I must admit, I always adored John. He was like a father to me in the foreign world. Reprimanded me when needed, praised me on my worthy accounts and talked to me when I was over the end. The case of Mr. Sherlock Holmes was by far different. He infuriated me at my worst, enticed me when I shouldn't have cared less, and loved me when we both knew it could not be.
AH!
Right, I should probably start at the beginning, considering I am far, far into the future. The sequel if I am correct. Which I always am.
So, let us start on the day that brought me from the 21st century to the late 19th...
XxXxX
"Again with that stupid book idea?" Lisa asked, groaning as I scribbled down some notes in advanced biology 306. "Shut up." I muttered, rolling my eyes at her. "You know better then to think they will let you publish that thing!" I sighed and sat back, raising an eyebrow over at the red head. A red head she was, with freckles, fair skin and a temper to it all. Nice all the same. "I believe they will. I mean, come on! Who wouldn't want to read The misadventures of a blatant romance of Sherlock Holmes and Lady Luck?" She snorted and I pouted, sighing some as I face forward, noting we were going to dissect a shark. Cool.
"Look. Spend the night tonight at my place. I am soooo tired of your writing and being cooped up in your nasty mess you call a room!" She chided me like a mother. I had no mother or father, but have been living on my own since I was 14, having ran away from my god forsaken grandmother. I have 3 jobs, schooling and of course, enough time to write my misadventures of Sherlock Holmes. "It isn't a mess! Everything is where I can find it." I told her, taking some notes on the Shark anatomy. "Right. Organized chaos." She muttered and I smirked, knowing I had won. The day became a blur and soon I was gathering many clothes for some reason, man, many clothes. Things I needed for over night stay, and my note book plus a blank one. I felt possessed, but made my way out of my room. I stopped, duffel bad around my shoulder as I thought about my life. I had no direction. The only thing pressing me toward life was my love of the Holmes series. I... Identified with him. Cold and calculating, no friends say for one. I tend to understand things, being I can feel over peoples emotion, and can dissect any situation because of it. I shook my head, hating self-loathing and such, and took a step forward, only to be thrown back, and my vision turned black. I groaned as I woke up, back aching and head spinning.
"Not to fast Milady." My brows came together at the strange British voice. I shot up, clenching my teeth and shutting my eyes as my world spun. There was a faint chuckle and I dared to open my eyes, only to see a very odd surrounding. I was in a sort of lab, with concoctions, experiments and devices all around. A tall man, stood not far from me, smiling cunningly down at me. He bore a Walt Disney like mustache, trimmed and slicked back black hair, and very old school like clothing. "It would seem I have succeeded once again in out witting that detective." My jaw clanked, as a sickly feeling brewed in my stomach, knowing he was feeling smug and had a devil of a plan. Somewhere deep down, I knew I knew him from somewhere. "Now, let me allow you to comprehend what your task is." I raised an eyebrow in defiance, making his smile and ego grown. "I shall, by many apologies, knock you out. When you awake, you shall be with two men. I need you to gather as much information as possible on the one named Holmes. Then, once I have gotten you, you shall divulge everything to me and I will allow you to return to your time." I blinked, many times, unsure if I heard correctly. "As in.. Sherlock Holmes? And the other you mean John Watson?" He nodded, and I felt he was curious but far to impatient. I laughed, knowing this had to be a dream. "My many apologies Madam." As I looked up, a cane met my head and I was picketed into darkness again.
*Sherlock's POV*
"Find him?" Watson asked as I stood up straight, glaring at the door he disappeared into. "What does it look like?" I asked, sighing as I caught my remaining breath. Watson sighed, walking around the unintended lab as I glared at the door, darkness shrouding my thoughts. It wasn't until Watson called me many times, and a good Tharp of his cane before I came out of my loathing, looking over to where Watson began to limp off to once more. With a last glare at the door, I walked over, tipping my hat down and frowning. "What is that?" I questioned, kicking it some. Watson sighed, going down to get a better look of the odd creature. "It is a lady, Holmes. I would highly suggest you stopped kicking her." I raised an eyebrow at the poorly dressed thing. No, that was not correct. I couldn't understand her attire at all. Ladies do not show skin, yet this one wore a shirt that had no sleeves and fit to her nicely, as it shouldn't. She wore some sort of trousers, yet also skin fitting, with an odd sort of foot ware. Upon further inspection, she had her long black hair in a tail that of a horses, her bangs swept to the left and a blond color. I kicked it again, for the sheer taste of the matter. "I dare say this is no lady. A creature Moriarty has created." I concluded, going to kick it again but Watson stopped my foot, glaring up at me with icy blue eyes.
"Holmes." Was all he said as he continued to stare, making me have a roll of my eyes. This man could certinly get a back bone when you challenged his compassion.
"Pray tell me you are in a joking matter old chap?" With another stare down, I dropped my head to look back to the 'lady' as he called it. "Fine. I shall indulge this. For now." With a smirk and a nod, it was settled, without consent my I add, that she would be under my roof. Even through distaste of having one of that mans creations under my roof, my calculating eyes could only do so much for a dead person. I was far to anxious as we made our way back to good ol' 221B, to find out how this 'lady' ticked. We brought along her bag of sorts, for her scent was all over it. Fresh green apple laden with vanilla. Enticing to say the least. on the carriage ride home, as Watson decided to not speak, I enthralled the taste of profiling the 'lady' more. She had scars on her sun kissed skin, along with lean muscle telling me she was a fighter. Her brows, even when unconscious, were drawn together in anger, also telling me she was likely a un-fun person. A sort of sliver ring precede her light pick lip, spikes at the end. Infuriating me so, for I had never seen an act like that. She was short, but tall at the same time. Her ligaments with far to long, whilst her body was shorter, making her look taller then what she was. I itched to know more as we grunted to get her up the stairs to my abode, dropping her- correction. I dropped her legs onto the couch, as Watson glared at me and set her upper half down slowly. I sat in my favorite chair as I took my hat and coat off, smoking from my pipe, watching Watson check her vitals and further nonsense. My gaze burned into the 'lady', waiting for her to awake as so I could get rid of the bothersome itch to know everything about this odd creature.
"She will not wake till later." The good Doctor stated with a sigh, leaning his weight on his cane. "On the-"
"Upper, middle, left side of her head is a smallish blot that has surfaced. A meaning of concussion. Yes, good show old chap." Watson merely sighed as I smiled, raising an eyebrow for him to say something. "Right, well. I am off to Mary, for I have no more business here until she awakes." I became alarmed, though didn't dare show it, at the though of being alone with a strange 'women' in my presence. Sure enough I can handle my own fair enough, but one must never harm a...
"Very well." I said, and he got a look in his eye whenever he saw a look in my eye, telling me I had a look that gave something away. He only nodded and left, me picking my violin up and plucking it idly. "You are rather poor at acting Milady."
*Normal POV*
My heart skipped as I was found out, not 5 seconds after awaking. I caught parts of conversation as I dazed in and out. It was a dream, so why not have fun? Seemingly as I wasn't waking up yet. I sat up, only to curse loudly, holding onto my head. I blinked away the dots and looked over at the calculating man beside the... couch. It burned to be under his brown gaze, as Watson had said sometimes in his books. He looked like the imagery in the books, but it was very different actually seeing a fictional character I fancied in front of my eyes. I profiled him as he me, and the room was silent. His clothes, shabby. Hair, black and tousled as so it stuck out in an odd way. Cold, brown eyes that kept my skin aflame, contradicting itself on that fact. He took a puff from that famous pipe, and settled in his chair finally, sighing. "What are you?" My brows came further together, and then it clicked. I was dressed in 21st century clothing, acting like a- well- like a punk as teenager. Something unheard of in the late 18th century I think... Damn History always being first period, sleeping through it all. I looked down at myself, then laughed. "I must look horrid to you, don't I?" He mealy raised an eyebrow, profiling my speech and tone no doubt. "Right... Uhh. Shit! I dunno what to say honestly." His eyebrows were reaching a peak, almost meeting his hairline, making me smile. "I'll tell you what I know... Somewhat... Eh... More or less... Probably not.." I began to ramble on, looking at a far wall as I missed his smirk of amusement as I braided myself. "Maybe just what pertan-"
"Start at the beginning. I want to know it all."
SO! This chapter sucked because I am running on 35 hours of no sleep and such, but I am already enticed with the sequel, so this will mainly be a short story, to lead you up to the bigger one. It's VERY AU and some OOC, but that is expected being this is Sherlock Holmes/OC romance. So, don't bash me too hard on this story guys, first Sherlock Holmes one, but I have suuuuch good ideas. Stick with me whilst I get more into character, please?