Hello all! So this is the Sherlock and Criminal Minds crossover I've been slaving over for about a month. I have four chapters typed up and two more waiting for a type/edit. I'll update as frequently as I can. Or as often as I remember. I hope you enjoy!

When Dr. Spencer Reid walked into the office that day, he wasn't expecting what was to follow. Though there really wasn't any way that he could have known his next case would not only be highly unusual, but that he'd also be solving it on his own. Upon his arrival, Hotch immediately called him into his office.

"What's going on? " Asked Reid and Hotch closed the door as the younger agent sat down. Hotch followed suit.

"We've had two cases crop up, one in Newark, New Jersey. The other is a bit problematic."

"How so?"

"It's in London."

"As in England?"

"Yes, that's the problem. The case in London has to do with the British ambassador to America and Scotland Yard has asked for our help to close it."

"I thought they had a suspect in custody." Reid had heard a little about the case, but hadn't been following it closely as they'd been quite busy lately.

"They did, but the suspect has committed suicide. They want us to go to London in order to be absolutely sure." Hotch said. "We don't have it in the budget to send the entire team, so while we're in Newark, I'm sending you to London."

"What?" Reid squawked. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you're our expert on everything. And that's what they need." Hotch said. "Go home, pack for an extended stay, and don't forget your passport." He handed Reid a plane ticket. "Here, your flight leaves in three hours. If you need any information contact Garcia and she'll find it. Good luck."

And 24 hours later Reid was in an office in New Scotland Yard. It was Detective Inspector Lestrade's office to be more precise. He was tired, but he'd wanted to start right away so he refused Lestrade's offer to take him to his hotel. He felt a little weird since he'd had to leave his gun in America, and wasn't furnished one upon arrival. They didn't feel it was necessary for the young man to be armed, and Reid couldn't argue with them.

The door opened and Lestrade walked in, followed by two people Reid hadn't met yet. Lestrade was obviously older than either of them, but the man looked older than the woman. Both were annoyed but neither was openly hostile. Reid sensed they were going to be a major problem during this case.

Reid got to his feet and offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit." Neither the man nor the woman offered a hand, so Reid dropped his own. Lestrade however spoke up. "This is Sgt. Donovan, and Forensic Tech Anderson." Reid nodded, acknowledging them. This seemed to bolster them and it took a lot to keep him from rolling his eyes.

"So you're familiar with the case then?"

"Not the particulars, and in order to give an unbiased profile I'll be keeping it that way. I need the file on the case to start with."

"Yes of course, follow me." Lestrade led the way out of the office with Reid, Donovan and Anderson trailing behind. They arrived at a conference room and Reid was surprised to see it was filled with boxes. "This is everything we have on the crimes."

"Crimes? I thought this was about the kidnapping." Reid stated.

"We think now that it may be linked to previous cases," Lestrade said. Reid peaked in one of the boxes, and like the others it was full of case files. He'd never been more grateful that he could speed read.

"I'll start with a linkage analysis then." Reid determined. He went to the box marked with a number one and asked, "I take it this is the one you think it started with?"

"Yes, we believe so." Lestrade was relieved. He had a nagging doubt about this case, which was readily apparent, even to a stranger like Reid.

Reid sat down and opened the box, but he paused. "Uh… I'm going to need a lot of coffee. Is there a coffee pot nearby?"

"Coffee machine is in the lounge, down the hall first door on your right. Loo's down that way too." Lestrade said to him.

Reid frowned. "Loo?"

"The bathroom." Lestrade left the room, having other business to attend to.

Reid got to work; he got a notepad and pen out and as he started to read he could feel the other cops staring at him. Most of the time he ignored it but for some reason Donovan and Anderson rubbed him the wrong way. Their observation was unnerving and he was having difficulty concentrating.

When he'd had enough he put the file he was reading down and looked at the pair. "Can I help you with something?" Reid asked in an annoyed tone.

"Can you actually read that fast?" Donovan was looking at him incredulously when she asked him.

"Yes I can," said Reid.

"No one can read that fast," muttered Anderson, looking just as skeptical as Donovan.

"Well I do, and I have an eidetic memory on top of that so I'll have the entire file in my head."

Anderson snatched the file out of Reid's hand. "What's it say then?" This annoyed him further. Nothing bothered Reid more than when he was challenged by local law enforcement. It made him feel like a circus animal, forced to perform on the spot, and it was humiliating. He would humor local police somtimes but either they didn't acknowledge that such brain power was possible or they felt threatened by him. He had a feeling these two would be the latter.

"The file so far details a case of a serial poisoner; he used psychological persuasion to induce his victims to kill themselves. I believe the person responsible was more than likely a cab driver as each victim was in a set of circumstances where they would have needed a cab. This UNSUB decided to start killing because he felt underappreciated and had a large ego due to a high intellect, belied by a menial job. He wanted to prove he was smarter than everyone, even the police by doing this. And you can keep the file, I'm done with it."

Anderson was surprised to say the least, and he put the file down. "You got all that from this file?"

"Childs play for a profiler, it was fairly straight forward." Reid opened another file and started to read at his lightning quick pace.

"Just what are you a doctor of?" Donovan asked him.
"I have Ph. D's in mathematics, chemistry and engineering. I also have bachelor degrees in psychology, sociology and philosophy." He said. He didn't see why it mattered.

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not."

"Kinda young aren't you?"

"I graduated from high school when I was twelve."

Anderson looked at Donovan, and they left the room together, whispering as they went. Reid was relieved. While he was sure they were great officers, there was something about them he didn't like. He would have to ignore them if he was going to finish reading the first set of files before he needed a coffee refill.

And that was what Reid did. For nearly 12 hours he went through 56 different case files. It was a daunting task, even without Anderson or Donovan interrupting him. He'd requested a large white board where he'd been compiling different things that caught his attention.

When Lestrade came in to check on him at the end of the day, Reid was standing in front of the board and muttering to himself, his eyes darting across the information he'd written there. Lestrade asked, "Have you found anything yet?"

Reid nodded. "Most of these crimes aren't linked, with the exception of these ones on this side of the board." He waved his hand in that direction and there they were. The serial bombings, the three break ins when nothing had been taken, and the kidnapping of the ambassador's children.

"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course I am. See these crimes," he pointed at the other side of the board where many names were written, "They were all committed by different people. Some are the same personality types for certain, but they're all distinctly different culprits."

Lestrade looked at the board, checking some of the cases before turning his head back towards Reid, who continued. "These crimes were all committed by the same person. And if he wasn't the one doing it himself, he was the mastermind behind them."

Lestrade was frowning as he went over Reid's notes on the board. There were so many he wasn't sure where he should start. He left the room for a moment and came back with Donovan and Anderson, deciding to cut to the chase. "Agent Reid, I need you to tell them what you just told me."

Reid was confused, but he explained it again, and mentioned linkage analysis. Donovan asked, "What's linkage analysis?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Reid said. But at the blank looks on their faces he went into detail. "It's when you take a look at the crimes being committed and see if there are enough similarities to link them. Only these ones were similar."

"Are you absolutely certain?" She didn't believe him, of course.

"Yes, I am. These two groups are not related in any way."

"Can you profile the perpetrator of these crimes?" Asked Lestrade.

"Of course, I've already started."

"Wait, I'm confused," said Anderson. "What is it exactly that you're doing?"

Reid was getting irritated with these questions, and he wished that Hotch or Rossi were there to answer them. But so he wouldn't have to explain again later, he explained. "Profiling is taking the evidence and using it to make a psychological profile. Using the what and why to figure out the whom in essence. I stand in the UNSUB's shoes, try to get a feel for what he feels and once I have why he did it I can use that to figure out who he or she is."

"That's rubbish," said Donovan. "You can't do that, no one can!"

"You're not the first to doubt it but I assure you that it's true. It's not an exact science, but an art. I can, however, demonstrate." Reid knew his annoyance was showing in his tone, but he didn't want to keep wasting his time on these two. He needed Anderson and Donovan off of his back if he was going to close this case.

"Yeah all right," she agreed.

"I need a volunteer."

Donovan raised her hand. Reid looked at her and started talking. "You're preparing for an advancement which means you've probably cracked a big case recently. You admire your commanding officer but hate not being in charge so this will be a great relief for you. You'll take the promotion even if it means switching departments or moving. Oh, and when you do you plan on dumping Anderson and finding yourself a new boyfriend. My advice is date someone who isn't married.

"All of this comes down to power control issues. For most of your life you've been helpless or ignored; either because of your gender or ethnicity. But you're smart, strong and hard working so you feel you've been wronged. You're more successful than anyone would have thought and while this brings you comfort, it's not enough. I'd also say you have some rather serious intimacy issues because of it as Anderson is the latest in a string of boyfriends whom you can drop at a moment's notice without a feeling of guilt."

"What are you implying?" Donovan shouted, visibly upset.

"New clothes that are outside of your current means, new makeup style to accentuate your eyes and lips in a way you normally don't bother with. That indicates the promotion. Talking to you tipped me off about your psych issues. The devil is in the details and I'd rather not get into it at the moment." Reid demurred. He wasn't the least bit sorry for embarrassing her, though he knew if JJ or Garcia had heard him they would have been horrified and told him to apologize. As it was, Lestrade broke it up.

"I think perhaps you should call it a night Agent Reid, I'm sure you're tired."

Reid sighed. "I supposed. I'll be back tomorrow, bright and early." He grabbed his messenger bag and the note pad he'd been using and walked out of the conference room. Donovan and Anderson looked at Lestrade.

"You sure about him?" She asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Sounded an awful lot like him just then didn't he? How do we know he's not a fraud too?"

Lestrade shook his head; he didn't know what to think. But since Reid wasn't one of his officers, whether his intelligence was a fake or not wasn't his problem.

If Reid had known about it, he wouldn't have cared either way. When he got to his hotel room that night, it hit him how tired he was when he closed the door. He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He loosened his tie and crawled into bed with a yawn. He lay there, face down and still dressed, breathing deeply. Everything was calm… Until he heard his phone beep.

Reid groaned and rolled onto his back, taking his cell phone out of his pocket. He blinked at the message screen; he had a text message. He flipped over to it and sat up when he read it, curious as to its meaning.

'You're on the right track. Keep going.'

Okay and that's the end of the first chapter! Whew! Next one coming in one to two weeks.