Sherlock Holmes wandered the streets of Uppsala, a city north of Stockholm in Eastern Sweden. Anyone in Britain would recognize him, but Sweden had never cared about the adventures of the consulting detective and therefore none of them would be suspicious of his alias: Alexander O'Sullivan. He claimed to be a recently transplanted immigrant from Northern Ireland. As nearly all Swedes spoke English, he didn't have too hard a time of things getting around.
Sherlock didn't feel lonely, exactly, except for the absence of his best friend. John always made it easier for him to think aloud, because it was, apparently, weird to talk to yourself. Or a skull. As a result, Sherlock had been actively screening some of the residents of Uppsala for how interesting they had the potential to be. So far nobody had caught his eye. He didn't mind. Alone was what he had; alone protected him. He only regretted that he was left to deal with the world's stupidity all on his own.
One Tuesday evening he spotted a teenage girl walking with a backpack around the back streets of the city. Nothing seemed extraordinary about her except that she was an orphan, living at an orphanage and vehemently avoiding it. She was decently intelligent, but beyond that level it was hard to discern exactly how intelligent she was. She clearly did sports, from the tone of her muscle, but there was a thin layer of fat there that suggested sports weren't what she was best at. Sherlock found himself wondering if she was really good at anything. She'd lived in Sweden her whole life, but she'd been on numerous trips outside the country.
Sherlock was bored, and she seemed interesting, so he followed her. The girl picked the lock of an upstairs flat like she'd done it a million times. Sherlock ran and stuck his foot in the door before it could close.
"Vem är du?" the girl said immediately as she turned around.
"I don't speak Swedish," Sherlock said in his faux Irish accent.
"Who are you?" she translated.
"Why, you're quick. My name is Alexander O'Sullivan."
The girl shook her head. "No, that's not it."
Sherlock's eyebrows shot up, impressed at what he could tell was a deduction. It wasn't a lucky guess. "Do you read the British papers? Watch BBC?"
"Occasionally, if it's interesting, but I find it's normally rather dull." That immediately made Sherlock categorize her as either a show-off or an honest person with a developed intellect.
Sherlock sighed and released the accent. "I am Sherlock Holmes."