Her fingers hovered over the keys of her laptop staring at the web page indefinitely. Eventually, she started to think about the words she could develop in seconds if her mind permitted it. Blogs were never really her thing, it was always... His. She opted for the fictional stories over the overwhelmingly real ones.

But it had been almost ten years, this was the only sure fire way to get his attention without going through twelve levels of the British government and his brother. Would he even care? Would he see her name in his blog's notifications and disregard her as just another mysterious case out to get his attention?

The man in question just so happened to be Sherlock Holmes the uprising sleuthing detective who just so happens to be the childhood friend of Ana Williams.

Most people wouldn't describe Sherlock as their friend, more likely opting for the term acquaintance or colleague. But Ana Williams held an advantage, she was smart, witty and somehow managed to meet Sherlock when he was ten years old.

Ana was eight years old at the time of the introduction so her memories were a bit hazy. The curly hair of the mini detective was the first detail she noticed, followed by his permanent scowl resulted by complete boredom. There must not be many thrilling cases for a child of that age beyond 'Who stole my lunch money.'

She didn't run his way like many of the other children who wanted his attention would, instead, she took her time like she was plotting out what she was going to say. Ana made eye contact with him immediately as if silently begging him to wait for her. It was like she knew he wanted to get to the library before his lunch break was over.

Seeing him sitting alone with books by his side all portraying murder mysteries made her feel uneasy. As she got closer, she began to notice a little book of scribblings. "Wrong!" and "Idiots!" boldly written all over the page, along with notes of how the detectives in the books missed so many key elements that could have changed the outcome. She approached him from behind, but as she was about to speak...

"No." Sherlock audibly spoke without turning. The girl shut her mouth partly in confusion and partly in bewilderment.

"I'm sorry?"

Sherlock turns around and looks her in the eye. Ana could feel his eyes scanning her as if he were some kind of machine.

"You're a sweet girl who hides behind a faint but cheesy smile, although faked, you play it off fairly decent. Judging from your jumper and how it's abnormally oversized and worn, I'd say it's a hand-me-down from a sibling who had previously went to this school. But even with that being said, the indication of your messy collar and uneven braids commonly mean that they must not pay much attention to you."

Ana fidgets in her spot, trying her best to fix her collar.

"But…"

"I understand your reasoning of coming to me, Ms. Bailey has told you about how she insists students with obviously higher IQ's to be student mentors or 'big brothers' shall I say to my very much uneducated and, in your case,younger peers. So in light of this situation, No, I will not be your 'big brother' who helps you read the big kid books."

Alas, Ana was used to being underestimated, so she pulled the 'big kid book' out of her bag and flicked through the pages to show him the solved activities throughout. With Sherlock obviously impressed, she began to talk to him with a bit more confidence.

"Some of the kids here." She paused after placing the book back in her bag, happy with the amount of evidence she had shown of her knowledge. "They say you know things."

"Do they? What an achievement for them."

Ignoring his remark, Ana continued "You've made Miss Bailey cry because of her husband."

"It wasn't her husband it was her boyfriend and it was obvious he was cheating on her. Her 'new' necklace was clearly second hand, a cheap knockoff made to make his suspicious jealous girlfriends feel special."

Clearly, the meaning of this was lost on the eight-year-old, but she understood enough to know he was smart. Extremely smart. "You figure out things better than anyone else in school!"

"Again you state the obvious. Never mind. I'm bored now, Goodbye." There was still ten minutes before their lunch break would finish but none of that mattered to the now clearly irritated and rushly packing Sherlock Holmes.

"Wait" Ana grabbed his coat sleeve in a panic, desperate to gain back his attention. "Someone in school stole a very important document from my backpack."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Document? What a big kid word. Go on…"

"My teacher gave me a consent form to have my mother fill out and I gave it to her last night with important instructions to put it in my bag for school." Ana tipped her books out of her bag as delicately as a four-year-old would pour building blocks onto the floor. "I can't find it anywhere!"

The urgency in her voice triggered Sherlock to understand the emergency in its entirety. It didn't take a genius to know exactly what was going on, but the young girl still stood there waiting for him to speak.

"You've been admitted to skip two grades, this would require a parent meeting with the school principal and your teachers but your mother isn't interested in meeting anyone to discuss your education. They sent you home with a consent form but somewhere between home and your first class, that consent form mysteriously disappeared. Your mother didn't want to hear about you advancing in classes so you spun a story about a school trip hoping she would buy the chance to get you out of her hair. Are you sure it was in your bag when you left?"

The frown on the small girl's face answered the question in a heartbeat. "Although there is a 9 percent chance that the consent form was stolen, I suggest you look in your waste bin at home for the torn up form. Goodbye." He tried to walk away but had somehow forgotten the small girl still had hold of his coat sleeve.

"I would suggest acquiring a new consent form and finding the nearest responsible figure to sign it for you." Again he tried to leave believing she would now be content with the information he had given her, but Ana seemed incredibly strong for someone who was two years younger.

"Can you help me?"

They throw the term 'hooked' around occasionally, but almost instantaneously, Sherlock turned around and said "Let's go." as he led her through the halls.

This was the first time Sherlock met someone who didn't call him strange or a freak. She didn't run the other way crying when he started speaking and that in itself was enough.

It was like he had found the first human being worth paying attention too.

Turning her attention back to the web page a sigh escaped her lips when Ana realizes that there was still a blank screen in front of her. What could she say? What could she possibly say that would merit his attention?

How about 'hey Sherlz remember me? The big jerk who followed you around for years?'

A frown graced her lips for a millisecond before her frantic typing began.

Dear Sherlock, it's Ana...

I know! I know you never wanted me to contact you again but you need to listen. In less than 24 hours I will be kidnapped. The police won't listen to me, hell even Mycroft won't listen to me but I know you are the one person who will...

Save me Sherlz, you're my only hope.