Hello! So I've got a new story! I wrote this a while ago and kept meaning to post it here but never got around to it, but I have time now, so yay! Also, I apologize for the hiatus on my other story, I WILL keep working on it, but I started school again, so I may not update as often.

Rated T for mild language. Time Stamps/Locations are in bold, flashbacks/thoughts are italicized

Anyways, this is a one-shot, but I may continue it if you guys like it

I don't own Sherlock

6 years ago; London

Sherlock Holmes stood on the roof of St Bartholomew's Hospital, his hands shaking as he stood on the edge and spoke into a phone. "Goodbye, John." He steps forward and plummets to the ground below.

"SHERLOCK!" John Watson screamed from below, fear and grief in his voice as he watches his best friend plummet to his death. There was a sickening thud of flesh hitting concrete. Sirens wailed as police and EMTs rushed to the fallen detective. As the chaos below reached a climax, the supposed corpse of Jim Moriarty sat up and shook his body out, carefully glancing over the edge to see the distressed John Watson gripping his friend's hand like a lifeline and fighting back the doctors. Moriarty glanced over to the other end of the squat building to see an air cushion being hastily packed away and laughed, but the laugh never quite reached his eyes. They remained cold and dead as he straightened his suit.

"Don't think this is over Sherlock. I'll be back, and then we'll have some fun." He adjusted his tie one last time before sauntering off to the stairs.

Present Day; London

I lugged my suitcase up the stairs, grunting each time the bag crested a step and slammed with a thud on to the next one. A particularly loud thud echoed through the cramped hallway and the door to my new flat opened up and my friend Alison burst out, running over to help me with my bags.

"Oh, Nat! I didn't realize you'd be here so soon! I would've helped you if I'd known you were here!" She threw her arms around me in a quick hug and put my backpack on.

"Honestly, It's fine! I didn't know either, but the plane was early and I was able to get a taxi really quick," I replied, "Besides, they aren't heavy, just large and awkward." We made our way up the stairs again and Ali kicked open the door to my new home. The flat was very light and open, with large windows and pale walls that made it feel bigger than it was. Like a TARDIS, I thought. Ali had moved to London from Minnesota last year to study English Lit., while I stayed back to help my sister move to Philadelphia. "The shipping company called and said my stuff should arrive sometime in the next week or so. So am I over here?" I pointed to a semi-open door that revealed a full-size bed, a small dresser, and a bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling on the opposite wall. I flopped down on the bed and looked at the time, 3 am. "Hello, Jet lag!" I giggled to myself as sleep overtook me. _

The Next Day; New Scotland Yard

I stepped out of the cab at New Scotland Yard, eager to start my internship with the force. Another cab pulled up behind mine, and a tall man with curly black hair and a long coat slid out, followed by a shorter man with grey hair in a dark jacket. I did a double take and stopped in my tracks when I realized who they were. The tall man walked into me and I whirled around on reflex but froze again as I realized that Sherlock Holmes was standing right in front of me.

"You're Sherlock Holmes," I exclaimed, gazing up at the man with wide eyes, "And you're John Watson!" I pointed at his companion and stuck out my hand. "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade's new intern, Natalie Jones." They both shook my hand, and I noticed Sherlock looked lost in thought as he gazed up at the building, barely seeing me or anything else. An awkward silence ensued, so I said a quick "bye," and hurried into the building.

A woman with light brown skin and curly brown hair introduced herself as Seargent Sally Donovan, and I followed her into an elevator that took us up to Lestrade's office. We walked past several offices, and down several hallways before we finally stopped at the right door. _

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was tall, tan, and silver-haired. He lounged in his chair with his feet on his desk as I walked in. He had a good-natured face and smiled when I walked in as he quickly put his feet under his desk and straightened his jacket.

"Welcome to Scotland Yard, Ms. Jones," he said as I sat down in the chair opposite him. "It's good that you're here, we need all the help we can get. I assume you've heard of Jim Moriarty?" I thought for a second, trying to pull out the memory that tickled the back corner of my brain. A faint memory surfaced, and my blood ran cold. Six years ago James Moriarty gained national infamy as the self-dubbed "Consultant Criminal" as he stepped into the spotlight after years of staying in the shadows. He had broken into three of England's most secure buildings in a matter of minutes before he proceeded to ruin Sherlock Holmes' reputation with a series of brutal newspaper articles. The reign of fear ended with Moriarty's suicide, along with Sherlock's famous two-year disappearance. I was in middle school when it made the international news. The headline had shone on the TV for weeks; "SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS: SO-CALLED DETECTIVE FOUND DEAD ON PAVEMENT, LOCAL POLICE SHOCKED" and then later when Sherlock appeared again after two years of pretending to be dead, "FAKED SUICIDE OF GENIUS: SHERLOCK HOLMES LIVES" dominated the news world for months, so much that #SherlockLives trended worldwide on Twitter for almost a year.

"He was that guy who committed suicide around the same time as Sherlock right?" I really hoped my voice wasn't quivering as I regained my composure. "The one that broke into the Tower of London and Pentonville Prison and all that? And then the whole 'I'm gonna trap the Holmes' in a mental hospital and make them participate in sick games' thing two years ago?" I watched Lestrade nod as the blood drained from my face.

"Yeah, him. It turns out that he didn't die six years ago as we thought. And that stunt he played two years ago wasn't the only thing he had planned," He said, folding his hands and leaning forward in his chair, "I called Sherlock in, obviously, because of his previous dealings with Moriarty, but everyone we've got is on overtime working murder cases from last week. So you'll be working with Sherlock and me to get Moriarty." I gaped at my boss for a minute before his words registered in my head.

"Me? You... You want me. To work. With the Sherlock Holmes. The legendary detective Sherlock Holmes." I spluttered, not believing my own ears. "You're joking. You have to be joking. There is no way I'm actually working a case with Sherlock Holmes." Lestrade smiled at my giddiness, and I had to grip the seat of the chair to prevent myself from leaping out of it and jumping up and down.

"Yes, you, and the debriefing starts soon, so if you would follow me," He got out of his chair and I followed him down the hall and around a corner to a room with four other people in it. I saw Sherlock, Dr. Watson, Sgt. Donavan, and one other man I didn't recognize. He had oily black hair that was slicked back from his face. Sherlock nodded in my direction, and John offered me a small smile. "Right. Everyone, this is Natalie Jones, she's going to be working with us in this case." He started introducing everyone to me, and I remembered to contain my excitement, people had died, after all. "...and this is Anderson, he works on Forensics here." He finished, motioning to the oily-haired man. I didn't notice before, but Sherlock had grey eyes that seemed to change color in the lights. This time I remembered to keep my excitement in check. I waved at everyone and Lestrade continued with the matter at hand-Moriarty.

"Last night at exactly 10.00pm last night, most of London simultaneously lost power, except for a few blocks. We thought it was random until someone sent us satellite images." He pointed to a screen at the end of the room, and it showed London, shrouded in darkness except for the words "MISS ME? -M" in glowing letters, stark against the dark city. Sherlock stared at it, sitting up straighter as his companion's face turned grave.

"Have you figured out how only a few places still had power, what isolated the lit ones?" It was the first time I had heard Sherlock speak, and his voice was deep and soft. He continued, "The only way to isolate areas so specifically would be to turn off each building's power specifically, for the more detailed areas, and cut power all together for the outer sections. The area over here, for instance," he pointed to a spot on the map, "would require power cuts to each specific building and street lamp, there has to be someone on the inside. Get alibis and background checks for anyone in the area that night." He turned to me and continued, "Ms. Jones will come with me to investigate the 'question mark,' so to speak."

I couldn't believe my ears. I was working a case with Sherlock Holmes. I just barely paid attention to the rest of the briefing, something about Dr. Watson being sent to a club of some sort to see Sherlock's brother. I snapped back into reality just in time to gather my coat and follow Sherlock out the door.

Alright, so I know I said this would be a one-shot, but I lost my notebook with the original copy of this story, so I'm going to leave it at this. I am also aware that I posted this chapter a few weeks ago, but that it cut off in the middle of a sentence, and I'm sorry for that, I had to be somewhere and I wasn't thinking about what I clicked.

I am still working on my other story, but school has started up again, and I don't have very much time to work on it right now, but I will try my best not to abandon either of my stories, just don't expect a new chapter any time soon.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day/night/whatever!