My first Sherlock fan fiction, so go a bit easy. Takes place just before A Study in Pink, and will be a combination of the unaired pilot, and the actual episode. Sherlock (and other characters) might be a bit OOC. I'm American, and not extremely familiar with British terminology. If I mix up any words, phrases, nouns, verbs, and anything else, please correct me.

As Etheldrea had already moved the boxes into her room, the real problems could begin. She leaned against the wall, playing with the gold embroider EH on the corner of her jacket, and her light blue eyes watched her dad as he shuffled a few boxes here and there. Then he stood straight and walked over to the mantle place.

"You need a flat mate." she said to Sherlock as he looked at his skull.

"Why? I have you." He replied.

"I'm your daughter, I don't count."

"I was talking to the skull."

She rolled her eyes, "You definitely need a flat mate."

"Why? The last one we had was so boring, and a nuisance."

"You just didn't like him because he touched your things."

"He kept messing with my experiments."

"Well, find someone that you do like. Do some research on them, do a full scale back ground check on them if you want."

"I don't like people."

"You like me."

"Wrong," he shook his head, "I don't like you."

"I still think you need to find a flat mate. Come on dad, do you really think we'll be able to afford it here, even with Mrs. Hudson giving us a special price?"

He was silent, and was contemplating. He turned away from the mantle, grabbed his jacket, scarf.

"Bored already? We haven't even begun to unpack." she said, "See you in a while."

Etheldrea turned and headed back to her room to start unpacking. The first thing she did was set up her coat stand, and then carefully took off her favorite purple scarf, and wrapped it around the stand. Then she did the same with her black jacket. Much like her father and his scarf and coat, she never left the house without hers.

Looking around the barren room, she sighed and ran a hand through her short, wavy, brown hair.

Etheldrea started with my bed, slipping on the dark purple bed sheets and duvet, and then started stacking my books on book shelves. The whole process was slow and boring, but after an hour she was just about done. My last box held a bunch of knickknacks, but she wouldn't be able to set those up until she had some shelves.

She walked into the living room, and took a look around. Her dad's papers, book, compositions, and god knows what else he hoarded lay about the room. She sat down in the red armchair and sighed; she could take a quick break.

Looking around the room, she felt more at home here than anywhere they had been in the past five years. The many different wall papers were cool, and the atmosphere was mysterious. She loved it here, and thought Sherlock did too.

CRASH

Worried, she looked towards the back corner of the room, near the sofa. A pile of something fell over. She stood and walked over to pick it up. It was nothing but a package of envelopes. As she organized them, and sat them back on the table, she saw something interesting. A gray wallet, with something metallic and silver sat there. She picked it up and opened it, revealing the badge of DI Gregory Lestrade.

She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to call her dad. Before doing so, she stuck the badge in her bag, called the DI to tell him she was on my way, and left.

Half an hour later, she walked up to the man she would gladly call a friend, and handed him the badge.

"I'm so sorry sir. I would say it'll never happen again, but I can never promise anything that involves my dad."

"It's perfectly fine. I'll talk with your dad later. In fact, here he comes now."

"Great," Sally Donavan muttered, "Both the freaks are here."

She glared at her, "This "freak" is named Etheldrea, and both she and her father solved more cases in a week than you have in a month."

Every time, every god damn time, she set foot in Donavan's presence there would be an ugly word thrown through the air. While her dad could easily brush it off, Etheldrea had a bit of a temper in her and bullies had a tendency to set her off.

"Girls, just relax." Lestrade said.

"Etheldrea, what are you doing here?" her dad asked.

"Returning a stolen object. Dad, what have I told you?"

"Things. Lestrade, that case you were going on about?"

"Yeah, the victim's brother said he was out of town, but it's just not adding up."

She turned to leave and passed Anderson on the way out.

"What, not going to say good bye?" he sneered.

"Why would I waste my breath on someone like you?" she replied, "By the way, how's the affair?"

He sputtered, "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right."

Instead of going straight home, she went for a walk. The streets of London were far more entertaining than the flat, and the shops are more interesting too. She knew that a short ten minute walk from here was a small bookstore. It was antique, and often forgotten, hiding in between a teenager's clothing boutique and a fairly popular bistro.

She smiled as she entered the shop, a small bell announcing her presence. The store was dimly lit, casting odd shadows here and there. Her favorite smell, ancient books, was filtered through the air.

"Are you in the right shop dearie? We don't normally have a whole lot of kids your age in here." A fail old woman at a check out desk asked.

"No, I'm most definitely in the right place. These are my favorite kinds of shops. You never know what treasures could be hidden on the shelves."

She smiled kindly, "Take your time. When you're ready, I'll be more than happy to check you out."

Etheldrea nodded and looked around. The walls, which she suspected were a light yellow, were hidden by shelf upon shelf of books. She saw books that looked brand new, and some that looked like they came from Excalibur's age.

She ran her fingers along the edges, brushing the spines, and feeling the rough binding. She smiled slightly, like each one was an old friend. She picked a book and flipped it open to the first page. She read the first paragraph and was instantly hooked.

She wasn't sure how long she was in the store, time passed quickly, but she heard the bell ring. Etheldrea brushed it off thinking it was another customer, but then she felt a man's hands on her shoulders, and she smirked.

"Hey dad."

"I thought you were heading straight back to Baker Street?"

"I got distracted."

"I knew you would. Are you ready?"

"Yes, I just have to pay."

Sherlock nodded and followed behind. She walked up to the counter and set the book down, which she just now saw, The Dream Cycle of H.P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death.

"That'll be seven pounds and twenty." The woman said.

Etheldrea reached for her coin purse but her dad stopped her, lowering his hand on hers and giving the lady the money. She grabbed the book and they walked out of the store, then her dad hailed a cab.

"Thank you." she said as they rode back to Baker Street.

"It was nothing."

"Not to me."

He didn't say anything, choosing to look out the window. She opened her book and began to read from where she had left off. Moments later, they were both receiving hugs from Mrs. Hudson and walking up the stairs to their flat.

"Did you finish your room?"

"Nearly. I need to get a few shelves up, and then I'll be finished."

"Good, let's get started in here then."

That was how the rest of their afternoon and night went, unpacking, more unpacking, and more unpacking. They still had a lot to do, and now their apartment only needed organization.

Etheldrea said goodnight to her dad, then went to her room. The only light she kept on was her reading lamp, and she grabbed her new book. Half an hour later, her eyes began to droop, and she closed the book and lay back on her pillow.

She smiled as she heard her father play his violin. Although, she was accustom to him playing every night, she never tired of the music lulling her to sleep.