Welcome to my BBC Sherlock Fanfiction Series

As a warning to readers, unless you have seen the show, this will act as a huge spoiler for you.

This fanfiction is being written as if you have seen the show, but if you have not then consider this a considerable taste as to what Sherlock is all about. For followers who have been with me since the beginning, or nearly since the beginning, you know the routine of how I usually do fanfiction series. If I love something enough, an original character (OC) and fanfiction is usually to follow.

For those who are new to my accounts, then know that the basic gist of what I do is I start from the beginning of a series and then carefully weave my OC into the canon story without majorly changing the canon events. Even though this is fanfiction, I do not consider that an excuse to take canon characters and do whatever I want. That is a no no in my book. I do my best to keep the canon characters in character even when interacting with my OC/s. So rest assured, this isn't some underdeveloped story with no research or love for the show or lazy writing in the form of a badly put together fantasy.

This is a fanfiction series that pays due respect to the original content as best as humanly possible. With that said, let the Sherlocking commence!

Ch.1 The Solution

Heavy breathing. Sweat upon the brow. Moaning. A nightmare disturbing its victim. A young girl tangled in the web of a killer, forcing her to act. Gunshot.

"Ah!" Eleanor gasped audibly upon awaking in her bed, flooded memories of a past long since over but to never be forgotten. Her body tensed as her eyes fixated on the ceiling, the very empty pale white textured ceiling. Tears formed in her eyes after gathering most of her composure as she finally sat up in bed. Her studio was quiet and barren as it has always been, decorated with but a few keepsakes that held fragments of her life, fragments she couldn't look at for too long without feeling an ache in her heart. The only real thing of value in her place was her computers and gadgets that hinted of the technologies new and lightly old. It was probably the one thing she voluntarily kept up with, otherwise everything else…

…was just a blur.

"It's been a while," she thought out loud to herself as she realized it has been a very long time since she had nightmares of her past, but not just any past, a very particular past event, but why today? Why now? It felt so out of place. Normally nightmares are produced by day to day emotions and events. Nightmares of an event that has long since been put out of mind normally don't happen out of random unless the dreamer was specifically thinking upon that event within a recent period of time, but it's been years…years since she thought of back then. She couldn't help but receive an odd feeling from this dream, but not necessarily of anything that boded a bad omen, just simply that something was to come, something was going to change.

Today the lease to her studio ends. She could have easily bought it with the money she received from the inheritance to her father and stepmother's death, but she found that living at one place for too long was of a nagging discomfort. Like technology, she welcomed change or at least anything to bring some distraction to her life, something new to look forward to. Anything to take her mind off the now, but first things first.

Looking at the clock it read around the noon time. Seems she had slept past her alarm once again, but nothing to fret about since her meeting with Inspector Lestrade was within an hour. This gave her plenty of time to wake up, shower, have coffee, a bite to eat and then a drive over to the station.

Beep. Bong. Beep.

The phone rattled with a tone upon receiving a txt twenty minutes later. Having just stepped out of the shower, Eleanor went over to the kitchen counter to pick it up.

[Sorry, meeting has to be cancelled. Emergency press conference. –Lestrade]

"Damn it," Eleanor muttered in light irritancy, but nothing out of the ordinary. She's gone to the press conferences before and knew exactly where to go.

-Press Conference-

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

The room was a bit small, but it only needed to host a moderate space for a select number of people since this was a press conference and not specifically for the public to budge in on, but Eleanor more or less had no problem getting in. She wasn't close friends with Lestrade, but he was the main official that was helping her on small occasions to solve the still unsolved mystery murder of her brother that was quite a few years ago. The only reason Lestrade has stopped trying to convince her to let go of the case is because she's, on her own and to his surprise, been discovering small leads to the whereabouts of the killer. Lestrade does what he can in helping her find clues, but more less is usually busy with the ongoing crimes of the city that are much more important and recent. On the rarest of occasions Eleanor has inadvertently helped with leads to crimes here and there since she has nothing better to do and gets an intriguing amusement out of trying to solve cases. That's the only other reason Lestrade even lets her parade around, but more or less she's respectful and does her best not to interfere too much or tamper with evidence.

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" a reporter asked as Lestrade took a breath before answering, "Well, they all took the same poison; um, they were all found in places they had no reason to be; none of them had shown any prior indication of—"

"—but you can't have serial suicides," the reporter interrupted as Eleanor rolled her eyes since the very definition of serial can be just simply a series of things or events. Lestrade wonderfully responded exactly what she was thinking, "Well apparently you can."

"These three people; there's nothing that links them?" Another reporter asked.

"There's no link been found yet, but we're looking for it. There has to be one," Lestrade fumbled in words a bit. If there's one thing Eleanor gave him credit for was facing the press with their questions, as stupid as they might seem at times. It's never easy facing the public.

"Of course there's something that links them. There's always something that links them," Eleanor muttered to herself while standing in the back of the room. She couldn't help but find it ironic that she was attending a press conference about a mass suicide case. It reeked of reminiscence of years ago when she got tangled up in a similar situation during a mass suicide case when she was in her teens. It was a case she couldn't stop remembering. The thought alone sent an unpleasant chill up her spine.

Without given warning, the entire room suddenly erupted in a musical symphony of cell phone message beeping as it seemed everyone's phone, except Eleanor's lit up with a viral text message.

[Wrong!]

With a rather quizzical expression on her face, Eleanor peered over at a phone that a gentleman was holding and read the text.

"What the bloody hell?" She muttered again to herself. However, as strange as this was it didn't seem like anyone was concerned let alone that surprised.

Donovan immediately spoke up, "If you've all got texts, please ignore them."

"It says wrong," a reporter read aloud what was texted.

"Yeah, well just ignore that…" she easily dismissed in a lightly annoyed state of wording "…Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end."

Eleanor couldn't help but notice Donovan's easy dismissal and the odd look upon Lestrade's face. Had he received a text like this before? It wasn't often she saw him so she wasn't too entirely aware of what was going on.

"But if they're suicides, what are you investigating?" a reporter continued to ask.

Lestrade paused for a second before replying, "As I say, these suicides are clearly linked. Um…i-it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating—"

Another viral text flashed through everyone's phone as reporters looked down and read [Wrong!] across their bright little screens. Eleanor peered over again to be witness to what seemed like a normality for Lestrade's team.

"Who the hell is sending that?" She wondered.

"It says wrong again," a reporter exclaimed aloud.

"One more question…" Donovan explained as a reporter immediately spoke up "…Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?"

Serial killer was one phrase that always puts a dark damper on a room full of people, but for a room full of reporters it was the best kind of damper. Lestrade sighed again as he explained, "I…I know that you like writing about these, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The, um, the poison was clearly self administered."

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

"Well, don't commit suicide," Lestrade continued to answer in blank sarcasm that Eleanor found both amusing and rather stupid. She was nearly tempted to try to get involved on the loose chance that this mass suicide has anything to do with the one years ago. It was a thought more or less and not too far from being a logical theory even if it was a loose one at best. Donovan lightly murmured at Lestrade, "Daily mail," as he continued, "Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be."

"Or as dead as we want to be," Eleanor muttered to herself for a third time as the room suddenly sounded again with a familiar text message.

[Wrong!]

Lestrade however received a rather different text message as it read, [You know where to find me. –SH].

With the conference finally over as Lestrade was given a chance to breathe, he nodded his head with a given "Thank you" to the room while standing and leaving with Donovan, but of course not without finally making eye contact with Eleanor at the back of the room. She was rather easy to spot out since it wasn't often he saw a woman with a signature red head and green eyes. He wasn't in the least bit surprised that she was there, but it was also the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

-Scotland Yard-

"You've got to stop him doing that. He's making us look like idiots," Donovan lightly barked at Lestrade while Eleanor caught up with them and followed behind. "You've done a fine work with doing that yourself," the former psychologist lightly murmured as Donovan gave a quick glancing glare back at Eleanor before bringing her attention back to Lestrade.

"Well, if you can tell me how he does it, I'll stop him."

"Stop who?" Eleanor asked, hoping to finally get an answer to the strange viral text messaging bit.

"It's nothing," Donovan quickly answered nonchalantly as Eleanor quipped, "I'm glad you feel your opinion matters but I wasn't asking you."

Lestrade took another deep breath and answered quickly in hopes to keep Donovan and Eleanor from entering another cat fight, "It was Sherlock."

The three paused in silence for a moment before Eleanor finally questioned, "And…that's supposed to be…who?"

"No one that matters," Donovan stated in interruption again.

"You have such an amazing bloody fascination with believing your opinion matters. You might want to get that checked out," Eleanor quipped again with a wink.

"You know if I didn't know any better—"

"—I absolutely agree! You don't know any better."

"Eleanor…please," Lestrade urged since it seemed a never ending battle of verbal spewing between Donovan and Eleanor.

"Sorry Inspector, you were going to say?"

"Sherlock Holmes. He's uh…uh—"

"—a what?"

"Consulting detective, if you can even call him that."

"Consulting detective? What kind of a job is that?"

"Not one I care to explain to be honest. That aside I know why you're here and I don't have time."

Eleanor was going to speak up in light protest as she opened her mouth, but Lestrade quickly cut her off, "But…I think I have a solution to your…problem. Donovan if you don't mind?"

Lestrade gave her one look that was indication of him and Eleanor needing some privacy as she caught the hint and replied back sarcastically, "Not at all," and walked away.

"You said you had a solution?"

"Yes. Your lease is up today am I correct?"

Eleanor blanked for a moment as she responded, "Uh…Lestrade…I know you're a busy man, but when you stated you had a solution I thought you were stating—"

"—it is, just…maybe not in the way you were thinking. Remember when you asked me a few months back that if I found anyone…anyone that had a gift for solving crimes that I should contact you immediately?"

"Yes…" she replied a bit puzzled, but intuitively jumped where he was going with this "…let me guess…Sherlock?"

Lestrade opened his mouth to answer, but she already stated what he was going to say as he continued, "Uh…yes. As much as I hate to admit it…I think Sherlock could help you because honestly you're brother's case…it's—"

"—beyond you?"

Lestrade sighed. It's not that he didn't care or was trying to wipe his hands of the matter…or maybe he was…either way he felt that Sherlock would be a better route for her to go down then what he could ever provide.

"You say he's a solution I should check out and yet you regrettably state things like as much as I hate to admit it. Be frank with me Lestrade. Why did you say that?"

"Because…it's…uh…" sighing "…it's complicated. I've known him for a while. He's a detective I usually go to for…a second opinion."

"I see. Consulting detective."

"Yes."

"Interesting title."

"He came up with it himself."

Eleanor chuckled out loud, "Well, sounds a bit arrogant for some reason."

"You have no idea."

"Does he work for you?"

"No."

"So wait a minute, why did you ask about my lease then?"

"Because Sherlock just so happens to be looking for a flat mate."

The redhead opened her mouth to speak, but she found it difficult to form words as the idea hit her blindsided. She looked around a bit distracted for a moment by the hustle and bustle of the office as officers rushed about their business. Placing her hands upon her hips the idea brewed further as she finally brought her gaze back to Lestrade, wondering if he had been drinking recently.

"Wh…how…ha, ha, are you kidding me? So if I understand you correctly, you want me…to just waltz on up to some strange detective that isn't even on your force, which by the way how does that even make him a detective, and then propose that we be flat mates when we don't even know each other and then suddenly belt out the idea to him that oh by the way, my brother was murdered and the case was never solved, but Lestrade thought you could help me out with that, how about it ol' chap? Would you like some bloody tea?"

"Calm down. It was merely a suggestion."

"Suggestion? You call that a suggestion? What makes you think he would even be interested for me as a flat mate let alone wanting to take the case? Has he even gone to school for that sort of work?"

"Look, Eleanor, you've moved at least what…five times in the city? And you're all alone trying to solve a murder case that has long since been buried."

"I've found leads—"

"—and have nearly found yourself dead on a few occasions. It's not healthy."

"Healthy? How the hell would you know what healthy is?"

Lestrade gave her that look as she realized her mouth went away with her a bit too far.

"Sorry…I…that's not what I meant to say. I know you're worried about me and I really do appreciate it, but—"

"—you've got nothing else to lose Eleanor. If you don't like him, which I can guarantee you won't, then you're not obligated to say yes. If nothing else at least see if he'll take your case. He might find it interesting, at least more interesting than 200 plus studies of tobacco ash."

Eleanor laughed in response, doing a double take on Lestrade's wording, "What did you just say? Studies of toba—wait a minute. Tobacco ash. Sherlock…oh god blast my memory. Sherlock Holmes…the science of deduction."

"The one and only."

"I thought I recognized that name before. Oh god, now I just feel stupid. I was wondering why that name sounded so familiar."

Finally recollecting the identity of this detective, now she was admiringly intrigued by the idea, but the real question is would Sherlock be even remotely as intrigued?

"Alright, where can I find him?"