Hello everyone and welcome to my brand new story. Firstly, the credit goes to my brother who helped me start the story (and name it!) I couldn't have done it without his help. Secondly, this one is different from my other stuff (which is what I try to do each time, something different, lol) so I hope you enjoy it. xx Thank you all so much and here's the first chapter… xx

"I told you…he's not here."

"Just because you cannot see something, it does not mean it is not there. He is clearly hiding…"

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had trailed the potential suspect to an abandoned warehouse. It was dark, deserted and provided the perfect cover behind rows tall of shelves. The man they were following had been involved with several dangerous London gangs, dealing drugs and getting himself involved with petty robberies and aggravated assaults. It was mundane, but Lestrade and John had insisted he get the man off the streets. This, coupled with the fact that several days ago Sherlock had thwarted the man's attempted burglary on Molly Hooper, his pathologist, was enough to persuade him to pursue this man, even if it was tedious. Even now, as they moved slowly through the dark room, Sherlock let out a deep sigh before stopping dead in the middle of the room. John collided into his back and started to complain, before catching sight of Sherlock with his finger pressed to his mouth. John nervously listened for whatever it was Sherlock had heard.

"Sherlock…"

This was a mistake. The second the word had left John's lips he was pounced upon by the muscly man they were following. John gasped for breath as his attacker clasped his hands around his throat. A yell of pain came from the man and he released John immediately, who choked for air on the floor. The two men above him were grappling fiercely and John could make out the outline of Sherlock being shoved into the metal shelf, the man kicking at him. John pushed himself to standing and launched himself at the large man. The three men tussled clumsily in the darkness until the suspect managed to find a loose metal bar. After a few moments of wild swinging and clumsy dodging, he advanced with surprising speed and swung the metal bar around before striking Sherlock hard in the head. After staggering backwards, he collapsed onto the ground and John blinked in shock, squinting in the darkness. The man pushed past John and ran towards the exit without a second glance, the now bloodied metal bar clanged against the floor as he departed. Swearing furiously, John knelt by his unconscious friend and checked his breathing. After he was sure Sherlock was fine, he released a sigh of relief and whipped his phone from his pocket.

"Lestrade? Yeah, we found him…but he got away…I know, but that's not important. Send an ambulance…and make it quick!"

With
shaky hands, John hung up the phone and, using the dim light it generated, examined his friend's head wound. It's deep…but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. Just an almighty headache.

Three Days Later

Sherlock snapped his eyes open and immediately winced in pain. He glanced around the room, slowly until his eyes adjusted. He was in a bedroom, unfamiliar and comfortable. His aching head was propped up by mounds of pink, fluffy pillows and he was covered by…pink, fluffy blankets. He frowned. Either John has developed an interesting taste in interior design or I am in the flat of Molly Hooper. Turning his head slightly to the side, he noticed several pictures of Molly with her arm around different people. Clothes littered her floor and books were stacked against her drawers. She certainly wasn't as organised as he had first thought. But why was he here of all places? He closed his eyes to contemplate before a deep chuckle sounded from the corner of the room.

"Ah, you're finally awake."

Sherlock opened his eyes and saw…himself…staring back at him. That bar must have struck me rather hard. The 'vision' chuckled once more as he moved to the corner of the room and lounged lazily on one of Molly's chairs.

"The man was quite muscly. It took some force, though…fancy not seeing him…"

"It was dark."

Sherlock had no idea why he had spoken to the vision he was seeing. It was just a trick of the mind and when he was better this…thing would go away. The vision smiled widely before leaning forwards.

"I'm afraid, I'm not just a vision. I have been trapped in that ghastly mind palace for so long, watching you gather useless information on the doctor, the Inspector and that charming woman whose bed you are currently lying on. I am just glad to be free."

Sherlock blinked and pressed himself further into his pillows. This is not possible. Another chuckle came from the corner which Sherlock ignored. The vision had now lit a cigarette and was happily smoking whilst Sherlock noticed his appearance; he took care of himself, his hair was much like his, curly and perfect, he dressed more casually than Sherlock, however, choosing jeans and a simple white shirt.

"Who…or what…are you?"

The vision paused smoking for a moment and removed the cigarette from his mouth, a smirk settling on his face instead.

"I'm the part of your brain you refuse to listen to. Usually anyway, looks like know you don't have a choice. Personally, I like Fred, it's...well, me. Anyway, let's see how you like being forced to hear what I have to say, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Molly opened the door at that moment, yawning sleepily and moving over to her chest of drawers, her back now facing Sherlock. He could see she was wearing nothing underneath her dressing gown and glanced towards Fred. He was smiling suggestively and wiggling his eyebrows in a most irritating fashion, lighting another cigarette. Sherlock turned back to Molly and swallowed as she moved her hands to her dressing gown strings, slipping the fabric over her shoulders as she did so.

"Oh, dear God!"

Sherlock wished he would shut up as Molly moved her hands down her arms. Fred was craning his neck now and Sherlock was growing unusually warm. Perhaps, I should say something. Fred shot him a warning look.

"You dare."

Sherlock swallowed. Well, I do not want to cause her embarrassment. Fred laughed hysterically and Sherlock blinked.

"'Do not want to cause her embarrassment?' That's good, I like that." Molly's hands were moving slowly, too slowly. It was if she knew. Sherlock supressed a groan of impatience with great difficulty, much to Fred's delight. "Oh, yes. This is going to be fun indeed."

Ok, so firstly, the warehouse idea and the accident were stolen from the brains of my brother (I suggested a chemical reaction to 'release Fred' but he convinced me an accident was better :) Secondly, I am terribly awful at writing fight scenes of any kind, so I apologise about that, lol xx And finally, thank you so much for reading and listening to my mad ramblings. Stay tuned, back soon xx