Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
So I just recently finished watching Sherlock, and have fallen in love with it, so I decided to give writing some Sherlock fan fiction a try. So, I'm starting on season one episode one, but not at the beginning of the episode. Let's see how this works out, shall we?
Chapter 1
I stood in one of the rooms in Brixton, Lauriston Gardens. On the floor in front of me was the body of a woman, just killed. I had seen this before. Years before. I made some deductions, and then took out my phone. I quickly called 911 and made my voice sound shaky like I was in shock.
"Hello?"
"H-hello. P-p-please. I- I think I j-just found another s-suicide victim," I gasped out.
"Alright. Alright. Calm down, miss. Where are you?"
"B-Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."
"Alright. We'll be there as soon as we can."
"Th-thank you," I said, hanging up.
I walked out of the room and out the front door of the building. I could hear the police sirens getting closer and closer. Swallowing, I forced myself to shake, taking choppy breaths and staring wide eyed at the fleet of police cars speeding towards me. A man got out of one of them and walked towards me.
"Hello, miss. My name is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Were you the one who called us?"
"Y-yes. Please, in here. She's just lying there on her stomach," I told him, turning and leading him inside.
When we reached the room, he took one look and began instructing the others to close off the area before heading over to his car.
"Where are you going?" a woman asked him.
"To get our favorite consulting detective," he replied, and drove off.
The woman turned to me.
"You look terrible. Come on," she said and led me over to an ambulance.
"This girl found the body. I think she's in shock," the woman told one of the personnel beside the ambulance.
I felt myself being lifted on the back of the ambulance and someone draped a blanket around my shoulders. A little while later, Lestrade returned, but he was alone.
"Where's the freak?" the woman who had brought me to the ambulance inquired.
"On his way," Lestrade replied, heading back into the building.
"Great, so I'm just supposed to wait here?" the woman muttered.
I smirked, but said nothing.
A tall man and another man holding a cane and limping walked toward the police tape. They seemed to be arguing about something. I glanced at the personnel beside me who had put the blanket around my shoulders, making a few last deductions. I looked over to see the taller man on our side of the police tape, holding it up so the other man could duck under.
The woman spoke to them a minute before the tall man noticed me as she was setting ready to lead them inside.
"Who's that?"
"Her? She's the one who found the body," the woman replied, "now come on. Lestrade's waiting."
"What's your name?" the man asked me.
"Bethany, sir. Bethany Claire."
"Do you have a last name, Bethany?"
"This is a waste of time," the woman huffed.
"Well?" the man inquired, ignoring her.
"I'd rather not say, sir."
"Would you like to come with us, miss Claire?"
"Yes, please," I replied, hopping down and taking off the blanket.
"She can't go. She's in shock," the personnel protested.
"Still having trouble with the wife?" I asked him.
He stared at me, dumbstruck, as I followed the trio into the building.
"Freak's here. Bringing him in," the woman spoke into her walkie talkie.
"Ah, Anderson. We meet again," the tall man addressed one of the detectives.
"It's a crime scene," the man, Anderson, said, "I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"
"Quite clear," Sherlock replied.
"And is your wife staying away for long?" I asked him.
Anderson looked at me, dumbfounded.
"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out," Sherlock joined in.
"Somebody told you that," Anderson accused us.
"Your deodorant told us that," I told him.
"My deodorant?" Anderson asked incredulously.
"It's for men," Sherlock said in explanation.
"Well, of course it's for men. I'm wearing it."
"So's Sergeant Donovan," I shrugged.
"Ooh, I think it just vaporised. May I go in?" Sherlock inquired.
"Whatever you're implying-"
"We're not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over," I interrupted him.
"And I assume she scrubbed your floors by the state of her knees," Sherlock added, smiling slightly.
"You'll need to wear one of these," Lestrade told us, interrupting our conversation. He held up a blue jump suit. He was wearing an identical one himself.
"Who's this?" he asked, spotting John.
"He's with me."
"But who is he?" Lestrade repeated.
"I said he's with me."
John grabbed one of the suits as Lestrade turned to me.
"What are you doing?"
"Sherlock invited me," I stated.
"Aren't you gonna put one on?" John asked us, now dressed in the blue suit.
"So where are we?" Sherlock inquired, ignoring John's question.
"Upstairs," I informed him, equally ignoring John as I led the way.
"I can give you two minutes," Lestrade told us, he and John following.
"May need longer," Sherlock told him when he followed me into the room.
The woman was lying on her stomach, the letters R-A-C-H-E scratched into the floor board by her left hand. She had on an alarming pink coat on, as well as matching heels and lipstick.
"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details," Lestrade informed Sherlock. "Hasn't been here long. Bethany found her."
He was silent for a minute.
"Shut up," Sherlock told him.
"I didn't say anything," Lestrade whined.
"You were thinking. It's annoying."
I snickered as Anderson appeared in the doorway.
"Got anything?"
"Not much," Sherlock informed him.
"She's German. Rache. It's German for revenge," Anderson told him, " she could be trying to tell us something. "
"Yes, thank you for your input," I told him, slamming the door in his face.
Sherlock chuckled softly.
"So she's German?" Lestrade asked.
"Of course not. She's from out of town, though," I told him.
Sherlock nodded, "Intended to stay in London one night before returning home to-"
"Cardiff," I finished. "So far, so obvious."
"Sorry, obvious?" Lestrade questioned us, confused.
"Dr. Watson, what do you think?" I asked.
He stared at me and Sherlock added, "Of the message, of the body. Your a medical man."
A bad place to stop, but I wanted to update. I didn't like the previous version of this chapter because Bethany wasn't getting in on most of the action, so I switched it up a ton! I made sure to still not reveal Bethany's last name, though. I want it to be a surprise. Anyway, it's getting late, so I'm ending this here. Please, please, please review!