The Idea: Well, this idea came to me as I was actually prank calling my brother on my mom's cell. I said something about being Sherlock Holmes and my mom said, "Sherlock isn't a girl. If he was, his name would have to be Sherla or something!" And so, this story was born.

Notes: The story won't follow the exact lines because, well you know, I want to mix it up a bit. Also, the characters may be a bit out of character, but they're still them. One last thing, the whole story will be told as if it is a movie, so, to get the full effect of it, you may want to read it while the certain theme song (which will be written in bold) is playing.

Please let me introduce to you a love story with a sprinkle of action:

Shannon Holmes

(I do not own Sherlock Holmes…obviously)

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"The body of Beth Davenport," Sergeant Sally Donovan began, speaking to the media, "Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in greater London. Preliminary Investigations suggests that this was suicide."

DI Lestrade looked around the room quite sadly and blinked a few times. "We can confirm," Sergeant Donovan continued, "that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing, but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now."

Lestrade looked at the crowd of raised hands, slightly frowning. "Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked," a curly haired reporter asked.

He looked at the reporter and spoke into the mike. "Well, they all took the same poison. They were all found in places they had no reason to be. None of them any prior indication…"

"But you can't have serial suicides," the reporter interrupted.

"Well," Lestrade said," apparently, you can."

Another reporter began to speak. "These three people, there's nothing that links them?"

"There's no link we've found yet, but we're looking for it," Lestrade answered, not looking the reporter in the eye. "There has to be one.

Cameras continued to flash and the reporters continued to write on their little note pads as every single cell began to ring, signaling text messages. They all simply said "Wrong".

Everybody looked around, the DI and the Sergeant included. "If you've all got texts," Sergeant Donovan said, looking at her cell," Please ignore them."

"It just says wrong," a reporter read.

"Yeah, well," she said, slightly panicked. "Just ignore that." She waved her hands around. "Okay, if there are no more questions, for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end."

"If they're suicides, what are you investigating," a reporter asked quickly.

"As I say, these suicides are clearly linked," he said nervously squishing his hands together. "Um…it's….it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating."

Suddenly, all the phones received a text message again, all simply saying "Wrong". "Says wrong again," a reporter read.

"One more question," Sergeant Donovan announced as DI Lestrade rubbed his chin.

"Is there any chance that these are murders? And if they are, is this the work of a serial killer," a red head reporter questioned.

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Drum cymbal hit once

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"I know that you'd like writing about this," DI Lestrade said," but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference." He smirked for a while, but it soon faded. "The poison was clearly self-administered."

"Yes," the red head reporter said," but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?"

"Well," DI Lestrade said obviously," Don't commit suicide."

"Daily Mail," Sergeant Donovan whispered to Lestrade indiscreetly.

Lestrade sighed. "Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be."

Once again, everybody's cell rang which announced a text. It repeated the same message "Wrong". But, DI Lestrade got something different:

You Know Where to Find Me ~SH

"Thank you," Lestrade said, standing up, Sergeant Donovan following closely behind.

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"You've got to stop her from doing that," Sergeant Donovan said frustrated, as they walked into the Police office. "She's making us look like idiots!"

DI Lestrade held a file in his arm, not stopping as he continued into his desk. "If you can tell me how she does it, I'll stop her."

Sergeant Donovan stopped in her tracks, dumbstruck as Lestrade continued to walk on.

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John Watson walked down the street with his cane in his right hand, obviously limping. He slowly walked by a big, burly man who was sitting down reading the newspaper. "John," the man yelled," John Watson!" The man stood up as John looked back at him. "Stamford," the man said, putting his hand over his chest. "Mike Stamford. We were at Bart's together."

John reached out to shake Mike's hand. "Yes, sorry, yes, Mike, hello," he greeted.

"Yeah," Mike smiled. "I know, I got fat."

"No, no," John insisted.

He let go of Mike's hand to hold onto his cane again. "I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened," Mike asked, smiling.

John looked down from his cane and then back to Mike. "I got shot," he muttered.

Mike looked shocked and realized how stupid of a question that was.

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Mike and John ended up getting a cup of coffee and sitting down at one of the benches in the park.

"Ah," John sighed after he took a sip. "Are you still at Bart's then?"

"Teaching now, yeah," Mike said, smiling. "Bright young things like we used to be. God, I hate them."

The two chuckled and John looked down at his cane. "What about you, just staying in town 'til you get yourself sorted out?" he asked.

"I can't afford London in an army pension," John said, rubbing his right leg.

"And you couldn't bear to be anywhere else," Mike said. "That's not the John Watson I know."

"I'm not the John Watson you," then he stopped and looked down at his left hand, slightly tightening his grip on nothing.

"Couldn't Harry help," Mike asked after he took a sip.

John scoffed. "Yeah, like that's going to happen."

Mike looked up at the sky. "I don't know. Get a flat share or something," he suggested.

John looked over at Mike and smiled. "Come on, who'd want me for a flat mate?" Mike began to laugh. "What," John asked curiously.

"You're the second person to say that to me today," Mike said, grinning.

"Who was the first," John wondered.

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Hope you guys are enjoying so far….course I wouldn't know since no one's reviewed yet. Please review, it makes Sherlock and John happy!