The Idea: Well, this idea came to me as I was actually prank calling my brother on my mom's cell. I said something about being Sherlock Holmes and my mom said, "Sherlock isn't a girl. If he was, his name would have to be Sherla or something!" And so, this story was born.

Notes: The story won't follow the exact lines because, well you know, I want to mix it up a bit. Also, the characters may be a bit out of character, but they're still them. One last thing, the whole story will be told as if it is a movie, so, to get the full effect of it, you may want to read it while the certain theme song (which will be written in bold) is playing.

Please let me introduce to you a love story with a sprinkle of action:

Shannon Holmes

(I do not own Sherlock Holmes…obviously)

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John came back to his own flat, which he thinks he will be leaving soon. He sighed and sat down on his bed, putting his cane down. He then reached for his phone and looked at his outgoing text messages and looked at the one Shannon had sent. It said:

If brother has green ladder, arrest brother

~SH

He looked over at his desk and spotted his laptop, fortunately still on. He picked up his cane and walked towards it, putting his phone down and getting onto Qwest Search.

John hesitated for a moment and then typed in her name, scrolling down the thousands of results it had given him.

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Meanwhile…..

A woman dressed in all pink took the exact same pill that the other "suicidal" people had taken….

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The next day, John was walking down Baker Street, searching for number 221 B. A cab had drove past him and stopped right next to him as he reached the door.

Just as John had knocked on the door, Shannon came out of the cab and said," Hello" as she paid for the fair.

Shannon was dressed in a blue button down and a black skirt and her normal trench coat and scarf. John felt underdressed in his blue sweater, denim pants, and leather jacket. "Ah, Ms. Holmes," John greeted, turning around and extending his hand.

"Shannon, please," she said, shaking his hand.

They waited for the door to open, giving John a chance to look around. "This is a prime spot, must be expensive," he said.

Shannon looked around. "Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal." John turned to look at her. "Owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out." Her gaze drifted away from him and went behind him.

"So you stopped her husband from being executed," John asked, surprised.

She turned her gaze to him again. "Oh, no, I ensured it," she said, smiling.

The door then opened and an elderly woman came out. John looked behind him to see what Shannon was staring at and saw nothing. "Shannon," the elderly woman greeted, giving her a hug.

"Mrs. Hudson," Shannon introduced, letting her go and gesturing to John. "Dr. John Watson."

Mrs. Hudson unblocked the doorway and gestured for them to come in. "Hello! Come in," she greeted.

"Thank you," John said, walking in.

"Shall we," Shannon asked, coming in after John.

Mrs. Hudson smiled at the two and shut the door, revealing the name 221 B.

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Shannon took the lead and lead John up the stairs. She then stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway, waiting for John to catch up. He had a bit of trouble trying to get up with his cane.

As soon as he reached the door, Shannon opened it and waited for him to come in. She left the door open and walked backwards, taking off her gloves.

John looked around and saw boxes surrounding the place, along with pillows and lamps that hadn't been properly placed. "Well, this could be very nice," John said, walking around. "Very nice indeed."

"Yes," Shannon agreed, smiling. "Yes I think so. My thoughts precisely."

"Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out," John said as Shannon said," So I went straight ahead and moved in."

John looked at Shannon, embarrassment in his eyes. "Oh," Shannon said, looking at John. She rushed to the sofa.

"So this is all…" John said.

"Well, obviously I can straighten things up a bit," she said, picking up the newspaper that had been on the couch and put it into a box. She took the mail and put it on top of the fireplace and stabbed a knife through it.

"That's a skull," John said, pointing his cane at the skull on top of the fireplace as Shannon turned around.

"Friend of mine," she joked, putting her hands in her coat. She looked at the skull and then back at John. "When I say friend…."

Shannon walked over to the sofa. "What do you think, then, Dr. Watson," Mrs. Hudson asked, coming into the room.

She took off her coat and scarf and neatly put it down onto the sofa. "There's another bedroom upstairs if you'd be needing two bedrooms," Mrs. Hudson said, her hand on her chin.

John frowned. "Of course we'll be needing two," John said.

Mrs. Hudson simply smiled at him. John looked at her weirdly as she walked into the kitchen. "Oh, Shannon, the mess you've made," she said, looking at her as she messed around with a couple of stuff in the boxes.

John took a seat on one of the couches. Shannon opened up her laptop which reminded John of something. "I looked you up on the internet last night," he said.

She turned to look at John. "Anything interesting?"

"Found your website, the Science of Deduction," he said.

"What did you think," she asked, smiling.

John frowned at him and raised an eyebrow. Shannon simply looked at him with a slightly amused face. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"

"Yes," she said simply, crossing her arms. "And I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits on your mobile phone."

"How," John asked curiously.

Shannon gave him a look that said you would like to know, and turned to look at one of her boxes.

"What about these suicides then, Shannon. I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same," Mrs. Hudson said, looking through a newspaper.

Shannon heard a car stop outside and walked towards the window, spotting the police car. "Four," Shannon corrected. "There's been a fourth, and there's something different this time."

"A fourth," Mrs. Hudson questioned.

Shannon turned around and saw DI Lestrade running up the stairs, nearly tripping. "Where," she asked as soon as he was of hearing range.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade said, out of breath.

Shannon looked away from the DI. "What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

Shannon looked back at the DI. "You know how they never leave notes," he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"This one did," he said. Shannon looked at him, putting on her poker face. "Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics," she asked curiously.

"Anderson," Lestrade responded.

She looked away, a bit angry. "Anderson won't work with me." Her gaze flashed quickly on John and then back to Lestrade.

"Well, he won't be your assistant," Lestrade said, a bit frustrated.

"I need an assistant," she insisted.

Lestrade sighed. "Will you come?"

Shannon rolled her eyes. "Not in a police car. It stinks and usually wrinkles my skirt. I'll be right behind," she said, looking away.

"Thank you," Lestrade said, relieved. He looked at Mrs. Hudson and bowed his head and quickly walked down the stairs and into the police car.

John looked around a bit confused.

As soon as Lestrade's footsteps had gone away, she smiled at the windows and turned to look at the two. Then, she jumped up, her flats nearly flying off of her feet yelling," Brilliant!" She then landed on the floor and faced the window. "Yes," she squealed and then sighed. "Four serial suicides and now a note!" She kept turning, light on her feet as if she was dancing in a ballet. "Oh, it's Christmas!" She grabbed her coat and quickly shrugged it on. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food," she said, still trying to put on her coat.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper," Mrs. Hudson said.

Shannon looked at Mrs. Hudson, but kept on smiling. She then tied her scarf around her neck and grabbed her gloves. "Something cold will do," she insisted. "John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up," she said, opening and closing the door quickly.

"Look at her dashing about," Mrs. Hudson said as soon as Shannon had left the room. "My husband was just the same, but you're more the sitting down type, I can tell." She then started to descend into the kitchen. "I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg."

"Damn my leg," John yelled out. Mrs. Hudson hopped up and turned around. "Sorry, I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. It's just sometimes this bloody thing…" He tapped his leg with his cane.

"I understand dear," Mrs. Hudson said, patting her hip. "I've got a hip."

"Cup of tea would be lovely, thank you," John said, grabbing the newspaper that had lay beside him.

"Just this once dear," Mrs. Hudson reminded him. "I'm not your housekeeper."

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got them," John said, beginning to read the newspaper.

"Not your house keeper," Mrs. Hudson said, disappearing out the door.

John looked at the front page of the paper and spotted DI Lestrade, the same man that had asked Shannon for help. "You're a doctor," a voice said sweetly from the door.

He put down the newspaper and spotted Shannon leaning against the door, trying to put on gloves. "In fact, you're an army doctor," she said, putting on her left hand glove.

"Yes," John said, standing up. Their eyes met and John could see her eyes clearly, which was the same color as the ocean.

"Any good," Shannon asked as she put on her right glove.

"Very good," he said.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then," Shannon asked, walking towards John. "Violent deaths."

John hesitated for a moment, his breath a bit taken back. "Yes," he muttered.

"Bit of trouble too, I bet," Shannon asked, stopping inches away from him.

"Of course, yes," John said, his voice slightly breaking. "Enough for a lifetime, far too much."

"Want to see some more," Shannon asked, smiling.

"Oh god, yes," John said, their eyes never leaving each others.

Shannon made a swift turn and began to walk down the stairs, John following close behind. What's going on, John thought. My voice never breaks, especially in front of a woman. As they walked down the stairs, John continued to peek small glances at her, trying to figure out who she was.

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I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review!