go and speak with her. Maybe some sense can be pounded into that brillient mind of her's."

The nanny snorted in disagreement, but Murdock ignored her. Holmes and the woman were never on the best of terms. With the thick headed stubborness of his friend, it wasn't hard to imagine why.

He reached the girl's door and rapped on it sharply. Without waiting for an answer, he went in.

"Permission to enter?"

A silence greeted him for a pause before a usually light, but now thick with drink, English accented voice greeted him.

"Granted." A shot rang out and entered the wood wall with a heavy thud.

"Stop that." Murdock grabbed the handgun from the seemingly trigger-happy girl and gave her a glare.

"Why weren't you in class today? You said you'd show!"

"Yes." The girl looked up at him with dark brown, thoughtful eyes, eyes that never missed the smallest detail, ever. "I said I would come, but I didn't promise, so I felt no need to go. What does the world hold for me?" With the blinds drawn to block out the sunlight for her dilated eyes, Holmes' dark brown, shortly cut hair looked black. Murdock resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest desk. She was so frustrating!

So, to give himself something to do, he walked over to the drawn blinds and fumbled slightly for the string.

"Murdock, no!" cried Holmes, but her yelp was too late, for the cursed light was already blazing through the glss with all it's glory. The girl whom had been sitting in a chair, rising to stand was soon flat on the ground, as though the burst of light had knocked her unconcious. The man began to walk toward the other blind.

"Murdock! Murdock, be gentle with me, GENTLE!" Holmes suddenly yelled as the second gust of light hit her drunked pupils in it's fullest, making her curl onto the ground in the fetal position until she had enough un-intoxicated travel to her brain to sit her weary body up.

"Do you try to make my existance miserable?"

Murdock looked around her room. Case files littered the ground and two desks, while a heap of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room indicated Holmes' 'bed', and a violen case sat in another of the four corners. Medicines from Murdock's own stocks, nessary for his demanding training, stacked the three tables. A bottle of rum sat by one of the chairs. The dorm rooms of Murdock and Holmes were fairly large, but somehow, with all of her furniture, Holmes had managed to make it seem the size of a regular dorm room!

And that was not to mention the mess. The place wasn't even worthy to be called a pigstey. It was a…. Holmes-stey, for lack of a better word. Shitpile was way too dirty, for now. And Murdock liked the sound and ring of the word, 'Holmes-stey'.

"You need a new case." He told her. Spencer just looked at him. "Why? My last case was only-"

"Nearly six weeks ago, Sherlock!" Murdock had always given the girl an extremely hard time about her last name, but in the last few years, it had become scary of how alike she and the strange and popular book character had become. She blinked and shrugged.

"Do you have any idea how much you seem to strive to get on my nerves?"

"On the contrary, do you know how much I succeed in getting on your nerves, or might I analyze you and tell you?"

"Be quiet."

"I was being quiet until you showed up and started the yelling bout."

"The yelling bout was your fault."

"How is it my fault when the last I saw of you was two days ago?"

"You said you would show up for class."

"But I didn't promise it."

"Saying IS promising, Holmes!"

Not exactly. If I said I would marry you and stay with you forever, I'm certainly not promising that."

Holmes held in a grin at the look on Murdock's face. He was so funny to her.

The man rolled his eyes and glared at her, then picked her up off the ground and helped her to a chair.

"I'm serious about you getting a new case, Holmes. It's really not good for humans to stay locked up in the same room for too long of a time." He glanced at the nineteen year old, who was looking around the room, thinking about something completely irrevelant to what he was saying. Turning back to the wall to sort through the papers on her desk, he muttered, "But then again, you're not human."

He turned back to her, and assessed her clothing. It looked as though she hadn't changed her clothes from two days ago. He peered at her shirt. Yep, it was definatly the same blue t-shirt with a quote from the Mentalist on it: "Life is a game, and you have plenty of time for that." Personally, Murdock never could watch the Mentalist with Holmes. She figured it out the same time the guy did, and usually she did it quicker.

"You need to get cleaned up, Holmes. I've been invited to diner with a few friends. I also get to bring someone."

Holmes looked at him. "And you chose me? How very flattering."

"I chose you simply because they insisted upon it, not because I actually wanted to bring you!" He replied quickly.

"It's still intriging."

"You'll have to wear a dress."

"Only if you do." Holmes was leaning her chair against the wall, looking out the window as her headache cleared when Murdock shot a distasteful glare at he skimpy form.

"Fine you can come in jeans if you must. People will stare at you though."

"When don't people stare at me? I'm the greatest detective in the state.

"Don't flatter yourself, Holmes."

"Why would I ever do that?

Murdock had found nothing recent or of importance in Holmes stack of mail. He was still baffled by her refusal of a cell phone, laptop, or iPod. How she lived with absolutly no electronical appliances was a mystery to him. So, he turned to leave and stopped when he saw a pile of white for on Holmes' heap of blankets.

"What have you done to my cat this time?!"

"Our cat."

"The cat!"

"I was simply working on a draught that slows the heartbeat and breath to near death. You know, like the one Juliet used to fake her own death. Now all w need is Romeo kitty and your precious Asher can run away and live happily ever after."

Murdock just shook his head and walked out, his hand on the doorknob. In the process of shutting the door, he called back to Holmes,

"don't embaress me at dinner!"

Holmes smirked.

"Why on Earth did you invite me then?"