This takes place from about a week before The Great Game. I imagine her wearing the 11th Doctors pants and shoes. I also will not be incuding a picture of her. I think that you should use your imagination to see her. It makes it better that way :) I do not own anything Sherlock. The only thing I own is my character and storyline. I'm sorry if Sherlock isn't exactly the way he is on T.V. I try my best :) Oh and it's only PG-13 for some cussing but I'll bleep it out a bit.

(Third-person view: )

Sherlock sat in his chair, well, I say sat. He had draped himself over the armrests and was lazily dangling his head upside down facing the door. He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t moving; in fact he was barely breathing.  He was, per the usual imbetween cases, bored. John was summarizing their latest case on his blog. Sherlock of course was bothered by the constant clicking of the computer keys and shot up, leaning his back against the armrest.

“Do you have to do that now?” He whined.

“I would prefer to do it know, yes.” John replied, not stopping and not looking up.

“But is it required?”  Sherlock glared at his flatmate angrily. John sighed and looked at him. His hair was messy and all over his head and his robe was falling off one of his shoulders and he was still in his pyjamas. He was even pouting slightly. He sighed and saved his progress and shut down his laptop. “Thank you, John.” He said, his face returning to normal. John sighed and went into the kitchen, avoiding the most recent and revolting ‘experiment’ that Sherlock had started and made himself tea.

On the street a cab pulled up. A tall redhead stepped out of the cab. She wore a white button-up and dark trousers with some boots. Her coat was mid-thigh length and was open despite the cold. Her hair was long; about to her shoulder blades and an unbelievable ginger colour. She looked up to the window that belonged to 221b and smiled to herself. She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and went in.

(John’s POV: )

Sherlock had moved to the couch and had his head, again, dangling over the arm, staring at the door, which opened. A tall, beautiful female walked in with very vibrant ginger hair. She had a build much like Sherlock; tall, lean, and most likely strong. Her cheekbones were almost as impressive as his. Her skin was pale and flawless, except for a few freckles. Her eyes were the brightest green I had ever seen, and even though I was completely across the room, I could see them clearly. She had a very smug and knowing look on her face that I knew would annoy Sherlock. They looked very much the same. (except for the hair of course)

Sherlock sat up immediately and stared at her intently, looking her up and down to read her. She smiled sweetly.

 “Hello.” She said.

 “Eh... Hello.” I replied awkwardly.

 “John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, I presume?” She asked, looking behind her at Sherlock. The two seemed to have some tension between them before Sherlock said,

“Yes.”

 “Good. I apologize for the interruption but you seemed bored.” She said, facing me again. “The door was unlocked so I let myself in. Hope you don’t mind.” She added.

 “What do you want?” Sherlock asked rather rudely. I shot him a look.

 “That’s fine. Would you like anything?” I asked, smiling at her.

 “No, I’m fine thank you.” She said, sitting down in Sherlocks chair. He narrowed his eyes and scowled at her. She just smiled smugly at him then said, “I assume you know what I would like?”

 “No, actually. Do I know you?” He retorted, staring daggers at her.

 “No. I know you though. Between his blog,” She tilted her head towards me. “And your website, there is a lot of information. Not to mention the police files. You should be careful.” She explained. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I have a case for you. I know it will be easy but I have a feeling you will enjoy it. I would do it myself, but I have things to do.” She offered. I came out with a tray of tea anyway and set it down on the table. I offered her a cup and gave one to Sherlock. “No thank you. I prefer coffee.” I was surprised but put the cup back on the tray.

 “So what’s the case?” I asked her, taking a sip and sitting down across from her.

 “I’ll contact you from the location. You meet me there.” She instructed. Sherlock was offended.

 “Do you not think our building is secure?” He sneered.

 “No. Not at all. Also, they say I have to intrigue you.” She replied, giving him a raised eyebrow.

 “How do you know we will comply?” He tested.

 “Because you are intrigued.” She stated. She got up and left, saying goodbye and addressing me as ‘Doctor Watson’. Sherlock jumped up and ran into his bedroom, coming out in under two minutes dressed in his usual attire. He held his hand out for my phone and I gave it to him, taking another sip of my tea.

“Who was she?” I asked.

 “I don’t know. She is 24 years old and is at least half Scottish. She has a tattoo on her left wrist but was trying to hide it; kept pulling her sleeve down. She has the faintest trace of a limp on her right leg but I’m not sure why yet. She isn’t married, but possibly has a boyfriend. She keeps a ring on her second finger on her left hand. She is rich and has a big family.” He answered. I rolled my eyes to hide my amazement.

 “I thought you didn’t know.” I scoffed.

 “Well I don’t know her name.” He argued. He sat on the edge of the couch, his mind racing, waiting for a text. I smiled at his eagerness. My mobile finally buzzed and he jumped (literally jumped up) to get it. He read it and his eyes widened. He threw my mobile back to me and I read it.

 “National Antiquities Museum. Now. Art wing.” We grabbed our coats and rushed out.

 (Her POV: )

I left 221b and grabbed a cab. I already had my plan all worked out. The sociopath wouldn’t be able to say no. I smiled to myself. I read John’s update on his blog (the one he had put up not half an hour ago) as the cabby drove. I walked up the stairs at the museum and smiled. I loved this place. I came here as a kid and absolutely loved it. It made me sad and curious, and I didn’t know why I liked that feeling, but I did.

I slowly made my way to the Art Wing, then to the Van Gough section. I grinned. I pulled out my mobile and texted John my location. I wandered around, lingering at my favorites. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but as I was looking at the ever-famous Starry Night, Sherlock’s voice presented itself behind me.

 “This does not seem like a more secure place than my flat.” He complained. I smiled.

 “When you know how many bugs and cameras are there, yes it does.” I told him. We looked at another painting, neither one of us talking.

“It bothers me that not many people are here today. Saturday afternoon and no one can spend time here. No one takes time to appreciate anything anymore. A painting is a painting, a book is a book, and music is music. No one stops to listen, look or read and it frustrates me.” I said, looking around at the lack of people. I turned around to face the companions. John was looking at me like I was a genius and Sherlock was smirking at me.

 “It’s true.” the detective said. John’s eyes widened as he saw Sherlock and I next to each other.

 “Oh no…” John moaned. “You’re a mini-Sherlock aren’t you!?” He complained. I laughed and Sherlock frowned.

 “Why is that a bad thing?” He asked. John shook his head and closed his eyes.

 “Anyway! I want you two to deliver this.” I said, handing Sherlock a small silver briefcase. He looked at it like it was an infant who just spat up on him. He couldn’t reply. I forced the case into his arms and stood there with my arms crossed, glaring intently. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

 “Is that all? You couldn’t have possibly been that busy.” John asked.

 “It isn’t that simple. That case,” I pointed to it. “Has information in it that has everything the British Government  needs to be forgotten and erased. It has files, USB drives, disks, and many other information-holding devices that all have weaknesses, secrets, profiles on VIP’s, and weapon blueprints on/in them. Strategies, maps to secret tunnels under cities. It all needs to be destroyed. I wasn’t assigned this; my brother was, but he shoved it onto me. I do not have the resources to take it where it needs to go to be destroyed. I need someone I trust who can confirm the destruction of every single thing in there.” I told them. John looked at the case with panic. Sherlock shoved it onto John.

 “You’re lying.” He said.

 “'Scuse me?” I asked, offended.

 “You have plenty of resources. Your family is rich. Why do you trust us? How could we dispose of it any better than you?” Sherlock answered.

 “Your brother practically is the British Government. He can help. But do not let him look inside. He would use the information for his own benefit; a lot of people would, so it needs to be destroyed.” I repeated.

 “You wouldn’t want the information?” John asked, sizing up the case in his arms.

 “Please.” I scoffed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

 “How and where are we supposed to get rid of it?” Sherlock asked.

 “Destroy.” I corrected. That annoyed him. “You need to get to Venice. Take everything out, burn it (literally) put the ashes or whatever remains in the case, throw the case into a fire, get the remains, if it’s solid chop it up, and throw it into the deepest canal.” I instructed.

 “Bl**dy h*ll!” John exclaimed.

 “Not from me. Boss’ orders.” I shrugged.

 “Why did you say you thought I would enjoy it?” Sherlock asked, towering above me. I was tall, but not that tall. I didn’t back down at all, at which he was surprised. I didn’t know why he was attempting to be intimidating.

 “You’re Sherlock Holmes. You love destroying things.” I said innocently. He seemed offended and confused, which was very rare for him; I should know. John was surprised at my comment and Sherlocks reaction.

 “She-she’s right…” John stammered, thinking about what I had said. Sherlock didn’t complain or fight. He just returned to his cold, hard posture.

 “Very well. But you have to come with us.” Sherlock bargained.

 “I told you, I have things to attend to.” I fought.

 “I think we should know your name before we continue?” John asked, butting into our would-be fight. I looked at John, then back to Sherlock.

 “Alice. Alice White.” I introduced. Sherlock gave a small nod and John seemed satisfied. “I have a job. You know a proper job, where you can’t do whatever whenever.” I lied, shooting a look at Sherlock when I said proper.  He was getting angry, and I was having fun. “I would explain further, but you don’t need to know much about me. Point is, destroy it, I pay you, we walk away. Deal?” I concluded.

 “Pay?” John asked, perking up.

 “I know Mr. Holmes has plenty of funds, but I’m sure you would like some for yourself, right John?” I asked, smiling smugly at Sherlock, who was struggling to maintain his composed appearance.

 “That would be nice, Sherlock.” John said, looking at his friend intently.

 “Fine.” Sherlock spat. It wasn’t the mundane quality of the job that was pestering him; he was angry at me for teasing, insulting, and being the one that held the upper hand in the situation. He wasn’t used to being put in his place by anyone but Mycroft. I gave him my signature smirk.

 “Nice doing business with you.” I said, heading towards the door. Sherlock grabbed my coat collar. I snapped back towards him.

 “You’re coming with us.” He stated. We glared at each other for a long while, reading each other. He was determined and wasn’t going to budge, so I reluctantly agreed, trying not to show too much submission. Sherlock offered his left hand. My eyes narrowed and I gave him my right. He scowled and shook with his right hand. We began going out. John carried the case.

 “Don’t kill each other, yeah?” He groaned. I laughed.

 “Yeah.” Sherlock scoffed.

Yay Chapter 1!! Hope you like it! I'll update as soon as I can!