A/N: Hello. This is my first attempt at crack and perhaps it isn't a very good one or perhaps it is but that is for you to decide! Sorry for any mistakes and/or insults. The point is to make a joke out of One Direction and such so don't take any offence. Slight OC warning since Jean-Pièrre will be appearing in more chapters if you all want this to continue. Thanks to my friend who's the beta-reader, editor and co-creator of this fanfiction! She also wrote the summary. Couldn't do it without her. Fun fact: All chapters are named after Big Time Rush and One Direction their songs. Well... Enjoy! - Esmée (John Sexy Watson)

The Baker Street Boyz
Chapter One: Just Getting Started

It was a sunny day in London which was a very rare occasion in the middle of April but the four boys at the front door of 221 Baker Street were oblivious to that fact. They were an odd group if you asked strangers that passed by frequently. There was one that wore a hockey helmet, one that was combing his hair quite compulsively, another was clutching a book against his chest like his life depended on it and the other was continually fixing the position of the doorknocker. If a fan would pass by, they would immediately notice that it was the famous boyband Big Time Rush. But they weren't that famous yet.

"Ring the bell, will you?" James eventually snapped after a couple of moments of silence. Kendall turned his gaze towards him and rolled his eyes. "We can't stand here for the whole day!" "He's right, Kendall," Logan said almost carefully. Kendall could be a bit like a timebomb sometimes. "Sherlock is a very famous detective. He has cases to work on. If we don't explain our case right now, then he will be working on another one before we can even blink our eyes!" Kendall didn't like it when they were talking to him like this but he couldn't deny the fact that they were right. "Ok, fine. I will ring the bell.." And so he did. It only took a minute or two for the door to be opened and a rather small woman appeared in the opening with a big smile on her face. "Oh, Sherlock! You've got four lovely boys that want your help!" She called before she disappeared again, leaving the door open. "At least she didn't think that we were thieves," Carlos joked. Logan wanted to say something to correct Carlos about the fact that thieves didn't ring the bell while trying to break in but James gave him a look that cut him off.

The weather outside was looking nice but it did nothing to improve Sherlock's mood. Three months. Three months without an interesting case and he was getting mad. He needed a case. He didn't care about what kind of case anymore, as long as it would keep him busy for quite a long time. He sighed. The weather didn't help John either but that was his fault, perhaps. Trying to steal his gun and then failing for more than six times wasn't one of his best plans. John frowned at the unfamiliar voices he heard downstairs, lifting his head from the newspapers he was reading to give Sherlock a questioning look but the man couldn't see it since he was staring out of the window. "Clients," He explained before John could even ask what he wanted to ask. Like usual. Sherlock turned around and headed for the door. "The fuck," He muttered. He didn't expect to see four young men that looked like they had just escaped from some kind of ridiculous children TV-show but he wasn't going to complain. A case is a case. "Come in, bunch of weirdos. John, make tea!" He shouted even though John was sitting in his chair nearby. Like always, John stood up wordlessly and went to the kitchen to obey Sherlock's wishes. "Not your fucking slave," He grumbled angrily.

A teapot, six cups of tea with one of them containing alcohol (wow, John, alcoholic), a sugar bowl and a little milk container were being put on the coffee table by one quite moody man named Dr John Watson. Sherlock fixed his gaze on the group currently sitting on the sofa, eyeing each other quite nervously. The blonde one cleared his throat before speaking. "We're-" "Gay. I know. Well, at least two of you are." Kendall gave them a shocked look but the three others raised their hands in a defenseless manner. John rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of whiskey and took a swig. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in question. "Why are you drinking?" "Because I'm planning on getting wasted. I can't deal with you when you are like this. So. . . Getting drunk is my solution. Cheers, mate," He grinned while he plopped down in his chair again. Sherlock shrugged and turned back to his clients, offering them a fake smile and urged them to explain their case. "Yes. Okay. We are Big Time Rush. A boyband. You may have heard of us. Anyway! We need your help with something-"
"Obviously." Sherlock interrupted.
"-that might be interesting to you. You see, one of those criminals or whatever they are, became the manager of another famous boyband named One Direction. Five British assholes, I tell you that. He wants to make them the best boyband in the entire world! That can't happen! We have to be the best!" Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stapled his hands together, placing them in front of his face in his usual thinking position. Of course he knew who was behind this.

Moriarity!

"Ok. Guapas, we'll take the case." The only one who could understand that was Carlos and he blushed madly. Wow, Sherlock was being funny. The boys cheered and before they knew it, they were ushered out of the flat by John who was getting a bit drunk now. Sherlock straightened his clothes and gave John one of his 'we need to do something so bloody bad that will probably embarrass you more than me' smiles. Luckily, John was tipsy and more likely to agree on whatever stupid plan Sherlock was thinking of. "We're beginning our own boyband!"

The next day, Sherlock, John, Greg, Anderson and Mycroft were standing in a gym in Harrow. Strangely enough, Mycroft had agreed almost instantly when Sherlock had asked him to join the band. The reason why he did that was because he had given up his diet (again) and needed something else to do to lose weight. Both Greg and Anderson had been threatened with telling Anderson's wife that they had been snogging with each other if they weren't going to be members and they reluctantly accepted the offer. Photoshop. A true gift from God. And John. . . Well, he was just completely pissed when he said yes.

After a couple of minutes of absolutely doing nothing at all, a man stomped into the room whilst phoning someone and shouting in French at that person. But that wasn't the odd thing about the man. He was quite pale with bright blue eyes and he had dark coloured hair. But the most outstanding thing was his clothing. He was wearing a tight, black leotard with matching ballet shoes and a barrette. Eventually, the man hung up and turned his attention towards the men. "Bonjour! Je m'appelle Jean-Pièrre! And I will teach 'ow to dance properly!" He was suddenly quite cheerful after his aggressive phonecall. "All right. What iz the boyband's name?" "The Baker Street Boyz," Sherlock answered proudly. Actually, it was just a pun of the name of another boyband's name, The Backstreet Boys. Jean-Pièrre nodded and gave them a wide smile. "Good! Let's begin with the fun, oui?" They began to dislike his French accent already. Jean-Pièrre mentioned Mycroft to come over and positioned him before he began to do a famous move named 'Dat Ass'. What had they gotten themselves into?