I was going to keep writing and include their dinner date, but decided to drop it where I did and just have their date be chapter 15. It's certainly... interesting. Anna and Jim's 'relationship'. I kinda like it- he's charming. Blame him.

Though, scenes with Anna and Greg are equally heart-warming.

What do you guys think? Out of the moments you've read in the 14 chapters, who do you ship more? Anna and Jim OR Anna and Greg?

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock- just Anna.

The next morning came before Anna even knew it- and for the first time in a while, she woke up in somewhat high spirits. Checking her mobile quickly before she began to get ready for the day, she saw a message from Jim.

Jim:
Good morning. Can't wait to see you tonight. Have a wonderful day. See you later, beautiful. -JM

With a soft smile, Anna typed out a reply.

"Good morning. Can't wait. What should I wear?" Hitting send, she set her phone down and went to get dressed for the day. After choosing an outfit and promptly changing her mind a few times, Anna settled upon a dark red button up and black slacks. As she left the bathroom, her phone began to ring- and Lestrade's name on the caller ID.

"Good morning, Lestrade. That time already?"

"'Fraid so, Holmes. I know Sherlock will show up- so out of all my forensics—"

"I'm the best choice. I know," Anna smirked, slightly teasing her hair as she looked in the mirror.

"We're over here on the River Thames—I'll message you the actual location."

"Sounds good, see you in a bit."

Hanging up, she saw another message waiting her.

Jim:
Something… dressy. Not like- high society glamour, but… breathtaking all the same. JM

"Dressy… I—" she thought, glancing over at her closet in moderate debate," I don't know if I even have anything dressy… Might need to find a store on my lunch…"

Thirty minutes later, Anna walked down the uneven embankment towards where she saw the body. Lestrade was standing nearby, talking with a few of the officers but when he saw her, he dismissed them to do some canvassing.

"You do realize how difficult it will be to find any evidence, right?" Anna asked him, gesturing with an arm towards the river just feet away.

"That's why I called in the best."

She narrowed her eyes at him, playfully quipping back," Flattery will get you everywhere, Lestrade." He gave her a lopsided grin, his hands on his hips as he waited for her to do her thing.

"Sherlock been here yet?"

"Not yet, no," Lestrade answered," Should be arriving shortly though."

"Right. Well, before he does…" Anna trailed off, looking at the crime scene around her. The victim was a middle-aged man—whom was missing his shoes. Pulling on the latex gloves, she began to take a few photographs- capturing details that could be needed later. Stopping her photograph session, Anna looked the victim up and down before glancing back down at the Thames.

"It's going to be near impossible to find any evidence. The rivers tampered with the scene as it is, what with the rising tide. The chance of getting anything from this is going to be—"

"Easy enough."

Glancing behind her, she saw Sherlock and John walking towards them. Frowning slightly- still a bit upset at her date being cut short yesterday- Anna stood up and gestured towards the victim.

"Well, then- help yourself Sherlock. I've got other evidence to document." As she turned away to take photographs elsewhere, Sherlock opened his mouth.

"Dressing up, are we? Date must have gone well enough yesterday."

"Date?" Lestrade questioned," What date?"

"Sherlock—drop it," Anna replied tartly," I keep my personal life and my work life separate. Please, respect that Lestrade."

"Of course," the Detective Inspector nodded, noticeably still interested but changed to the subject at hand," D'you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?"

Anna walked close enough to the waters that she couldn't hear the majority of the conversation. She tried to keep her mind on the case at hand- though it did prove slightly difficult.

"There has to be some evidence around here… a wallet or identification of some sort… The nerve of Sherlock to bring up my date—and in front of Lestrade no less! …. maybe the killer dropped something… where am I going to find a dress on such short notice? One I can afford too… There has to be a clue to where our victim came from, more of his outfit perhaps…" With a frown and hardly any evidence at all, Anna walks back up to where the four bodies were.

"He's dead about twenty-four hours – maybe a bit longer," John said, looking up towards Lestrade," Did he drown?"

"Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated."

"Yes, I'd agree."

"May I, Doctor Watson?" Anna asked, gesturing towards the body.

"Oh, no. Be my guest," John shook his head, getting up and giving her some space. Clicking a few more photos, she then reached into her case and began doing fingerprinting the victim. Off to the side, Sherlock was on his phone- searching one thing after another.

"There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth," John pointed out.

"Fingertips…" Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, seemingly ignoring them all.

"In his late thirties, I'd say. Not the best condition."

"Anything you care to share with the class, Brother Mine," Anna bit out, irritation evident in her voice. John gave her a small grimace, still a bit shocked at the row he saw between the two yesterday. Never again did John Watson want to interrupt Anna Holmes when she was on a date.

"He's been in the river a long while. The water's destroyed most of the data," Sherlock stated, oblivious to his sisters current state of annoyance; a grin crossed his features as he continued looking at his phone," But I'll tell you one thing: that lost Vermeer painting's a fake."

"What?" Lestrade and Anna asked in unison, each looking over at the other in slight shock, small smiles on their faces.

"We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates…" Sherlock trailed off.

"Working on it Sher."

"Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait—" Lestrade waved his arms," What painting? What are you—what are you on about?"

"It's all over the place. Haven't you seen the posters?" Sherlock asked him," Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds."

"Not too bad a price. I doubt those stolen in the 90's come even near that cost," Anna mused.

"Okay, but what does that got to do with the stiff?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"Everything," Sherlock grinned briefly," Have you ever heard of the Golem."

"Golem?" Lestrade repeated.

"It's a horror story, isn't it? What are you saying?" John questioned.

"Golems aren't horror stories- if you're the one their allegiance is with. Golems are Jewish folk stories- giant men made of clay," Anna explained," If you rose a Golem, mostly it was to protect yourself or family, or to battle against an impending foe. Anything, really. If you are the 'Master' to the Golem, he follows your every order—sometimes too literally. The only way to stop him—was to destroy the sacred letter on his forehead or in his mouth."

"It's also the name of an assassin—real name Oskar Dzundza," Sherlock continued," One of the deadliest assassins in the world." He pointed down at the victim between them," That is his trademark style."

"So this is a hit?" Lestrade surmised.

"Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands."

"Very Golem-esque," Anna mused, kneeling back down to her forensics kit and putting away her camera equipment.

"But what does this gotta do with that painting? I don't see…"

"You do see—you just don't observe!" Sherlock rounded on him, exasperated as Lestrade glared at him.

"Sherlock- play nice!" reprimanded Anna, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"All right, all right, girls, calm down," John said, playing peacemaker," Sherlock? D'you wanna take us through it?" Sherlock took a few moments before he responded, eventually taking a step backward and pointing to the body.

"What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much—just the shirt and trousers. They're pretty formal – maybe he was going out for the night, but the trousers are heavy-duty, polyester, nasty, same as the shirt- cheap."

"So he didn't have a lot of money—not everyone does," Anna frowned, standing up and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

With a small glare to his sister, Sherlock continued," They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard issue uniform. Dressed for work, then. What kind of work? There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube driver?" Lestrade guessed.

Sherlock and Anna both threw him a look that blatantly said 'idiot' though Anna's wasn't as harsh.

"Security guard?" John tried.

"More likely. That'll be borne out by his backside."

"Backside?!"

"Flabby. You'd think that he'd led a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard's looking good. And the watch helps, too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts."

"Why regular? Maybe he just set his alarm like that the night before he died."

"No-no-no, the buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied."

"But…?" Anna trailed, knowing her brother. He gave her a small smile, before continuing.

"The killer must have been interrupted, otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting the dead man worked somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution," Sherlock pulled something out of his pocket before continuing," Found this inside his trouser pockets."

As he held up a small scrunched up ball of paper.

"Sherlock! You can't take evidence from my crime scene!" Anna scowled as she took a step forward.

"Unimportant. You'd have never gotten anything from these," Sherlock said as he shrugged.

"Tickets?" John inquired.

"Ticket stubs," Sherlock corrected, watching slightly as Anna frowned and knelt down to collect her forensic kit," He worked in a museum or gallery. Did a quick check – the Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants missing." He pointed down at the body," Alex Woodbridge. Tonight, they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference: the dead man knew something about it – something that would stop the owner getting paid thirty million pounds. The picture's a fake."

"Fantastic," John admired, noticing Anna stand up quietly- almost tensely- with her kit in her grasp.

"Meretricious," Sherlock frowned, immediately picking up on his sisters' sour attitude.

"And a Happy New Year!" Lestrade threw in, causing John to look at him with a 'seriously' expression.

"Well," Anna bit out," Seems as though you don't need me here. Afterall- got Sherlock to solve this one. I'll be back at the Yard, working. Where I'm actually needed on something." She turned and walked away, entire body tense and rigid.

"Annie—" Lestrade started, but she just kept walking away; he and John gave sighs as Sherlock seemed in his own mind, watching his sister walk away from them.

She ducked under the crime scene tape and over to the department vehicles.

"I can't believe him! He knows not to take evidence—especially from my crime scene. MINE!" Anna seethed to herself, dropping her kit unceremoniously onto the street and slamming her palms against the upper door to the backseat on the SUV. Lowly, she growled- just loud enough for herself to hear. This was the last thing she needed. Everything was going so good—until Sherlock got involved.

Yesterday. She was having a very pleasant time with Jim. First date in a long while.

Then Sherlock and Anderson had to interrupt.

Oh, they both got a piece of her mind when she got back to the Yard after lunch. Anderson actually had yet to even talk to her.

Now. Today. Anticipating a dinner date with Jim—and Sherlock goes and takes evidence from HER crime scene?!

Anna felt like hitting something or—

"Annie?" Her hands clenched at the top of the SUV and she took a deep breath before slowly turning around. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes.

"'m fine," Anna mumbled.

"Look, we all know Sherlock has a habit of stepping on people's toes," Lestrade gave a small grimace," Can't get too worked up about it."

"But he knows better!" she exclaimed, finally looking at the DI," Sherlock—Mycroft—they both know! This- forensics?! It's my world. It's what I do! I don't go into their office or workspace and start moving crap around without asking them! I don't tamper with Sherlock's experiments or—or rearrange Mycroft's files! Sure—the ticket stubs are beyond getting any pertinent evidence from but—but it's the principal of the idea!"

Lestrade stood there, letting Anna rant until she finished with a deep breath and leaned against the vehicle behind her.

"Feel better?"

"…."

"C'mon. I'll give you a lift back to the Yard."

"… Thanks."

He unlocks the SUV and they start the drive back to Scotland Yard in silence, until after a couple minutes, Lestrade speaks up.

"So… a date, eh? Didn't realize you were seeing anyone."

"Well, uh—I mean… yeah," Anna nods once, slowly," I am human after all… Unlike my brothers… I, erm… I actually like physical contact and uh… intimacy."

"Right, of course. Well, erm… be safe then, yeah? Don't want anything bad happening to you."

"Right… thanks Lestrade," Anna smiled softly, a gentle blush on her face.

0o0o

She spent all her lunch break walking around the shopping district nearby, trying to find a dress that would work for her date. Unfortunately, she returned empty handed and with an empty stomach. With a frown, Anna scrolled through the posts online, searching online shops.

"I have to find something. Anything," she scowled, barely aware of her surroundings as she weaved her way through Homicide. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move, but didn't have time to register the body until they ran straight into one another.

"Oh—sorry."

"My apologies."

Anna and Detective Lockwood said in unison, looking to one another before small smiles crossed their faces.

"How's the 3-way mystery murder going?"

"Mmm? Oh—well, you'll be happy to know you were right. The two victims did team up and beat the other one to his death."

"No surprise. How'd they two of them die though?"

"One shot the other and then he actually died of poison—not sure where he got that, yet. Still searching his enemies—which the list is rather… extensive."

"Sounds like a fun time," Anna joked.

"I wish. Heard you and Lestrade caught a floater over by the river?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Well—Lestrade and Sherlock did. I excused myself from being on the case actively."

"Sorry?"

"Oh—it's just… sibling disagreements. I—can't work with my brother right now. It'll work itself out within the week. Always does," Anna shrugged, before asking," Hey—you wouldn't happen to know of a good shop around where I could find a dress? Kind of in a pinch and need one, oh—yesterday."

"Sorry—can't say I do. Still getting used to the area."

"Right- worth a shot. Woman to woman after all. Guess I'll just… see if my old dress from graduation still fits…"

"Another hot date?" Detective Lockwood smirked playfully, causing Anna to rub the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Yeah. Guess I made an impression at lunch yesterday. He didn't tell me where we're going… but did say to dress up so…"

"What time you meeting him?"

"He's picking me up at six."

"You're a size… oh—I hate converting sizes," Lockwood frowned.

"Just add 4 to the States size, that'll equal the UK size," Anna explained.

"So US size 9 would be… 13 UK—looks like we're close to the same size, too. I might have something that will fit you, if you want to borrow it for the night," offered Lockwood.

"Wh—Are you… are you sure?" Anna asked, surprised.

"Yeah—I mean, I don't wear it too often. Last time I did was four months ago? Right before we moved out here."

"Than- wait. We?"

"Mmm? Oh, uh," Lockwood hesitated," Yeah… my cousin and I—we moved here together. I… I figured it would be better…" Anna saw a far-off look gloss over the detective's eyes as she trailed off.

"Well, hopefully it works out for the both of you," Anna said, as Lockwood came back with a small jolt.

"Thanks. But uh—yeah. I'm getting ready to leave for my lunch break. I'll head to my apartm- flat. Grab the dress for you and keep it up here with me. I don't think a forensics lab with hundreds of chemicals would be a good place to momentarily stash it."

"Yeah—no, that would not be a good idea," Anna laughed in agreement," I'll head home about four-thirty—stop up here before I do and pick it up."

"Sounds good. See you then."

"I really hope that dress fits—I don't have time to find anything else…" Anna thought, as she made her way towards Lestrade's office.