My First Sherlock Holmes Fic, but by no means my first Fic. I hope you enjoy, Tell me if it's crap.

RAMPANT PLOT BUNNY!

Chapter 1: Meeting the Master

During my most desperate hour, I was mildly surprised to find that, of those who came to help me, my mother and my dearest friend weren't among them. I say mildly because my dearest friend, Mary, was in position to help, being my maid and my mother only made things so much worse. Oh…Excuse me, Let me introduce myself. My name is Kessandra Masterson, first born daughter and only child of the Duchess of Berwick.

What could have happened to me that was so horrible that I feel the need to put it on paper? Well, It's not so much The Incident, I feel I need to tell, but what happened after. You see this is the story of how I came to the acquaintance of one, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

So on with the actual story…I feel I have to explain what happened first in order to make sense of what came of it.

It was, I believe, the middle of February, when the incident occurred. I had decided, to relieve the monotony of the tail end of winter in London, to visit my friend Emily where she was staying at her little manor in Sussex. I stay for a week and, by the time I returned to London, I was in much better spirits. Also by the time I returned, I found the whole of London Society in a twist at my 'scandalous' action. I was completely baffled by the half-whispered, half-complete gossip. When I arrived home, I had planned to ask Mary about it and, if she was as in the dark as I, my mother. These plans, however, never came to be. For upon my arrival home, I found my mother in such a state of fury, that I would have been worried after her health, if the anger had not have directed at me.

"Kessandra Masterson! How dare you set foot in this house after your behavior of the past week!" The Duchess of Berwick, shrieked at me.

I stood and gaped at her. "What behavior?"

"WHAT BEHAVIOR? What behavior? How dare you! After….After spending A WEEK, a week with that, that man at his manor! I should very well through you out! I should disown you after such behavior?"

Again, I simply stood there for a minute, and then shut my mouth, pulled my self up to my full height, which is at least four inches over my mothers. "Mother! What on earth are you talking about? I have spent the last week with Emily in Sussex! Whom would I have been staying with?"

"That Man! That Earl, What is his name, Theodore!"

"Teddy?" I asked with much incredulity. "Why on earth would I want to spend a week with Teddy for? That's absurd!"

"Teddy! Have you no shame?" Her eyes blazed. She really was a most terrifying site to behold. "Get out of my sight! Now! And I want you out of this house as soon as possible." She turned on her heel and staked out of the room.

I stood in her wake utterly aghast. How could she treat her only child that way? Looking back, I understand only a little better then I didn't then. She had, five years previous, lost a son in a most shameful scandal. My younger brother, Paris, fell in love with a married woman. It was quite ironic really; he followed his namesake quite well until the husband found out about the affair. He killed Paris in a fit of rage. It broke my mother's heart, and brought shame to the family. I suppose she didn't want anything like that to happen in the family again, so she didn't even listen to reason. Teddy was no help at all. After going up to my room and packing three of my simplest dresses (one of which I borrow from Mary and neglected to give back), I left the house immediately, in said dress, after saying goodbye to Mary.

I went straight to the telegraph office and wired Teddy to help explain to my mother. I never received an answer to the message, although I am told it was open and read. I knew what I was going to do. I had been dying to get away from the house permanently, but I couldn't before this. It was proper for the daughter of a duchess to work for a living, but now I could. I was going to get a job as a maid, until I made enough money to go to the continent or America. I had a few pounds in my pocket so a used a few coins to buy a copy of the Strand Magazine. I flipped through it while collecting my thoughts and my eyes fell upon a story. Not just any story, but a Watson narrative about my hero, Sherlock Holmes. An idea struck me as if a light bulb went off in my head.

I rose from the bench I had been sitting on and pushed my way down the street. I was going to see if the man Watson chronicled through Conan Doyle was real and, if he was, to see if he was as magnificent as they made him out to be. My feet had brought me through my musings to the door of 221B Baker Street. I mustered up all my nerve and knocked upon the door.

It was open by a motherly looking woman, a little plump and very kindly looking. She smiled at me. " Yes, m'dear? What can I do for ye?"

I smiled back. "Mrs. Hudson, I surmise. I was wondering if you need a maid, because I need a job." I had already decided to be frank with her.

"Well, I won't rightly know, until you come in and tell me what ye can do." She stepped aside and I followed her the kitchen in the back of the house.

This was followed by a long chat about my qualifications. During which, I sent a silent thank you to Mary, who had at my insistence taught me the preliminaries of housework. Otherwise, I would have been completely lost and useless. Mrs. Hudson seemed to think I would be sufficiently useful and said I could have the job. She showed me the little, very little bedroom off the kitchen where I would sleep. I put my bag down on the bed and sunk down signing in relief.

I went out into the kitchen and asked what my duties would be. She gave me a cap and apron and led the way out of the kitchen. She showed me, miracle of miracles, up to what could only be Sherlock Holmes' study. Outwardly, I gave no sign of recognition, but inwardly I was in heaven. She told me what I was to clean and what shouldn't be touched. I wasn't to go near the chemistry table (which she called "The table wif the nasty smelly thin's on it" which I found quite amusing, since I had an area at home very similar). Nor was I to touch the mantle.

The room itself was exactly as Watson had described it. Down to the Persian slipper on the mantle, V.R. made of bullet holes in the wall, and the haphazardly strewn papers. The mail was fixed to the mantle with a knife and the bookshelves were dusty.

"He doesn't like people pokin' about. And I'm so busy with the rest of the house I've no time to clean in 'ere as well, so this'll be your prime responsibility." She looked up at me and I smiled.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson."

"Do you like being called by you' full name or do ye have a nickname?" She asked suddenly.

"Well, You can call me Kessie, if you like."

It was just about this time when the door downstairs slammed, which was followed by heavy tread on the stairs and the appearance of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and the honorable Dr. John Watson.

Mrs. Hudson smiled. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, I'd like ye to meet Kessandra, the new maid."

The taller, thinner figure, which was undoubtedly Holmes, raised an eyebrow at my name.

I smiled and said, innocently. "Yes, sir."

This caused both eyebrows to be raised. "Yes, sir, what?" He inquired in the unmistakable drawl of the overly educated English gentleman, which I am so accustomed to. His voice however was slightly different, it was biting to be sure, but the very low under current of amusement made his voice pleasant to the ear, rather then harsh.

"Yes, sir, I was name after the Trojan Cassandra, though my mother changed the spelling slightly."

"How did you know, might I ask, that that is what I was thinking?"

"I should think it obvious, sir. You are well educated, as you voice shows, so naturally you would know the tale of Cassandra the Seer. The raised eyebrow and slightly skeptically look you adopted when you heard my name, tells me you were wonder if she is who I was name after, for you assumed, I am sure, that was not educated for I show no outwards signs of education. I have no ink marks upon my hands, I do not wear glasses, and I carry with me no objects which could be analyzed for such information."

Holmes' eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline and Watson gaped at me. Then Holmes chuckled softly and nodded. "I shall keep that in mind."

Mrs. Hudson took me by the elbow and led me out. I smiled.