HELLO MY LITTLE KITTENS! This is something to hold me over until season 3 of Sherlock comes out. I also thought of this while watching South Park. I apologize ahead of time but I'm not from Britain, but I'll do my research to the fullest. If there are any British people reading if you see something please point it out to me so that I can fix it. Enjoy!
Act 1: Yesterday I Died
Sherlock looked upon the woman in front of him intensely, actually wondering if he had misheard her. She was a woman of 23 with pure white hair, tan skin, and red eyes. At first he thought that perhaps she colored her hair but judging from the length of it and it's health that it was her natural color, which was indeed odd. He was slightly surprised by her eye color but red is a natural eye color, albeit very rare. She sat with her arms close to her sides and her legs crossed, indicating that she was a very closed person and wasn't very trusting. That might be due to anxiety, which he can tell by the constant twitch of her right leg and how her nails had been chewed on recently. She wore dark and dull cloths that consisted of a grey fall coat, black jeans and black boots. She probably dresses that way as to not draw attention to herself because she was shunned for her strange appearance. The only color that she wore was a diamond necklace with a single red gemstone in the middle. A present from a lover? No, if she were in a romantic relationship she would have worn much more flattering make up. The make up she wore was simple but very well done, indication a need for perfection. Probably because of something in her past. The necklace was a gift from a relative, perhaps her parents. She had come to Sherlock's and John's flat only 5 minutes ago, obviously a customer. She seemed very nervous, partly because of the anxiety but also like she was going to reveal a big secret. And indeed she had. Sherlock took in a deep breath and looked at John, who seemed to be as confused as he was, before looking back at the woman sitting in the middle of their flat in a chair.
"I beg our pardon Miss, but could you repeat that?" Sherlock asked, quietly (for reasons unknown to him).
The woman took in a deep shaky breath, the twitch in her leg speeding up. "I died yesterday, but for some reason I woke up in own bed this morning." She spoke with a soft voice, but it also had a certain edge to it.
There was another long silence between them all before John cleared his throat and spoke up, his gaze directed at the woman.
"When you say 'died', do you mean metaphorically or...?"
The woman turned her gaze towards John, slightly annoyed. "I mean that I was shot in the heart and just woke up in my bed!"
Again, another tense moment of silence.
"Are you sure that you weren't taken to a hospital and don't-"
The woman slammed her fist on the arm of the chair, making John jump.
"I'm sure of it! Don't bother asking me how I know because I just know! But if you need verification..." She trailed off before leaning back in chair and looking directly at Sherlock. "I think it would be better if I just told you what happened, am I correct?"
Sherlock stared at her intently for a moment before nodding. "Yes, please do."
The woman nodded back at him and looked down at her hands, which she was gripping firmly. "I suppose I should tell you that my name is Shiro, Shiro Phantomhive."
"Shiro..." Sherlock repeated the foreign word quietly, searching his memory for the meaning.
The woman, Shiro, nodded. "Yes, it means white in Japanese."
She smiled sadly at her own hands. "Some people think it's a very pretty name, but honestly I think it's just plain cruel. My parents died when I was just a babe so I was adopted by a wealthy family here in London. But even though I was adopted I still kept in contact with my aunt, my mother's sister. Last year I decided to take some time off from work so I could go and visit her. She lives in America so you can imagine the expenses. I was finally able to acquire the money last month and I took the earliest flight possible to America. I spent a week with her in her flat in Brooklyn before I needed to catch my flight back here. I was only able to get one at night and my aunt gave me instructions on how to get to the airport quicker. Before I had to catch a cab there I decided to stop by a small shop to get something to eat. While I was there a madman came in and started waving his gun around, demanding money. I was so shocked that I dropped my drink and he shot me three times in the chest."
She pressed two fingers to her temple, as if she was developing a migraine. "All I remember is feeling great pain and seeing nothing but darkness. The next thing I know it's morning and I'm in my bed, back in my flat here. At first I thought that maybe it was all a dream but then I realized that I was still in my cloths from before. Not just that, but I pulled up a news website for America on the net and it said that a man went and shot 5 people in a shop...one of them was me."
She looked back up at Sherlock and John, a desperate look in her eyes. "Please you have to help me! This isn't the first time it's happened before! When I was younger I...I fell off a swing-set and landed on my neck. I woke up the next day in my bed so I just assumed that I had been knocked out and someone put me to bed but...now I know that I broke me neck! No one lives after that! You just need to believe me, please!"
Sherlock stood there and studied her further. As much as he wanted to take this case (if you could even call it that) there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that what she was telling them was impossible. No one can just come back from the dead like that, let alone twice. It just wasn't logical. Even so...she didn't look like she was lying to them plus she offered evidence. He looked over to John and they locked gazes for a moment before John nodded an went over to his computer. Sherlock listened to the click of the keys as John looked for the supposed evidence that Miss. Phantomhive had offered. she was still looking at him with that desperate look, like a puppy begging for food. But she also looked confident, which Sherlock found odd. That might be because she was telling the truth, which Sherlock was secretly hoping for. It wasn't everyday that something like this came along! If this wasn't just some illusion or conspiracy he might be dealing with something truly mystical here. The very thought of it sent sparks through his veins. The clicking of keys had stopped momentarily, followed by the low mumbling of John before Sherlock really heard him speak.
"Sherlock...you might want to come and see this." John said, a distant sound to his tone.
Sherlock turned towards John and walked over to him, bending over a bit to get a better look at the screen. What he saw actually pleased him slightly. The article had said almost exactly what Shiro had told them. In Brooklyn a crazed man ran into a small shop with a gun and shot 5 people. The website had a picture of the scene and sure enough there was Miss. Phantomhive standing by a counter of key chains, holding an open water-bottle frozen in place. So this meant that Shiro wasn't lying, she really had died. Sure she could have died for a few moments there from the gun shots but she certainly wouldn't have woken up in her own bed here in London, just about 3,000 miles away. Sherlock couldn't help but smile at this, excitement running through him as he stood up straight and walked back over to Miss. Phantomhive.
"I'll take it." He said, a somewhat upbeat tone to it.
Shiro blinked, looking as if she was wondering if she heard him right. "P-Pardon?"
Sherlock sighed a little and rolled his eyes. "I said, Miss. Phantomhive, that I will take your case."
She stared at him for a moment before a wide smile grew across her face. "Really? You'll take my case?"
Before Sherlock could even blink Shiro jumped up from her seat and began violently shaking his hand. "Oh thank you Mr. Holmes, thank you so much! You won't regret it, I just know it!"
She pulled a pen and travelers notebook out of her purse and scribbled down a few things before ripping out the piece of paper and shoving it into Sherlock's hand.
"That's my phone number and address when you need to contact me. Tomorrow morning I have to work so if you need me I'm a waitress at Darlin's Cafe, on the corner of 2nd street."
Miss. Phantomhive looked at her watch. "Oh bugger I really have to get going. But you have my information so contact me when you need to."
And with that she hurried out of the flat and out into the street, hailing a taxi. Sherlock moved to the window to watch her leave before turning to John, a smile on his face.
"Oh god..." John said quietly to himself. "What are you thinking Sherlock?"
Sherlock sighed happily and looked back out to the street. "Oh nothing, just that I think I've found one of my best cases yet."
John stared at Sherlock in return, studying his frame before turning his gaze back to his computer and sighing. Well, at least Sherlock will be entertained.
Well, what do you think? Now there will be a little Johnlock in this story, but more so like it is in the show (heavily implied). So if you don't mind I'd like a little feedback, please? This will be my first Sherlock fanfic so I do apologize if it sucks. Reviews are love!
Love and yaoi
~ladyknights104
