-Short, but very important chapter. Hannah & Sherlock's relationship is developing and things are slowly moving up to the point where Sherlock will meet Irene. Most likely within the next three chapters Hannah will be meeting Mycroft and Irene will also come into the picture.

Thank you for reading! Hope you like it!-

Ashley Marie

{010}

First Contact

Hannah's first night on Baker Street was quiet. After dinner she went back into her room, passing John's worried gaze and Sherlock's blank stare, she laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Her phone vibrated on the night stand. She rolled over and unlocked it, seeing a number she didn't recognize.

Long time no see.

Her thumb hovered over the reply key and she bit her lip before tapping it.

Who is this?

She waited before hitting send, wondering if she should be replying to this message without first consulting Sherlock as to where this could be coming from. Holding the phone in her hand she waited for the reply.

You stopped wearing the necklace.

Her stomach dropped and hand shook as she replied.

Richard Brook?

Again she waited for the reply, getting up and shutting the blinds to the window.

Sort of.

What do you mean sort of?

Minutes passed by before her phone's screen lit up. Incoming call from the same number. She waited for a moment, contemplating whether or not she should answer. She tapped the screen and brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello Hannah." The voice. It was more deep than she had remembered, but the smug tone was still present. His accent giving her chills. "Are you going to talk?"

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice shook no matter how hard she tried to hide it. She walked to her bedroom door a locked it.

"I thought you would be happy to hear from me. I was your favorite after all." She shut her eyes and sat back down on the bed. "I thought you would be happy, you wanted this."

"I didn't want this." She spoke harshly. "I didn't want my family dead."

"Yes you did. You told me yourself." She frowned. "You said to me, 'I hate them, make them go away' and I did." She shook her head.

"I never said that."

"Yes you did. You were angry, very angry." His voice was taunting.

"I was a child."

"As was I." She shook her head trying to fight off tears.

"I was a spoiled child who didn't get her way... I said it out of anger. I didn't..." She cried. "I didn't mean it."

"It's too late for that now love." She rested her head in her hands and sobbed.

"Why are you doing this? Please stop." Silence at the other end, she could hear him breathing.

"We are meant to be together you and I."

"No."

"I will come for you."

"No." She yelled into the receiver.

"Soon."

"Leave me alone!" She screamed, throwing her phone at the wall. "Leave me alone." She slipped off the bed and onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Three heavy knocks sounded on the door.

"Hannah!" Sherlock's muffled voice reached her ears. "Open the door!"

"I'm fine." She said. "I'm fine."

"Open the door." His voice was more calm. Hannah crawled over to the door and unlocked it, twisting the knob to open it slightly before returning to her position leaning against the bed. For the first time since they've met Sherlock wasn't wearing his usual outfit of expensive pants and a tight button up. His hair was askew, and he wore plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt with a large robe over top. His eyes immediately moved to the wall where a small dent lead down to a phone on the floor, the screen cracked and the battery laying a few feet from it."Who called?" She shrugged and looked at her feet. Sherlock sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Who called?"

"I-" She looked up at him and shook her head. "How did he get my phone number?"

"So it's as I presumed. Richard Brook." She nodded. "What did he say?" She stood from the floor.

"I don't want to talk about it." She crawled up onto the bed and laid back against the pillows. "I just want to sleep."

"Sleep after we're done talking." He pushed himself up to sit with his back against the wall and looked down on Hannah who was laying on her side facing him. She pressed her head further into the pillows. "Tell me what he said."

"Can't we just talk about this tomorrow?" She whined. He quickly replied with a 'no' and Hannah groaned trying to push Sherlock off the bed.

"What did he say?" She looked up at him and stared for a moment. From this angle his cheekbones were more prominent, his eyes lit by the lamp in the room looked darker than they ever had. She pushed herself up on her elbow and Sherlock sat awkwardly, not sure what was happening. Her hand moved from its position on the bed and up to his face. Her fingers brushed across his right cheekbone, across his lips, and down to his chin where her hand stayed. His skin wasn't as smooth as she thought it would be, he hadn't shaved and she felt the scratch of the small stubble on her finger tips. Her thumb was pressed to his lips, fingers splayed across his cheek. She dropped her hand and sighed, laying back down.

"He's coming for me, he said." She avoided his eyes. "Soon." She rolled over to her other side. "Now can you leave me alone? I want to sleep." She felt his weight lift from the bed and silently he left the room. Sherlock closed the door quietly and stood facing the opposite wall, raising a hand to his cheek. He shook his head and walked back upstairs.

Flipping John's laptop open Sherlock typed in the password and stared at the screen. His prior research of Richard Brook yielded no result. He searched for any news articles from around the time of the Winters death, in the surrounding area. He typed Richard Brook, then paused deleting the words and typing Henry Winters.

Articles popped up, a death certificate and news about the Winters' deaths. A police record for earlier that year was listed beneath the two. Opening the file, his eyes scanned the article.

Four teenagers.

Drug exchange.

Two survivors.

Henry Winters

Unidentified friend.

Two claim innocence.

Two dead, families in mourning.

Sherlock enlarged the blurry picture of what he knew to be Henry Winters and Richard Brook. The picture was taken from far away, Richard facing away from the camera, the dark black head of hair being his only visible feature. Henry sitting across from him with his hands limp between his knees, leaning forward and talking to Richard. Henry's eyes were familiar, similar to the girl who resided a floor below him, they were large and dark. Henry's hair was slicked down, his school uniform wrinkled, and has a panicked expression on his face.

Sherlock studied Richard, what he could see of him. Richard's hair was more unkempt. His straight black hair had been gelled down at some point, but stuck up in random places. Signs of struggle between him and another person. He was hunched over, his white shirt wrinkled, he was wearing the same dress pants as Henry. The same school.

Sherlock knew for a fact that Henry went to a very prestigious school an hours drive from the Winters Estate. Sherlock typed the web address and hit send.

PAGE 404 NOT FOUND

He checked the address and found it to be correct. Typing the name of the school into the search bar the reasoning behind the deleted web page was revealed. Five years ago the building was burned to the ground by an unknown arsonist.

"Richard Brook, you have been planning this for a while haven't you?"