You whimpered softly as you began to wake up. Your eyes fluttered open as you began taking in your surroundings. But nothing looked familiar. You didn't recognize anything. Now in panic mode, you shot up and immediately regretted it as you let out a loud groan, pain shooting up your side.

"Careful," a man with short blonde hair said, coming to your side instantly, using a cane to help him walk, but carelessly throwing it aside after he reached his destination. Psychosomatic limp in his right leg. "Who are you?" you asked, confused. "My name is John Watson," he replied as you analyzed more details. His tan, his haircut, the way he holds himself.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" you asked curiously. "What?" he questioned, looking at you baffled. "Thank you for patching up the stab wound," you told him, changing the subject. "How did you...," he trailed off, and you explained yourself.

"Dr. Watson it's quite obvious by your tan line and the way you hold yourself that you were a medical doctor in the army. You would know how to treat a stab wound in an emergency, so thank you for patching me up. But I am curious, did you serve in Afghanistan...or Iraq?" you told him. He gave you a weird look and you asked, "What?"

John shook his head before replying, "Nothing, you just remind me of someone...It was Afghanistan." You gave him a small smile, your curiosity now satisfied. Before you and John could say anything else, a deep voice stated, "Good deductions."

You snapped your head in the direction of the noise to be met with a man that nearly took your breath away. You and he immediately began analyzing each other. You smirked at him trying to deduce you. "You know who I am," Sherlock stated as you and he began having an unspoken conversation.

"You're still trying to figure it out, aren't you?" you told him. He looked a little frustrated at that comment and stated, "Why didn't you go to the cops?" "I heard you were better," you replied. "Heard or read?" he questioned, to which you softly smiled too.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little lost," John stated, looking between you and Sherlock. You and Sherlock looked at him, suddenly realizing that the two of you weren't alone. "This woman showed up last night, looking for me. She's running from someone or a group of people. Judging by the state of her clothes, she only had one chance to escape and come to 221B Baker Street," Sherlock explained.

"All true, but judging by the wrinkles in your clothes, the dark circles under your eyes and the slight redness to them, you haven't been sleeping much, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps this isn't the best time," you said.

"Nonsense, I'm used to no sleep, and it's Sherlock. Now, you know my name, what's yours and who are you running from?" Sherlock asked. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I'm running from a gang named the Mercenaries...my parents' gang actually. I was in the middle of taking them down when one of the members caught on and gave me a parting gift. I was hoping you could help me link some murders to them so that they can go to jail for good," you explained.

Sherlock pressed his hands under his chin, staring at you intently, running through all of the options that came into his mind. "Fine," he told you and you gave him a small smile. "But, first I have a case to solve. You can stay here," Sherlock stated.

"Or I can help," you suggested. "I doubt it," he replied. "Jennifer Wilson? The fourth person in a series of framed suicides that are actually murders?" you told him and he looked shocked, but only for a moment. "I'll get a cab," Sherlock stated with a small smirk before quickly running outside. You followed after him with John and when you both got outside, you saw the cab already waiting with Sherlock in the back.

You slid in first, sitting next to Sherlock as John got in as well sitting on the other side of you. The cab ride was uncomfortably silent and John decided to make conversation. "So, you deduce people, like Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock laughed and replied, "She's not nearly as good." You scoffed and looked at Sherlock. "Is that so?" you asked. Sherlock looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "Prove me wrong, deduce the driver. The same playful glint appeared in your eyes as you looked at the driver noticing everything. A picture of him and his son with the mom folded to the back of the picture, out of sight.

He had a scruff and some shaving cream behind his ear. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were shaky. But he still had his wedding ring on.

"Male, around his early fifties. The kid in the picture is his only son, but that was a picture taken a few years ago. His wife is out of the picture, not because she left him or because he left her. If that happened he wouldn't still wear his wedding ring, but he does. So, he lost her to a sickness, most likely cancer. He doesn't care as much about his appearance as he left some shaving cream behind his ear, and his shave isn't clean, showing that he wasn't all that interested in shaving, he did it more out of habit. His clothes are very wrinkled, meaning he wears them a lot without caring for them as much. And, judging by his knowledge of London streets, I'd say he's been a taxi driver for at least ten years," you stated, a proud smirk forming on your face as John looked impressed.

You looked at Sherlock with an innocent smile, "So, how'd I do?" Sherlock made eye contact with you for a moment before looking away, "Better than expected, but you missed a couple of things." You leaned closer to Sherlock, the smirk never leaving your face as you said, "Alright, impress me, Detective."

Sherlock's smirk grew at your words as he loved impressing people, and for whatever reason, definitely wanted the opportunity to impress you. "If you look closely at the picture, you'll see that there are two people missing from the photo, which means that he also lost another child, maybe before his wife died or maybe they both died in an accident. Also, you missed the fact that he is an alcoholic," Sherlock stated, locking eye contact with you the entire time.

Your smirk grew into a smile. "Impressed?" Sherlock asked, your expression mirrored in his. "Very," you replied. John looked between the two of you as if he was trying to do his own deduction of something.

A couple of moments later, the taxi came to a stop and Sherlock paid the driver before the three of you climbed out. After getting dressed appropriately, Sherlock led you and John into the crime scene room. "Who are they?" a man with grey hair asked. "They're with me," Sherlock replied. "Yes, but who are they?" the man asked again.

You smiled politely and said, "My name's Y/N." The man returned the smile and replied, "Detective Inspector Lestrade." You nodded your head and told him, "That's John. I hope you're okay with us coming to help. We don't mean to intrude," you stated, working your charm on him.

"Of course, please just be quick," Lestrade told you. You nodded your head and examined the body alongside Sherlock. The woman had scratched a note into the floor minutes before her death. The letters spelled out "RACHE". The clear assumption would be that she was trying to say "Revenge" in German, But, judging by the fact that she is from Cardiff, traveling to London for a short period of time, it's obvious that she was instead trying to spell out a name -- Rachel.

As the wheels in your mind turned, you were completely oblivious to the fact that Sherlock was watching you, noticing all the little quirks you subconsciously do when you are focusing. Sherlock found it adorable but quickly focused on the job. When you were done you locked eyes with Sherlock.

"Where's the suitcase?" you asked him and he responded with a smirk. "Exactly," Sherlock replied. "Got anything?" Lestrade asked. "Not much," Sherlock downplayed with a smirk. "She's German. Rache, it's German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something," a man pointed out. Already he seemed annoying.

"Yes, thank you for your input," Sherlock replied, shutting the door on the guys face, making you chuckle. "So she's German?" Lestrade asked. "Of course not," you replied. "She is from out of town though," Sherlock chimed in as he began explaining everything that you and he already noticed. You looked around the room for the suitcase and once Sherlock was finished, you turned your attention to Lestrade.

You gave him your most charming smile, which Sherlock seemed to disapprove of, as you asked, "Hey Lestrade, you wouldn't happen to know where her suitcase is, would you?" He smiled back and asked, "Suitcase?" "Yes, where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock snapped, crouching back down to look at the body.

"There wasn't a case," Lestrade stated and realization immediately hit you. Sherlock rushed out of the room and asked, "Suitcase? Did anyone find a suitcase?" "Sherlock! There wasn't a case!" Lestrade restated. Sherlock then became a jumbled mess of fragmented sentences and thoughts before he rushed out of the building.

John followed after him, disappearing a couple of minutes later as well. "Well, I guess I'll find my own cab," you stated. "Before you do, you could stick around and help," the man from before stated. "I'm Anderson," he said with a smile. '

"Y/N," you replied, shaking his hand. "I really should get going though," you stated. Anderson sent you his most charming smirk which you found more than annoying but you figured there was no harm in making sure you didn't miss anything so you stuck around for a little bit before returning to 221B.

When you made your way into the flat, you noticed that both Sherlock and John were there. "Where have you been?" Sherlock asked. "I was with Anderson," you replied, causing Sherlock to focus all his attention on you.

"Why?" he asked skeptically. "Because he wanted me to stay and look at the crime scene," you explained, noticing the look Sherlock gave you. You decided to tease him and said, "What? Are you jealous?" Sherlock scoffed and quickly covered himself by saying, "No, impatient actually. I found the case. The murderer still has her phone so I texted him a meeting location and John and I have been waiting for you."

"Well, Sherlock, patience is a virtue," you told him with a smirk before stating, "But, I'm here now, so let's go. You led the boys out of 221B and Sherlock led the way to the location he told the killer to meet him at.