Guys...I'm back!

So I have good new and some...well, not bad news, but news. I was able to get a lot of chapters done through my little hiatus however, i was not able to get all the chapters done. I was able to get up to chapter 15 :S which in retrospect to my schedule, stress, and my recent completion of my finals...is a lot. So I got chapters done! But the news doesn't really stop there...I will be getting my wisdom teeth taken out very soon (tomorrow actually) and I want to update all the revised chapters no. Because, I don't really trust myself with my laptop and my phone. So I will not be writing and updating for the next few days until I feel like I am back to my normal self...so for the time being...so enjoy, review, favorite, and follow the new and revised version of The Great Fairy Detective!

Preface: The Deal

When I was growing up, there were two things I have always wanted to be; a teacher or a detective.

My decision was made a long time ago. It was when my family and I visited my Great-Uncle Sherlock Holmes…

I remember the day as if it was yesterday.

…

At the time I was nine years of age. I had crazy blue hair that went every which way, big hazel eyes, and I was short for my age.

When my family and I went to visit my great-uncle, I was wearing a short sleeve light peach colored dress that ended just past my knees and I wore black buckled shoes.

"Are we almost there?" I whined in the back of the car.

My mother sighed and replied with a hint of annoyance, "For the fifth time…no,"

I pouted; puffing my cheeks out, folded my arms over my chest, and I leaned my body to the left a bit so that my head was lightly touching the car door.

After a few seconds of bumpy gravel roads, the car hit a large pothole and the momentum caused me to painfully hit my head on the car door.

My first reaction was to pull myself away from the door.

I then placed one of my small hands on the source of the impact.

'That really hurt,' I thought as a small tear escaped from one of my eyes. I slowly and lightly rubbed my head to dull out the pain.

After a few seconds of rubbing my head the pain begun to subside, I took my hand off of my head.

"What is my great-uncle name?" I asked as I leaned forward so my parents could hear me better. Being that the engine was quite loud and that I have a soft and cheerful voice that could easily be drown out.

My mother turned her head to face me and gave me a smile.

The woman had long silky blue hair that was pulled in a tight bun. She had light brown eyes, light pink lips, and fair skin.

On occasion, though very rarely, she would let her hair down and reveal her long wavy hair that ended at the middle of her back. However, she always wore a dress no matter the season or occasion.

"He's name is Sherlock sweetie," My mother smiled a little bigger.

I gave a slight frown, "That sounds familiar," I thought out loud.

"I should be," my father said turning her head to see me. I scooted up a little, so that I was barely sitting on the car seat.

My father had light brown hair with strands of red; he too had light brown eyes, however, his eyes had a tint of dark green, had fair skin, and light brown freckles that decorated his nose and cheeks.

"He is The Great Sherlock Holmes!" my father said excitedly.

"Dear!" My mother shouted loudly, "Pay attention to the road!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Bean Chéile," my father said as he turned his attention back to the gravel road.

My mother sighed as she lightly face palmed herself.

After a few seconds of silence, I fell back into my seat. The car continued on, going over the bumpy road and the occasional potholes. I had to lean back a little further to stay in place due to my small size.

There have been rumors floating around, that because I was short for my age was because I did not play outside like the other children. Though I have tried to play with the other children in my area, but they never let me play with them.

I got so sick of the mistreatment; I moved myself indoors and spent much of my time reading books in my free time.

However, despite my short size, I am smart for my age.

I folded my arms again but this time, I closed my eyes, and took a sharp breath out of my nose.

What caught my attention was a soft 'thud'. I looked on the floor of the car and saw that one of my books had landed on the floor.

I sighed in mild frustration and scooted my way until I was within an arm's reach. Slowly I bent down to grab my book; however as soon as I did so, the car hit a large pothole. The bump caused me to fly about a foot to a foot and a half in the air, and then I landed awkwardly back down on the car.

My upper body was on the floor of the car, while my legs sat awkwardly on the car seat.

I blew some hair out of my face and slowly lifted from the floor however, I did not succeed. So then tried to shift my legs to the floor of the car, that way I was laying on the floor. Then, I crawled my way up from the floor and sat back on the car seat.

Once I was seated and I had my book in my hand, I gave a sigh of relief. Being I was a little short then everyone else it made my life a little more difficult than most people.

"Dear, we need to hurry," My mother said as she pulled out her pocket watch from her purse.

"What time is it?" He asked turning to face my mother and formed a slight frown on his face.

"It is 11:45" My mother noted.

"And he's expecting us at noon?" My father asked raising an eyebrow

"On the dot," My mother sighed.

My father gave an exhale and increased the speed of the car. The acceleration caused the soft bumps to feel like tremors. It caused me to slowly slide off the seat and back on the floor of the car.

I scooted myself to the far right, trying to trap myself so that I did not fall off the car seat again. As an extra precaution, I placed one of my hands on the car door handle and formed a tight grip on it.

Finally the name Sherlock finally clicked, "Isn't Sherlock one of the best detectives?!" I asked my parents in excitement.

My mother turned her head to face me, smiled, and nodded.

"It took you long enough," my father teased.

I became extremely excited, I was going to meet a famous detective and he was a family member.

'I'm going to meet the Great Sherlock Holmes!' I smiled at the thought.

Excitement, a lot of excitement filled up my small nine year old body. It was actually hard to contain myself. I had to do something to distract or contain it somehow.

So, I stretched my head as far as I could so that I could see outside the car window. I saw the deep green country grass. There the livestock and not far in the distance there was a large body of water.

'Wow,' I thought as I pressed my forehead against the glass.

"That's the Irish Sea," My father said.

I looked away from the scenery for a moment to stare at the back of my father's head.

"I know and just beyond that is Ireland!" I chirped

"Right you are lass!" My father said with a slight Irish accent.

"Aren't you from Ireland da?' I asked

"Yes,"

"Do you miss home?" I asked tilting my head a little.

"Yes and no," He replied.

I frowned slightly

"What do you mean by that?" I asked as I tilted my head slightly

"I do miss me gaeilge, but there is a sayin'," my father began as he took one of his hands off the stirring wheel and placed it over my mother's hand.

"Home…is where the heart is…"

My mother giggled a little and slowly turned her hand so that she and my father were holding hands.

I smiled at the saying, 'Home is where the heart is…'

We fell into a peaceful silence until my mother broke the silence.

"Dear…we only have four minutes left," My mother said with a slight panic in her voice.

"No worries Bean Chéile, I can see the gaeilge,"

"You can?" My mother asked blinking a few times.

"I got the McGarden eyes," My father said with a triumphant smile.

I moved forward so that I was barely sitting on the car seat so that I could see the road in front of the car.

"I don't see anything," I said with a slight frown.

"You got to try harder lass,"

I squinted my eyes a little and it caused my face to contort due to the effort.

"I still can't," I said as I relaxed my face.

"Ah, ya have Bean Chéile's eyes then," my father sighed with slight disappointment.

A small sweat drop appeared on the side of my mother's head.

"What does that mean?" my mother asked.

"Well, before I met ya, I was keepin' a close eye on ya," my father explained.

"So you were stocking me in the distance?" My mother raised an eyebrow.

There was an awkward silence.

"…Well," My father trailed off.

"How long?" My mother asked as she took her hand away and folded her arms over her chest.

My father didn't answer.

"Well?" My mother asked as she started to get angrier.

My father sighed, "A week,"

"A week?!" My mother asked shocked, "Why were you-"

"Bump!" My father interrupted as the car hit a pothole.

"You're changing the subject," My mother snapped.

The car made a sharp left turn. It caused me to slide to the very far right of the car. Then we suddenly stopped, causing me to jerk and almost toppling forward to the floor again.

"We're here!" My father said as he parked the car and looked at my mother and me. He had a forced smile. I was quite sure that my mother and I were giving my father slight glares for the sudden turn and stopping so suddenly.

"We'll talk about this later mister," My mother growled as she pointed at my father. Then she turned her attention to the door and opened it. She stepped out of the car and closed the door forcefully behind her.

"Ready to meet your Great-Uncle?" My father asked me.

"I'm excited but I'm also nervous," I admitted.

"That's good," my father smiled as he turned to face me better and gave me a small nod.

I frowned a little, "why do you say that?"

"Being nervous means you're alive,"

The driver's car door opened, "Are you two going to sit in the car all day?" my mother huffed.

"Alright, come on lass, let's go see the old man," my father said as he stepped out of the car.

"Okay da," I replied as I turned to the door and opened it.

I took a step onto the foot bar and jumped about two to two and half feet, landing on the gravel drive way.

"You ready lassie?" my dad asked as he closed the car door I just jumped out off.

My father extended his hand to me.

I reached my arm as far as I could. His large hand engulfed my own. Then we made our way around the car.

I was able to get a full view of Sherlock's gaff. It was a small English country dwelling. The roof had a dark brown shingles and on one of the sides, a chimney stuck out. At the front of the house, there was a large dark brown door in the middle and two windows on either side, and light brown stones that littered the outside of the house.

It was almost symmetrical looking aside from the chimney.

My mother stood near the door, there was a small smile on her face.

My father and I made our way to my mother and I stopped just a few feet away from her.

"Ready?" My mother asked.

I gave a hesitant nod.

The three of us took a few more steps towards the door.

I stood in the middle of my parents. My mother stood to the right of me and my father was to the left of me.

My mother took a couple steps forward and grabbed the wrought iron knocker and hit it somewhat forcefully hit the wooden door.

After a few seconds later, I could hear loud footsteps on the other side.

The door quickly opened to reveal a tall old man with an old outfit and a wrinkly face. The old man had a distinctive face. He had a large bird like nose, big bushy eyebrows, and slight scowl that made him look like he was going to pull a gun on you at any moment.

I slowly moved behind my father to hide from my scary looking man.

"Is she your bugger?" the man asked.

"Yes," my mother nodded, "This is my daughter, Levy Elizabeth Moore."

"Is that so?" The man asked

I slowly poked my head to see the strange man

"Stand in front of me, bugger," the man ordered.

I looked at my father and then my mother, both of my parents nodded.

I slowly walked a few steps away from my father and I stood about two feet away from the man.

The man looked down at me.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked.

"Are you not The Great Sherlock Holmes?"

The man smiled, "Indeed I am,"

I smiled a little and nodded.

"Your mum told me you like to read,"

I could feel one of my eyebrows rise a little, but I did not reply.

"And I have a room full of books," Sherlock said as he pointed in the house.

"Uncle," my mother said, "You'll never be able to get rid of her,"

"Oh, pish posh," Sherlock said waving his hand, "She has a mind, so you might as well feed it,"

"That we do," My father said in an English accent, "but we can't keep up with it,"

Sherlock chuckled, "Alright, bugger, I'll make you a deal, you can borrow as many as you want, if you come visit me."

'He's willing to let me borrow his book collection?!'

"L-Levy dear?" My mother asked.

I did not reply my mouth did not seem to work.

"Holmes…I think you broke my daughter," my father said jokingly.

I was not sure what to do, 'I know I wanted to do, I want to thank him…but how?! Do I hug, do I cry, do I just say 'thank you'?'

Then for some reason, I went and hugged the man.

Sherlock chuckled, my father laughed loudly, and my mother giggled.

"Apparently she is a happy little bugger," Sherlock smiled.

I hugged his legs a little tighter, almost thanking him more.

"Now, why don't you come inside," Sherlock offered.

I looked up at great-uncle and nodded.

Sherlock stepped aside so the three of us could enter his home.

To my surprise, when we walked in, the house was a complete mess. Clothes were on the floor, bullet holes on the ceiling and walls, furniture was scattered haphazardly, and worst of all…books lay scattered all over the place.

"Uncle!" My mother shrieked, "You can't live in this mess!"

Sherlock said raising an eyebrow, "But it is clean,"

I'm quite sure that everyone was looking at Sherlock strangely. Then my mother in response puffed her cheeks and pouted in frustration.

"You young lad," Sherlock said talking to my father, "You're not from around her,"

My mother stopped pouting and turned angry. "Uncle," my mother hissed at Sherlock, "you promised,"

"Oh dear Annabell, I'm merely observing," Sherlock said innocently.

"And that's where you get yourself into trouble," my mother pointed out.

"Are you Irish?" Sherlock asked my father; completely ignoring my mother and continuing to ask my father.

"Uncle!" My mother ranted, "Stop it!"

My father stiffened slightly at the comment, but did not reply. He merely stood there, waiting to be questioned.

"For one," Sherlock began, being that my father did not say yes or no to my great-uncle, "You're hair is a light brown with red accents, you have freckles all over your face, you have a poor English accent, and most telling of all…you recently drank,"

"Shut up!" My mother screamed at the top of her lungs.

We all turned to my mother.

By this point, my mother was so frustrated that some tears were escaping her eyes and the room fell into a heavy silence.

"Please stop," my mother hiccupped.

"I-I'm sorry," Sherlock stuttered, "I-I just got carried away,"

"You should be," my mother spat.

"You very well know about the conflicts with Ireland and England," My father said sternly in his Irish accent.

"I do," Sherlock nodded, "And you're setting your daughter up for failure,"

The statement, claiming that I was going to fail, broke me internally and it caused me to burst into tears.

"Look what you have done!" my mother spat at Sherlock.

"You crossed the line," my father hissed

My father slowly formed fists, ready to send fists at Sherlock. As for my mother, she was ready to scream her head off.

"It is not my fault that you are Irish, they are the ones that are apposed of the queen," Sherlock said raising his voice slightly.

"You forced the queen, labor, and religion on us!" my father snapped.

"I-I'll prove you wrong!" I yelled, gathering all attention on me, "I'll become a better detective than you ever were!"

"But you're a lady," Sherlock said countering.

"Ah," my father said with a cocky smile, "but she's a lass with Irish blood and her mother's temper,"

"That doesn't prove anything," Sherlock frowned not seeing how any of those things could benefit me.

"Yes is does," I hissed.

Sherlock and I glared at each other, neither of us wanted look away.

"Very well, I'll take your wager, if you can become a better detective, you may have all of my books," Sherlock smiled.

'What?'

"But, if cannot," Sherlock began, "give up and be a lady,"

My heart sank, either I do the deal and get all of his books or I become nothing at all.

"Oi, lass, you don't have to make a deal with him," my father said hoarsely. "We can always buy you more books,"

"He's right," my mother began, "They have gotten-"

"I'll do it," I said loudly.

"L-Levy?!" My mother shrieked.

"Mum, I can do this," I said as a fire lit behind my eyes.

My mother starred at me for a moment, sighed, and a small smile escaped her lips, "You are certainly our daughter,"

I gave a small smile in the direction of my mother and I turned my attention back to my great-uncle. He was still looking at me. He had a serious facial expression and his eyes looked cold and set.

'I have to do this,'

I took a deep breath and slowly, I extended my hand.

Sherlock looked at my hand for a moment and he too extended his hand.

"I, Sherlock Holmes, wager…"

"You wager," I cut off Sherlock Holmes, "Levy Elizabeth McGarden," I said firmly and a bit loudly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, almost examining me, then he nodded and then he let go of my hand.

"Come on Levy, we should get going," My mother said with a stern tone in her voice.

I did not move for a moment but then I let go of my great-uncle's hand and the three of us left the house and made our way back home.

My family and I never did visit my Great-Uncle Sherlock Holmes again. One being that the man lived so far away from us…however, that was not the only reason. A few years after we have visited him, The Great Detective had passed away.

Not many people showed up to his wake or his funeral.

When it was about time for us to leave, someone had called my name.

"Yes?" I asked as I turned my head in the direction of the

"Are you Ms. Levy Elizabeth Moore?" the man asked.

I nodded, "Yes, may I ask why?"

"Your name was written in Holmes' will,"

My father, mother, and I gave a questionable look at the man.

"What do you mean?" my mother asked, asking the man

The man handed me the paper and I quickly read it.

I was surprised and slightly shocked.

"I-I own all of my great-uncle's books?" I asked looking up at the man.

The man nodded.

"What about the deal?" I asked confused.

"What deal?"

"I made a deal with my great-uncle about his books,"

The man gave a slight confused frown, "He never mentioned anything of the sort,"

The three of us clearly remember the deal I made with my great-uncle.

So why is he giving me his book collection, when he clearly knows that I have not completed the deal between us?

So many questions began to bombard.

I looked back at the paper and I slowly and angrily wrinkled the paper in my hand.

I gave a harsh, "Fine,"

The man was a little concerned and worried. Most people would be honored to have book collection. However, I had made a deal with Sherlock Holmes and there was nothing I could do because he had passed away. Finally, I nodded and gave me a small slip of paper, "The city of London will hold onto the books until you claim them,"

I took the paper and frowned a little more, "London? May I ask why the city of London?" I asked

"Well, being that Sherlock used to work on Baker Street in London and that the man is famous for his great detective work,"

I began to get frustrated, "That still does not answer my question, why in London," I hissed.

"The London police want to make sure that you get the books."

I clenched my teeth and then stared at the paper.

'This was not part of the deal,' I thought darkly.

There was not much change when it came to this chapter...it pretty much stayed the same...on to the next chapter!

Reviews and Comments:

Deathslayer Night, yeah, I have heard of the summary of that movie. Surprisingly it is very similar, but I have never watched that specific movie. I have heard of it and an old classmate of my from high school talked about it quite a bit in one of my classmates.

Varentena, I'm glad that you are looking forward to my version...I'm excited to write it and what you guys think of it as I continue.

Guest, I'm glad that you voted for a story...not many did (I wold have liked more...) but I just finished my first story, so it would make sense that mot very many people vote for future for grammatical errors, there are going to be a few and I will do my best to minimize it as much as possible. Writing is generally hard for me, specially essays. (they're not my friends) :S

KarmaDemon, D: I'm sorry, I am not familiar with languages. I only know English and some Spanish (I feel bad now T-T) so if I do use any Irish or Irish slang in the story, please do correct me. (there goes my trust in the internet) :P