I do not own Sherlock at all! This is my first fanfic so it isn't the best...I am very open to ideas and criticism. The first chap has a slight review of the series and slight recap of the second season ending, so sorry if it is repetitive. Enjoy.

Chapter

1

The day was bright and sunny in London, England, for once. The city was full of sound, the rushing of people and honking of taxies and the bustle of everyday life. The light and slight warmth of the sun heated the pavement and sent the fountains aglow.

It was days like these Dr. John Watson loved to go on his morning stroll. He was dressed in his favorite white sweat shirt and faded blue jeans with his casual brown shoes. He was a medium height sort of fellow, with short sandy blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Fair skinned, well built and altogether not very bad looking. He was retired from the army due to being shot in the shoulder. He earned the title doctor because he was one in the army. A rather good one.

He had seen plenty of bloodshed and death in his time, but when he was sent back from the war in Afghanistan, a dark part of him, missed it. The excitement of escaping death. The danger that should scare him to death, kept him calm. Twisted and dark that part of him was, but the rest of him was actually very human. He was kind and considerate of other people. He enjoyed helping others and looked on the bright side of things. But aside from his good looks and great personality, he could never seem to hold onto the one thing he really wanted the most; a relationship with the lady

f

olk.

His troubles in that area may have started from that fateful day when he met the consulting detective Mr. Sherlock Holmes. One of the most brilliant and genius people Watson had ever met. At a glimpse Sherlock could guess your life story and pretty much be right, just by looking at the things you were wearing and your face. Mr. Holmes was quite a bit taller than Watson. a slender body man, with pale skin and dark brown curly hair with piercing green-blue eyes that caught every single detail. Watson met him almost by chance, he was really just looking for a flat to live that he could support on army pay till he found a job that would support him better. Through a friend he met Holmes and eventually became intrigued by the wit and difference in Sherlock that he actually moved in with him in his flat at 221 B Baker street, and is currently approaching from his morning walk. They had been partners in solving crimes for the past almost year and a half; and they both had been through some very rough things.

Jim Moriarty was gone, it was confirmed that he did indeed kill himself after shooting a bullet in his head. A genius he was, brilliant and like Sherlock, always bored, mind always racing, needing to solve things needing to keep busy, but only in ways that would bend his way of thinking. A challenge. But Moriarty was Sherlock's other half...almost. He would set up the most simple but elaborate crimes and setting, putting peoples lives at stake and loved to watch Sherlock "dance".
For almost a year Sherlock chased after this man, the greatest puzzle maker yet. Sherlock was Moriarty's favorite toy, and Moriarty was Sherlock's favorite storyteller. But both were frustrated with each other, Sherlock was unable to catch Jim, and Jim was getting tired of Sherlock. Till on the rooftop of the St. Barts hospital they confronted each other.
Jim was proven wrong in the fact that Sherlock wasn't beat, that they were the same, just that Sherlock was more controlled and more human, but deep down just like Jim. And Jim was all figured out to Sherlock. True Jim had destroyed all credibility of Holmes, but that wasn't what kept Sherlock from killing Jim. It was that Watson, Ms. Hudson and Lestrade were to be killed unless Sherlock fell off the roof. Sherlock knew the killers could be stopped through a safe word from Moriarty. And almost seeming defeated Jim confirmed that then pulled out a gun and shot himself in the head. Only one option left for Sherlock to save his only friend John and motherly figure Ms Hutson, he fell.

All of England thought him dead, as they very well should have. But Sherlock was still alive. Before the meeting on the roof Sherlock sat on the floor of the resource/science room within the hospital, trying to think of every possible route that Moriarty might take. Falling off the building was on his list. He didn't want to die, mostly because he didn't want his only friend to be in pain. But if he had to, he would kill himself to keep John safe. As his mind raced on finding ways to outsmart death and Moriarty despair started to take hold of his heart, which was quite alarming to him.
Right when things seemed to point to the obvious the door suddenly opened. Sherlock looked up, half expecting Molly but to his surprise, it wasn't her. "What's this? The great Sherlock Holmes, sad and finally outwitted? That's hardly the Sherlock I knew." Dressed in Sherlock's own usual attire, scarf and all stood her:
The Woman: Irene Adler
"What are you doing here?" he asked standing up, meeting her gaze.
She smiled slightly "I came to repay a debt." within those six words Sherlock understood.
"You would give up everything for me? Don't doubt the value of your life."
The Woman laughed halfheartedly with an undertone of mock. "Like you?" Sherlock's eyebrows knitted a bit, she continued. "I have lived my life Sherlock, I have no one to hold on to or have anyone hold on to me," Holmes opened his mouth to speak but she placed a gloved finger over it, "you can't change my mind. I may have fallen for you, but I don't mean everything to you. You have helped so many people, and they love and care for you. You can't die, it would hurt them. Your death would destroy Ms. Hudson, Lestrade, and most of all Watson." She smiled with a tear in her eye "And the only person who I would hope missed me would be you. besides, I'm already dead, and I owe you"
Sherlock stared into her eyes, Moriarty's words rang in his head. And he knew nothing could change her mind. He wanted to say so much to her. Such a wonderful puzzle she was. Buy all that he could say was "I'll miss you."
Her lips widen with an almost sincere smile. "I hope so." She reached up and placed a soft simple kiss on his lips and turned to leave and stopped at the door. "Thank you" she whispered
"For what?" his tone was unemotional
"For not stopping me. Good-bye Sherlock Holmes, make sure you don't stay dead for too long." and she left.
Sherlock "stayed dead" for a month, in that time not even Watson knew what he did. And he never were and still are many mysteries concerning his death and resurrection. Despite the scare and slight hate John felt towards Sherlock for "killing" himself, and after Sherlock explained his reasoning from a headlock that John had him in, was more than happy to have his only friend back.

And so it was that when Watson climbed up the stairs to their flat, the sound of a gun being shot at the wall was almost refreshing but concerning. Sherlock was slumped on the big chair dressed in his nightgown and robe; and in his hand he held a gun pointed at the yellow smiley face that was still there which was spray painted on the wall with many fresh holes in it. "Sherlock! How many times must Ms. Hudson and I tell you not to shoot the walls?!"

Sherlock turned his head to Watson with a very bored expression on his face. "No one lives over there so it's fine and there is almost nothing to do!" He fired again without looking at the wall. Watson rushed over to his partner and grabbed the gun.

"I don't care if no one lives over there, it's not your place to be destroying." He unloaded the gun, "How do you keep finding this anyhow!?"

"No case for almost a week now John!" Sherlock complained completely ignoring his question.

"Well you were suppose to be dead you know, not many people take too keenly to asking dead people to solve cases. Also Lestrade wants you to lay low for a little"

"I AM SO BORED" Sherlock collapsed back on the chair almost seeming to sulk.

"Then go do something! I'm sure Ms. Hudson would appreciate it if you finished whatever insane experiment you are doing with that bloody severed head in the fridge and threw it out!"

"Can't"

"Why not?"

Sherlock turned towards John. "Well how would you feel if your 'bloody severed head' was in the fridge and someone just wanted to throw you out. Besides, she took my skull, again, who else am I suppose to talk to?"

"It's a head, Sherlock, it is past feeling, or at least I hope it is. And my head had never end up in that fridge. Perhaps you could talk to me or the living once in awhile."

"You are never here."

"And whose fault is that? Mr. I'm too busy to go outside myself?!"

"But I am busy"

"Yeah, being bored, shooting at walls and stalking up on nicotine patches while confiscating my blasted computer for whatever reasons you use it for!" John fumed

Sherlock looked straight at John, for a while they said nothing while staring at each other. suddenly Sherlock sighed and sat up. "I need a case."

Watson placed the gun on the table and flopped onto his chair that was directly across from Sherlock's. "You can't have a case, I already told you dead people don't solve cases."

"Not true." Sherlock said matter of factly as he leaned forward knitting his fingers in front of him. "if it wasn't for dead bodies there wouldn't be a case or it would be hard to solve one. Besides, dead body ones are the best."

John put his head in one of his hands and sighed. It was almost pointless to argue with Sherlock, particularly when he had all his attention on one thing. Not really wanting to argue he sighed again. "then watch some telly. I'm going to make some tea." he got up and walked to the kitchen to find the dining table full of scribbled on papers and pitri dishes with the all familiar scope in the middle of the mess. He shook his head and went in search of clean cups and filled the kettle then put it on the stove. In the other room he heard the faint noises of the television. "Do you want any?" he said over his shoulder. A faint grunt came from Sherlock's direction in which John took as a yes.

~
After John had finished brewing and given Sherlock his cup, who was grumpliy watching some program on BBC1 he went out and got the mail. When he came back Sherlock was not sitting in his chair though his cup was half drunk on the table next to it. John looked around slightly alarmed. He went to the kitchen to not find him there either. He noticed that the cup that John had set aside for himself was now full. He looked suspiciously at it.

"No, I didn't drug it this time." John jumped slightly as Sherlock, now fully dressed in his normal white collared shirt and black slacks, come from behind John from his room.
"How can I trust you on that?"
Sherlock shrugged and started to stack his papers which littered the floor and table. "You'll just have to."
John glared slightly at his friend then picked up his cup and sniffed it then promptly poured it down the sink. Sherlock watched him as he thoroughly washed the cup then poured himself more tea from the kettle.
"Things go wrong with...what was her name...Mary?" Sherlock asked suddenly.
John took his tea and the mail with him and walked over to the living room and sat down in his chair. "Mary and I haven't been together for a while now."
Sherlock followed him into the room and sat down across from john.
"You of all people would know that I stopped seeing her."
"Why was that?"
John looked up from the mail he was sorting. "You are joking, you pretty much told her to piss off!"
"All I did was say who and what she was."
"Well the things you said were not very nice at all."
He shrugged, "but true,"
John shook his head and handed Sherlock his pile of bills and letters."it's no wonder you don't have relationships."

Sherlock cocked his head slightly and raised his eyebrows at his companion but didn't say anything and turned his attention to the mail. After a few seconds he tossed them across the room with an exasperated sigh. "Not even one case in the mail, or the website!"

John ignored him. A long while passed, which almost felt like a blunt knife twisting in Sherlock's gut when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Sherlock perked up a bit and looked at John.

John sat there quietly sipping his tea, reading the day's paper, not seeming to notice at all. There was another knock, Sherlock gazed at John. Well?
"I'm not getting it," John answered, not looking up from the paper on his lap, "I have done enough walking around today and don't you need something to do anyways?"
Sherlock muttered something under his breath took a drink of tea and deftly got up from his chair and walked over to the door.
When he opened it, there was a young woman standing there. She held out her hand to him and said with a warm alto voice, "Good evening, it is a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Holmes!"
Dark haired, pale faced, hazel eyes and somewhat tall for a woman and probably in her very early twenties. Her complexion wasn't perfect and her make up wasn't really applied very much or perfect either. She wore black pocketed sweatpants that were sort of baggy. Her shirt however was a formal tightly fitted low cut green shirt that showed off her curves and flowed out slightly at the wrist with a brown undershirt. Her hair was in a upwards sloppy bun that didn't look too bad.
This brought Sherlock to two conclusions, one of which was she woke up late, the other she didn't care what she looked like and therefore what other people thought of her. He figured the latter was more likely. And even despite her lack of trying, she was semi attractive. Her shoes were of the standard black crew shoes. Sherlock looked at her intently, she had no adornments of any kind, most of all a ring, not even a purse or bag. He could quickly tell by her accent she was American, but the way she used the language she could have very well been raised by British immigrants. So she may not be entirely arrogant as he first thought. He looked her over, something about this young lady seemed almost familiar but his mind couldn't produce any deductions or similarities to anyone he had met, and he knew for a fact he had never seen her before. "Average" He mumbled mostly to himself and started to turn from her in the doorway.
"Average? My goodness, I like you already." She said with a slight elevation in her voice giving it a cutesy yet mocking sound. Sherlock turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. "You are very honest for a man, most men I know would say something at least a little nicer or leave a comment for a chance to get lucky." she laughed then turned serious "But you aren't really looking for a woman, especially an American, because they are almost automatically stupid, brutish, or slutty, correct? But I have English descent; that you must have caught, so I have some respect, if only a little bit.
"But as I was saying you don't want a relationship, or at least one with a woman like me, which I must say is a little odd for me because most men think I am very attractive, but I guess it is almost expected from you Sherlock dear. You are not only wounded from a women, and by the way you looked when i said that she is either taken or dead." Sherlock's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry. She must have meant something to you to get such a reaction. And even if you weren't, you already have a good enough relationship, isn't that right Doctor?" She said looking over Sherlock's shoulder. John, who had been listening intently, slightly back-washed the tea he was sipping at. Sherlock looked at the young woman standing in his doorway with a new respect.
John put his cup down. "Oh dear heavens, she reminds me of you, that's the last thing London needs." he said with a slight chuckle. He got up and walked over to her and held out his hand and smiled. "Hello I'm John Watson, pleased to meet you miss..." he realized that she hadn't said her name once. "...ummm, sorry what's your name?"
She let out a laugh "Oh I'm sorry, how rude of me! I guess I got carried away." she took Watson's hand and shook it firmly. "Hello I am Alice, pleased to meet you Dr. Watson"
"Pleasure is mine, Alice, and John is fine." She smiled warmly at the honest man and then she turned back to Sherlock and held out her hand. "Mr. Holmes, pleased to finally meet you." she repeated her first statement. This time he took her hand and shook it with a slight smile.
"And to you as well Ms. Alice."

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