Alright this will be good. I'm just trying this idea out so if I don't get any reviews or hits then I'm not continuing, keep that in mind.


Sherlock.

"Bored."

"What was that?" John asked mildly completely engrossed in his newspaper. It was midday and all the cases for the past week had been deemed 'dull'.

Sherlock slouched back in his leather chair and stared reproachfully across at him, "I'm bored, John. Bored!"

"That's nice," John turned a page.

Sherlock leaped to his feet and started pacing the room agitatedly, "there's nothing to do John. Nothing. I'm going to go crazy! I'm going to turn into a actual psychopath and become a flesh eating monster that will run rampant on the streets and slowly pick off all the living people which will cause the fall of civilization and eventually the extinction of our entire species!"

"Make sure you buy some milk on the way home," John responded.

Sherlock flopped back down, "if I don't get a good case soon," he said, "I will start shooting the wall again."

"Don't you dare!" John shouted suddenly with rapt attention, "Mrs. Hudson will be furious!"

They went quiet for a moment, listening to their landlady putter about downstairs.

"Hehehe," Sherlock laughed softly.

"What's so funny?" John demanded.

"I got you to respond," Sherlock answered, "it was satisfying."

John took a deep breath, counted to ten and went back to reading.


Tessa

A young girl who looked no more than twenty but was much older rushed out of the police department and into the brisk London air.

She shivered in her coat.

The detectives words still played inside her head.

"We cannot find a man if he does not exist, are you sure he's a British citizen?"

She and Jem hadn't had time to get some false papers, after all who would believe that he was born in the 1800's.

Tessa join the pedestrians on the side walk.

"Listen to me!" she had said with barely a trace of an American accent after living in England all these years, "his name is James Carstairs and he just just disappeared from our flat a hour ago!"

"Your boyfriend?" the detective had asked.

"Yes-."

"Did you consider the possibility that he had left you?"

"No," Tessa told him, "you don't understand, he wouldn't do tha-."

"I'm afraid we don't have time for this," he stood up gathering his papers, "I don't like playing games."

"I'm not playing a game!" Tessa cried, "I'm telling the truth!"

"Good day, miss," he walked started towards the door.

"Wait!" Tessa called to him, he stopped halfway out the room and turn back towards her, "you have to help me, I don't know what to do," she said softly.

He sighed, "I know a detective that prefers to do only the most ludicrous of cases."

Tessa practically ran around the desk up to him, "what's his name?"

The detective dug his hand into his jacket and pulled out a card, "here's his card."

Tessa took it, "thank you."

He vanished behind the door.

Tessa looked down at the card, it read:

Sherlock Holmes

Consulting Detective

221b Baker Street

Now she fingered the card inside her pocket, hoping against the odds that he would help her.

She dashed into the nearest cab.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

"221b Baker Street," Tessa answered.


Sherlock

"John," Sherlock said lying back in his chair staring at the ceiling, "Jooooooohn."

John stared intently at his paper.

"John. Jooooooooooohn. Are you listening to me John? Are you? This is very important it may involve the fate of the universe." Sherlock told him.

John didn't look up.

"John" Sherlock continued, "would you like to donate seven of your toes to a good cause?"

"What!" John exclaimed.

"Your toes, John. Toes!" Sherlock sat up.

"And what 'good' cause will they be going to?" John asked.

"A new experiment," Sherlock said twiddling his fingers, "I want to see if I can identify a murderer by his toes."

"No," John said.

"No?" Sherlock asked aghast, "why not?"

"Because I would like to keep my toes, thank you very much," John said irritated, "why don't you use your own?"

"Because I know what my toes look like!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"No," John said resiliently.

"Please."

"No."

"Pretty please."

"No."

"I'll be you flatmate."

"You already are."

"Oh, I didn't notice, I'll be your best friend."

"To late."

"I'll buy the milk."

"Really?" John looked up with interest.

"Yes," Sherlock said, "I'll buy the milk."

John evaluated this idea.

"No," he said looking back down.

"What? Why!"

"Because my toes are worth more to me than milk!" John retorted.

"Come on-!"

There was a knock on the door.

"Client!" Sherlock exclaimed his eyes alight.

He dashed to the door and yanked it open.

A girl with wavy brown hair was standing there.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" she asked.

"Yes, I am" Sherlock said self importantly.

"My name is Tessa Grey," the girl said, "I need your help."

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