I've been meaning to post one of my many MANY Sherlock Holmes fanfictions on but never had the courage to, like my many MANY DMC fanfics. Asian modesty. Damn nice time to kick in I'd say. Anywho, this story is actually sparked by years and years of refining, rethinking, and changing continuously. Heck, I don't even know if this series has an ending yet (don't stone me! ) but for now, I like the theme and the plot.

First Rule: SHAME ME, OUTWIT ME, BUT NEVER LOVE ME.

...

.A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction.

December 26th

I found this diary in an attic, at my family's cottage in Japan one dramatized stormy night. It was indeed stormy, fit for the discovery that was waiting to unfold. I had traveled over to my mother's homeland during the winter for my annual snow shoveling and solitary enjoyment in the woods near Yatsugatake, Nagano. Of course, my most favorite uncle came with me as he did always and would watch TV and type away at his computer working for the large electric company he worked at while I would do my American teenage quirks fooling around in the snow and making snowmen, tracking foxes and deer, calling my friends back in the tropic weather where snow ceased to exist and boasting to them; those sort of things. We would clean the house during the first week or two before we both parted our ways in the house through the traditional Ômisoka (an annual cleanup of a house to welcome a fresh new year and a fresh new start). It usually ended before the actual day to clean up so we could both get ready to do absolutely nothing.

Back to the diary, I totally believed it was my grandmother's at first. (Excuse my modern way of speech.) I was hyped, wondering what sorts of secrets she kept. I had no intention of telling her that I had found her diary, and although it seemed immature, I wanted this all for myself. Maybe after I finished reading it, I would casually tell her. But the fact that I held a piece of history drugged my senses, being one who loved stories and particularly, old ones. As I opened the first page it went like this.

..

January 1800's?
the Flat

First Rule: Shame me, Outwit me, but never Love me.

That was the rule we promised to keep.

It seemed foolish, in demanding such a rule in many ways including the person I kept it with, and his persona alone making the later part seem almost…preposterous. But I knew that I couldn't take chances. Call it woman's intuition, or farce but some things just happen sometimes.

He didn't argue with it either. We decided to keep our relationship professional, and we grew to love each other without the romance over the years, something along the lines of more then friends less then lovers. That sort of Americanized thing. Of course, there were many…close calls along our path, and in the end (which was actually not even close to the 'end' end)…we were forced to break it for the sake of our good friend but nevertheless my dear detective and I have been doing fairly well.

This autobiography…I know will be read by more then just my nosy partner who is at the current moment watching me scribble this down from the corner of his eyes, chuckling at my "illegible American adolescent writing" sitting on his chair with his suicidal pipe puffing away like a man deep in thought. Illegible American Adolescent Writing. HA. I should really tell him what his fancy curvy writing looks like to me. Reader, to this day I wonder why I admired a man like him even before I met him.

The reason I wanted to write this diary is for my audience to understand what I went through and hopefully feel…exhilarated. Ecstatic. Over-joyed. Really.

My entrapped reader, welcome to the world that you will experience and be utterly seduced by its complexity and dramatized emotions. All names will be changed to a more…known name for the sake of their privacies, hahahahaha. Haha. As for the mysterious man I have spent my life with, lets just stick with calling him Mr. Sherlock Holmes for his personality.

As much as I enjoy having my autobiography read, I advise you, NOT to read to the ending.

..

The first page was interesting. In fact, I loved that my ancestor (whom I now definitely knew was NOT grandmother from the English and the puns) had a taste for the detective Sherlock Holmes too. It was…AWESOME. It was also in fairly modern language, for something that was written in the 1800's, but to me at that moment was just another ignorant blissful lucky coincidence. The end was however…confusing. It was as if she foreshadowed an event to come, and the diary was not much filled in, only half-way at the most until ultimate whiteness as I flipped through it casually not looking at the words clearly to save the story. Part of me wanted to read it all and read it NOW, being my nature to finish books quick to move on to the next. I had finished all my novels a few days ago. My brain was thirsting for words. But this…this was too special for just one night. I sighed loudly, it dripping with acid and irritation at my impatience as I closed the diary and replaced it in the small crack in the edge of the walls behind my TV and game console cabinet. I wasn't going to show it to my uncle just yet. I wanted to bask in the feeling of keeping a secret to myself, like a little kid.

...

Author's Notes.

I think this story really started forming in my head since I read the Mary Russell Series (with being in somewhat denial at first for Holmes having a wife. A REALLY YOUNG ONE at that. But hey, I loved it to death by the time the Beekeeper's Apprentice was done. :P)

I had already felt that I was going to SOMEDAY write (or if not, DRAW) out a story for my most favorite non-real? Person in the world and give him an apprentice. Waaaay before I knew the existence of Mary Russell. And a female one at that. So now you know what this story is about. Holmes and his apprentice. Hope I didn't spoil it for ya. I know I didn't spoil it ALL though. So Holmes got himself a apprentice, BUT under one occasion.

The title.

Yes, the title. Yes, if you have read it and not skipped to the endnotes you'd know the rules have been broken. Regardless. The show must go on.

And I leave you in a cliffy. is stoned

Reviews are gratified, Compliments are welcomed, Flames are criticized. Choose wisely.

Here's a question for you readers…should I make a poem ending for the disclaimer or possibly ending like the Something was Missing DMC fanfiction?