well hello there, Sherlockians :D. First Sherlock fic. EXCITED! I've written for Doctor Who, Hunger Games and Love Never Dies so far. This is adding to my list. visit my profile to read my other fics. And pretty please review. All criticism is taken in and I will try to improve. but don't be too harsh, please. I'm actually only twelve.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine :'( But maybe I could get it for my birthday... Please? Or maybe just Benedict Cumberbatch. He'll definitely do.


221b. He had really lived in London his whole life, I remember from our childhood. He was forced to make friends, and he chose me. He was smart and witty and a genius. He taught me many things.. Things that I use today. To get me a life. Without Sherlock Holmes I would be nothing. And yet at the same time, he broke me. He left me for dust, long ago. I was a naive girl at 14, he was a strong boy entering adulthood at 16. Why did he make such an imprint on me? He was handsome and he knew everything. He played the violin, so did I. Actually he taught me. What a talented man he is..
No! I shouldn't think like this! I hate him now. He left me when I was most vulnerable. He used me. But I still cling onto the hope that he still remembers me after the memory loss. I doubt it. The name Charlize Martin-Francœr would ring no bells. But I had to make sure, so I came under a fake alias. I was Charlotte Charles. Not too different. And if he does remember, there's a little game for him. Find out my real name. And so I prepared myself to see the man I had not seen since he ripped my heart in two. I was ready to get the other half of my heart back. But when the door swung open, a woman stood there instead. Oh, I thought, not expected.

Sherlock's POV

'Mrs Hudson!' I called 'We brought the chips. Why did you ask for 4? Have we been graced by my brothers unfortunate presence?'
'Oh no, we have a visitor,' she shuffled out to set them on plates. I shrugged my shoulders and went up stairs to my office, Watson on my heels. I shoved the door open and shouted with fright as I saw the girl looking out the window. 'Ah!' She screamed and fell backwards with a thud 'you stupid man, you scared me!' She grasped her chest. I held out my hand to help her up. 'Dreadfully sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone here. What's your name?' She dusted off her black tight skirt and shoved out her hand.
'Miss Charlotte Charles.'
'Sherlock Holmes,' I shook her small hand and turned to Watson 'and this is my assistant Dr. John Watson.' He waved politely. I saw she was staring at me. I turned to tell her not to but stopped. Her eyes glared at me worth admiration and also anger. I was desperate to know what made her feel this way. It was emotions I'd only ever seen on rare occasions. I had the sudden urge to wipe a small mascara stain on her face. As i did it felt vaguely familiar. 'There,' I smiled uneasily 'all better.' She flinched and I realised that I'd said it before. And then Miss Charles looked all to familiar. A flashback to my teens sent me collapsing to my armchair.
It was dark and I was running. I kneeled on the ground and grasped someone's hands. Then I kissed this someone. It felt good, as I recall. I saw red spots through the blurs, and suspected it was blood. And I wiped if off, claiming 'there. All better.' But then she was dragged away... And I heard 'Sherlock! SHERLOCK!' I screamed her name in return but then everything went black.
Was it her? Was hers the name I screamed?
'Mr Holmes, are you alright?' Charlotte asked. I crossed my legs and smiled.
'Im fine. Why would you think that I'm not?'
'Maybe because you visited another planet for a minute,' John suggested
'Anyway, you work for the government,' I diverted to the young woman
'Your a detective. But not private or federal.'
'What?' I asked
'You have case files on your desk along with anonymous numbers, some police and regular. Your laptop is open crack, a clear sign of constant use. Maybe because you need to fish through cases rather than them being handed to you. Your clothes are comfortable and well fitted, but not formal enough to be attending meetings and interviews or even court cases. Mobile rather than landline, stuck a map on the wall, a jar of eyeballs on the the mantle, not to mention your ridiculous hat.. It's simple when you know how to find it,' she gave half a smile and handed me a suitcase 'I'll be taking the room third floor.'
'How did you know it was vacant?'
'Two words,' she breathed, dangerously close to me. I could feel her breath tingle against my cheek but I refused to let it get to me. 'Wedding ring,' she grabbed my hand and shoved it in my face.
'Oh not another brainbox. I've only just got used to you and Mycroft playing murder,' John sighed and rubbed his forehead.
'Miss Charles, I suggest you take the fourth floor. Much more room,' I smiled. She hummed and took her bag, striding out. 'So, who was she?' John asked.
'I don't know but I want to find out.' So I followed her upstairs.