Disclaimer: You know the drill ;)

Mixture of A Study in Pink and it's Pilot.

"Uh... You... You're not phoning him are you? We can handle this. We can absolutely handle this."

"Anderson, you've got work to do. So do it."

"But, are you-?"

"ANDERSON!"

"Right... Sorry."

Lestrade pulled his phone up to his ear, "This is inspector Lestrade. Please call me as soon as you get this. You know that guy you recommended? I think we're gunna need him."

"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night in a building site in Greater London," Sally Donovan informed the press, "Preliminary investigation suggests that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Fillmore. In the light of this these investigations are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now."

Lestrade sighed as a reporter called out, "Detective Inspector, how could suicides be linked?"

He thought for a moment before saying; "Well they all took the same poison. They were all found in places they had no reason to be. None of them had shown any prior indications-"

The reported interrupted him, "But you can't have serial suicides!"

"Well apparently you can."

Another reporter called out, "These three people, there's nothing that links them?"

"There's nothing found yet," He informed them, "But we're looking for it—there has to be one."

Lestrade's phone, along with everyone else's, buzzed as a text came through.

'Wrong!'

Donovan looked annoyed as she called out; "If you've all got texts, please ignore them."

The first reporter frowned, "It just says 'Wrong!'"

"Yeah, well, just ignore that," Donovan replied, "If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade I'm going to bring this session to an end."

"If they're suicides what are you investigating?" Another reporter called out.

"As I said these suicides are clearly linked, um, but it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating-" His phone buzzed again.

"It says "wrong" again."

"For goodness..." Donovan whispered, before saying; "One more question!"

"Is there any chance that these are murders and if they are is this the work of a serial killer?"

Stupid reporters... "I know that you'd like writing about this but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The poison was clearly self-administered."

"Yes but if they are murders how do people keep themselves safe?"

That's obvious, isn't it? "Well don't commit suicide."

"Daily mail!" Donovan hissed in warning.

"Obviously, this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions," He said, "We are all as safe as we wanna be."

Another text, 'Wrong!' But this time, his had extra; 'You know where to find me. SH'

Shaking his head, he put his phone away.

"Thank you," he said to the room at large, before getting up and leaving.

'I do know where to find you, but we don't need your help this time. We've got someone else. Lestrade.'

"Oh- Who let him in here?" Lestrade signed as Sherlock Holmes walked into this office and slammed his hands onto the desk.

"What do you mean you've got someone else?" He growled.

"Well... We got recommended to someone. So, he's got the case."

"Who?"

"His name's John Smith."

"How fresh?" Sherlock asked Molly Hooper, as he inspected the body.

"Just in," She informed him, "67. Natural causes. Used to work here. He was nice... I knew him."

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop."

A few minutes later found him attacking the body with a riding crop.

They got someone else! Who the hell is he?

Sherlock ground his teeth together as Molly wandered back in.

"So... Bad day, was it?" She asked.

He just looked at her, "I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes. A mans' alibi depends on it. Text me when you know."

"Right..." She nodded, "Uh... Listen, I was wondering, maybe later, if you're finished-"

"Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't before." Sherlock's eyebrow rose fractionally.

"I just refreshed it a bit."

"Right. Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?"

"Black. Two sugars. I'll be upstairs."

He swept passed her and towards the lab.

Maybe this day isn't so bad after all, Sherlock thought as his taxi turned a corner, At least someone is willing to share the flat with me...

The taxi stopped and he saw John Watson approach the flat.

He paid the cabbie, and jumped out of the taxi.

"Hello," He said as John extended his hand.

"Mr Holmes.

"Sherlock, please."

"Well, this is a prime spot," John said approvingly, "Must be expensive..."

"Oh, Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. Owes me a favour," He informed him, "Few years back, her husband got sentenced to death in Florida, I was able to help out."

"You stopped her husband being executed?" John half gaped.

"Oh, no," He smiled, "I ensured it."

"I thought you didn't want my help," Sherlock said pointedly as Lestrade entered the room.

"Well," He said, uncomfortably, "This new guy is a bit out of his depth."

"That's the same with the entire police force, Lestrade. You should know this by now."

Lestrade sighed, "Will you help?"

"What's different this time?"

"There was a note."

"Hmmm... Where?"

"Brixton," Lestrade informed him, "Lauriston gardens... Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?"

Lestrade sighed, "Anderson."

"He won't work with me. Is the 'new guy' there?"

Lestrade nodded.

"Fine. But not in the police car. I'll be just behind you."

"Thank you."

A though struck him as he reached the front door of 221b, and he raced back up stairs.

"You're a doctor," he said, startling John, "In fact you're an army doctor."

"Yes."

"Any good?" He asked.

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries then? Violent deaths?"

"Well, yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet?"

"Of course. Yes," John paused, "Enough for a life time. Far too much."

"Wanna see some more?"

"Oh, God yes."

Sherlock grinned as they exited the room.

"Hello freak," Donovan said as they approached.

"I'm here to see Lestrade."

"Why?" She asked suspiciously.

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look."

"But we've got someone."

"Out of his depth. Like you all."

"So? Where's this new guy then? Where's the body?" Sherlock said when he saw Lestrade.

Lestrade pointed up, "Both upstairs."

"Come on then," Sherlock bounded up the stairs.

"Oh, hello!" The 'new guy' smiled as they walked in.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade, "That's him?"

Lestrade nodded, "Yep."

Sherlock looked at the new guy. He was wearing a brown, pinstriped suit with a long, lighter brown coat and cream converse trainers. His hands were deep in his pockets and he grinned at Sherlock, "I'm guessing you're Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly, as he realised that the man in front of him was extremely difficult to read, "Yes. And you're John Smith."

The man nodded, "Yep! But, you can just call me the Doctor."

"If you're a doctor, why are you at a crime scene?"

"I'm a doctor!," John Watson said, "Why am I here?"

"Oh, I'm not a medical doctor," The Doctor said, still smiling.

"A scientist?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor nodded, "You could say that."

Sherlock nodded slightly before saying; "Okay. What have we got?" and looking over the female body, currently laying face down on the floor, donned in bright pink.

"She was poisoned," The Doctor informed him, "Self administered, like the others."

"Right."

Sherlock looked at his fingers as he extracted them from under the woman's collar.

"She scratched a name into the floor," The Doctor said, "It's either 'Rache', which I doubt, as she's not German."

Sherlock looked at him as he said this, slightly shocked that he had made such a deduction.

"H-How did you...?" John Watson trailed off as he looked at the Doctor, but Sherlock answered instead.

"You can tell by her cheek bones."

"Cheek bones?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said, "Most Germans have distinctive cheek bones."

"Oh..."

"So, in that case, she's writing 'Rachel'," The Doctor continued, "Most likely a daughter."

Sherlock nodded as he pulled out his phone.

"She was writing 'Rachel'?" Lestrade said, slightly shocked.

"No, she was writing 'Revenge' in German," Sherlock said sarcastically, not taking his eyes of the phone in front of him, "Of course she was writing 'Rachel'!"

"Oh... What else?" Lestrade asked.

"She'd from out of town. Intending to stay in London for the night, before returning home to-"

"Cardiff," The Doctor finished for him.

Sherlock turned on his heel and looked over his phone at the man, "How did you know that?"

The Doctor shrugged, "It's obvious from the size of her suitcase that it's for one night, and judging by the damp and dry areas on her coat she's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain in London in that time and it was raining in Cardiff earlier."

Sherlock slipped his phone into his pocket and stared at the Doctor for a while.

The Doctor stared back, still smiling.

"Bloody hell," Lestrade said, "You two were made for each other... Hold on. Suitcase?"

Sherlock and the Doctor turned to look at him, "Yes, suitcase," The Doctor said.

"Isn't it obvious?"

John and Lestrade stared at them, "Dear God," Sherlock said, "What is it like inside your funny little brains? It must be so boring."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, "Anyway... Suitcase. Where is it?"

"She must have had a phone, or an organizer. We can find out who Rachel is... Now, suitcase. Where is it? What have you done with it?"

There was a pause.

"There wasn't a case."

"What?" They both asked.

"Of course there was!" The Doctor said, "It's obvious by the-"

"Tiny mud splatters on her right leg!"

"The only thing that would make that pattern is a-,"

"Suitcase! She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her-"

"Right hand!"

"There was never any suitcase!" Lestrade exclaimed.

The Doctor shook his head slightly, "That can't be right..."

Sherlock strode through the door, "Suitcase!" He yelled down the stairs, "Has anyone found a suitcase?"

"Sherlock! There was no case!" Lestrade shouted as Sherlock propelled himself down the stairs.

Well? What do you think? I had the idea a couple of days ago... Should I continue?

The whole press conference thing was taken directly from the show :3

And the cheek bones thing is just there cause it is. There's no truth, fact or logic in that bit...

Thanks,

~HPA