One: Jessica Hannes

He had me at my life story. Well, it was not quite my life story, but what direction it should go.

I was working, typing away an analysis of the room. Well, it's not like anyone needs the ladies at the information desk. This museum was one of the smaller ones here in London, so there weren't any guests.

It didn't have much, really, for being in a large building. A little bit of this, a little of that, but nothing to extremely interesting. Well, other than the Persian jewelry and books.

In fact, just the other day, our museum director was killed and one of the pieces of jewelry stolen. A single earring with a huge emerald in a gold setting. The earring was worth a lot, so it would certainly be on the black market. I'll keep an eye on it so I can buy it back when it comes up. I'm not a criminal, I assure you. Now, you may not believe me of course, but for now, just take my word for it.

Though I was new at the job, I knew what I was doing. I'd been here for only two days when the museum director was killed. That probably makes me even more suspicious, but what can I do?

"Oh, just break up with him already. You need your sleep." said the man that had come up and leaned on the counter a few seconds ago. I glanced up, barely noticing him.

"What would give you the impression," I asked, " that I had a bad relationship, and... what business is it of yours?"

"You keep flexing your right hand, telling me that you're right handed, and that you've been writing what to say to him, announcing that you know that he's been cheating on you."

"With who, may I ask?" I asked with some derision in my voice.

"Your older sister, who you live with. And, the fact that there are dark circles under your eyes say that you have lost much sleep thinking this over. You have a considerable amount of concealer on to hide the face that you haven't slept in oh... three days."

"Three days?" I asked, still not looking up and taking a sip of my coffee from the mug next to my left hand.

"You've been tallying your coffee. You mark down each time you had some coffee so that you can have some before the caffeine high goes down. Showing you are using the caffeine to keep you awake. I see the corner of your index card there with the first time you drank coffee three days ago." there was silence for a moment. I stopped typing and he stopped talking. So he knew I was surprised at his accurate deductions. How in the world could he possibly gather all of that from just looking at me sitting here? Then, he added, "And it is none of my business."

I looked up and saw him for the first time. My breath caught in my throat, but I didn't let him notice. He smirked anyway, knowing, it seemed, that I found him totally attractive. He was completely my type. Tall, dark, smart, intelligent, brilliant, sharp dresser, handsome... He wasn't the only one who could read people with a glance. I could tell he was a very smart man. Initially, the fastidiousness of his dress might make a casual observer assume this man was gay. However, the obvious interest in my co-worker's bosom gave him away as perfectly straight. He continued smirking, though.

"May I help you in some way?" I asked.

"I would like to see the security camera footage for May seventeenth, at 4:34am." He too was interesting in the murder. A detective, I assume. I couldn't pick up which police district he was from, but it was obvious he worked for them.

"Sir, I work at an Information desk. I don't have that kind of clearance. If you want, I could direct you to the security office." I leaned forward, a bit, putting my elbows on the desk, and intertwining my fingers. I was determined to enjoy this.

"That would be nice, yes." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Top floor, all the way down the hall, take a left. You can't miss it." I grinned.

"Thank you, Miss Hannes." He smiled a real smile and then turns to the shorter, but elder gentleman, blond guy standing back a bit, observing. To be honest, there was flirting going on here. Whether the tall, dark, and handsome detective was aware of it was beyond me. He might, but he doesn't seem like the type to know.

He turned to his friend, nodded, they ran off towards the stairs. They want to see him murdered. See if they can get any idea who killed Mr. Harrison and stole the earring.

"Rachel, I'm gonna use the bathroom. I'll be back shortly." I said, standing.

Ah, if there was only more time to talk to him, learn about him. The great Sherlock Holmes. I'd heard of him in the office. Great things and bad things. He was apparently a psychopath. An insane psycho. From what I saw, he was pretty much the most intriguing person ever. He didn't seem at all insane. In fact, he seemed analytical and business-like. I entered the loo, still thinking about him.

Would the security guard give him what he wanted? I was still working on getting access to the security office so I could see those tapes myself. Oh, and I have to resign from the case. Since he's on it, it'll be solved in a few days. I sighed. At least Rachel and I like each other. I got a good friend out of this.

I didn't get this case. I wanted this case. It was exciting. Another case as intriguing as this may not come again. Oh well. As I washed my hands, I looked at Jessica Hannes in the mirror. That was not me...

I should probably introduce myself. My name is Alexandria Colt. I am an undercover detective for the London police. I'm told I'm the best they have and at twenty five, I have a long career in front of me. I've been with them for six years. Currently, I'm investigating the murder of James Harrison and the theft of the earring of Princess Anna, who was girl in line for the British crown, and who was engaged to a beautiful Persian prince.

Her earrings were worth a fortune, and now the only known remaining, surviving earring was missing. James Harrison, the museum director, was murdered at the scene of the crime.

Sometimes I don't like this job because I just want to be me. A few months ago, I started a notebook of all of the identities I've undertaken. I've had clever names like Dragina Marion and some embarrassing ones like Maris Cuttlefish.

When I got back, he was leaning against the counter. Rachel looked a little miffed, but she ignored him. "May I help you?" I asked, starting to go behind the desk. Before I could go back, he grabbed my wrist.

"Do you speak Persian?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you speak Persian?" he repeated.

"H-how-?"

"You keep straining your voice, like you're trying to hold back something, and sometime you fail. You keep shifting between languages. Did you notice just said 'Quod' which means 'What' in Latin. You kept shifting between French and Chinese earlier. So, I assumed that you can also speak Persian. In fact you're about to do it."

"I-I can read it, yes." Then I realized I had spoken Persian. My eyes widened, and he smirked.

"Good. I need your help. Come with me." With a pull, I was being dragged behind him towards the stairs. "It's Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. We're going to the Persian section where the earring was stolen. I'm sure you know plenty about that."

"You're the only one who can understand the language." I must to the language-switch a lot. I'll have to watch that.

"If you would let go, I would follow you willingly." I said, trying not to trip over my tall heels. We stopped, mid grand stair case of the museum. He looked down at my shoes, then back up at me. He let go of my wrist. "Thank you."

"Don't wait up." he said, then hurried up the stairs. Somehow, I managed to keep up. I could have found him anyway, even if he didn't tell me. Persian section, where the earring was stolen. His friend was leaning next to the encased that Holmes was walking right towards. It didn't take a moron to figure out who Sherlock's sidekick . It was obviously, "John Watson." Sherlock introduced his blond friend.

"I apologize in advance and on his behalf for anything offensive or rude be might say. He's just one of those people." John sighed, then smiled to soften his words.

"It's alright." I said, "I've had worse. Plenty worse then this bloody prat." I smirked playfully. This was sure to get on Sherlock Holmes' nerve.

"Now look who's being rude." Sherlock observed, leaning against the cases a little, "I thought the hostess was supposed to be nice."

"Not a hostess." I corrected, crossing my arms and walking towards him a little, "I'm the girl who runs the Information desk. I'm not paid to be nice and warm. I'm paid to be informative and smart. If I wasn't smart, I wouldn't be wearing these dark, casual jeans. I'd be wearing a pencil skirt, while trying to look smart. I would be no help to you. Do you have a problem with that?"

"She has a point." John looked from me to Sherlock.

"A point she may have," he stood straight, holding up one finger, "but-" he paused, mid-thought. He was silent for a moment before he turned around, defeated, and looked in the glass case where a letter sat, next to an ink bottle and pen.

"You have silenced the great Holmes." John said, sounding mildly impressed and a bit frightened, "With something so trivial and mundane as your... slimming jeans." He looked like he beat himself for a moment before he turned to face me, "How do you feel about dinner tomorrow night?" My eyes widened a bit, and I fought a smile.

"She has to deal with a cheating boyfriend, John. Maybe just exchange numbers for now. Read this to me." Holmes said, tapping the glass above a letter written for the princess who got her earring stolen.

"Of course." I said. I leaned over the glass looking over the letter. I read it over in my head before I started to recite it. I watched Sherlock's expression as I read it. His expression didn't change from "listening intently" until the end. He pursed his lips and turned to his friend.

"John, I know who did it." He solved the murder form the letter? How the hell'd he do that?

They ran from the room, leaving me there. I followed at a distance. I watched them descend the stairs. Sherlock handed John a piece of notebook paper. John looked at it, then at Sherlock, his eyes wide. I heard Sherlock's laugh from up here. Then, John looked at me. Only for a second, but a second was enough.

As I sat down at my desk, something in my pocket crinkled. Like paper crumbling. Curious, I reached behind me and pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. It didn't have any markings on it, telling me what it might be. I don't remember putting it there, so I opened it. It read:

"Miss Jessica Hannes,

You were very helpful; I will be using your language skills again. I know you have many that you speak. So, since I will be using you again, you need my mobile number.

I've included John's mobile number. Don't think I didn't hear him ask you out.

Don't worry. I let him know you have it. I got your number from the sticker on your phone in your back pocket. If you check, it won't be there. I hope you know where to find it. New phone, eh?

~Sherlock"

I laughed aloud. He was very sneaky. I didn't even feel him slip that note into my pocket. He was truly amazing. I laughed again, making Rachel look at me like I was crazy. "What?" I asked with a laugh, "The two guys who were just here put their numbers in my back pocket without my realizing it." I fought more giggles.

"Good luck." Rachel rolled her eyes.