Ha HA! I have it! Hee hee, ha ha ha. Ok, enough of my insane laughter. I finally have everything laid out for this entire story! It came to me in the middle of the last chapter!

I've finally figured out what Arab people speak. And I'm a complete idiot. It's Arabic (major duh)! Ok, and now I'm going to add something's that my friends have asked me. Q. Where the heck is Watson's dad? A. Watson's mom and dad are divorced, and her dad still lives in Michigan. That is actually a question a lot of people have asked me. Q. Why did you make Jeffery so obvious in DD? A. The name Yerffej was used, first because I didn't know what else to do. But then I thought of a better excuse! Jeffery used Yerffej because he was to stupid to think of something else! Voila! Well, I'm done. Have fun reading the next chapter!

Chapter Five: Jeremy Lyndon

Police once again swarmed the riverbank, looking at the dead girls body. Fortunately for Holmes and I, no one noticed as we ran up to the bridge that the girl had plummeted off of.

It was after nine-o-clock, and the moon in the sky provided the little light that surrounded the bridge. Holmes had pulled out a magnifying glass and was on the ground searching. I was left to look out for police officers.

"One man, flat toed. Expensive shoes... not wealthy. Curse this poor lighting... heavier. Hullo, what's this?" Holmes had been mumbling to himself, and now held up a lipstick tube. I bent over Holmes and looked at it.

"Black. We must be dealing with a Goth," I whispered. Holmes nodded and continued to search the area. He seemed especially transfixed on the mud. Finally, he stood and brushed himself off.

"He isn't a Goth," Holmes affirmed. I gaped at him.

"How can he not be? Two black lipsticks, and you're saying he's not a Goth?" I hissed. Holmes nodded.

"That's right. This lipstick has never been used. The last one was, but you could see a rim showing that it hadn't been used in some time. A Goth, who wears only black, would use their black lipstick everyday, and it wouldn't have that rim. So that mean's this lipstick isn't his, and who ever it belongs to hasn't used it in a very long time, a year or so," Holmes proclaimed. I sighed.

"Fine, I'm an idiot. What else did you find out?" I asked. Holmes thought a moment.

"First, you're not an idiot. Second, our suspect is a nineteen year old male, roughly six foot three. He has expensive shoes, but they are very old and were used before he came in possession of them. He is rather large, about 160 pounds. He has an older brother, and his mother is still alive, but his father is not. Other than that, I can deduce very little," Holmes replied. I laughed.

"You can deduce very little my butt. Anything else?" I asked. Holmes shrugged. Suddenly, a beam of strong light flashed over us.

"You! Kids, get down from there and come here," yelled a man's voice. Holmes sighed and walked down to where the man was standing, with me close behind. The man looked at Holmes and gasped.

"Sherlock Holmes! What in heaven's name are you doing here?" cried the man. Holmes glared at him.

"Good evening Inspector Lestrade. I hope all is well? My girlfriend and I were just, well, you know... having fun, you know what I mean?" Holmes lied. I smiled shyly at Inspector Lestrade and batted my eyelashes. Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"At a crime scene?" Lestrade ruminated. Holmes gave an expression of shock.

"A crime scene? Who was killed?" he asked.

"A girl, a kid named Lisa Armstrong. She was eighteen," Lestrade illuminated. Holmes nodded.

"I'm quite sorry. Come Jenny, baby. Lets go somewhere more private," Holmes said. He grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the Inspector. I smiled at the Inspector and allowed myself to be dragged off by Holmes.

Once we were a good distance away from the crime scene, Holmes and I started laughing.

"Having fun? Oh great Holmes. Now he thinks I'm a whore," I laughed. Holmes smiled.

"Yeah, well. Lestrade doesn't much like me. I'd get arrested if he thought I was investigating," Holmes attested. I smiled.

"Does Mr. Holmes have a bit of a criminal record?" I questioned. Holmes snorted.

"Mr. Holmes has more than a bit of a criminal record. Mr. Holmes has a criminal record the size of Ireland," verified Holmes. I looked up at him.

"What has Mr. Holmes done to get the police so angry at him?" I continued.

"Mr. Holmes's fights don't go unnoticed. Also, Mr. Holmes has been seen sneaking around," Holmes answered. I laughed.

"Lovely. Come on, we have school tomorrow."

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Holmes slammed his tray down on the table, then dropped his head onto it. I glanced at him before continuing my meal.

"Bad night?" I asked. Holmes groaned into the table.

"The worst. Father wasn't in the best of the mood's for excuses. Charise was drunk, and Irene was... Irene," Holmes mumbled. I patted his arm sympathetically.

"Did your Father... you know, hurt you?" I asked. Holmes pulled back his shirtsleeve to reveal green-blue bruises. I winced.

"And Irene?"

" 'Life is full of mysteries, now isn't my darling Sherlock?'" Holmes imitated Irene's breathy, dreamy voice. I sighed.

"Your life sucks," I said. Holmes removed his head from the table and stared at me.

"You have no idea," Holmes replied. I nodded.

"So, any leads?" I asked. Holmes poked at the cafeteria food disdainfully.

"Is this supposed to be food? No, none yet," Holmes supplied. I nodded and bit into my sandwich.

"Ah. What are we doing tonight?" I asked. Holmes shrugged, then brightened.

"There is a violinist in town. Do you want to go see the show? I heard he's supposed to be really good," Holmes asked. I smiled.

"Sure, I'd- Jeremy?" I stopped. Holmes frowned.

"No, I'm Holmes. The violinist is some international guy. His name isn't Jeremy," Holmes testified. I waved my hand at him.

"No, no, no. I think a friend of mine from the states just came into the lunch room," I told him. Holmes craned his neck past me to see who I was staring at.

The boy who had entered was lightly freckled, with red hair and glasses. He smiled at the people as he walked by each table. He seemed to be searching for something... or someone. He stopped at my table and looked at me with delight etched onto his features. I jumped up.

"Jeremy! Oh my God, it's really you!" I shrieked. I jumped into Jeremy's arms and gave him a hug. A soft voice clearing it's throat was the only reminder that their was someone else in the world. I looked at Holmes and smiled.

"Holmes, this is Jeremy! He was a good friend of mine when I lived in Michigan!" I exclaimed. Holmes smiled dryly at me.

"I deduced that," he said. Jeremy smiled at me.

"Jenny, it's so good to see you again! You look great!" Jeremy professed. I laughed.

"Thanks. What are you doing away from the theatre? I wouldn't have expected you anywhere else," I laughed. Jeremy smiled and took my hand.

" 'What light, through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon'!" Jeremy recited, kissing my hand. I laughed again and pulled my hand away.

"Stop, you're going to make Holmes jealous," I giggled. Jeremy looked puzzled.

"Holmes?" he asked. I gestured toward Holmes.

"Jeremy, this is Sherlock Holmes, my best friend," I said. Jeremy looked at Holmes dubiously for a moment, then extended a hand.

"Hello Sherlock. My name is-" Jeremy began. Holmes rose to the occasion and took his hand.

"Your name is Jeremy Lyndon. You are visiting England to come see the opening of a play, I suspect. Romeo and Juliet, yes?" said Holmes. Jeremy looked shocked and turned to me.

"Ok, what game is this demon playing?" Jeremy demanded. I rolled my eyes.

"No game. Holmes is just smart, is all. So, coming to see Romeo and Juliet?" I asked. Jeremy nodded.

"It opens tonight, and I have front row tickets. Would thy fair maiden like to come with thou?" Jeremy asked. I winced and looked at Holmes. He waved his hands at me and turned back to his meal. I smiled broadly at Jeremy.

"Of course! Pick me up at six, all right?" I asked. Jeremy nodded and kissed me-on the lips- in front of Holmes. I saw Holmes tense, and when Jeremy left I turned back to Holmes.

"It isn't what you think, Holmes," I told him. He shrugged and focused his attention to the chicken that he had maimed on his tray.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who kept secrets," he whispered. I could hear the hurt in his voice.

"Like Jeremy is an Olivia. At least he didn't jump into my arms and kiss me with full force," I snapped. Holmes glared at me.

"Yes, well, he might as well of. And you jumped into his arms, so he didn't have much of a chance," he mumbled. I stared at him.

"Uh uh. No fair, comparing Jeremy to Olivia. He's only staying for tonight, all right? So stop with the jealousy!"

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"You're staying the rest of the week!" I screamed. Jeremy winced.

"Well, yeah. We can spend some quality time together, darling," he whispered into my ear. I pulled myself away from him.

"Look, I like you Jeremy, but not in that way. Let's just stay friends," I said. Jeremy sighed.

"What is with you? You used to like it when I kissed you," he said. I whirled around.

"You kissed me on the cheek, numbskull! And not in front of my boyfriend! Oops, I shouldn't of said that," I stopped short. Jeremy turned to me, open mouthed.

"You mean Sherlock is more than a friend?" he whimpered. I rolled my eyes.

"Duh. Come on, lets just go see the play. Don't worry about it," I said. Jeremy sighed.

"I should have known it wouldn't work out. I mean, an actor and you. Oh well. You're right, lets just go see the play," he said. He took my arm and led me out to the car.

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"Hey Holmes, wait up will you?" I called down the crowded hall. Holmes stopped short and waited for me. I ran to catch up with him.

"Hey. What's up?" I asked. Holmes shrugged.

"Nothing. How was your date with Jeremy?" he asked. I shook my head.

"It wasn't a date. We're just friends, get over it," I said. Holmes smiled at me, a small smile, but a smile all the same.

"Are we working tonight?" he asked me. I winced.

"Well, see Holmes, that's the problem. Jeremy is staying for the rest of the week. I can't very well abandon him, so..." I trailed off. Holmes sighed.

"So you'll be spending the rest of the week with him," he finished. I nodded.

"Oh well. Irene and I will work alone, it's not a big deal. I think Raze might have something else for me, so I have enough people. Enjoy your time with Jeremy," Holmes said. But something in his voice made me stop.

"Holmes, why are you so jealous?" I asked. Holmes stopped and turned to face me.

"I'm not jealous. I don't get jealous," Holmes replied. I rolled my eyes.

"Jealousy is a human emotion. You're human. Spill," I said. Holmes started walking again.

"As I said, I'm not jealous. But you know I don't like working alone," he said. I stared at him, shocked.

"Yes you do. Are you saying you don't like to work without me?" I questioned. Holmes shook his head.

"I didn't say that. I just said I didn't like working alone," he replied.

"But you won't be. Irene will be with you."

"Trust me, working with Irene is like working alone."