sorry for the long wait. I've had shitloads of work, as well as been rather ill. Word of advice – unless you want to do a hell of a lot of work, do not take Art for GCSE. Stupidly, I also decided to take it for A-level. Joy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. :(

'What happened when Rosemary Taylor was murdered? Tell me everything.'
The two girls loked at eachother, wondering who would talk first. After a few minutes, when Sherlock was growing impatient, the red-haired girl spoke

'Are you the police?'

'No. im the man who is going to catch Rosie's killer' he replied, with a hint of pride.

'who are you then?' the red-head asked.

'Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. now tell me, what happenned to Rosemary Tyler?'

'I don't know! one minute, she was behind us, she was looking for her phone in her bags. we turned the corner and heard a scream from behind us. and when we looked for her she…she…we saw…we saw her. on the floor…bleeding like mad. Sophia called the police and I went to see if I could help her and….i…I saw…it was…'

'so you didn't see anything? either of you?' Sherlock asked. They must know something else, he thought.

'no. we didn't.'

'Ok. right. is there anything else you can tell me? anything?' he urged them to talk.

'no, sorry'

'Sherlock!' called a voice down the hall. Sherlock turned to the door as it flew open.

'Sherlock, theres been another murder.' said John Watson. 'same as Rosemary's. Lestrade wants you to come at once'

'ok, call a cab,' Sherlock turned to the girls. 'im sorry for your loss' he said before walking towards the door.

'WAIT!' yelled the bleach-blonde girl. Sherlock turned towards them. 'before she screamed…before she died…um…I saw a…well…a blue light, like something glowing, or something.'

'ok, I'll bear that in mind' he said before leaving the waiting room.

'This body was found by the couple who own the house. Mr Thomas was just renting,' Lestrade explained to Sherlock and John as they walked into the room where the dead man lay. Sure enough, there was a gaping wound on the left-hand-side of the chest.

'exactly the same as Rosemary Taylor,' John stated. 'is there any link between the two victims?

'none whatsoever. apart from the fact that they're both British. Although, this way of death isn't new to us,' said Lestrade. Sherlock looked quizically at Lestrade, who continued, 'There where lots of deaths like this recorded throughout history, some descriptions dating back to the early 18th century. nobody's ever gotton near to finding the victim. although they did seem to stop a few years back…'

Sherlock had stopped listening. Instead, he was examining the body in the same way he examined Rosemary's.

'any ideas?' John asked him.

'a few. We know he was killed on the scene, there are pools of blood everywhere, and drips coming down the stairs, if you noticed, John, so the killer would have killed him then walked away, so we should ask the neighbours if they saw anything. His clothing is dry, so he could have been here a while, it started raining an hour ago. if he'd have been in the rain his briefcase would still be wet, but its dry as a bone. he's well dressed so I'm assuming he works in an office, judging by the state of his shoes he walks a lot, possibly he works nearby, too near to travel on the tube, I'm guessing he works a typical 9 to 5 day so that would mean he's been here for at least 3 hours, assuming he takes half an hour to travel home.' Sherlock said this at an unreal speed, hardly pausing for breath. he then turned to Lestrade 'have you asked the neighbours if they saw anything?'

'yes, of course we have. And nobody saw anyone leave or enter the house. we're checking cctv…'

'good'

'…but we havn't heard anything back yet.' Lestrade finished off.

'moving onto the wound, it looks about fist-sized, in the place where the heart should be. I assume the heart is missing?' Sherlock said.

'yes.'

'ok, so, It would seem that somebody literally ripped out the heart with bare hands, but that would be impossible, so the only other alternitive would be a blunt knife of some sort…'

'a blunt knife?' John commented

'yes, look at the wound, that's not the work of a sharp instrument, the skin has been hacked at, a sharp instrument would have made a relitively smooth cut.'

'so basically we're looking at kitchen utensils?' Lestrade asked him.

'sort of' Sherlock replied, before sitting down on a nearby sofa, obviously trying to decise what the weapon would be.

'Have you found any blood-stained objects, or anything..'

'Oh use your head, John. It is haighly unlikely that the murderer would leave his weapon at the crime scene. No, no, they'd have thrown it in the Thames, or the sea or somewhere.' Sherlock interrupted

At that moment Anderson walked in. After a hateful glare at Sherlock, he addressed Lestrade.

'there's a group of people here saying that they'll be able to solve it. This is rediculous, I havnt even had the chance to…'

'did they say who they are?' Lestrade asked hin.

'They did, but I forgot.' Sherlock snorted. Anderson continued… 'Something like Touchwood. The main guy has an American accent.'

'send them away.' Lestrade ordered. Anderson nodded and walked away. Soon after this, there was a loud laugh, and an American voice said 'oh yeah? I'd like to see you stop us'. Then the doorway light was cut off and in the way stood a team of five people. In the front was a man who could only be the American one. Sherlock noticed how out of date his clothing was, and that he was also probably gay, judging by his bodily cleanliness and self-grooming. He also noticed how out-of-place his eyes looked, for a man who looked middle aged, his eyes seemed centuries old.

'ok, now, you ametures can move out. We're just gonna take a look at this body, and tell you what we think happenned.' the American said. He noticed Sherlock's quizzical look, and turned to him, stretching out his hand, and in a flirty voice, he introduced himself 'Hi, I'm Captain Jack Harkness'

'I'm not gay, you're wasting your time.' Sherlock replied.

'Oh ho! A smart policeman.' he replied, laughing at himself.

'I'm not a policeman, I'm a consulting detective.' Sherlock stated, getting bored with the conversation.

'What's that?' said a woman with a strong South-Wales accent. Sherlock turned to see a pale brunette looking at them. he noticed instantly the almost-new wedding ring on her finger, her perfectly styled hair and nails, and the alarmingly large gap in her tooth.

'Basically, when the police are out of their depth they come to him to solve the case' John butted in, because he knew Sherlock was about to go into a long-winded explination.

'And what makes him so much better that the Police?' came another voice, a Londoner's voice, but the pronounciation of the letters told Sherlock that he'd speant some time in Wales.

'Oh god…'John groaned, he knew what was about to happen. And sure enough, it did.

'You, welsh woman, you've recently got married to the man of your dreams, no longer than a couple of months ago, but somehow it isnt quite working out judging by the fact the ring is scratched and really rather dirty, so that also suggests that your job involves a lot of dirty work, but if you really loved him. you'd want to keep the ring clean. You all also have a gun hidden in the small of your backs, so quite a violent job than? You, Japanese woman, dressed to impress I see, but if you're based in Wales then you'd hardly know anyone here, so its someone in your gang, not the American one, hes way too old for you and is so obviously gay, and not the quite one over there, who dislikes the fact that you have tomato sauce on you're jacket, no, its going to be the ugly one'

'HEY!'

'oh come on, you know that compared to the Boss we're all hags, now..'

'Hang on, how did you know we're based in Wales?' Sherlock was already getting very annoyed by that Welsh woman.

'Come on, have you heard yourself? plus he's Welsh, you're starting to pick up the accent, and you have welsh writing on your laptop case, it wanst a hard deduction. Anyway, You there' he pointed to the man in the suit 'You're smart, too smart for this job, so you're the office worker, maybe even butler? Skilled with a coffee machine judging by the smell but the lack of stains on you're clothes. You've got a thing on with the boss, or at least you're very close to him, you smell strangly similar. Not really used to the violence, or you don't like it, one or the other, judging by how awkward you look. you there, ugly one, you're a doctor, oh John, I found you a little friend, anyway, you've seen this type of thing before otherwise you wouldn't be so comfortable with….wait…you've seen this before?'

'Like I said,' Captain Harkness spoke, 'This is right up our street. Now you hop along and get a cab home, leave the work to us'

'why should I?' John noticed the defensive tone of Sherlock's voice. No way was he going to let that American take this case away from him.

'Who are you anyway?' Lestrade asked the captain.

'Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper and Toshiko Sato. We're Torchwood'

NB – this is set in series 2 of Sherlock, before 'Hound Of The Baskervilles' (or Hounds of Baskerville) and in series 2 Torchwood before Fragments/Exit Wounds. I was gonna set it just before Children Of Earth, but I love Tosh and Owen too much :)

please bear in mind I wrote this while ill, and I havnt eaten in three days, so whether this all makes sense I do not know.

I have tried to write the characters as best as I could, but if I've done anything wrong do say so. Also, feel free to point out any errors – if its one thing I hate, its typo-s and gramatically incorect sentances.

reviews are most welcome. as are any requests.

Ta xx