Sherlock Holmes is fictional character made up by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in 1892. He was person with an extraordinary gift of being quite observant and incomparable intelligent. He was brilliant and could solve puzzles that would baffle others. As of 2015 he had become an idol of sorts from different movies and tv shows. Though don't get me wrong, I am not complaining. Benedict Cumberbatch and Robert Downey Jr. are quite nice to look at and are wonderful actors. But that's what they are, actors. Neither are the real Sherlock. More of a fan service with riddles and crime attached. I have enjoyed my fair share of watching the movies and tv shows with them starring as Sherlock. However if you were thrown into a country, nation, year, and life that you were not a custom to, you would be slightly irked as well.

I moved around Angelo to greet a couple that had sat down at the far end table a few moment earlier. "Good morning. How are yall doing today?" I put two menus in front of them and they looked at me oddly hearing both my american accent and my slight southern slang.

"We doing quite lovely, thank you for asking." The gentlemen said as he glanced at the menu in his hands.

"That's great, my name is Eli and I'll be your server today." I gave them a small sweet smile and continued my normal routine, "Can I get you something to drink while you look?"

"A cup of tea for the both of us thank you," I nodded and turned away from them. Tea, the most consumed drink in England. A vile drink that I didn't like in my normal life. Whether it was hot tea or iced both tasted like dirty grass. I got the cups ready as I poured the hot tea into them. Making my way to the table, I quietly set down the drinks and let them look at the menu a little while longer. I got back behind the counter and looked out into the busy streets that was Northumberland St. Being a waitress was something I knew I could do well with little chance of drawing attention to myself. However the life that I was dropped into was far from my real one. When I came to, in an apartment, er 'flat' that I didn't recognize I freaked out. I had fallen asleep in Texas and awoken in London. It took me quite awhile to piece together what might have happen. Or rather my theory of what happened.

I was thrown into a world/life that was mine but not mine. Where I stood now was a life I might have lived if I was born in London. My name was still the same, Eliska Nedved and my family still had Czech origins. However instead of finding out lives in america, they moved to London and started their living. And as such I was born in here. The me that I was pretending to be. Either way, instead having gone to an Art College, getting a bachelors in Videos games, I had a Law Degree from Harvard. I had even graduated at the top of my class and had a job at one of the best Law firms in Britain. Though normal me knew some of the ins and outs of being a lawyer in america, I could not pretend to be one. I had quit the job when they called to ask why I hadn't shown up to work.

From that point I had to learn everything about this life that was now mine. My apartment was filled with pictures of me (the other me). It was creepy to see me smiling with people that I had no idea who they were. I also broke up with the boyfriend that had shown up when I hadn't answered his phone calls. He was cute but I couldn't handle a boyfriend while I learned about myself. My new British self.

After a week of going through pictures, text messages, and documents, I found out who this me was. My parents were dead and had left me their fortune and everything to their one and only child. I had quite a bank account and after some research I knew how much I had in terms of American money. Lucky for me, working as waitress would work out just fine since I wouldn't need the income to live. Once I had figured my new life out to the point that I could pretend, I started to explore. I had never been to London and it was quite a lot to take in. People who saw me, took me as tourist and wouldn't believe me that I lived here my entire life. The fake me that that is now the current me. Mostly because it was true, I didn't grow up here. But I would have to fake it, until I could find my way back to my real life that is.

That's when I first ran into him. Sherlock Holmes, or as I knew him as Benedict Cumberbatch that actor. When I saw him coming out of the apartment I just stared at him. I didn't think he took notice to me as I looked on him. He seemed to be talking to himself and walking quickly trying to hail a cab.

I walked back to the table that had set down their menus and looked ready to order. I took their order and put it in. Refilling their tea when need be. I picked this place because I knew I would see him often. He was the only thing that was something I knew. It was almost a blessing to find something familiar. Though just a character from a tv show, still something I can find solis in. From what I could tell he was still living alone and Watson hadn't moved in yet. I wonder where in his timeline I am. Speak of the devil. Sherlock walked into the restaurant and took his normal spot next to the window looking out. Forever in thoughts that no one could understand. I quickly made his normal cup of tea and brought it over to him.

"Ah, thank you Eli," He didn't look at me when he spoke and I set the menu next to him. I just nodded and left him to his thoughts. I wasn't interesting to him anymore. He was curious of me when I first started working here, since it was a new shiny thing. That soon faded as he saw me every time he came here. I didn't try and talk with him, because I'd just look like a fool. Anyone trying to have a conversation with him would be sorely mistaken. I'd rather remain quiet and observant.

"Eh, Eli table seven's order is ready," I heard Angelo call as he pushed two plates out. I quickly grabbed the plates and went back to my table. Setting their food in front of them, I asked if they needed anything else and they said no and thanked me for their food. I just smile and nodded. I glanced at Sherlock and found him looking at his menu. This was normally his que for me to come over and take his order. Sometimes he changes it up, other times, it's was the same thing.

"What can I get for you today?" I took out my little pad and waited as he looked over his menu as if he didn't know what was already on it. Perhaps he was hoping we had something new. Maybe next time, when I have time I'll suggest to Angelo to add something new to the menu.

"You live across the street from my flat don't you?" He looked up from his menu as his eyes told him everything about me. I wasn't sure what he could get from my clothes and I wasn't sure I'd want to know.

"I believe so, I've seen you once or twice leaving your appar- er flat," He did something with his eyes as he broke eye contact to look other places on me. He didn't respond for moment then continued as he looked to the menu.

"Yes, well how difficult was it for you to find a flatmate?" He turned the menu over and continued to pretend read it.

"I don't have flatmate," He stopped his fake reading and looked at me confused.

"You have a long hair on your work shirt and seeing as you have short hair it isn't your own. I don't see you having a boyfriend or a girlfriend so the only logical explanation is that it is your flatmates hair, perhaps when she hugged you?" he was doing that thing he did. It's more alarming when it's happening to you. I can now understand why people are turned off by it. It is kinda scary, but when he's wrong, it's less impressive. However, in his defence, I didn't know my past so it's possible I had flatmate at some point.

"Sorry, but I don't have a flatmate and I didn't hug anyone this morning," He looked at me as a if I was lying to him. He waited to see a tell that I was but no such luck as I looked at him gentle with my colorless eyes.

As he analyzed me more, "The usual." He handed me the menu and went back to looking out the street. I just took the menu and proceeded to put his order in. Heading over to the couple, they finished eating their meal and payed and left. It was odd not living off tips. In England they didn't' work off tips, they had minimum wage just like everyone else. It was kinda nice not having to worry about things like that. I put the cash in the register and started cleaning the counters. I glanced up just in time to see Sherlock running out the door. I just shook my head and walked over to the table.

No one was in the restaurant now so I just yelled to Angelo, "Never mind Sherlock just ran out again." I heard him say something but couldn't hear it. I started cleaning the table when I found his scarf laying across the back of the booth. How unlike him to forget is scarf. I picked it up and set it on the counter and continued cleaning.

The day ran by quickly as it did everyday. Being a waitress was a job that was always interesting. Even more so when you learn new things everyday about a Nation that you know little to nothing about. I finished my cleaning duties and grabbed my things, "I'm heading out, see you tomorrow Angelo," I heard him say his goodbyes and I headed for the front door. I almost made it out but a certain someone's scarf caught my attention. He never returned to pick it up. I pondered if I should bring it to him or leave it here for him to pick up. I stood there pondering the idea until I decided against my best judgement that I'd head home and change and then drop it off. I grabbed it and placed it in my bag as I made my way home. The restaurant luckily for me wasn't too far from bakerstreet, so walking was a nice enjoyment in the evenings.

The chilly air of London was new to me even now after being stuck here for a few months. I don't' think I'd ever get used to the chilliness. In Texas we never had this kinda chill. Though I was excited for snow that would soon follow. Soon however I found myself in my apartment changing out of my work clothes. I had just finished putting on a large shirt and jeans when my doorbell range. I made my way to it and opened it without thinking. However seeing Sherlock there was the biggest surprise.

"I left my scarf at the restaurant and I figured since you knew I lived across from you that you'd take it with you to return to me," He was speaking to me but he was looking over my short self and into my apartment. He obviously left his scarf on purpose so that he would have an excuse to come over and snoop. It must have upset him getting something wrong. I tried to hide my smile as I stood aside allowing him to enter.

"You are correct, please come in while I grab it for you," He walked passed me without another word and starting looking around analyzing my life that was this apartment. I walked into my bedroom and grabbed his scarf from my bag. I walked back into my living room to find him looking at fireplace mantle. "Here," I walked toward him and held out his scarf. At first he didn't react to me but soon took his scarf and wrapped it around his neck. He looked at me oddly. As if I was one of his riddles.

"Did you grow up in the UK?"

"Yes"

"You have an american accent with a twist of southern, if I'd have to guess I'd say Texan since they don't have quite as much twang in how they speak. How did you happen across that if you grew up here?" He was accusing me of lying, which he was half right. I held up a finger for him to wait a moment as I pulled a box of photo albums out from under a table. I had found is as I looked around the apartment trying to figure out who I was now. This had helped me a lot. I pulled out an old album and started flipping through it. I noticed that Sherlock had found his way behind me as he watched me turn the pages. I found a picture of 'me' with my parents in front of the Eiffel Tower when I was about twelve years old. I moved so that he could pry more. He looked from the picture to me to see that it was infact me. Soon he was flipping page after page. I had feeling he was gonna be here a while.

I left him in the living room and started to brew some tea. Though I hated the stuff, apparently old me loved it just like every british person did. I put some in mug and walked into my living room to find Sherlock surrounded in albums and yearbooks and whatever else he could get his hands. I set the drink next to him and sat down on the couch with my own cup of hot chocolate.

This was odd but amusing. Sherlock Holmes aka Benedict Cumberbatch was in my english apartment trying to figure out something he will never understand. Hell even I have no idea how I ended up here. If this was real life I think I'd be freaking out a little more but this whole thing feels like I'm in a book or perhaps a movie or tv show. Maybe that's where I am. I pondered my own thoughts as Sherlock said something that I didn't hear.

"Oh sorry what?"

"Do you have a twin?" He was looking at me casually lounging as he snooped. "Why are you not bothered that I'm looking at your things and you don't even know who I am. Or you know that I won't find anything there for you don't' feel threatened, but normal people wouldn't feel a need to feel threatened so they wouldn't let me going through their things. Unless they don't actually have any feeling toward the items that are being looking through." He dropped one of the albums and started looking me over.

"The way you sit, talk, and do things is that of american. You have degree but it minor. You are left handed which would suggesting you got a degree in fine art, nothing musical your hands are too delicate for that. You can't sing very well so you aren't singer so you must be some sort of artist. But from the flat…" He stopped his bombardment of information as he started looking around. "Who are you Miss Eli? Your person suggest something completely opposite of what your flat says about you. Your flat speaks of money and luxury and very high end. You act of average wealth and highly creative. You wouldn't have a flat like this, a studio or something that is bright and colorful. You have a framed diploma from when you graduated from Harvard along with the letter that you got asking you to work for one of the best law offices around. Now how does that person end up acting like an american that works as a waitress when they could be a well known lawyer?"

I waited for awhile waiting to see if he had more to add on. I sipped my hot chocolate and looked down into it. The mug was a boring brown color that I would have never bought. "You're right, I do not like this dull apartment. Perhaps I should paint it a different color." I smiled as his face took an annoyed turn on it. "I'm sorry but I don't know how to answer your questions. I am just whoever I am," I watched him as he started getting fed up with me. I didn't' know how else to tell him.

"Name a british law," He asked me with an annoyed tone.

"Killing is bad," I smiled at him and he glared at me.

"I will find out who you really are," He grabbed his things and headed toward the door. I got up and followed him quietly. He got to the door and and spoke up.

" My name is Eliska Nedved and I am 25 ½ years old. I've had long hair all my life till one day I cut it short. Soon I was cutting it shorter and shorter. My natural hair color is a deep dark brown while I like to dye it a red auburn color. I have grey colorless eyes that sometimes look blue or green. I am 5'2 ½ and 124 pounds. I am left handed but I do a lot of things with my right side and am ambidextrous at somethings." I was about to saying my loves and hobbies but thought those would be different here. He seemed to be waiting for me to continue. I let out a small breath and looked into his almost clear eyes.

"That should give you a good start, Good luck to you Sherlock Holmes."

[[Thank you for reading, I had writing this little tail. Trying to come up with an "original idea" I would love to hear yalls feedback]]