JO here...

Quick information before we get started:

I'm a huge fan of OCs falling into the Kuroshitsuji world and causing all sorts of predicaments. This story will be based mostly on the manga with a few anime episodes thrown in for funsies. I do plan on writing Season 2 (Alois is my love) for the sequel but that doesn't mean you you-know-who they won't make an appearance. Therefore, please enjoy and share your thoughts and review. It makes my world go round.

And if you haven't noticed, this chapter has been majorly edited. I do plan to edit the rest because I'm going crazy reading everything over and knowing you all had to suffer through this first. For that I apologize.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

1. Time Traveling Oven?

"I wish you would stop doing this," muttered Amanda in a miserable tone of voice.

Because she was my Best Friend since those awkward days in middle school, I merely smiled, ignoring her sullen mood as I continued to drag her down the deserted street with me.

I kept a deaf ear to her many complaints about why this was such a "bad idea" and why we shouldn't be "doing this" as I sensed us near our (well, to be honest, mostly my) destination. Normally, I would have heeded Amanda's pleas but not today. Why? There were several reasons actually. Two weeks prior, Amanda had kidnapped me from a very important case just so she could introduce to me one of those anime series' some of Amanda's other friends were crazy about.

Black Butler, it had been called in English, though its real name was Kuroshitsuji. Pronounced Kuro-shit-suji, not Kuro-something something (to be honest my tongue gets tangled in a lot of the Japanese). Anyhow, I had been quickly converted into the fandom, having been fed the anime and mangas in the span of two days. And to be honest, the series wasn't bad at all. LIKE AT ALL. In fact, it was the best thing in the world (well, almost the best. Sherlock Holmes would always be my first love). I just wished she hadn't gotten me addicted in the middle of solving a big local case-not that my help was needed by the police, but whatever!

"Oh my gosh! Like, please!" begged Amanda as she struggled uselessly out of my grasp. We both know that with my strength, she 'ain't getting anywhere. "I'm willing to give you my entire allowance if you let me go back to the hotel."

I stopped and faced her with a child-like smile. "Funny! That's what I said to you two weeks ago when you kidnapped me during that case of the missing sports car. Unfortunately you brutally shoved a churro into my mouth as you pressed the play button on the DVD player."

"But you enjoyed it! And you attacked me every time I paused the video. And you kept asking me for more churros after you had eaten the first one," Amanda defended, digging her high heels into the pavement. "Please just this once! Even though I don't approve of this, or any of your schemes, I really think you're taking this one too far. Just let the British police handle it. Please!"

I sighed as I continued walking, boots firmly colliding with cement as we made our way forward. Well, I didn't really blame her for protesting so seriously. After all, this time I was looking for a culprit in an unfamiliar city away from my beautiful yet stereotypical country I like to call America.

Oh, sorry! Where are my manners? Allow me introduce myself.

The name's Hero Sanders~!

I'm sixteen years old, a girl, Spanish though not sure which kind, and a fucking amazing Detective Extraordinaire! And no I do not exaggerate (well a little).

My passion had grown steadily, first captivated by the many Sherlock Holmes and Nancy Drew novels I had read as a child until I knew it would be my calling; the intensity finally bursting free when my current dad, Phil Sanders, who by the way is an official homicide detective working for the Miami Police Department, had decided to adopt me. I'll leave out the boring details of my rough and kind of confusing orphanage life before I met him, and tell you about my wonderful days growing up as a normal (sort of) teenage girl instead!

You see, because of my love for Sherlock Holmes (honestly it was the only English book the orphanage owned that wasn't Dr. Seuss or a Dictionary), I've become sort of an Anglophile (person who greatly admires English culture, or more broadly, British culture, as my good friend wiki says). Therefore count me in amongst the Brit lovers! In any case, because of that, my tenacious love for Black Butler increased to a scary degree (the delicious British refs kill me with feels oh my gosh), something my friend Amanda hadn't expected when she forced me to watch it at my house.

Currently, having skipped a grade in high school (to be honest I dunno how that happened, I'm like the stupidest person in my math class and English and history is wasted on my brain), I was on my junior year school trip in London and having the time of my life (not really to be honest and I'll tell you why in a bit). As soon as I had discovered we were coming here, I had shoved the permission slip into my father's face so fast the school bus didn't even have time to stop and open its doors before I was hurling myself out the window.

Of course, this sort of explains why I'm in London and not specifically the suspicious neighborhood I managed to locate myself in.

You see, the hotel my class was staying in had a run in with some thugs who stole some stuff. And by stuff, I mean luggage's, not to mention that one of those happened to be mine. Now it wouldn't be such a big deal if my passport wasn't in there. And I also wouldn't have bothered much if my Black Butler manga and DVDs and other stuff hadn't been tucked inside for safe keeping. So much for the Hotel's guarantee to safely transfer our luggage to our rooms. Now it was personal.

On a side note, I admit that at first I was a little iffy after Amanda forced the series down my throat, churro included. But the story really is great. Sebastian is scary/amazing and Ciel just gets to me, the little dumpling. Plus it's in England! Victorian times to boot!

Anywho!

After using my epic powers of deduction and detectiveness (my dad had installed a GPS device in my luggage in case it ever got lost in the airport; he was paranoid like that), I now know the exact whereabouts of those thieving thugs (or at least my stuff). I left a sticky note for the police back at the hotel, written in Spanish of course since I wanted a head start. That should have been enough but...I guess Amanda had a slight point. It would be dangerous continuing the rescue mission, considering the fact that we have no idea how hostile these criminals were and they were probably most likely armed.

I stopped walking and looked at her. "Do you have your phone?"

"Of course."

I smiled widely. "Then that's all we need! Don't fret~! Here comes Hero to the rescue! Wait up my little Black Butler merch!" I shouted to the heavens.

I adjusted my Sherlock Holmes hat-that's right, a genuine Holmes hat that costed me only five bucks online, shipping and handling not included-and pulled a panicky Amanda along. I wasn't too worried about my safety. Before I was adopted, the boys around my age at the orphanage would bully me to the point of tears. So I had the older boys teach me how to street fight (despite all of us living in a church). It was safe to say that I wasn't bullied after that.

When my dad adopted me at the tender age of ten, the first thing he had taught me (besides English) was how to use a gun (after all, you never know when some psychotic serial killer will come after you and your family) and had me enrolled in self-defense classes. And just for fun, I was even given several martial arts classes which I quickly mastered, much to my dad's surprise. Apparently, I had the strength of ten men, like legit. I dunno how but the nuns speculated and were undecided if I was blessed by God or cursed by the Devil. I prefer the former theory.

Anyways, Amanda and I had this special technique worked out whenever I get us into these sticky situations. She would hide and call for help while I would go out into the open and distract the enemy. It usually worked. Thankfully, the emergency distress signal chips embedded into our phones worked like a charm and we were always saved in the nick of time. Hopefully, the same would happen today.

I paused and pulled Amanda along with me into an alley when I saw three male figures exit an abandoned multiplex and enter their cars, laughing and talking in a Cockney accent. I stared at them until their cars disappeared around the corner of the street.

"I think they were it. I remember that bald guy with the red goatee walking across the lobby at the hotel," I murmured as I got out of the alley and headed toward the multiplex the men had just vacated. Behind me, Amanda whimpered.

"That's great, so can we call the police and wait for them to handle this?"

I snapped my fingers. "That's a great idea. Call them now while I check inside and try to locate the goods."

"Hero!" she hissed in frustration as I approached the building. Have I mentioned that my friends tend to think me the most dense girl in the history of the world? I opened my handy black and green plaid knapsack (the very one that I had since my days at the orphanage, not sure how I got it or who gave it to me but the details don't matter) and took out my leather gloves. The first part in being a sneaky Detective Extraordinaire was never leave your finger prints behind or the police will be all over you like ants on sugar. I jiggled the doorknob and wasn't surprised to find it locked. I looked over to the window next to the door and tried to lift it. No surprise that it was also locked.

"There see? We can't get in. Now let's go!" Amanda insisted, shifting from foot to foot, looking around to see if any other other shady characters appeared.

"Wait," I said, determination blazing in my eyes. "I can feel my precious darlings inside. I'm getting' in there come hell or high water!"

With that, I punched the window, my fist breaking through the grimy glass. Luckily, I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and the leather glove protected me from the sharp shards. I turned the lock and opened the window high. I grabbed the edge of the sill and lifted myself inside. Since the window was a little smaller than normal and my Hispanic blood genetically made my hips a little too big, I kind of got stuck. Thankfully, Amanda decided to suck it up and push me through.

I landed in a heap on the wooden floor and groaned, rubbing my head gingerly. I quickly got up, avoided the glass on the floor and opened the front door so Amanda could get in. She did so with an anxious look.

"Maybe we should leave," she said. "Those guys could come back and who knows what they'll do to us. I mean, they could kill us, rape us, or worse, sell us into the white slavery ring! And I can't have that, not when I have a photo shoot two weeks from now for the JC Penny fall catalog!"

I shook my head in amusement. My dear crazy preppy/anime otaku white girl; a combination that seems to puzzle everyone. I peered at her perfect appearance and couldn't help but feel a stab of mild longing when I noticed her patting her shiny blonde locks into a semblance of order. I usually didn't care about looks (no seriously, I sometimes make Amanda cry over my outfits), but whenever I stare at beautiful people I'm reminded of my own shortcomings.

Black hair that always curls even after I subject it to a flat iron (that's the Florida humidity at fault sadly), brown eyes and an olive skin tone quite commonly found in Miami, I looked as plain as a piece of wood. Since I'm Hispanic, I'm perpetually short (never seeming to budge from five foot one), I have slightly bigger hips than most girls, and worst of all, my bust looks like it wants to stay an A-cup.

Now, all that wouldn't be so bad if people would stop mistaking me for a boy!

Just because the lady at Super Cuts did a horrible job cutting my hair into a bob doesn't mean it looks that bad. Of course, Amanda likes to disagree. My wavy curly hair is now a messy chin length and I can only pray that it keeps growing faster so the guys at my dad's office would stop calling me "little man" and use lame hair jokes at my expense.

"Relax," I assured her, returning to reality as I wandered into the house, floorboards creaking under foot. "We'll be done with this before the next twenty minutes are up."

"Hopefully they won't come back so soon," Amanda muttered as she closed the front door with a handkerchief she procured from her pocket. Inside was pretty warm compared to the chilly weather outside. Of course the decorations around the place left much to be desired. Trash and debris littered the floor, dirt and grime were slathered along the wall, dust coated every available surface, what appeared to be rusted black stains (and we all know its blood) was sprinkled along the floor and the worn beat up furniture made me almost rethink the plan.

But when I wandered into the kitchen and spotted a crap load of stolen goods, all other thoughts flew quickly out the proverbial window. I squealed in happiness when I spotted my familiar red luggage bag.

"She's alive Amanda!" I said when I unzipped the bag.

"Hey! I found my Juicy Couture makeup bag. Score!" Amanda responded with a smile as she lifted the bag off the cracked counter littered with other purses and dead bugs. I checked inside the bottom part of my luggage and grinned when I found my precious cargo nestled deep inside my clothes.

"Freaking awesome. Now call the police Amanda. And be ready to bolt when you—"

"Hero look at this! It's yesterday's newspaper," said paper was quickly thrust into my face. I grabbed it and peered at the headlines carefully.

TRIBAND CAT BURGLARS STEAL CROWN JEWELS

SCOTLAND YARD STILL SEARCHING FOR SUSPECTS

THEIR NINTH BIG ROBBERY AND STILL GOING STRONG

I looked up; my eyes and mouth opened agape with shock. OMFG! No way! I jumped up and whooted in glee. "Are you serious? Amanda! We just found the notorious Triband Cat Burglars. OH MY GOSH! I can't believe they're the Triband Cat Burglars! I've been keeping up with their robberies ever since they first stole Van Goh's 'Sunflowers' from the National Gallery!"

Amanda looked around the littered kitchen before she spotted a door to the far right. "What do you think is in there?"

I turned to look and smirked. "Probably the rest of their stash seeing as I only see personal belongings here. They must have been hitting upon the ritziest hotels after their big crown jewels heist." I went over and opened the door, the well-oiled hinges silent as I looked at a darkened stairway leading down into a black abyss.

"Mmm, on the other hand, maybe we should leave," Amanda insisted, clutching her makeup bag and latest iPhone. "After all, we only came here for our stuff. And aren't the police coming here soon with the coordinates you gave them in the sticky note?"

Amanda didn't know about the Spanish bit.

"I'm just going to look down quickly. You stand guard," I told her as I adjusted my Sherlock Holmes hat and went down the creaking stairs. The air down here was musky and I gingerly touched the wall beside me to steady myself. A string suddenly smacked into my eye out of nowhere. I gripped it and pulled, bringing a dim and pale orange-ish light into the basement. The only thing in here was a big wooden table with a cloth placed over the entire surface. The obvious and awkward shapes under the sheet indicated that some stolen goods were underneath. I grabbed the black sheet and gaped when it revealed the famed missing crown jewels and other pieces of gold and sparkling jewelry from previous heists. I didn't see a painting around so I assumed Van Goh's "Sunflowers" must have been sold to the black market already. Bummer.

I heard a squeak and Amanda's faint voice as she whispered my name fiercely.

"They're coming back!" she said, her footsteps panicking in the kitchen. I looked uncertainly at the stuff on the table but fled upstairs anyway, pulling on the string and sending the basement to pitch black again. I found the kitchen empty of my nervous friend, Amanda having escaped from the window she managed to force open. I had to admit I was impressed she was was willing to jump out in a pair of high heels. I looked at my stuff uncertainly but shook my head. I knew where it was and once the police got here, all would be well. Before I could get my foot on the sill, I heard the front door suddenly slam open and bouts of gruff laughter filled the empty place. In my panic I tripped against one of the luggage's and landed with a heavy thud, the floorboards underneath me groaning heavily. The voices stilled and I heard a distinctive gun click echo. I hurriedly looked around for a place to hide and noticed a giant oven next to me. It looked reasonably clean and when I opened it I gave thanks to God that it wasn't roach infested and that I was small enough to fit inside.

By the time, the thugs made it to the kitchen, they ignored the oven and searched outside and down the basement. I could hear their faint voices mutter curses when they saw that their stolen items had been messed with. That and apparently Amanda had taken back her makeup bag. Goodness what my white girl won't do for her makeup.

I stayed curled into a fetal position and waited for the men to leave. I heard several footsteps come in and out the kitchen and eventually I heard a loud tapping coming from the kitchen window. I tried peering through the small dirty glass and found one of the men hammering down pieces of wood over the window. Damn! Now how am I supposed to leave? And when is the police coming? Seriously!

Time passed by rather slowly for me and the Triband Cat Burglars looked like they were packing their goods and getting ready to leave. I yawned and felt my lids droop.

Oh no. I'm getting sleepy. What time was it? Goodness it felt like hours, but it was probably only thirty minutes. Don't tell me the police hadn't taken figured out my note yet? Oh my gosh, what if Amanda didn't know the The Yard's phone number? I don't blame her of course. What was the local number anyhow? I yawned again and closed my eyes. Sleep was inevitable. Hopefully, by the time I wake up again, the Triband Cat Burglars will be gone. Knowing them they'd have taken my luggage and as long as they have that, the police will be able to find them. Unfortunately, the rest of my precious cargo was still in there. I had managed to take with me my small Ciel and Sebastian pillow so thank the Lord for small favors.

...

Wow. I never knew how comfortable an oven could be. There was no way this was British made, with that last thought I fell fast asleep.

By the time I opened my eyes and sleepily rolled out of the oven (literally), I noticed that it was dark. I clumsily staggered to my feet, feeling a bit disoriented and a whole lot of nauseous. I took off my gloves and stuffed them into my bag before I grabbed my pillow and yawned hugely as I walked out of the kitchen as carefully as I could, entering a rather ornate fancy looking hall.

I blinked blearily.

Fancy? I rubbed my eyes and noticed the plush carpet under my laced boots, the pleasant unnameable scent in the air as well as the cool atmosphere. Hmm, was I back in the hotel? How strange. Wasn't I still hiding from the Triband Cat Burglars? Had the Police got them? Maybe I was dreaming. I kept walking forward, almost like a zombie as my eyes ached..

A future warning for everyone, I literally cannot wake up all hyper without food. I'm like those zombie cranky people you see in the Snickers commercial. Food is like my coffee, except I hate coffee.

I yawned again, a tear pooling on the corner of my eyes as I kept walking. If I remember correctly, and assuming I've been transported back to my hotel (except when was a hotel ever this dark?), my hotel room was on the third floor, room 314B. I silently went up the second set of wide stairs and turned down into the following hallway. It was sure quiet around here.

I couldn't see the doors very well since it was pitch black, so I randomly grabbed whatever door was closest to me. I found one and opened it quickly before I quietly closing it behind me. My assigned roommate was Amanda so she would slap me silly if I interrupted her beauty sleep. Man. I was so tired, what in the world? I felt faint with each step I took. The feeling was rather strange because I've never felt this way before-must be the jet lag. I looked around in the darkness and squinted. No bed. I spotted another door all the way in the back, past the fancy furniture and dark fire place.

When I opened it, I found a big bed with drapes pulled back on the other side of the room. A shape of a person already occupied it and I can only assume it was Amanda, hogging the bed as per usual. I walked over and placed my pillow on the bed, crawling under the covers, too tired to even take off my shoes or knapsack-no doubt she'll yell at me for this, but whatever. The bed sheets can always be dusted later.

"Scoot over woman," I mumbled sleepily, which she did in her sleep induced state. I smiled, pulling the covers over my head and falling asleep again.