It was another case, another murder. A man had been killed and there was no possible entrance. There was no damage to the body, so all that was injured or compromised could possibly be the internal systems. I suspected it was poison, but I was… wrong.

What had happened was beyond science. Yes, I do not believe there is a higher power, I not included, but there was some other unexplainable, strange force at work at the scene.

The case was already solved by another man. He was covered in stitches, and had the stature of a soldier, yet the smirk on his face and the sweater suggested that he was more than the standard military doctor. I would have to say, the strangest feature about the tall, slender, grey headed man I saw that day at the scene of the murder was the screw he had sticking straight through his skull. It wasn't head band, now that I think about it; it had to be my latter theory concerning the magnets at the spinning metal pieces.

Lestrade approached me before I was within arms distance of the strange doctor.

"Sherlock, you're late." He had scolded me like a child on my tardiness, and then he introduced me to the man that had so rudely taken my place at the crime scene.

"Sherlock," John interjected. "You do realize that you don't have a specific place at the crime scene. You're just there to give your thoughts on the matter."

"That's my place at the crime scene. I'm there to advise on everything the bumbling idiots at Scotland Yard miss," Sherlock snapped back, startling the cab driver so much that he suddenly applied the brakes. He looked back at Sherlock in slight anger.

"Keep it down, ya joke," the cabby demanded.

They both nodded, and Sherlock continued.

"This is Dr. Franken Stein. He's here on official business from America's DWMA. He solved the crime. Dr. Stein, this is Sherlock Holmes." I was baffled when he had told me that a man with a screw through his skull had solved the mystery. I tilted my head, studying the man, wondering what had made him so special that he could solve crimes quicker than I.

He held out his hand to me, a gesture of greeting. I ignored it of course, trying to piece together how he could have solved it so fast. Perhaps, he was like me: a high functioning sociopath. This meant that he had the same dangerous mentality. This also meant that he could piece together information at an alarming rate.

"Well, you're sore for some reason. You do realize it's rude to not shake someone's hand when they hold it out to you, right? Common social law." His voice was cold and monotonous. This nearly confirmed my suspicion. I rigidly took his hand. After a few seconds of the awkward greeting tradition he let go. "Wasn't so bad, now was it?" His smile was extremely false.

"My question is: what are your theories? Poison ingested with the food?" He shook his head. "Tainted water supply?" He denied it again. "Suicide by pills? Rotten food?" Both were negative.

"A witches spell."

A laugh almost escaped me. "'A witches spell.'" I eyed him carefully for any sign of humor. None existed. "Honestly, Scotland Yard accepted it: I'm not surprised. But you're a doctor-"

"A doctor that specializes in Soul Studies and all other sciences."

"So you're one of those religious ones, hmm?" I studied his face again. His brow furrowed slightly at the notion. "You are?"

"No. You wouldn't understand. You don't possess the ability I have. What is it like for normal humans? It must be troubling to not be able to read souls." He was scoffing at me. He thought he was above me, John.

"How would you know? Have you ever seen a human soul?"

"Yes. Have you?" He was smirking but still maintaining his monotonous tone. I shook my head. "Then let me show you." He placed his right hand on my shoulder with the smirk plastered still on his face. I didn't notice noticed that his left coat pocket was glowing at first, but it seemed his hand had some sort of effect on my vision. He pulled the object out and revealed a blue orb. "Do you see the darkness wrapped around it?"

It was there. There was a dark haze around what may have been a bright blue ball. "So, that's what killed the man." Dr. Stein's smirk grew wider.

"Yes. Why don't we head back to your place and discuss this further Mr. Holmes?" We then walked back to the flat to discuss the nature of the case. We also discussed the differences in our crime solving skills, and found that we were very much alike.

Hehehehehe… FairyKats requested it. I thought it would be fun! No pairings, by the way. Just Stein and Sherlock meeting each other.