I owned nothing of this except my oc.

Cory tucked her coat tighter to herself as she dashed through unknown streets. Kids were having snowball fights by the curb, laughing and having fun. Cory stopped to catch her breath and looked at them longingly, wishing she was playing with them. Everything had change now.

...…

Three hours earlier…

Ah! Cory sighed to herself happily. It was such a perfect day! No one called her a freak today! It was classic. She was used to names anyway. Weirdo, freak, pighead etc. it wasn't her fault. People were just so easy to be read, just like an open book. They couldn't blame her if she knew their well beings.

Her parents wouldn't allow her to go to school, even though she was already thirteen. Her parents said that she was too brilliant to be with other normal people. Even they said that, Cory knew there was a reason behind it. Her family was poor and they couldn't afford her to school. Her father was incapable of walking since he lost his legs in a car accident. Her mother couldn't go to work because she needed to take care of him. They both believed that she had the wits to be a lawyer some day. But Cory had something different in her mind. She wanted to be a detective.

She could see what people wouldn't notice. This showed her a new perspective of the world. A world that people wouldn't see. So, she thought that maybe she could earn money from detective work. She could not earn much from the job, but it would be enough to feed her family.

Her family had just moved to London for a few days and things were going quite well. Well, except from the names and rude words. The libraries were so big and there were more than 2000 books there. Amazing, right? In her former home town, there was a really small library and to be honest, it was a kind of a shabby one. There wasn't many books that she could read and learn from.

Cory walked up to her parents' apartment, which sat in 34B Timber Street. Their apartment wasn't anything like the big old manor down the street. She could even say that the house was quite small for three people. But it was comfortable and that's all it matters.

As she walked up the fourteen stepped staircase, she knew that something wasn't right. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

"Mom? Dad?" Cory called. "I'm home."

Her call was replied by absolute silence. Cory began to tremble and there was a strange pit in her stomach. This wasn't right. Cory ran up the steps and stopped dead when she reached the door. The door was unlocked. The thing that she knew from her thirteen year old life was that her mother always made sure that the door was well locked. There were twelve locks inside the house, therefore, every time her mother open the door, it took her about a minute. A minute and eleven seconds to be exact.

Cory stepped into the room and gasped. Oh no… In front of her laid the body of her parents. Bloody and still.

"No… no…" Cory whispered hoarsely, tears forming in her eyes and trailing down her cheek. She rushed over and kneeled in front of her parents. She put her fingers on their neck and prayed, hoping and hoping to feel something. But again, she was greeted with nothing except the steady trickle of tears that was falling on to the ground.

Cory buried her face into her hands. Why? Why! Why would anyone do this to her? She didn't do anything wrong. Cory gritted her teeth and felt something boiling in her. The feeling was… overwhelming. She felt like a time bomb, ready to blast.

Anger.

The single word popped into her head. She blinked through her tears and looked at her parents again. Their faces were plastered with a shocked look on it, mingled with fear.

After Cory finally stopped swearing and crying, she knew she needed to get out of her house. It wasn't safe here. She dashed into her room and grabbed her things: Toothbrush, a jacket and… a photo of her family. It had been taken two day ago when they arrived at the airport. How happy they were together…

Cory looked at her parents for the last time. That was when she realized. Her parents were not shot in the head, they were cut.

Cory stood up shakily and walked to the door and found a shoe print on it, about six inches long, so it must be from a man. The man's shoes must be dirty to make a mark. Cory put her finger on the door and felt it. Mud. The man must come from the country side since it hadn't rained. It takes water and dirt to form mud and Cory doubt that the murder would deliberately mix the substance. It may be possible if the man was very smart. But he kicked the door. That meant he was in a hurry. There were also some scratches on it and most of the paint was scrapped off. The man was armed, obviously… Most likely a knife. Cory looked closer and saw bullet holes too. Interesting…

Cory went back to her parents' side and checked their wounds. The place showed signs of struggling and blood was splattered all over the floor. The wounds were messy. Cory thought back. If the murder was armed with a gun, why didn't he shoot them in the head? Unless… unless he knew her parents. He wanted to watch them suffer and squirm. Her parents must felt threatened, therefore, they opened the door. They knew they would die and their wounds were still fresh, about an hour long she guessed. The murder must still be around.

Cory ran the possible list of suspect in her mind. She had no cousins or uncles or any relatives. As Cory continues to think, she spotted a note on a floor. A note equal to a lead. She picked up the paper with a trembling hand and opened it.

Little girl,

You may not know who I am, but I do. I know everything about you. Just to be helpful, let me tell you a thing. YOUR PARENTS ISN'T YOUR REAL PARENTS. Hard to believe isn't it? I know. But a smart little girl like you should have guessed it. You look nothing like your parents. Ah, everything fall into place now, is it? Yes, I killed your parents. You may wonder why. You may not be a threat to me now, but you will, in the future. Like Mr. Holmes over there.

A nice good warning to you: Leave.

JM

Cory put down the paper clutched her hair. Her mind was in a mess. What did the murder mean? Who were her real parents? Who was she?

AN:

This is just a little story I had in my mind for a while. Sherlock and John will come in the next chapter. Meanwhile, please review!