Hi guys, so this is my first attempt at a proper fanfic so please be nice :). I dunno where in the heck this is going to go, I just randomly came up with it last night but I'm sure I'll figure something out. I apologise for any spelling/grammar mistakes and if anyone wants to point them out, I will be very grateful.

Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, which was adapted from the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No copyright infringement is intended.

I could feel the sweat sliding down my hot back, as I stretched out. The floor was cold, the wooden floorboards hard underneath me. I could feel bodies all around me, most of them had probably passed out from too much drink. I could smell sick and stale alcohol making my nose wrinkle in disgust. Yet I could only hear silence. I seemed that everyone had passed out. Placing my hands beside me to steady myself, I sat up, taking in my surroundings.

The room was trashed. The walls were covered in lipstick kisses, names in black marker, silly string, and streamers. People were laying everywhere, arms and legs tangled together. Various clothes, shoes and accessories were strewn about the floor, as if there had been an explosion in a shopping centre.

I groaned as suddenly a wave of pain hit me. I dipped my head back, closing my eyes in an effort to block out the pain. Unfortunately, it didn't work. I pushed myself up into a sitting position and started to rub my temples, easing the pain away. I looked around, locating my bag in less than a minute, the gold and black stripes made it very easy to locate. I furrowed in my bag for a minute or so before I finally found my saviour. Paracetamol. I popped two out of their foil prisons and swallowed them both, not caring enough to find a drink.

I was just about to sit down when my top started to vibrate. I thought this very strange until I realised that it wasn't my actual top that was vibrating, but rather my phone was vibrating in my bra. I realised that this was probably why I woke in the first place. I pulled it out and realised that my chest felt much better now. I typed in my password, subconsciously checked the time (4:45am) and was immediately bombarded by messages. Most of them were from my best friend/soul sister Hannah asking where the hell I was only with a few more expletives thrown in. A couple were from her long term boyfriend Ash, again enquiring where I was. I had one from my best friend Sam, asking if I was okay. I smiled at that one, realising that it had been the one to wake me up.

I put the phone in my bag, deciding to text back when I got home. I checked my purse for my taxi cash and found my mini mirror. Realising it was too small; I picked my way through the mass of bodies to the mirror on the landing. I stared at the girl looking back at me. Her black hair was a mess, sticking out at all angles. Her bright blue eyes stood out against the smudged back eye makeup. Her full lips were swollen and had traces of red lipstick around the edges. I blinked and the girl copied me.

Sighing, I reached into my bad and pulled out my brush, in an attempt to tease my hair into submission. When I was satisfied that I could do no more, I started to walk down the hall and out the door. But just as I grabbed the door handle, I heard a scream and a bang ring out.

I froze, not daring to turn around. After a minute, I decided that if anyone was going to kill me they would have done so by now. I slowly pivoted on the spot. The hallway looked the same as before. The only change was a light that was spilling out from upstairs. I took tentative steps down the hallway towards the stairs. Every step seemed to sound like a gunshot in the silent house. I reached the top of the stairs, and turned towards the light coming from the bathroom. I gently pushed on the half open door, wondering what could be inside. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I screamed.

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