First story, first Chapter. Well, we'll give it a go and see what we turn up. Hopefully this won't go over as terrible as I imagine it and people enjoy it more than I assume they will. I'm extremely self-conscious about my writing so if you notice an error please point it out, politely, I'd hate for things to get nasty if your rude.

Anyway, it's been awhile since I submitted anything for public viewing so hopefully this goes well. A heads up the time line is going to be a little scrambled so if you notice something out of place it's okay, I'm aware of it. Granted, if it's glaringly out of place then yes point it out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or anything that Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss have touched, i.e. written. I do however own all of my OC's so please do try not to steal those, I've worked ever so hard on them.

Enjoy!

-X-

It had been on Tuesday, when everything turned sour. She hated Tuesdays, the day right before the middle of the work week, the day when you realize maybe Mondays weren't so bad and Wednesday's never came soon enough. Nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday.

It had seemed like a relatively nice day, the air just right the perfect mixture of a soft sea breeze against the harsh heat, California summer's always were just right. The smell of a cool salty breeze, she enjoyed a lazy day sunning on the balcony of her beach front home.

Not that sunning ever helped, her pale skin seemed to refract the suns rays, she only managed a sun-kissed glow that never seemed to last.

The glass doors to the balcony were pushed open, but she doesn't even twitch. He'd been in the house for quite sometime bustling about like a chicken without a head, she was rather glad when he finally gained the nerve to just confront her about whatever was troubling him. Any longer and she was certain to pitch him over the cliffs.

He ran a hand through his reddish auburn hair, giving an irritable huff of annoyance before turning sharply towards her, green eyes narrowed. "Tell me you didn't?" he begged.

She rolled her jade eyes at him from behind the large bug eyed sun glasses. "That would be impossible to do, as I haven't the slightest clue what your talking about" she sighed lazily, leaning back into the hammock.

"The painting?" he prompted sharply, wandering towards her and blocking out the sun light.

Now thoroughly irritated she sits up a little, glaring sharply at him, her lips tugged down into a frown. "Your going to have to be more specific, there have been a lot of paintings" she snapped back angrily.

"The Vermeer?" he demands sharply, ignorant of the danger in her tone. "The one that's gone missing after it's exhibit in the art gallery in San Francisco?" he continues angrily.

She raises one petite eyebrow, "Possibly" she admits. "What day was it exactly?"

"You mean there were more?" he splutters angrily his face shading an angry crimson.

"It was a busy weekend!" she defends lightly, a small smile playing at her lips.

"This isn't funny Lillian!? They've called in experts, FBI, that sort of thing!" the man shouts at her exasperated. As if by raising the volume of his voice the message will be received clearer than if it had just been spoken normally. She almost laughs at this thought, he should know better.

Lillian sighs leaning back once more into the hammock with an exaggerated groan, "Your being dramatic Jackson!" she scolded, "I was extremely careful this time round, nothing like that last time in France, ugh! That was dreadful, won't be going back there for a while" she muses, fishing around the side of the hammock for one of the sunning mirrors.

Not finding it immediately she gives up and turns back towards him, "Besides I didn't take it, it was a fake I don't take fakes!" she defends sharply, eyes narrowed as if begging him to challenge her.

"I'm being dramatic" he demands his voice raising an octave, the muscles in his forehead twitch as if they are about to burst. "I'm the one being dramatic!" he's practically raving now, she can practically see the foam coming from his mouth. "You burned it in a dumpster out back?" he retorts angrily, fist clenching.

She shrugs sheepishly, "Okay so that might have been a tad overdramatic, in my defense I put a lot of effort into getting into the building and studying the plans, on top of that do they realize how much gas is nowadays? I had to drive all the way down there to come home empty handed" she sighs flippantly. "I think that's the tragic part of all this" she adds playfully, trying to make him smile, might lighten his mood.

He throws her a look, and slumps into one of the metal chairs near the hammock, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "You promised you'd stop" he finally allows.

At this she turns away to stare out over the vast expanse of blue that's laid out before her, anything but the man sitting next to her, whose face is twisted into sadness and defeat. Guilt playing with her nerves and stomach, making her suddenly jittery.

She doesn't apologize, she doesn't acknowledge his pain, the emotions that play across his face. It's hard to explain, especially to someone whose never been exposed to this kind of life, the temptation, the pure utter exhilaration. He'll never understand, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he wants to talk about it, he'll never understand the need.

And so she forced a bright smile onto her lips and gently puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry Jack it won't happen again!" she promises her brother, and then she nudges him with her elbow. "Go home say hi to the wife and kids, we'll talk about it later" she promises.

At this he brightens considerable, pecking his older sister on the cheek he leaves. That was his first mistake, putting trust into a compulsive liar. By the time he'd pulled out of the drive she'd already contacted the movers, contacted her real estate agent, arranged for some of the large pieces to be sold at auction and booked her flight.

She felt the need for a change of scenery. Nothing exotic, somewhere where she could just blend in for a little while, keep her head down and just be.

-X-

It was Thursday when her plane landed, she'd already gotten 15 missed calls from her brother on the flight over, 20 angry text messages, and 5 very angry voice messages. She ignored them all, and the guilt quickly faded when she destroyed the sim card to the phone and left it in one of the hundreds of rubbish bins in the airport.

She ran out the double doors and quickly, ducking her head against the heavy down pour, hailed a cab. The first cab passed her spraying her in dirty street water, she grimaces but continues to try and hail a cab.

It took nearly a whole two minutes and by then she was practically soaked through, shivering against the chill she squeezed her one large suitcase into the back seat, settling in and slamming the door closed she places the small heavy duffle bag on her lap.

She turned to the cabbie and immediately wished she hadn't taken a cab, maybe rented a car instead. Something was wrong with this man, it wasn't the way he smiled too friendly at her, dark stone grey eyes watching her like a predator it's pray. It wasn't the sickly sweet way he tried to be polite it was just something about him screamed danger.

She huffed a small sigh, squaring her shoulders a little she quickly tells the cabbie the address and let's him fill the silence with his aimless prattle.

She would only nod and hum her acknowledgement politely, acting interested but merely watching London flash by the window. When she turns back to the front of the cab she can see the old man's eyes are watching her intently through the rearview mirror.

She realizes with a start that whatever he's saying requires an answer on her part, at first she thinks they've stopped and he's merely asking about the fare, but then she realizes the car is still going.

She forces an apologetic smile on her lips, "I'm sorry my mind was elsewhere. What did you ask?" she finally inquires her voice sweet.

The man also forces a smile, obviously taking it to heart that she hadn't been giving him the attention he felt he deserved. "I was just asking what brings you to London?" he finally allowed.

"Business" she decides with a small secretive smile.

"Ah" his head bobs about as he nods, "What kind of business?" he presses.

"Oh, antiques mostly."

"So your a collector then?" he continues acting nonchalant.

"Something like that" she nods, with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

"What's that mean?"

Her eyes narrow dangerously, what a forceful little cabbie, couldn't he just be satisfied with small talk something about the rainy weather, or about the kids that are so fondly pinned to his dashboard.

She lets a soft smile slid across her lips, something to disarm him so when her venomous words strike it's a complete blind side, but then she hears the soft chime of a phone. She riffles through her duffle bag which sits securely in her lap, but then she remembers she no longer has a phone, so she looks sharply up at the cabbie.

"I think that's you" she points out politely, at first confusion crosses the man's face and then...something...something else, something like surprise with the briefest trace of amusement.

He doesn't answer, merely glances at the screen of a surprisingly pink phone. Hm, she didn't figure him the type. His eyes are once more flickering up to her, to notice that she's taken notice of his phone choice and he lets out a surprisingly vicious smile.

She turns to the window and notices how the sky has darkened, how the rain has stopped, and how the cab has parked on a side street. She looks around in confusion, her face cast in shadow by the building their parked next to, when she turns round to look out the back window there's a restaurant, two sets of eyes are on her and she quickly turns back to the cabbie.

"We've stopped?" she points out curiously, her voice low and her hand going for the concealed butterfly knife that she normally keeps on her person, only to realize she'd dumped that in a bin at the LA airport. Shit.

The cabbie turns slightly towards her, "Oh sorry dear, thought I'd take you on the scenic route let you get a feel for the city" he grins at her.

"That's sweet, but the address that I gave you will work just fine, thank you?" her voice is clipped, light and delicate as she forces herself to remain calm, she really didn't want to get dragged out into something having just arrived, that would cause such a mess.

The cabbie's smile is off almost angry, but he doesn't act on it, he merely bobs his head about once more as he throws the car into gear and takes off.

As she plays with the strap of her bag, her mind quickly memorizes the route they take whilst simultaneously processing the width and length of the slat between them. She briefly entertains the ideal of how she'd have to contort her body to get into the front seat if it came to a confrontation.

Before she could completely process her plan they rolled to a quick stop and she looks up at the tall building. Her brow furrows in confusion, what the hell was with this cabbie? She quickly pulls out the fare and hands it over, not before he grabs her wrist and holds her in place.

"It's okay love, I know a lost cause when I see one" he tells her, his voice is low and menacing, showing the double meaning to his words. "Besides, I have a feeling we have a lot in common" he pulls her wrist sharply so she can see his face clearer.

Her smile is so calm, so eerily sweet his grip slightly loosens on her wrist and he draws back a little. "Tell me... How hard do you think it will be to learn how to drive without a hand?" she inquires innocently, her voice soft and child-like.

As if her skin is on fire he yanks his hand away a snarl playing at his lip. She spots a flash of something thin and cylindrical in his other hand? But before her mind can process this the door is ripped open and she is suddenly face to face with a towering figure.

He towers over her 5'4 frame. His limbs thin and lanky, smooth pale skin. Sharp angular features with high cheek bones, and straight nose. His icy blue eyes piercing and dangerous. Dark inky black curls across his delicately pinched brow.

He's handsome, she can appreciate that much. Seconds later another man skids to a halt next to the open door, his sandy blond hair cut short, strong tanned features and hazel eyes, a slight gait in his walk.

"It's not her!" the inky hair man spurts angrily, his feature's contorting as he quickly takes in her small willowy, hour glass frame. The pale skin barely touched by sun, the thin bands of muscles on her skeletal limbs. Her thin heart shaped face, with supple button nose. Wide innocent jade eyes, and full pale pink lips.

Her silvery blond hair, that looks eerily white in the pale light from the inside of the cab. How it normally falls in gentle ringlets and curls to her waist but is piled into a messy bun.

"How do you know?" the sandy haired man inquires curiously, also observing the stunning woman.

"Slight tan from a recent sunning, probably west coast, her teeth... American, she's just gotten in from the airport California, LA to be more precise. And don't even get me started on wrong gender!" the man tallied off irritably.

"I'm sorry and you are?" she raises a gentle eyebrow, her lips tugged into an amused smile.

"Oh we're the police!" he clumsily flashes her the badge, her expression is still unconvinced but she can't help the smile.

"And is there anything else I can help you 'officer's' with" she motions pointedly to where they stand, blocking her exit from the cab.

"Ah no! Welcome to London" they quickly move from her exit, and she practically jumps from the cab pulling her luggage with her. The cabbie turns to say something else, but she's already slammed the door shut.

-X-

Alright hope that wasn't too terrible. Just a warning in advance it's going to be a slow start, in later chapters there will be more Sherlock & Company, but for now Lillian will have to suffice!

Read &Review,

TheAnonymousTypist