A/N: So this is my first Sherlock fic and as much as I love and ship Johnlock this isn't a Johnlock fic. Please please let me know what you think, especially of my OC Amelia-Jay and whether I got Sherlock right, constructive criticism is always welcome as long as you're nice about it. This literally did come to me in a dream then I made it a little more sane. Could you please tell me if I should go into the cases in series 2 or make this post-fall I can't decide and I have some stuff half written either way. Contains self-harm so if you dont like dont read. As regards to my other fic, it may be on hold for a while as I am really not sure what to write.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, other than AJ, she's mine. But the rest belongs to someone who isn't sat on their but eating Dorito's when they should be doing other more productive things, or maybe it does but that someone isn't this someone.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The detective and the pianist

Bright sunlight stung her eyes, the flimsy white curtains in the cheap hotel doing nothing to keep out the morning sun. With a sigh the short woman lying on the lumpy mattress facing the said stream of sunlight got to her feet and stretched. Yawning, she pulled on her dressing gown and headed to the attached bathroom for a shower. "Today's the day I find a job and a more permanent place to stay" she though decisively, although she had said the same thing the past week that she had been in London.

Two hours later, however finds Amelia-Jay Warner, dressed in a knee length 50's style blue dress and a black blazer, the red waves cascading down her back and a satchel full of sheet music and her London A-Z outside a restaurant on Baker Street that had advertised in that day's newspaper two vacancies, both of which Amelia hoped to fill.

Taking a deep breath of the smog thick air she opened the door of the high class place and fixed a friendly smile on her face. "Hello" she called to the man mopping up the stage where a beautiful grand piano sat. "We're not open till 11, love." He said not looking up from his task. "I'm here about the vacancies you advertised? For a waitress and a pianist?" The man with the mop looked up, "My names Amelia-Jay Warner."

"Brilliant! I'm Jonathan Keys" he dropped his mop and practically skipped across to where she stood near the door. Gripping her small hand between both of his, shaking it enthusiastically. "The last two people who came about it were your average bottle blond teens with no experience, looked likely to run off at any point. You, however look much more professional. So which job are you interested in?" He said in one breath with a large grin plastered on his face. The grin widened further when she answered "Both."

"Both? You're a musician? What do you play?" He asked at speed, eyes wide with excitement. "Well I'm a grade 8 for piano and violin. I also play guitar, ukulele, flute, bongos and sing a bit." She said with a smile and reached into her bag "I have my CV with me now" Amelia added holding out a couple of sheets of paper.

"Brilliant!" Jonathan exclaimed again. "Whilst I read this would you be a dear and play me something. First just some piano then can you sing a bit for me please?" He gestured towards the piano he had been mopping by before. "Of course" Amelia-Jay said and walked over to the majestic instrument.

Sitting down on the black cushioned bench she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and hovered her hands above the keys. Exhaling she placed the tips of her fingers on top of the ivories and straitened her back. Opening her eyes she began to play a jazzy background noise type tune that was often heard at these places. Smiling she relaxed into the sweet sound that echoed around the empty room and began to improvise.

Once she had been playing for around 3 minutes she brought the tune to a close. A slow clapping brought her back to the restaurant from the musical land she transported herself to. "Brilliant! Now please sing me something of your choice, Miss Warner." The restaurant owner exclaimed once again from his seat by the window. "Call me AJ, please. Most people do." She said pleasantly before rummaging through the sheet music in the bag she had discarded by the piano. "Would 'I don't know how to love him' from Jesus Christ superstar do?" She added and when Jonathan nodded she placed the sheets on the stand and her hands returned to the keys.

"I don't know how to love him/ what to do/ how to move him/ he's a man/ he's just a man/ and I've had so many, men before/ in very many ways, he's just one more" her clear alto voice rang out softly, conveying the deep emotion and unrequited love the song was written to stand for. As she ended Jonathan clapped once more and grinned "Well AJ, the pianist job is most defiantly yours! I do have another lined up for the job also, a man named Clark. If you wouldn't mind coming in for a meeting with him tomorrow at around 10:30 so we can arrange a schedule then you can do a trail waitressing for the first shift which is 11- 2:30 if you wouldn't mind." Amelia agreed and gave Jonathan her number in case anything changed and left the restaurant with a wave to her new boss.

Pulling her blazer closed around her she glanced around the busy London street. "Amelia-Jay! AJ! How are you dear?" A familiar voice called from across the street by a cafe called Speedy's. Turning on her heel she fell into the open arms of Mrs Hudson. "It's great to see you Mrs Hudson! How's the hip? I'm great, just got a job." Amelia spoke hurriedly as she pulled back from the older woman's arms. "Ohh it's been giving me gip my dear, but not as much as that blasted tenant of mine! Ever since his roommate moved in with that lovely girl of his Sherlock's been in a huff. Do come in for a cup of tea my dear, how's your mother been?" Mrs Hudson asked whilst pulling the 26 year old behind her.

It wasn't until the where sat with empty mugs of tea in front of them that Amelia remembered what Mrs Hudson said about her tenant's roommate moving out. "Your tenant, you don't know if he's looking for a new roommate do you? I mean I know he's a pain form what you've told me but if I can put up with his experiments he could put up with my composing in the middle of the night, right?" She asked, swirling the remains of her tea in the bottom of her cup.

"Well, we could go and see now; I can hear him playing that violin of his upstairs. Come along dear." Mrs Hudson led her up to 221B where the door was stood open. Leaning on the door frame Amelia said goodbye to her old family friend and watched the tall man by the window play a mournful tune.

As the song came to a close she clapped slowly which appeared to shock the curly haired man in the window. He turned fast, the violin dropping from his chin to hand by his side. "You're almost as good as me Mr Holmes." She said with a smirk, still leaning in the door way.

"Humm... Not a client, no you're too comfortable here, your posture shows you know you're welcome. Not one of Mycroft's sectaries either, their always in black and texting. I'm going to go with a family friend of Mrs Hudson's? So what are you doing up here?" Sherlock said as his eyes swept over her.

Amelia stood up strait and held out her hand "Amelia-Jay Warner, call me AJ. Why don't you tell me Mr. Holmes?" Her voice was challenging, a challenge she know was something he could not resist.

Sherlock shook her hand quickly then scanned his eyes over her and began to real off his deductions. "You just came to London, been here for around a week looking for somewhere to live and a job. Your shoes show that you lived in the north of the country; I'd say rural North Yorkshire by the dirt on the souls. You came without any security and I would guess you are living off savings, so you were running. But what from? Not family, you would avoid people linked to them like Mrs. Hudson, an ex-boyfriend looks more likely and yet I don't think it's that. So that leaves us with the third option. You are running from memories of the area you were brought up in. And you had a problem with repeated depression as a teenager, probably due to your father's untimely death in Afghanistan 10 years ago. You play several instruments, including and most commonly the piano and violin." He stopped and threw himself onto the long coach that was against the wall.

"How... How did you... I mean it's not that... What?" She stammered, unable to comprehend what he had deduced. "Most people are too stupid to notice what I do. What memory has sent you running from your home town?"

"There is no memory, I was board. Nothing more, you're wrong Holmes." Amelia said but while she sounded confidant she was nervously fiddling with the sleeves of her jacket and pulling them further down her arms. "Show me your arms." Sherlock demanded from his position.

Amelia remained in the door way. "My arms? No, why?" She asked, feigning confusion and crossing her arms. He knew of her depression, how she could not fathom, but he knew. So this was surely not that hard a jump to make. He couldn't know, it's impossible, she told herself. But this is Sherlock Holmes, the world's first, only and best consulting detective. Anything's possible.

"She's defensive" he thought "I'm right!" Sherlock quickly rearranged his features into his usual 'board face' as John called it from the smug smirk that had crept across his face at this realisation. He swung his legs round onto the floor and stood. Drawing himself up to his full height he took two long strides until he was right in front of her. "Your arms Miss Warner, please?"

Reaching out Sherlock took her left wrist in his hand, pulling it from under her right arm. Fear sparkled in her eyes as AJ let him pull her arm lose and gently roll up the material of her jacket. Swallowing the lump that had arisen in her throat Amelia said "Mr. Holmes. Stop. Please. I beg of you. You won't like what you see." Tears running freely down her cheek..

Sherlock didn't stop though; he continued to push up the sleeve until it reached the crease of her elbow. Then it was his turn to swallow, his Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he did so, he was lost for words. For along that stretch of her forearm was a serious of puckered short dark scars, the number of which eluded even the great Sherlock Holmes.

Tentatively Holmes ran his index finger along the red line of the most recent cut; Amelia cried harder and caught his hand with her right hand. This action caused him to look up from the patterns on her skin and into her wet eyes. Then he did something that surprised him:

He pulled her into a tight hug.

"Take a look at the room, Miss Warner. You are more than welcome to stay here." Sherlock whispered breaking not only the silence, but the embrace that was the most human contact he had for months. Clearing his throat he added "Up the stairs, first door on the right."

After having inspected the unexpectedly large room Amelia returned to the living room. Whilst she was upstairs she also fixed her eyes so they were no longer red and surrounded by the running mascara that had made a complex maze down her cheeks. She entered the cluttered living room to find Mrs Hudson shuffling around kitchen complaining about the mess Sherlock had made.

"Well if you two don't mind I'll take the room." She said them both. "Wonderful dear!" Mrs Hudson said enthusiastically, Sherlock said nothing, in fact he didn't even seem to have realised she had spoken. Turning to Sherlock AJ said "Do you mind if I move in right away? Just I'm staying in a rather dingy B&B at the moment and I'd rather not stay there tonight."

After a short pause Sherlock realised she was talking to him "What. oh sure, move in whenever works for you. This must be so different from the little cottage your used to." He said staring at the ceiling. "Thank you sir. I'll go get my things now then. Thank you again, Mr Holmes, Mrs Hudson." Just as she went to leave Sherlock caught her arm and handed her a card. "Its Sherlock. Mr. Holmes is my brother." Without a word she turned she left Baker Street for the B&B she was staying in, clutching the card with Sherlock's number on as if her life depended on it.

Stepping out once more onto the street and rounding the corner from 221B Amelia glanced around for a cab whilst tucking Sherlock's card into her blazer pocket next to her phone having left her bag at her new flat. Holding out her hand she shouted "Taxi!" to no avail, so it shocked her a bit when a sleek black car with blacked out windows pulled up next to her. One of the back windows rolled down to revel a smartly dressed man of around 35 with a umbrella on his knee. "Hello Miss Warner. Please do get in." The man said opening the door and sliding across to allow room for her.

Amelia raised an eyebrow "I'm good, thanks." She said and began to walk away. "Oh really Amelia?" The man said. She stopped and turned on the heel of her old blue Doc Martins "or do you prefer AJ?" The man continued. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?" She oozed sass as she crossed her arms, a single eyebrow raised and her mouth in a stern line. This was what she used to call the get-your-ass-in-bed-right-this-minute babysitter glare, now she just used it when drunk guys tried to hit on her.

The man just smiled at her "an interested party, now do get in the car dear. We'll give you a lift to" he glanced at the notebook in his hand "K&K's B&B, we can discus on the way." Amelia glanced around her, looking for a taxi that she hoped had appeared at the kerb. With a sigh she climbed into the back seat of the car.

As soon as the door was closed the car pulled away and headed in the direction of the hotel. AJ turned and faced the man next to her. In the front, she noted as she did so, was a young woman, probably around her age, texting. "So, what do you want, Mr Holmes?" Amelia asked. Mycroft looked her up and down, any shock at her deduction was well hidden. "Well then, strait to the point Amelia. Do you plan on continuing your relationship with my younger brother?"

"Call me AJ and yes. I do." Amelia said, just as much venom in her tone as John had in his a few months before, but there was a slight undertone of surprise at her own words. "What's it to you?"

"I thought as much." Mycroft mumbled then louder and clearer he added "I would be prepared to offer you a meaningful sum of money in exchange for regular updates."

"Updates? How regular?" She asked, unfazed by his statement, arms folded across her chest. "Oh nothing intrusive just what he's up to, I do worry about him. You'd just have to tell me when he's on a case and such nothing indiscreet. A text every few days would suffice." He said, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips and a glint of approval in his eyes.

Amelia chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully, Mycroft had an idea of what her next question would be before she asked it, and he was right. "How much is a 'meaningful sum'?" She made small quotation marks with her fingers as she asked.

"Shall we say £500 per update? And a thousand when I kidnap you briefly to speak in person?" He offered as a start, expecting her to ask for more. Well it was a strange thing to ask of a stranger, to spy on their new flat share. Amelia's eyes bulged at the price. "Oh. Okay. Fine, deal." She said almost immediately.

Mycroft seemed pleased if slightly shocked at her quick and impulsive decision "Well then Amelia-Jay Warner I shall expect a update very soon. You know you're the first person I've asked to do this who has actually agreed." Amelia just shrugged her shoulders and opened the door of the now stopped car.

"Good bye Mr. Holmes." She said stepping out onto the cold dark London street, turning to face Mycroft she hastily added "Ohh, can I get your number? For the updates?" Mycroft nodded and handed her a crisp white card bordered and printed upon in gold before shaking her hand. "Goodbye Mr. Holmes." Amelia smirked at the blatant differences between the brothers cards.

While Mycroft's expensive looking with gold swirls and embellishments that surrounded the gold text that read:

Mycroft Holmes

Government Official

Mobile: 07677395902

Email: MycroftHolmes123 .gov

Sherlock's wasn't as extravagant, it had simple black text and a simple black border on a white background and read:

Sherlock Holmes

Consulting detective

Mobile: 07543998294

Website: .com

With a sigh she stalked past the sulky receptionist and up the old stairs that lead to her room. When she reached and unlocked the door she sighed loudly. What was happing to her? First her new roommate guesses her darkest secret then his brother kidnaps her to offer her money to spy on the said roommate.

Pushing the door open she glanced around the mess she had managed to make in just a few short days. There were clothes and sheet music strewn across the floor and on every available surface.

Quickly she pulled her two large suitcases from under the bed, one of which was full of her instruments. Flipping open the first blue case (the empty one) she began to pile in all her clothes, folding them as small as they would go so as to save as much space as possible.

Once she had completely filled the blue case she moved onto the pink case that was full of her instruments other than the keyboard that sat on top of the bed. Amelia pulled out each instrument and put it in its own individual case. Once this was done she began to pile in her shoes, socks, toiletries and finally her sheet music.

When she was done with this she realised there was no way she could possibly carry all of this stuff, she had two MASSIVE suitcases and 5 instrument cases (her bongos were in the pink case). How the hell did she manage to carry all this herself before?

Amelia grabbed her phone and punched in Sherlock's number. Lifting the white IPhone to her ear she listened to the ringing. After three and a half rings he picked up.

"Amelia." Sherlock stated when picking up the phone. "How can I help you?" He smirked as he asked knowing if Mycroft was going to kidnap his new flatmate it would already be done and money would be offered.

"It's AJ, Sherlock and I was wondering if you would do me a favour." Amelia paused, waiting for a response from the freak she now called her roommate. When no such response came she continued "Would you come to my B&B and help my carry all my stuff? Please?"

"Yes. Fine. I'll be ten minutes." He said, seeming board. "Goodbye." He hung up and dropped his phone into the pocket of his suit jacket. Jumping up he grabbed his long coat and blue scarf. "Goodbye Mrs. Hudson, I'm going to help your little friend." He called to the woman in his kitchen.

Ten minutes later found Sherlock arguing with the receptionist at K&K's about her allowing him up to AJ's room. From her room Amelia smirked, she could hear him from her room on the first floor. Quickly she threw a final piece of sheet music into her case and zipped it up before bounding down the rickety stairs.

"Sherlock! You came! Brilliant! Come on up!" She cried happily grabbing his coat she turned and began to pull him up the stairs. "Oh and I'll be checking out in around 6 minutes." She shouted down to the receptionist as she run up the stairs two at a time, pulling a tall man behind her.

Finally they were stood out on the street each laden in bags and Sherlock was showing off his incredible power over cabs. Almost immediately after he shouted for a taxi two pulled to the curb. Sherlock grinned at Amelia's shocked expression before helping her load the bags into the boot and opening the door for her to climb in.

"I met your brother today." She stated once they had left the B&B. Sherlock turned in his seat to face her "Did he offer you money to spy on me?" he asked harshly and when she nodded he added "Did you except it?"

"Yes. I figured we could split the money and use it for rent." Amelia looked at Sherlock, suddenly worried that she had made the wrong decision. Then Sherlock began to smile. Amelia soon to was grinning. Then they were laughing so hard they were leaning against each other for support. "But Shh, we can't tell Mycroft!" She sputtered as they arrived at 221B.

A few months past and the depressed musician soon got used to living with the sociopath and vice versa. The time past quickly but Sherlock didn't have many interesting cases and was resorting to the blog his old roommate John Watson had set up to bring in some new clients. In this time Amelia met John and his fiancée who she rather liked and got on well with.

A/N: Oh yeah the numbers aren't real numbers and if they are they also don't belong to me. Please let me know what you think, reviews are like gold dust to me.

AllThatIWant