Introduction

"It's the little things you do

that makes my heart feel alive."

DISCLAIMER

I do not own Sherlock, or it's characters they belong to the BBC. The plot is mine, and so is Cora.

NOTE 📝

I apologise for grammar or plot mistakes in advance. Don't begin pointing it out because I know it's there and will come back to it at a later date. This story is based in the world of the BBC tv series Sherlock.

WARNING ️

Mild language

CAST

Rachel Weisz as Cora Holmes

Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes

Martin Freeman as John Watson

rest of the Sherlock Cast as their respective characters.

PLAYLIST

(Any recommendations are welcome)

It's early the next morning of January 28th, 2010 a police press conference is being held by that of one Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, the man is feeling nothing but uncomfortable as his colleague Sergeant Sally Donovan sat beside him as she addresses the gathering of press reporters.

"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Mister for Transport, was found late last night on a building sight in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now,"

Reporters began raising their hands, Lestrade nodded at one of them and they asked, "Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?"

"Well, they all took the same poison; um, they were all found in places they had no reason to be; none of them had shown any prior indication of-" Lestrade began to explain before getting interrupted by the reporter.

"But you can't have serial suicides?"

"Well, apparently you can," Lestrade responded with a sigh.

Another reporter now asked, "These three people: there's nothing that links them?"

Lestrade lets out another sigh, "There's no link been found yet, but we're looking for it. There has to be one."

Suddenly everybody's mobile phones simultaneously trill with a text alert. All now going to glance at their phones screens as the message read:

Wrong!

Sergeant Donovan is also looking at her phone and frowned before looking up at the reporters to inform them, "If you've all got texts, please ignore them."

"Just says, 'Wrong'," the first reporter implies.

Donovan nods her head in response, "Yeah, well, just ignore that. Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end."

Only for the second reporter to talk over her, "But if they're suicides, what are you investigating?"

Lestrade looked back at everyone, "As I say, these ... these suicides are clearly linked. Um, it's an ... it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating..."

Everyone's mobiles trilled with another text:

Wrong!

"Says, 'Wrong' again."

Lestrade looks despairingly at Sally before turning back to the reporters, "One more question."

"Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" a third reporter now asked.

Lestrade glanced to his colleague tiredly, "I ... I know that you like writing about these, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The, um, the poison was clearly self-administered."

The reporter but only continued to question, "Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?"

"Well, don't commit suicide," Lestrade offered a little sarcastically, only for the reporter to gaze back in shock.

Sally leans over to mutter in warning, "'Daily Mail.'"

He grimaces and returned his attention to the reporters once again, "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."

Again the phones trill with another message:

Wrong!

It only takes another moment longer for Lestrade's phone to get a text and when he checks the messages he rolls his eyes with disbelief:

You know where

to find me.

SH

With a look of exasperation, he pocketed his phone and stood up looking at the reporters, "Thank you."

It was during that whole press conference that he hadn't noticed the woman dressed in a dark trench coat, hidden out of sight who had a smirk on her ruby red lips that had been sending the message throughout. Her coat now whipping out at sight before she was even noticed.

One Cora Holmes leant back on a bench in St. James's Park a not far from Scotland Yard, a cigarette between her fingers and impatiently clicking her heel against the benches leg because Lestrade was late. It just really annoyed her when people were late for things, but she honestly couldn't blame him after this morning. Taking another drag of her cigarette, she blew out a stream of the smokey white vapour as it vanished into thin air, deducting people within seconds as they passed by her. Guessing who were the cheaters, beaters and criminals.

Pulling up the sleeve of her coat she looked at her watch, not bothered to get out her phone, it was 12:15 pm. Cora didn't even have to look for her to know that Lestrade had sat on the bench a couple of inches from her.

Pulling out her lighter, she held it out and he took it lighting his cigarette, "Cora, you and your brother need to stop," he takes a puff from his cigarette.

"Well, it isn't an excuse to be late," she states moodily, staring ahead of her not having paid Greg the slightest attention to what he just said.

"I'm being deadly serious Cora, you just can't go around texting reporters during a press conference when it pleases you. It made us look right utter prats," he explained, smoke billowing out of his mouth before he takes another drag.

"Honestly, Greg you don't need me and my brother around make you look like complete pillock's. When your capable of doing it already," Cora takes a final blow of the cigarette now at its end, dropping it and treading it out with her heel.

"But did you have to do that?"

"Yes, Greg because it was vital for them to know you were wrong and late yet again," she argued, getting her packet of cigarettes out, plucking one from the packet and lighting it.

"I'm sorry but there was a matter with dealing with the press."

"You know where to find us if you need assistance with anything," just as Cora finished speaking her phone alerted her.

When you're finished conversing with Lestrade meet me at St. Bart's

-SH

"Sorry, I've got to dash but Sherlock needs me," getting up she stomped out her cigarette on the benches arm and put it back in the packet for later before finally glancing down at Greg.

"I'll see you around then," he looked at her for a moment in understanding. They knew how Sherlock got when his demands weren't met straight away after texting said person. Either you went straight away or he'd be on somebody's case for days.

"Yeah, sure," with that she went running off, her pale blue scarf trailing along in the wind as she went.