A.N: You knew someone was going to write it! So why not me! Rachel is a 2010 detective from Australia, who finds herself transported to Baker Street with our favourite London detectives over 100 years in the past. Can a 21st century detective help a detective from the 1890's solve one of his trickiest cases? The date may have changed but The Games the Same!

Esme

If there was one thing Rachel Tortoni hated about being a policewoman, it was the hours she had to spend in the office filling out paperwork. One of the things that had first attracted her to the police was being out on the streets, being in the thick of the action. Spending her life behind a desk was one of the things she was trying to avoid by joining the force. During all her training at The Police Academy, they had studied many different skills needed to become a successful officer; oddly enough filing had never come up.

But Rachel knew she shouldn't be complaining. She had spent years trying to become a Senior Detective for the police. From the time she was a little kid there hadn't been anything else she'd wanted to do. And becoming a detective wasn't an easy thing to do either. But she had to admit, that working as a uniformed constable, spending her nights breaking up fights and arresting drunks, was a little more stimulating than spending hours poring over listening device transcripts.

When she often told people that she was a policewoman, their initial response was to laugh. Rachel could kind of see their point; she didn't exactly cut an imposing figure. She only stood at about 5'3 and her soft curly brown hair and large childlike brown eyes made her look more like a schoolgirl, than someone tough enough to deal with criminals on a daily basis. Her friend Sophie often said that back when she was a uniformed constable she looked like a kid on her way to a costume party.

But she had shown that despite her fragile looks she was tough enough to come through The Academy with flying colours, and years of hard work and skill had enabled her to climb her way up the ladder to becoming a Detective. Mercifully, a plain-clothed one.

By the time she finally made it back to her little Victorian terrace house in Melbourne, it was well past midnight. Lugging a box of files under one arm, and carrying a bag of groceries in the other hand, opening the front door proved a little bit of a task, but she finally got it open. The smell of goulash hit her in the face as soon as she walked in the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her roommate had obviously waited for her to come home before making dinner.

Sophie and Rachel had been friends ever since they were little, much to the bemusement of family. As they started to grow into young women it became more obvious just how different they were. While Rachel turned into a feminine and determined young woman, set on a career in law enforcement, Sophie became an unruly Goth, working as a tarot card reader at The Queen Victoria Market. Though outwardly they appeared completely dissimilar, they understood each perfectly.

"Finally home huh?" Sophie smiled over the saucepan, "Hows tricks?"

"Ugh", Rachel sighed, taking off her black business jacket, "I've spent half the day trying to convince some Bogan to grass on his boss. It's surprisingly hard for me to convince anyone to nark on anybody. Even when I am carrying a Smith and Wesson!"

"Maybe I should come with you," Sophie shrugged, "I convinced a young girl today her future lies in Bermuda!"

"How can you tell people things like that and give them false hope. It's so mean! You realise I could arrest you for fraud?" Rachel frowned.

"You wouldn't," Sophie smiled cheekily, "You love me too much. Anyway you can be as sceptical as you like but I really can work magic. I've been telling you for years!"

"Sophie darl, don't take this the wrong way, but you learned witchcraft out of a book you found at the library. If that book held real spells the librarian would look like Jessica Alba." Sophie frowned at her. Rachel just shrugged. "All I'm saying is I'll believe our power when I see it."

Rachel flopped down onto the sofa, stretching up her hands and rumpling the curls piled on top of her head. Glancing into the kitchenette, where Sophie stirred the goulash, she noticed that the light on the answering machine was flashing.

"Have you checked the messages yet?" She called out.

"No," Sophie said, "I just got in." Reluctantly Rachel hauled herself back onto her feet and padded over to the kitchen counter. There were 2 new messages.

"Sophie honey? This is your Mum. I need to know if you're going to your brother's 2nd wedding anniversary party? We need to finalise the seating arrangement. Let me know!"

"Ugh! I don't want to go to that thing!" Sophie pouted, "I hate that wife of his!" Rachel smiled and pressed for the second smiled.

"Guess who Tortoni? You've stuck your nose in for the last time. Keep your door locked bitch. Cause I'm coming for you."

The line went dead.

2 hours later the house was flooded with Rachel's friends. Usually when her friends from work came over to the house it was for a party. They didn't usually come armed with guns, or tapping the phone line.

Rachel sat on the couch staring into space. It wasn't like she'd never come face to face with danger personally before. She had been in hostage situations before. But never with someone who knew where she lived.

"OK, here's what we have," Rachel jumped a little as her boss, Senior Detective Sergent Alan Abbotsford sat down on the couch next to her. He was a tough, bull-headed old man who had been an officer for over 30 years. He may have appeared gruff and distant, but he was really a sweet old guy deep down.

"We've traced the call to a payphone in Malvern. Now there is no CCTV footage in that area, so all we can go on now are any of the suspects in any of your previous or current cases. So for the moment our only option is to put you into Wit Sec."

Rachel stared at him in shock. "Witness Security? I can't spend months holed up in some shack in the bush! What about my family? What about my job? What-"

"What about being alive? Rachel if you don't go in to Protective Custody, you won't be working anywhere. Or seeing your family." Rachel sighed, burying her head in her hands. Cautiously, Alan reached out and patted her awkwardly on the arm.

"Pack a bag. Senior Detective Andrews will be driving you to a safe location."

Rachel tried to move quickly, but her mind was in too much of a whirl. She had put people into protective custody before, but it was so strange to be on the other end of it. What did she pack? Where was she going? When could she come back?

Eventually she managed to get herself into the car, clutching at the handle of her suitcase, and looking out of the car window, at the dark, raining world whizzing by, trying to think, Senior Detective Daniel Andrews at the wheel.

"Why are you wearing your weapons belt?" He asked after a moment. Rachel glanced down to her waist where her old weapons belt was, with her gun; baton, mace, handcuffs and all were attached. It was the first thing she had done when her boss had told her to pack.

"It makes me feel safer." She muttered, packing some more clothes into a suitcase.

Rachel heaved a sigh, staring out of the window and trying to make sense of it all.

"It'll all be OK Rachel.' Daniel said, "We'll find out who this guy is, don't you worry."

"But when? You know there are people who've been in Protective Custody for years?"

"We'll find him. Don't worry."

Rachel lapsed back into silence and stared back out the window. She couldn't get her thoughts to settle. There was so much going through it. Coming home at night and watching TV with Sophie, going round to her parents. Going out for drinks after works. It all seemed so foreign to her, as though it had happened in a previous life. What would her life be now? Where would she work? Where would she live? Who would her friends be? Who would her new friends know her as? It all swirled around in her head, confusing, frightening. It was all too much. It couldn't be real. It wasn't real.

Suddenly she was jolted from her thoughts as the car horn blasted and the car swerved.

"What the hell is going on?" She gasped, clutching at the dashboard.

"We're being followed." Daniel gushed. He violently swerved, trying to lose the car behind them. But they followed. Rachel gripped hold of her seatbelt, the only coherent though being that they had come to get her.

"Well, that didn't take long." She muttered.

'"We're not done yet." Daniel aid. The car began to gain speed. The country began to blur, reduced to a wet, shining strip of road in front of them and blurred gumtrees.

Slowly but surely, the car behind them began to disappear, just as another car appeared in front of them. The brakes crunched, the car skidded. But it didn't stop quick enough.

The 2 cars collided in a shower of metal and glass. Rachel clutched hold of her bag, as her head hit the dashboard and the world began to fade. The last coherent thought she had was that maybe, dying this way was quicker than being hunted.

A.N: OK so this wasn't the greatest chapter but I just had to explain how everything began. They're almost always boring to read and write aren't they? Anyway, I crave reviews, both complimentary and critical (FYI, critical is NOT the same as flames!) Next chapter tomorrow! And keep your eye out for your favourite Detective!

BTW, as an Australian, I know a bit about The Victoria Police, and researched the rest, from Rachel's rank, to the kind of wepaons they carry. So that's all pretty accurate.

So please stick with me because I promise the next chapter will be much better!

Esme