So! This is my first fic ever. Go easy on me? Essentially what would happen if John and and Sherlock found a lost teenager! I've tried to keep the characters as close to their personality as possible. That means oblivious Sherlock, sweet John, and Lestrade being... Adorable.

Rated T for mentions of rape and violence. Rating will go up in later chapters.

Features my OC Vera Davis (An American vacationing in London to see the 2012 Olympics) and John (for now).

It was early in the summer of 2012 when it happened. I was in London for the Olympics with my parents. We were watching the sparring from high up in the stands.

'My God, Dad! Did you see that guy's roundhouse?'

'I did; I don't think the other guy did, though.' He laughed.

'I don't think his neck is supposed to bend that way..' Mom cringed.

'Oh he's fine. Look! He's getting back up- And he's down again. Now he's back up."

'Vera, it's almost 11. We should get back to the hotel.' Mom tried.

'But they're not done yet!'

'Vera. We're leaving. Now.'

'Fine..'

We made our way down the bleachers and out of the giant building. Mom stopped me outside the door.

'Do you have your phone? Money? You know what to do if you get lost?' My mom interrogated.

'Yes, yes, and yes.' I answered back.

'Okay. Let's go.'

We strode into the city. It was a beautiful city, London was. Lights, tall buildings, double-decker buses; all the stereotypical London sights. Despite the streetlights, I could see the stars clearly. Unconsciously, I slowed down to stare at them. I looked back down to see the mob of strangers around me.

''ey Dad, do you think we could meet any celebrities while we're here?' I ask loftily.'Dad?'

I turned to see why he wasn't responding. To my dismay, I realized I was talking to a complete stranger. I looked around, my breathing beginning to get hysterical. I couldn't see my mom or my dad.

'Mom? Dad?' I called out in a frenzied panic.

I whipped out my phone and moved from the mob to an alley.

'Come on! Just turn on already...' I muttered.

I pressed every button on my phone until it called my mom.

'Mom! Mom? Mom, can you hear me?' I nearly shouted into the phone.

'Vera? Where are you?' Mom shouted back.

'We got separated in the-'

'What?'

'WE GOT SEPARATED IN THE CROWD, MOM.'

beep beep

I looked at my phone. The called had been ended from her side. Her phone had died.

'Damn it!' I cursed.

Okay, Vera, just calm down... I cooed to myself. 'You just need to flag down a cab and-'

I stopped short as I felt the impact on come from behind.

'OI!' I screamed. I could hear a man's heavy breathing behind me. I spun around and yelled 'What do you think you're doing?'

The time stood still as I got my first look at the man who had attacked me. He was tall, at least 6 ft, and had blonde flippy hair. He had a big leather jacket
and dark blue skinny jeans, giving the appearance that basically made him look like the jacket was swallowing him up. He looked like a kid. A scared little kid, shaking from the cold and the fear, that, to my dismay and surprise, was pointing a gun at my face. He looked at me with bloodshot eyes.

'Give me the money.' He said through clenched teeth.

'What?'

'Your money. Give it to me.' His voice didn't have an accent. He was, like me, from America.

'I-I only have a couple pounds on me. The rest is all American money.'

'Give. Me. The money.' He hissed.

'Yeah, yeah. Of course.' I reached for my wallet.

'Hurry up, lady. I don't have all day!' He grunted as he looked behind himself.

'All right, all right! Just gimme a minute.' I shot back, my voice surprisingly steady for someone getting mugged. 'Jeez, you're mugging me, you might as well gimme adequate time to get-'

I was cut off as he charged towards me. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the alley wall.

'Listen, you little brat,' he spat. 'I am in an amount of trouble you wouldn't believe. I've done things that would get me sent to jail for life, three times over. Now you listen, and you listen good. I-'

'Well.'

'What?'

'Well. You said 'Now you listen, and you listen good.' when you should have said 'Now you listen, and you listen well.'

'Oh you little bitch.' He slammed my head onto the brick wall.

After that, it was all fuzzy. I was taken into a corner and thrown to the ground. I think I was raped. I can't remember. I just can't.
The walls were spinning as I felt his hands rifle through my pockets. He grabbed my wallet and phone and, with one final knock to the head, ran off into the street.

It took about an hour to come to and another half hour for me to realize that I could move; the pressure from his hands still echoed on my shoulders. Slowly, I pushed myself up off the ground and tried to walk down the alley. Instead of walking back into the mob, I went the other way, down the alley into a small sector of London. There where little shops scattered about, and an apartment building.

'Alright then,' I mumbled 'let's give the apartment people a go.'

I stumbled forward towards a door with 221B printed on it in pretty gold plating. I knocked on the door once, softly. I was about to knock again, when a man opened the door. He was shortish, only a couple inches taller than me, with a nice build and a tan sweater on.

'Can I help you...?' The man looked baffled.

'Please sir,' I said cursing myself for sounding weak. 'can you help me? I-I think I'm lost. I got mugged and he, I think, raped me and took my money and my phone and the slammed my head into a wall and I think I got a concussion because I'm all dizzy and cold and I got separated from my parents when we were going back to our hotel from the Olympics.'

I carried on like this, presumably in tears, until the man, staring at with a look of overwhelming concern, reached out to me.

'Hey, hang on now. It's alright. C'mon inside. I know someone who could help.' He helped me inside and peeled my coat off. It had been raining. I didn't notice.

'Sherlock!' The man called up the stairs. 'SHERLOCK! Get down here! Oh it's bloody useless' he said, defeated. He turned to me.

'Should we take a look at that head of yours then?'

I stepped back. 'Um, that's alrigh-'

'I'm a doctor, um sorry, what's your name?'

'Vera.'

'Right, yes, Vera. John Watson.' He said reaching out his hand. I shook it.

'I'm a qualified doctor, Vera. I can promise that I'm not going to crack your head open to look at your brain or anything.'

'O-okay.'

'Good. Now, where does it hurt?'

'My left knee, the mugger kicked it in, my head, and my um, well, lower half, yeah?'

'Well, let's just take care of the knee and your head, and leave the rest to...one of my female colleges?'

'Yes, that'd be lovely.'

'Right. Now, can you move your knee at all without it hurting?'

'Uh, no. I tried once, but I collapsed on top of it.'

'Right... Do you think you can walk up steps?'

'Course I can.' I said back. I was hurt, but not incapable of walking up stairs. I took a step forward, and nearly fell over.

'Damn mugger,' I mumbled. 'fucking kicked my knee out.'

'Do you want me to-'

'I fine, thank y-.'

I was cut short went I tried to put pressure on my knee again and toppled over.

'Um, on second though, could you carry me?' I asked, as I casually sat on the step I had landed on.

John Watson shook his head and laughed.

'What're you laughing at?' I shot up at him as he scooped me up and carried me up the steps.

'Nothing, it's just I used to do the same thing. Limp, I mean.'

'Why don't you limp anymore?'

He sighed, then laughed and wiggled his head a bit. 'It was all up here. I was shot in the shoulder. They took the bullet out, gave me pain meds, took me to therapy, everything. But I still walked with the limp. Don't know why, though.' He said, lost in thought.'But it stopped as soon as I moved here. My flatmate go it out of my head, so to speak.'

'Afghanistan or Iraq?'

I looked up to see him staring at me. We stopped walking.

'How did you know I was in the-'

'Just the way you stand. My father was in the military so I can recognize a military stance when I see one. You said you were shot in the leg. Now, you don't sound or act like a imbecile, so it couldn't have been a hunting accident or some other joy ride. No, it must have been in an intense situation. War. So tell me, was is Afghanistan or Iraq?'

He thought for a moment. Then he smiled.

'It was Afghanistan.'

'Why are you smiling?'

'Because my flatmate is going to bloody love you.'

A/N; THANK YOU SO MUCH! :) Your reviews are like crack to me. The next part will be up next Saturday. This idea has kind of blossomed in my head, and suddenly I'm writing new ideas for it every second of the day. I might even have the story all planned out! ANYWAY... I'll try to update every Saturday and see how it goes from there.