Hi Sherlock fans, this is my first Sherlock story, kind of, but this is just Sherlock. Love the show.

Do not own Sherlock just my OC, if I did we would have S5 by now, and more episodes.

The Game Is On.

A story is a interesting thing isn't it? How one can simply get lost in a good story, there was just something about stories that can capture people. Why do you think that is? Why does a person enjoy a good story? That is a question without an answer unfortunately, no honestly the answers is up to you, for some stories are an escape from reality or from their lives even for a little while, for others it's just fun to read a good story. But all stories may have one thing in common, which is an every story if you look hard enough there is always some truth in the words that you read on the page, though it might not seem like it, but it's there you just need to know where to look.

Now I would like to tell you a story, but before I tell you mine you need to know about my friends who I think as my brother's, it's true that they're not my brothers in blood but they are in bond, I'm nothing without them, and even though one of them is reluctant to admit it, but they would be lost without me too. Now I have no idea how the three of us became friends, it just sort of happened. It's strange you know how things just happen without you knowing that they happen. Like one day I was all alone and was thinking that's how it had to be, then before I knew it I wasn't alone and liked it that way.

Anyway. I was telling you about my friends.

The first man can be a self-righteous ass and all around a pain in the ass, but underneath all the 'I don't give a damn attitude' is actually really sweet and gentle guy. He may say he don't care but he does in his weird twisted kind of way. Now I'm not gonna lie, he can be a bit difficult to live with at times especially when he's bored, but you'll learn to live with it eventually.

Though I can live without the weird experiments in the fridge, don't even get me started on that. Just imagine getting up in the morning and going to get some milk for your cereal and seeing a severed head in the fridge, not a pretty sight. And one time I found a foot in the freezer, no lie.

And yes he can be insensitive in very different and disturbing ways, I mean come on, the guy gets excited when someone's killed. And he maybe addicted to his job, and sure he may be using the job as a means of getting high, but it's better than the alternative, trust me on that. And the guy can make you feel really dumb and small sometimes and I swear he enjoys doing it, there are time's I don't think the guy is human, but all in all his a good guy. He will give you help even if you don't ask for it, but give it he will. Once you make friends with him it's for life. His job is his life, I think he would have lost his mind a long time ago if it wasn't for his job. And yes he has a past, don't we all? He is far from being perfect, we all have flaws, no one is perfect you me or him. Never judge a person for the activities of their past but on what they do in the here and now.

The second man is completely different from the first and every way, except for one thing the love of the job, he would never tell you that but he does love it as much as I do. He's a doctor and boy at times does he show it. He is almost like the big brother making sure that his little brother is taking care of himself and not shooting the walls with a gun. Or one time he was going to shoot the wall with an arrow, long story, you'll find out about that later. He is a good guy and he keeps the first man right, he keeps me right to if I was being completely honest.

Yea, okay so maybe he has a temper and at times a very short fuse, and maybe he's a bit slow at times but what he lacks in intelligence, (not my words), he makes up with patients with dealing with our friend. He was a soldier that never completely came home sure, then he may be addicted to danger, but then again you could say the same thing about me. We all are addicted to something. He will be there for you always. It doesn't seem to matter how often me and the first man messes up he's still our friend and still by your side no matter what. To be honest me and the first man would have probably killed each other a long time ago if it wasn't for the glue that holds us together.

But Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson is the best friends I could ever ask for in this life. Sherlock is a ass, but i can honestly say I would be bored if he wasn't in my life. John can be a mother han, but if he wasn't Sherlock would have died from starvation a long time ago. I love them both, and I don't want to think about how my life would be like without Sherlock or John. We complete each other in ways that you can't imagine, Sherlock is like the moon as I am the earth and John is the sun that keeps us us.

Now that I told you about my friends let me tell you who I am and my story. But first my name is Ivy Walker, and the day I met Sherlock and John was when my true story began.

Now then, let me tell you my story.

The heavy rain was pattering down on the streets, and just Sherlock's luck he didn't have a umbrella, unfortunately he and John was soaked in the matter of seconds.

"Damn weather" John murmured.

Sherlock hummed, lost in thought not paying any attention to the cold rain, or his friend.

They had just finished a case, a kidnapping that the kidnapper had placed clues all over London telling where the victim was before the time limit was up and they were killed, Sherlock of course solved it in less than 24 hours. He was a little disappointed if he was being honest, when he took the case he thought it would be a little more challenging, but unfortunately he figured it out too soon and the game ended too quickly. The woman who was kidnapped was returned to her family unharmed and safe, the kidnapper unfortunately jumped off of a building to avoid capture. Now he didn't have any case to solve.

But it seemed too easy. He couldn't shrug off the feeling that he was missing something, something was missing, but what?

'This was all too easy' her thought.

And he didn't want to be bored again. Sherlock almost cringed at the thought of being bored again. God he couldn't stand being bored, it was like torture having nothing to do, it was the most horrible thing that could ever happen to a person, well boredom and death that is, both to him equally horrible.

John huddled trying to stay warm as they walked down the street when someone, a woman, ran into him. She would have fell if he hadn't grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Sorry," she said, taking a step back, making sure that there was distance between them "didn't see you" She had a slight southern accent, American. Her light blue eye's told a story, of what he couldn't say.

"You should look where you're going" said Sherlock.

"Hey, I said I was sorry, you don't have to be rude"

He looked at her. She was nervous, she didn't like being out in the open, she wanted to go as soon as possible. She was an artist of some kind. She recently cut and dyed her hair. What does she have to be nervous about? She seemed to be comfortable being in London, had been living in this country long enough to know her way around, it was just being out in the open that made her restless and nervous, why? She was holding her right hand to her left side underneath her jacket. She was barely wet and it had been pouring for hours. He noted that she was extremely pale and breathing heavy. He could tell the jacket she was wearing wasn't hers it was too big, and the way she was standing with her left side turned away from him clearly she didn't want him to see that she was injured.

"Don't mind him," said John moving around him holding out his hand to her, seeing but not observing as always "he don't know how to be polite"

"Yea, I can see that" She shook his hand smiling, but it was forced.

"It's cold out, want you say you come back with us to our flat and I'll make you a nice warm cup of tea"

"Oh, t- thank you, but I shouldn't" she suede on her feet. But Sherlock was prepared and caught her before she fell to the hard cold ground.

"What happened?" John exclaimed going to check her pulse as Sherlock and the woman slid to the ground.

"Your the doctor" Sherlock moved aside the woman's hand and jacket from the injury. It seemed she had tried taking care of it herself by wrapping towels and duct tape around her middle.

"Shit, she needs a Hospital"

"No! No hospitals!" she hissed "I can't - I can't be-" she looked up at him, eyes surprisingly bright even though she must be in pain "No hospitals"

"John is a doctor" he told her as he scooped her up in his arms and began to carry her brighter Style. She grunted with pain with the movement but didn't protest. She knotted her shaky hands in his jacket.

"I- if you do - this -"

"Don't talk" John said "You okay now"

Either it was exhaustion or from the pain and possibly blood loss she passed out.

oOo

The first thing Ivy noticed is that she was laying on a couch covered with a blanket. The second thing she noticed that her left side was burning. Then the events from the previous night came rushing back. She remembered she got a call from a friend, and even though she should have known better she fell right into the trap. She should have known better not to have any friends or any attachments whatsoever, she was naive and stupid. And it's a mistake that she will not repeat.

Her mouth felt as dry as cotton, her side ached. She knew she should get up and start running but she was too cozy and she really didn't want to get up.

Where was she anyway?

Hissing in pain she reluctantly set up, and looked around. The living room was basic but it had a homey and cozy feel to it. Two armchair sat in front of a fireplace faceing each other. On either side of the fireplace was bookshelves stopped with messy half-heartedly placed books. And was that a stroll on the mantle of the fireplace? The fuck? There was a mirror hanging above the fireplace between the two bookshelves. A desk pushed up against the wall with papers scrolled all over, and an open laptop that sat on the desk.

She could see something reflecting in the mirror on the wall behind her, to get a better look she turned slightly. On the wall above the couch was a smilely face drawn with what looked like to her yellow paint with bullet holes in the wall. Did she even want to know why that's there? And the wallpaper kind of clashed with the rest of the color scheme of the room, but she liked the black and white crazy wallpaper.

She cautiously and slowly got to her feet and walked to the kitchen. So, obviously no one used the kitchen table because there was stuff that she couldn't name all over it. But whatever, not her home.

She went to the fridge and opened it where she just stared at the human hand in the fridge, why the fuck was their a human hand in the fridge? But the bigger question was, who ever lived here don't they eat, or drink? The fridge was basically empty except for the human hand that's in the jar, not going to touch that one, and a bottle of water. Well, okay, that's something.

She took it and opened it and was about to take a drink when the bottle was suddenly snatched out of her hand.

"Trust me you don't want to drink that"

"And why?" she asked turning to face a very tall slim good looking man, his light blue eye's was roaming over her that made her feel self-conscious.

"Because this has acid in it" he said shaking the bottle of water at her.

"Why would you put something with acid in the fridge?"

"It's a experiment"

"And the hand?"

"Also an experiment"

"Right. Okay then. Do you have anything I can drink that won't immediately kill me?"

He opened one of the cupboards and handed her a glass, then replace the acid in the fridge and shut it.

"Oh, my" she allowed her southern accent to slip through "Whatever shall I do with your kindness, you really do know how to treat an injured lady don't ya?"

He just stuffed and stomped back into the living room.

" Jackass" she muttered as she moved to the sink turned on the tap filled the glass and took a long drink.

It was just water but it tasted like life. After she had her fill she put the glass in the sink and turned off the tap, then went back to the other room and sat in the armchair facing the leather one. The Jackass was pacing back and forth, muttering something to himself that she couldn't hear. Yea, why not? Someone decided to help her and they had to be a sociopath.

After a few moment's the other man came down the stairs, when he saw her he immediately started to ask her questions. He then checked her injury and change the bandages.

"You should go to the hospital" he said that must have been the 100th time by now.

"Can't" she said hoping to any higher power that's out there that they won't ask anymore questions.

"Why?" Asked the tall man stopping mumbling to himself and was facing her.

Well, fuck "I just can't, hell, I shouldn't even be here with you" she obviously had said too much because she could have swore she saw the tall men's eye's brighten with curiosity for a moment.

"I'm John" said the shorter man "John Watson. And that's-"

"The name's Sherlock Holmes" he said as he looked at her, his eyes roaming every inch of her.

What the hell? "Ivy Walker"

"Miss Walker, how did you get that severe stab wound?" asked Sherlock.

"Can't tell you"

"Why?" asked John frowning.

"Because I can't"

"Can't or won't" Sherlock said his voice taking a slightly Sharper Edge.

Ivy glared at him "Both"

Sherlock stomped into the kitchen, she followed with some assistance from John. Sherlock was doing something with the telescope thing.

"What is it that you do Sherlock? Cool name by the way"

He looked at her "I'm the world's only consultant Detective" he replied returning to his work "Tell me, what kind of art do you do drawing or painting?"

"Wha- how did you - both"

"You play piano"

"Yes, I do, how-"

"Judging by the graceful movements of your fingers and hands, and the way you place your hand on the table in front of you as if you were about to play. You recently cut and dyed your hair"

She hadn't even realized she put her hand on the table bracing herself. She felt slightly dizzy.

"Okay, how did you know that?" she asked amazed that someone could tell that by Just One Look.

"You keep moving invisible hair a side which means that used to have longer hair than you used to. And your hair has a strong odor of hair dye"

"Wow, fucking cool"

He looked at her "And you have small drops of paint on your shoes, and you have a secret that you don't want anyone to know"

She smiled "I don't know, do I?"

"Yes, and I will figure it out"

"You go on and do that" she allowed her ascent to vanish "I'll let you know if your right"

She felt like the whole room was spinning now.

"You need to lay down" said John, moving her back to the couch.

"Whatever you say Dr. John" she gave him a mark salute before lying down.

She didn't know how it happened, but she fell into a restful sleep, somehow feeling like she was safe for the first time in years.