Chapter 1

Prince William. As in THE Prince William, recently married to the Duchess Kate. Interesting. He details given to me from princess Aurora are exceptionally important in this case. Until I can further verify these details, they're staying on the down low.

After the news, princess Aurora told me that William was set to take the throne from her aunt once the Queen passed or passed down the throne. Aurora's mother became aware that Aurora was eligible for the throne after partaking in a family tree program. Aurora came at the young age of 18 and prepared for ruling and is now going to rule. William was meant to be married to Aurora, even if they are distantly related. The most plausible scenario is that William became jealous of Aurora for taking the throne from him so set out to dispose of her life. "His aim must have been affected in some way so my aunt was shot, not me." Aurora shook at the thought.

"Stay calm. I have to check with the others and the crime scene. Stay here until they give you notice that you can leave." I set my hand on her's for reassurance. "What exactly do you do? I don't see a badge. Are you a fake?!" She began breathing heavily. "No, no, no! It's okay. I'm a detective. The police here are lazy and don't have the IQ to solve any of these more significant cases." She laughed at my incredibly acurate description. "I have to go now. Stay here, the paramedics are probably going to check on you again. Listen, if you need any help I'm here."

I wrote my address down a piece of paper and headed to the scene. Although I tried to concentrate on the crime, my thoughts were roaming elsewhere. How come I had suddenly become more compassionate to a victim? Usually I listen to details and get on my way to solve the situation in a minute. None of the other officers were aware of my actions, thankfully, and I do not plan on informing any of them of it.

The scene was secluded to a seven foot perimeter. The victim, in this case the Queen, was slumped on the ground with a small puddle of blood surrounding her left shoulder. Looking straight on, the bullet hole was clearly visible. "Terrible tragedy we have here." Lestrade muttered from beside me. I waved off his comment and turned my thoughts away from Aurora and to the crime.

The bullet had come from from the east direction and pierced the window with clear accuracy. It was a 7 mm round matching that of a Winchester Short Magnum. This discovery was not yet known to Scotland Yard, seeing that they are not familiar with many firearms unless they scan the bullet. I kept to myself of these details.

With everyone rushing about around me, it was difficult to concentrate. "Mind palace. Mind palace. Mind palace." The constant mutters came out of my mouth quietly.

"Access denied." I could imagine the stereotypical machine woman's voice declining my request. Attempting to enter my safe haven, I closed my eyes and cleared my mind.

Again, no success. "Access denied."

I concentrated all of my thoughts on my vision of the "thought palace" in my mind. Clear your mind, think of the heaven for your thoughts.

"Access denied."

Clear your mind, Sherlock. The great superior Sherlock Holmes will not fall to a imaginary voice lock. Clear the mind.

Aurora.

No! Clear. The. Mind.

...

Aurora.

Dammit.

The thought from the previous hour came flooding back. Aurora. Aurora. Aurora. It was impossible to drill her presence from my mind. It was always there: always echoing in my conscience, always showing up in the corners of my mind, always showing an image of her. Aurora, the girl I felt compassion for. Aurora, the woman whom I changed momentarily for. One question was on my mind. One particular question.

Why?

AURORA POV

"Princess, you are free to go." The paramedic confirmed and wandered off to one of the many vehicles that now surrounded the palace. News reporters, police, secret government agencies... Every important or informational person in this country was here. The flood of reporters trying to get at me were shoved off by my guards as I shifted up from the back of the car and towards my limousine.

The thought of one officer- or at least I think he was an officer- came parading back into my awareness. Once person here has shown true compassion and sympathy for me. Plus, it wasn't just because I'm the princess of England. One person. Sherlock Holmes, the fictional character. I felt the need to ask him a question, but I kept to myself- seeing he was a detective and all.

Where was his Watson?

From what I have read of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's fantastic stories, Watson is never too far from Mr. Holmes. "Princess?" Charles, one of the only guards that is my age, looked at me and then towards the open door. Obviously, I had been deep in thought or distracted. "Sorry, Charlie." I quickly knuckle bumped him on the down low. Nobody, not even my family, knows about our secret friendship.

Once inside the vehicle safely, I turned my thoughts back to Sherlock and John.

Sherlock had given me his address. Maybe he trusted me... Our ages couldn't have been too far off. I being 23, he couldn't have been much older. Possibly 26 or 27 years of age. He was police, so I guess he was qualified as a person to explain tragedies to, like a therapist.

This was the least of my worries though. My aunt, the Queen, being shot dead in the safety of the heavily guarded and monitored palace was my main focus. I am a definite target now. If the killer can strike once, he can strike again. Especially if it's William.

The grudge he holds against both myself and Aunt Joanne is infuriating. Simply because I took over the "dynasty", as my aunt sometimes called it. It's ridiculous.

He is like a little hormonal girl. Acting like he's on his man-period because he didn't get to claim his precious throne.

Sorry if I don't sound like a princess, I'm young(ish) and raging in my thoughts. DONT JUDGE ME!

The worries of being a target were starting to sink in. What if it wasn't William? A whole different situation. Someone who could possibly NOT be a royal breaking into the palace grounds and trying to kill me. He could be a spy! Or, what if they're not even a guy. A woman could be targeting the royal family and nobody is aware.

"Driver!"

He looked into the rear view mirror and nodded. I glanced down at the slip in my hand and spoke,

"221B Baker Street. Immediately."

Author's Note

Hi. To start off, I am having Sherlock be younger than he is portrayed on the show. He is meant to be in his mid 30s to early 40s, depends on what website you check.

In order to properly portray Aurora, I must adjust the age. Please bear with me, he is still the same Sherlock Holmes from the show (just younger).

EVERYTHING stays the same except that. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Scotland Yard. They stay their same old selves.

So to clear up:

Sherlock- 26 years old

John- 28 years old

Aurora- 23 years old

Everyone else is the same age

Sorry if this note was a little long, I just need to make that clear so I don't have many questions from any of those awesome people who are actually reading this.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please review!

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~Katie