This is my first non-experimental serious fic.

Pairings: A/H

Words: 1430 (Prologue)

Takes Place: After TAC for AF and pre RF for Sherlock

Rating:T

Disclaimer: 2whitie thinks if you think that she owns either Artemis Fowl or Sherlock she will thank you for such a compliment before she Gibbs-slaps you for forcing Doyle to turn in his grave, and for causing Colfer to…ummmm…..spin in his office chair….yeah…

We may talk, shake hands, nod to each other, but the fence remains. You will always be Sherlock Holmes, and I, Arsene Lupin, Gentleman thief

-Arsene Lupin

Inspector Lestrade silently passed a file to John Watson who set down his cup of tea to look at said file. He fingered the thick file with a questioning air before opening it, completely disregarding the bright red TOP SECRET written across it. It was thick, the thickest he had ever seen. Pages of bank account numbers, pictures taken from security cameras and phone correspondence tumbled out. John Watson scooped it back into the file, preferring to look at it later.

"What's this about?"

Lestrade leaned forward, dressed in his customary English suit. Classy, but not too formal. " This is about Artemis Fowl" he said in a low voice, as if saying the very name would cause somebody to drop dead. "Sherlock's head is big enough, but you and me both know he is the best. It's just an added bonus that he likes these weird cases. Artemis Fowl is a weird case." He sat back in his chair, slightly embarrassed by the compliment he had just issued.

John's interest waved away any notice of Lestrade's feelings. While Sherlock preferred the weird cases, he drifted toward normalcy. Something to root him to reality. In the midst of superhero conventions*, giant hounds and triads, he needed a reminder that solving cases was not the game Sherlock made it out to be. People get killed. Sometimes however, as he looked back, the weird cases were the most remembered. Right. The case.

"Who?" he asked.

Lestrade poked at the file. "Heir to one of the biggest criminal empires. He's one of those people that even with cooperation from Interpol and other intelligence agencies, we know he's responsible, but nothing is ever proven. All circumstantial evidence, but enough of it for him to be put on 24-hour watch.

John tugged on his sweater, something that was becoming a habit. "What makes him special? Criminals who are surrounded by nothing concrete is hardly new."

"Well, for one, he barely hit puberty. He just celebrated his fifteenth birthday." He tapped the file. "This file was started when he was ten."

The good doctor didn't miss a beat. "How do know it's not daddy pulling the strings?"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Where were you three years ago?"

"Getting shot"

"Right. Sorry. His dad was suspected dead when he was ten. Suspicious timing, no? Then when he was thirteen, the Dad suddenly reappears and the mafia is in disarray, no one knowing what really went down the night before he reappeared. Since then, he has dropped off the face of the earth for days on end, been in an area that almost seems to have dropped out of time, and almost every weird sighting involving something arcane or supernatural, like the Cancun incident, involves him or his bodyguard. Something is up, and we need to find out. Normally, we leave these kinds of things to the Abnormal Activity Unit**but this..whatever it is…time drops…people with memories that don't match up…. also occurs during Fairy Thief heists, which does fall under my jurisdiction." Lestrade panted for a bit, catching his breath.

John blinked. Everyone in the detective world knew who the fairy thief was. Named for the first painting he stole, the modern Robin Hood ran around lifting paintings from Swiss banks, private collections, and anything with a lost masterpiece. Said Masterpieces would then be mailed to somewhere with his signature attached so that it could be on public display. His signature was simple: a disk with a hole in the middle. As for the Cancun incident, everyone with a television knew about that. On September 1st, in Cancun, Mexico, There was a half-hour where a large group clamis mass memory loss. They cant remember anything that happened during that half-hour. All video tapes had been reset to factory settings, effectively erasing the memory. When everyone came to, they realized people in walkers had managed to run across the auditorium of the wrestling stadium and babies could perform complex acrobatics.

Lestrade had started talking again. "To catch someone like this, we need someone who isn't afraid to break the rules, or try something unorthodox. Don't give me that who me look, I heard rumors about someone trying to streak across Buckingham palace. Point is, this Artemis Fowl is smart. He deals in weird things. He's dangerous, cunning, and above all, he has money." He stood up, and tossed money on the table for the tea. "Think about it. It could be interesting."

"It could be dangerous" reprimanded John, looking at the suitcase Sherlock was packing.

Sherlock threw in a firefighter suit. "People who want puzzles but no danger join the cub scouts."

When Sherlock lowered himself enough to have one of his cases compared to the Cub Scouts, John knew there was no backing out. He sighed and began inspecting his favorite sweater. Was Ireland chilly?

Sherlock grabbed the sweater out of his hand with hi violin bow and laid it on the chair. "No need for that. I read the file. The place holding the most evidence seems to be Chicago."

John picked the sweater back up. "How do you know it wasn't for actual legal business? It could be a dead end."

Sherlock stopped mid-pace. "Chicago is home to one of the biggest mobs. When he went over there, they temporarily disbanded. . He hasn't been back, if he is as smart as they say, he won't be back there to stir up coals." He brought a newspaper out of nowhere. "Fairy Thief steals from a New Jersey museum. He did it in broad daylight, incredibly arrogant, but smart. No pictures, no witnesses, no trace. He knows what he's doing, he's a show-off. Yet, he could have done it when the same painting was in Chicago, with more press. He didn't. Why? He doesn't like Chicago for whatever reason. Having the mob out for you is a reason. Mobs leave traces." He shouldered on his jacket, all packed. "This could be interesting."

Artemis Fowl shut his computer screen. His blue and Hazel eyes stared off into space before flickering back, focused and a plan already shaping. "Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson" he murmured. He raised his voice up a touch. "Heard of them Butler?"

Butler nodded. "I know one by his reputation. Eccentric, but a deductive genius and not afraid to break the rules. He shares a London flat with the other one, Watson. I actually know him. Good solidier, and a good head on his shoulders." He rumbled out in a deep bass.

Artemis rubbed a cufflink. "This could be interesting."

Foaly's voice vibrated from the speakers. "Artemis, the minute you think he's getting too close, I want you ringing the LEP on your ring-phone, and a mind-wipe team will be on the surface. We don't have cause now, but if he investigates you more, we will have cause to have a mind-wipe warrant."

Artemis grinned. "Understood."

A huff of disbelief came from the speakers. "Myself, Holly and Mulch know the service you have rendered the people." He paused. "But every incident is a new game, a new opportunity to have the Council order a mind wipe on you."

Artemis sobered slightly. "I know" he said, his voice turning into its normal rasp. " But tell me, What's life without risks?"

Foaly seemed to grin. "That's what Orion said."

Artemis's face heated up a few degrees. Foaly was probably watching, but he blathered on anyway. "Besides, we don't want anyone to get close to Opal."

Artemis looked out the window overlooking Ireland. "I can take care of myself." He turned to Butler. "Purchase two tickets to Ireland, then send them to Chicago. And prepare the guest bedrooms. The game is afoot."

The mastermind behind all this..He's twelve years old sir.

Root grunted. "Kid thinks he's Sherlock Holmes"

"That's Professor Moriarty."

"Homes, Moriarty, they both look the same with the flesh scorched off their skulls."

-Artemis Fowl Book 1

I have this all planned out, so everything will mean something. Tell me is anything is OOC, but don't flame without critism that I can use.

Points:

Artemis is not evil. Not like Moriarty, who killed people. Yes, I made him seem so, but really, he doesn't kill people. He takes great offense when suggested in book 3.

Artemis isn't the kind of genius Sherlock is. Sherlock is a deductive genius, and although Artemis has displayed deductive skills, he is more of a prodigy/mastermind. Incredibly smart, but predicts how people will react. He does have a degree in psychology.

*Mentioned in either aSiB or HoB, in one of his blog postings. I think they were dressed up as ninjas

**Not anything needed a cool name