Hello,

Welcome to this Game of Thrones Sherlock Holmes crossover that is set in the late 1800s. Tyrion is this Universes Sherlock and Jaime is his Watson (The Lannister Brothers). Petyr Baelish is Moriarty. The focus of the story is the war between Tywin and Baelish for control over London with Detective Tyrion and Doctor Jaime thrown in the mix. Some OC characters from my story 'Dance of the Falcon' will appear but they can be read without previous knowledge.

All ages are pretty much the same in GOT canon e.g Tyrion and Kenna (OC) are mid-twenties, Jaime and Cersei are early thirties etc.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the Game

The year 1898

221B Baker Street, London

The high-pitched screams of the violin's strings pierced through the book cluttered and stuffy upper apartment until one of the two occupants had had enough of the torture.

"Will you stop with that racket?" Jaime shouted over the din of Tyrion's musical attempts while spreading the newspaper over his crossed legs.

"You're just jealous of my talent," Tyrion smirked back but let the violin rest back in its case before joining his brother on the couch, reading over his arm. "Father made the news again?"

"Yes, another explosion at his factory, two killed, a couple dozen injured," Jaime muttered, scanning the blocks of text in front of him.

Tyrion left the couch to pick up his trusty pipe at the windowsill and started placing tobacco carefully in it while staring down at the bustling street below.

"He hasn't had to weather such bad press since 1877 when those two entire families were killed in that factory accident."

"Yes, no one could quite believe that was an accident."

"Because it wasn't!" Tyrion scowled turning back to face Jaime, sucking furiously on his now puffing pipe.

"Yes, I remember you accusing father during a dinner party. He was so mad but you could never prove anything," Jaime chuckled at the memory, "You got shipped off to boarding school with me the next week."

"I was only five at the time!"

"You had me to look after you."

"Yes," Tyrion gestured to his ruffled clothes and days old stubble while waving his smoking pipe in the air," what a fine job you've done."

"You're London's finest Detective; I think I did a good job especially considering where our sister ended up and who we have as a father," Tyrion shivered at the mention of their older sister but Jaime didn't seem to notice or was unwilling to dwell on the family sore point. "It is curious that the printing press willingly goes against our father in such a blatant manner. I always thought his influence extended to the newspapers."

"It always has done. Perhaps his hold on the heartbeat of London is waning. Or someone is prying it from his cold grip."

"You think someone has promised them protection from father's wrath?"

"His little empire does seem to be crumbling as of late."

Jaime put down the newspaper, "What are you going on about?"

"I'll let father explain."

"What?" Jaime shot out.

"He is about to knock on our door."

Jaime eyebrows furrowed and he looked at his little brother questioningly but the sound of a metal knocker rang out through the apartment before he could voice his disbelief.

He cocked his head to the side and brought a hand to his temple, "I hate it when you do that and no, there is no need to explain how you knew."

"I just looked out the window and saw him approach," Tyrion grinned back before a rolled-up newspaper hit him square on the face.

"Tyrion, Jaime," a deep commanding voice rumbled.

"Hello Father," Tyrion and Jaime said in unison.

Both moved in reaction to their father's sudden appearance in their doorway. Jaime stood immediately and his entire body became rigidly alert while Tyrion left the window to lazily rest back on the couch.

"Why don't you take a seat in our humble boudoir," Tyrion said, pointing to the sole chair in the cluttered room with his pipe.

The Lannister Patriarch's eyes flashed as his tall and domineering frame threatened to enter the room, "I'm not one of your clients Tyrion."

"Oh, so you aren't here to ask for our help?"

"Don't be trying Tyrion," Tywin ground out as he walked to the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Jaime's resolve cracked first, "Why are you here?"

Tywin pivoted slowly to face his two sons, "We as a family have a problem."

"I'd hardly classify someone attacking your business empire as a family problem especially since none of your children are involved in said business," Tyrion chimed with glee at his father's predicament.

"I came here to discuss Cersei with you both."

"What's happened to her?" Jaime asked immediately.

"She is missing."

"She's escaped the Sherrington Institution?" Jaime expounded in a fraught tone, knowing what Cersei was capable of without supervision.

Tyrion eyed his father's stiff posture, "No, that isn't what he said and besides if Cersei had run away, he wouldn't need our help to apprehend her. He has men for that. Someone took her."

Tywin nodded, "The very same person that I've been warring with over the past decade for control of London."

"A war I suspect you are now losing," Tyrion said behind calculating eyes as he puffed on his pipe.

Tywin gritted his teeth, "So you didn't stop investigating when I told you to?"

"I stopped doing what you told me to do a long time ago," Tyrion retorted, "Besides a number of my cases over the years have had a … guiding hand behind them. A person I have only managed to get glimpses of in the actions of others."

"You think this guiding hand is the man that took your sister and is coming after me now?" Tywin asked.

Tyrion gestured to the far wall that was covered with a thin blanket, "Jaime if you will."

Jaime walked to the blanket and tugged it down. The wall was covered in photos, pinned letters, and red ribbon that webbed from one pin to the other.

"We have been quite busy Father," Jaime stated with a hint of pride.

Tywin didn't respond but went to the covered wall, inspecting all the threads and notes Tyrion had made. His finger tapped on the central photograph that was of the back of an armchair with a single hand dangling in view with a cigar between its fingers. 'Mockingbird' was scrawled across it in Tyrion's handwriting.

"A nickname you have bestowed upon him?" Tywin asked his youngest who had trotted to stand by his side.

"A joke. Jaime remarked that all his schemes whether they be backstreet murders, robberies in the finest parts of London or political tampering all retained an element of eloquence. A touch of nuisance and poetry he couldn't give up for the practicality of the plan. A trait I hypothesised is because he so desperately wishes to be of the upper class but simply isn't. Hence what he lacks in birth he tries to make up for in his everyday actions and plans. The Mockingbird."

Tywin grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his son's deduction as he continued to study the wall.

"The only thing I know for certain is in the past decade the Mockingbird has steadily been increasing his activities and influence in London, indicating he wishes to consolidate his power in the city," Tyrion said, glancing at his father, "You are an obstacle to that objective. One he feels he is ready to remove now."

"What would the Mockingbird want with Cersei though? She hasn't been in her right mind for years," Jaime said leaning on the wall.

"And it's not like you would hand over the keys of your kingdom to get her back or either of your sons," Tyrion added bringing a hand to brush through his stubble, "No, she wasn't taken because of her relation to you but rather because of what she can do herself."

"Your sister hasn't said a word to a single soul in seventeen years," Tywin said in a strained tone, "How will she be any use to this Mockingbird?"

"No, she hasn't since you had her locked up," Jaime bit, unable to hold back.

Tywin turned his entire body towards Jaime, "She nearly blew up the Palace of Westminster and Parliament just because I expressed a distaste for Prime Minister Aerys's handling of the Duskendale fiasco."

"She was fifteen and trying to impress you. She didn't understand what she was doing."

"And that is why I placed her in Sherrington," Tywin thundered, "and she damn well knew enough to construct the bomb and place it. Imagine if it had gone off!"

Jaime's bluster lost its confidence but he still held his father's eye, "She told you what she had planned and you stopped it in time."

"Only after she found out I was visiting the Palace that day. She never understood the consequences of her actions outside of hurting me. That is why she is locked up. She is a danger to society."

"And a disgrace to the Lannister name," Jaime yelled, stepping towards his father, knowing that was what his father truly thought of his only daughter.

"That's it!" Tyrion jumped up in joy before son and father could clash further, "The Mockingbird intends to use her expertise in a plot."

"What expertise?!" Tywin snapped tearing his glare from Jaime and placing it on Tyrion, "her mind has been rotting away inside Sherrington Institute for near two decades."

"Or perhaps she just continued her work into chemical reactions, not on paper but inside her own mind. Aunt Genna said she was always the most gifted of your children," Tyrion said.

"So, we are working on the basis that the Mockingbird wants Cersei to construct some sort of explosive," Jaime stated, "What would be the target?"

"I have no idea," Tyrion admitted, pressing his hands together underneath his chin in thought.

A loud commotion outside caused Jaime to brush past his father and stick his head out the window.

"Let her past," he shouted at his father's footmen below that were blocking a lady's path to their front door, "She works for us."

Tywin made a start to leave but Tyrion raised a hand, "I don't think you will want to leave just yet Father."

"Why?"

"The lady coming up the stairs is someone I have had working on tracking a known associate of the Mockingbirds. She may have useful information to tell us."

Feet thudding on the steps could be heard and a few seconds later a rather flushed looking woman wearing a tight-fitting coat, a pair of unorthodox trousers and a satchel around her shoulder placed a hand on the doorframe to support her shaking form.

"Tyrion," she greeted casually between deep breaths, moving stray strands of long brown hair out of her eye line and back behind her ear.

Recognition stung at Tywin's mind. Lady Alyssa Arryn? He had seen this woman often at social gatherings on the arm of the King's younger brother, Prince Benjen. Normally she was dressed in the latest high fashion, laughing amicably alongside the noble elite, clinking glasses here and there while holding a certain educated gracefulness complemented by an air of quiet confidence. The woman panting in front of him now with rosy cheeks had none of that. It was all replaced with a hasty demeanour of a skittish thief that had just gotten away with their prize.

"No, not quite Father," Tyrion said, interrupting his thoughts, "This is Lady Kenna, Lady Alyssa's younger sister and twin."

"My mistake," Tywin said, inclining his head out of traditional deference to the fairer sex, as Kenna stepped further into the room and made a drinking gesture to Jaime with her hand.

"Do not worry yourself, my Lord, it is one that is made often," she replied steadily, before slumping down into the 'client' chair as Jaime poured a shot of whiskey and handed it to her.

"You are a good man, Jaime," she said before downing the amber liquid in one gulp and heavily placing the glass down on the wooden side table.

Tywin noted the informality the young lady was displaying with his eldest son and through her behaviour. She was lucky her father had died a long time ago or her wild ways would surely have been curbed.

"Now you are no longer parched and have caught your breath, tell us what has you so flustered? Did you get anything useful from tracking Mr. Dontos Hollard?" Tyrion asked excitedly, his mind moving onto the game at hand.

"No, well … maybe," Kenna said as a sly smile grew on her lips.

"Lady Arryn," Tywin said, reaching into his pocket, "are you aware that your satchel is bleeding?"

Kenna's smile transformed into a rich laugh as she took noted Tywin's movement, "Are you going to shoot me Lord Tywin? The press would love that!"

"She is a trusted associate of ours," Jaime said, stepping in-between his father and the sitting Lady.

Tywin's hand remained in his pocket, "What is in the satchel?"

"I'll show you," Kenna replied sweetly, turning the contents of the bag onto the paper-strewn table in front of her.

A decapitated head rolled out. Drying blood from the stump smeared onto some of the paper. The eyes were shut and the mouth was covered by a light brown beard. The face was almost peaceful looking with the lips curled ever so slightly.

Tyrion practically jumped onto the table to examine it while Tywin and Jaime both took a step back.

"Why Lady Arryn did you remove his head?" Tywin asked, giving her an appraising look.

"I thought Tyrion would want to examine it," she replied absentmindedly before catching the Lord's cautious expression, "Oh, I didn't kill him or behead him Lord Tywin, I doubt I'd have the strength for that. I followed him to a … place of ill-reputed and when he didn't resurface for a good while I went snooping and found his head placed on the desk in the rooms and his body on a blood-drenched bed. He was displayed like–"

"A message," Tywin finished, "The Mockingbird knew you were following his agent and disposed of him before you could get him to talk. You are lucky you weren't the left message."

Tyrion rotated the head, "Severed in the last hour, someone cut right through the bone, broken nose, bruising around the temple and the left side of the head. His attacker was strong, powerful, most likely male, right-handed and had a cutlass on his persons to saw through the bone."

Jaime placed a hand on Kenna's shoulder, "I'm glad you weren't hurt."

Kenna smiled up at Jaime patting away his concern good-naturedly, "You know me I move in the shadows, quick and quiet. Now, I went through the late Mr. Hollard's pockets and I found a lot of cash on his persons. More so than you would expect for the average Buckingham Palace guard to have on him when going for a lunchtime roll in the hay so to speak."

"Someone paid him to do something he shouldn't have," Jaime clarified.

Tyrion backed away from the decapitated head to give Kenna a beaming smile, "Good work, this might not look like it but this progresses our investigation into the Mockingbird's identity and what his designs are on London. Our next step should be to locate my sister."

"You don't think the intended target is Buckingham Palace?" Jaime said aghast.

Tyrion took a step towards his father, "How long has Cersei been missing?"

"A few hours," Tywin replied.

"She'll need more time than that to construct anything of significant power to bring down a large building but still time is of the essence. We should pay Varys a visit and see if any of his little birds can sing for us. Father, I would advise caution. You are clearly a target for the Mockingbird."

"I have an army protecting me," Tywin huffed, straightening out his waist jacket.

Tyrion turned to Kenna but she beat him to it, "Yes, yes. I know. Return to my lady luncheons and petty gossip circles until you have need of my skills."

"Which will most likely be very soon," Tyrion said, watching her back away to the doorway.

"You are just saying that to please me," Kenna said dramatically before disappearing.

Tywin removed his hand from his pocket and gave both his sons serious looks, "Find Cersei and identify this Mockingbird."

"As you command, Father," Tyrion saluted in jest.

Tywin ignored his youngest's antic and walked out of the room.

Tywin reached the bottom of the stairs and the street's pavement when a familiar voice accosted him.

"I don't suppose you are going towards Westminster?"

Tywin turned to see Lady Kenna leaning back against the wall beside the open door, "I am. I have business there."

"May I share your carriage? My home is in that direction and I'm desperate to wash off the blood and smell of cheap perfume."

Tywin gave her an appraising look and judged that he could endure the discomfort of her company to get the information he wanted from her. He raised his arm towards the carriage and Kenna inclined her head in thanks at the silent but positive gesture. He watched her closely as she energetically hopped into the carriage before following her in and signalling for the driver to go.

Tywin wasted no time in his task, "Tell me, why does a highborn lady work for a consulting detective and how do you know my eldest son?"

"Be careful Lord Lannister, ask any more questions and I might suspect you aren't offering this ride out of gentlemanly kindness."

"I like to know what is going on in my sons' lives."

"It would seem prudent to get the information you seek directly from them would it not?"

"I don't always see eye to eye with my sons."

Kenna nodded, satisfied with his answer, "I don't work for Tyrion. He doesn't pay me at least. Once in a blue moon, he asks me to help out on a case and I like to break up the tedium of a rich woman's life with some swashbuckling excitement every now and again."

"What exactly is it you do for him?"

"Now that would be telling."

"You said to Jaime, that you move in the shadows, quick and quiet."

"I did say that."

"Well, what are you a thief or a bat?"

"Are those my only options?" Kenna asked with a bit of tongue-in-cheek thrown in.

Tywin jaw seized up as if he thought better of the outburst about to erupt from between his lips.

Kenna smiled at the reaction her teasing was causing but gave him his desired answer, "I was being dramatic when I said that. I'm an actress. Each task Tyrion gives me allows me an opportunity to step into another character's shoes and practise my craft."

"You handled discovering a dead body and carrying a decapitated head around London remarkable well for an actress."

"Maybe I didn't want to break character. I was pretending to be a hardened woman of the streets after all," Kenna said playfully but Tywin's cutting stare didn't budge and she sighed, "Part of my profession is pretending but I'm sure you saw my shakes and how quickly that shot of whiskey disappeared down my throat."

"I deduce your behaviour wasn't due to you being scared but excited."

"Ah, so Tyrion gets his little tricks and quirks from you?"

"How do you know Jaime?" Tywin asked, ignoring Kenna's inquiring jab.

"He saved my life."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not particularly, no."

Tywin fixed her with his most domineering glare but Kenna let out a light chuckle, "You are so used to getting your own way, aren't you? Well, I will give you your answer if you give me one."

"You haven't asked a question."

"Very true," Kenna clucked her tongue, looking out the window, "Why are you so scared?"

"Mmmm," Tywin grunted in confusion.

"This carriage is surrounded by dozens upon dozens of your paid men yet you keep glancing out the window every few seconds as if you expect someone to take a pot shot at you."

Tywin resisted flicking his eyes to the streets and gave Kenna his full attention, "I am not scared. I received a missive this morning from the Mockingbird saying my reign over London was over, that the fruit of my efforts will bring me low and that the time of the Lords is over."

"This Mockingbird could get a job at the theatre with verses like that," Kenna replied, combing a hand through her tangled hair.

"How do you know Jaime?" Tywin repeated, unwilling to let that thread go.

"I hired your sons to investigate my stepmother's involvement in my father's death. He died of completely natural causes but my instincts of her being a murderess were spot on. As your sons were leaving our estate with a hefty paycheck Lysa took a pistol and tried to shoot Alyssa and me. Gods know what she was thinking. She missed my sister but clipped me in the stomach. Jaime was able to stem the bleeding and that is probably the only reason I am sitting next to you right this very moment and not six feet under in a morbid graveyard somewhere."

"This wasn't in the papers."

"My sister and I decided not to tarnish our father's name with Lysa's actions so we hushed it all up and she is sitting pretty in Sherrington Institute and long may she rot there. Jaime and I have shared regular correspondence since," she smiled, "He has a fondness for the theatre so I get him spare tickets when I can."

"That is quite a tale," Tywin said skeptically.

"Life is full of unique stories and fascinating happenstances."

"Pray tell, why your story hasn't included a husband yet?" Tywin asked, aiming to keep her off-balanced.

She shook her head in disappointment, "And you were being so interesting. It's a boring life waiting for the right man to whisk you away into married life. I should follow my sister's example I suppose and court a Prince, but so many obligations come with that and I'm not well suited to them. I'd rather an element of mystery remains in my life."

"Perhaps dressing like a lady will encourage more suitable offers for your hand?" Tywin suggested, looking at her tight trousers and the blood stained satchel in her lap.

He was overwhelmed with the need to unsettle her, to shake her affable demeanour and her spirited resolve and confidence.

But again she laughed instead, "Are you giving me fashion advice my Lord? I've had offers, just none I am willing to accept at the moment."

Before Tywin could respond Kenna hit the roof of the carriage a few times, "This is far enough."

Kenna moved to the door but Tywin's arm blocked her way, "What theatre are you currently performing at?"

"Why?" Kenna inquired, her eyes brightening, "Are you thinking of watching one of my performances or are you just testing my story further?"

"That depends on your answer."

Kenna gave him a wide grin, "London Hippodrome. A Midsummer Night's Dream. My troupe perform every Thursday, Friday and Saturday at seven o'clock in the evening. A ticket for my personal box will be waiting for you tomorrow evening if you show up. I have no other attendees expected tomorrow night so you would have it to yourself. I hope Cersei is found by then and the Mockingbird's threats are simply words on the wind."

"I hope your performance tomorrow night is better than the one you put on today," Tywin lowered his arm.

"Everyone is a critic," Kenna said lightly as she departed the carriage with a playful smile upon her lips.

Tywin's eyes didn't leave hers until her feet hit the pavement. He leant back into his plush seat and cricked his neck. He felt like he had gone a few rounds in the ring with the verbal battle he had just enjoyed. But it had been refreshing to experience someone throw some mental punches back his way.

"Onwards," he demanded as he tapped the roof of the carriage.

Author Notes:

This will be multi-chaptered and the focus will remain on Tyrion, Jaime, Tywin, Kenna, Cersei, Littlefinger throughout the story but there will be story building elements woven in e.g Starks are the crown, Jon Arryn dies of natural causes, Lysa is still mad, there is still Lord and Ladies (UK 1800s), Areys Targaryen was a past Prime Minster, Cersei is technically the smartest Holme/Lannister, Alyssa and Benjen are alive and together (DotF reference), there will be romance between Tywin and Kenna in this story but the plot encompasses a nice crime thriller plot as well.