A/N Any characters you don't recognise are my own :3 and I apologise if my Spanish isn't so great, I am learning so if you spot a mistake with it please let me know:3 Sadly i own neither Holmes or Watson so please read and enjoy and review! hopefully will have chapter 2 soon when I'm not busy with my lit coursework :3

I could scarcely believe the face that looked up at me. I saw not the face of a ruthless, cold hearted assassin but the face of the scared 16 year old girl. Her indigo eyes were wide beneath her blonde fringe and curls. I did not know which was worse, that I knew the girl, or that her revolver was pointed at my heart. But I get ahead of myself. I must tell the story from the beginning, not the middle.

Holmes and I were spending our evening idling by the fire in our rooms when he out of the blue enquired as to whom I had met up with earlier. This was not unusual of my detective, but what surprised me was that he had not already deduced who it was and told me his life story. He put his cigarette down on the tiger skin rug he was sprawled across, turning to face me, brown eyes meeting my blue ones.

"Who were you with Watson dear? He was certainly a handsome young man." Holmes smiled at me slyly.

"How would you know he was handsome, old boy?" I asked, looking up from the newspaper. "When you were here all afternoon?"

"Ah, but Watson, do you not recall that prostitute you passed as you entered the park?" there was a flash of a mischievous smile.

I laughed. "If you really must know, it was my cousin. James Rain."

My companion's eyes lit up and I knew he was now about to reveal the life story of my cousin to me. Holmes sat up and grabbed hold of a discarded paper that lay scattered across the carpet. The detective waved an article in my face with a teasing yet knowing smile. To my surprise there was a photograph of my cousin, who looked devilishly handsome with his elegant blond curls, neat little moustache and a smile that I believed could charm the devil himself if required.

"I knew that I recognised him!" Holmes began to pace excitedly like a puppy for who wants a walk as he began his explanation. "James Rain, the rising star of the police force. I have heard Lestrade speak of him, he is only 3 and twenty and already a detective. They say that he will make inspector before the year is out."

"James is very clever, my dear Holmes, like you." I folded the newspaper and stretched my numb legs. "Difference is, he is not arrogant about it like you."

Holmes feigned offence before leaning over me and continuing his explanation. "I hear also that he is an excellent lover and very satisfying in that department, shall we say." He leant so close I could feel his breath against my neck. "Much like you, John dear."

I blushed with embarrassment, muttering nonsense about if our long suffering landlady should hear us. Holmes smiled, boldly stating to let Mrs Hudson hear us. I pushed him aside and reached for my coat, suggesting that we stretch our legs as we had spent the whole day idle. My detective readily complied with my wish for once, and we left in high spirits. Of course, I did not realise then how our evening would turn out; that I would have the blood of a child on my hands. But I am ahead of myself again. Holmes and I were walking back towards Baker Street after our evening tour of the park, discussing a case which my companion had recently begun. The case was an interesting one, involving a girls school that was not only producing model young ladies into society but highly skilled assassins too. my detective had interest in the case that was unknown to me, but I knew his interest in the girls school was unwanted. I paused to light a cigarette when I notice two young gentle men dressed in smart attire. They had been following the same path as us for a while now, and Holmes had grown suspicious. He led me by the elbow into a side alley, glancing round him all the time.

"Watson, dear, I believe we are being followed." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Those young gentlemen?" I asked, gesturing to them with a quick glance.

"Look closer. Those young 'gentlemen', as you put it, are in fact young women." Holmes paused for thought. "In fact, I believe one is merely a child."

I had not the time to ask him what he meant when the young women in gentlemen's attire were upon us. Holmes was right. One of them was merely a child, no older then sixteen, but the men's clothes she wore did nothing to hide her curvaceous, womanly figure. Her companion was older, her skin tanned and exotic; a rare beauty. The older girl's eyes were a brilliant green, mesmerising to look at. The two girls made their way to us, the lower halves of their faces obscured by scarves. This was not our evening. Holmes and I were trapped in alley, our exits blocked by the two girls, when I heard the metallic click of a revolver. The two girls held revolvers aimed at us, and their eyes made it clear they knew how to use them.

" Es bueno volver a encontrarnos, gentlemen," the older began, her voice held the faint trace of a Spanish accent. "Our mistress sends you her compliments."