Hey everyone, Thought I'd try out a Sherlock/OC story, OC thrown into Sherlock world as I LOVE stories like that. I've done a Doctor Who story and a little bit of Harry Potter with Doctor Who, but no Sherlock, so, nice comments? :)

Anyway, this mainly hit me because I went to Sherlock's website, no doubt you all know there's a real one. It has bugged me that like a year or two after the third code there's still no answer, I want the answer to prove I got it right, yes I probably sound crazy just now but I have the answer and its been a while, where's the answer on the site?

I had the idea that maybe I could have a story where Sherlock just doesn't know the answer yet, busy with cases and all, my OC comes in and knows it! Yes I based that small part off me, the knowing part, that's, pretty much the only similarities I swear. I hope this doesn't turn out very well you know. Mary Sue.

I've mentoned her having series 1, 2 and 3 but she will only know one and two. For safe reasons. 8D

SO! I don't own Sherlock or anything you probably recognise, Just my OC as I totally made her up in my own head. On to the story!

Different Worlds.

Jodie (POV)

I had a grin on my face as I walked along the street, on in London. I had just left a shop, one where I finally bought a box set of Sherlock. I had been told to watch it multiple times. Some said I'd maybe learn something, others said I shouldn't because I'd turn out to be more like this Sherlock character apparently. Apparently a few things I do are similar to that of his. When I get home I'd watch it. I don't know what people saw of me in him, we're so different! Yet I still like the show a little, obvious, as this Sherlock character would say. Of course the case would be pink. Oh I guess I should explain, I have actually saw it before. The first three, the ending of the third was a little... small cliffhanger. There's only a few ways it could end. Since there's three episodes after, Three ways...

I sighed as I unlocked the door to my flat. I glanced round the street once. Wasn't? Ah, right, they got here already. I glanced to myself in the small mirror next to the door. My curly brown hair was even more a mess than usual, wind. Huh, it looked black in the lighting, maybe I should die it? No forget that. My green slightly grey eyes wandered round the small area as I pulled off my long dark trench coat. Oh yes, family time. Only my brother can manage to get mud over my floor. My mother's keys are on the small self under the mirror. I sighed I hated this, but I walked up the steps my black boots with the slight heel thunk sound against the carpet. Hmm, laces were coming undone. I like these boots, zip up the side and buckles, so I never really touch the laces.

I opened the door and threw my coat to my favourite chair, in front of the desk and a slight turn from the TV. There was however a couch in front of said TV. Another desk behind in the corner bigger and holding two chairs. Though you couldn't tell under all the junk. What can I say? that's probably the only thing Sherlock and I have in common. Messy house. I went to my room and grabbed my laptop and sat it on the small coffee table next to my mother and brother as they shifted uncomfortably. I rolled my eyes dropping the Sherlock on the table. It was apparently three series so far. I moved to the kitchen and grabbed three mugs, tea for them coffee for me. I heard my mother scoff and knew she had taken the Sherlock to look at.

"Sherlock? Never thought you'd watch that, unless this is you trying it? Should we watch the first one together. I've seen it, you two are quite similar." My mothers voice carried over the boiling kettle. I clicked my neck a little before going to the door of the kitchen.

"Seen the first so no thanks." I quickly muttered, my brother grabbed it this time.

"Its funny, if we weren't related I'd be asking if you were related to him." He laughed. Holding it up.

"You do both dress funny. Who wears long coats with suits?" My mother muttered looking again. I sighed rolling my eyes, why was I stuck with these people.

"What's wrong with what I wear?" I grumbled not happy.

"Darling you wear it all the time." She said a disgusted look. Oh for gods sake. This again. I was wearing a medium sleeved red shirt, top buttons undone, with a dark purple waistcoat and dark blue skinny jeans. Sometimes I had black fingerless gloves. "Do you wash them?" she whispered I full out glared this time forgetting the whole nice tea and biscuits before I ask why they are here.

"I have multiple shirts and such, I like what I wear, I hate skirts. Skipping all that boring stuff though, your here for a reason you never arrive unless there is a reason so spill what happened?" I snapped ever so slightly. Something had to have happened, my brother Mike looked worried.

"Your father turned up, looking for you. Wanted to know where you were. He wanted to give you this. After that he was gone." She told me. He's pretty much always been gone why now? Why was my mother handing me a credit card? Well I say credit card, more a black card with numbers and my name on it. I took it and glanced over it before throwing it behind me in the kitchen.

"Boring, if that's it just go." I snapped annoyed, idiots, waste my time all the time. They hesitated before leaving.

"He also left his mobile number." Mother told me leaving a small card on the table and leaving. My brother hugged me though a little forced. I slammed the door after them and growled moving through to my mostly bare bedroom. Only thing I needed, Piano. I wheeled it through, there's never any space but I doubt I'd be sleeping tonight. I have things to do. Well not really but things I want to do.

5 hours later.

I had managed to watch some Sherlock, I had looked up his site. It actually existed. Funny. There were three hidden message codes, only two he had posted the answer for so I decided to just go for the third. I had watched the three episodes I hadn't seen finished that about an hour or two ago. Taught myself the opening theme out of boredom, for piano anyway, also Sherlock's theme I will admit was catchy but that's it. I still don't see the large connection everyone else does. Its a stupid thing to think. We are not the same, for one he doesn't care for science fiction things, I love it. He'd probably 'delete' anything Doctor Who related for example. I groaned after being cooped up all day I needed a walk. Most likely to some internet available café.

I grabbed my laptop and coat pausing by the door on my way out to go back to the table slowly. My father's number. I grabbed it and put it in the trash. It was just too little from him far too late in my life. I headed out with the laptop for a walk. When I was walking I threw on of my hands to my pockets and pulled out my glasses. Black at the ears fading to purple. Rectangle lenses. I ducked into a café not to far up the road. The laptop open in front of me I left to load up and just decided to think for a little. My hands came up and I froze, ok, I might have to give everyone that. I seem to think in the same position as Sherlock. Round about anyway. If I'm sitting that is. Prayer hands under the chin is what he does, at least, what he's supposed to do, apparently the actor sometimes gets it in the wrong position. No one really notices or cares of course. I do the same though my fingers touch my lips and their tips at my nose with my thumb pointing up at my chin.

I looked round his website once more. Deduction seemed interesting. Spotting things about people, however he does it. Things would be easier to prove we're different if I could maybe get the actor to come and act as him to prove the different things we'd do. No forget that, silly. Much easier if he were actually real. I frowned to myself and glanced to the menu thrust in my face.

"What would you like to eat?" The woman snapped, apparently had been standing there a while. Lets have a shot at deduction? Hmm, ok. I'll have a shot, but it'll be terrible I know it. She's tired so she must be finishing soon, everyone else is at least attempting a smile hers is incredibly forced. Ring on her 'special finger' as my mother used to say, so she's engaged, no wedding band yet, slight bump of her stomach makes the finishing soon only a maybe as it could just be extra tired from being pregnant, she looks annoyed I haven't said a word about what I want yet. She has more effort in her looks than every other waitress, so either very vain, or meeting with the man who gave her the ring. My bet is on the second as its a little off almost as if its the first time she put it on so, she doesn't wear it often. Um, I ad better say something.

"Nothing to eat just a glass of water will do for now." I quickly said as her glaring had increased. She growled slightly under her breath and walked off very ticked off. Oops. I smirked though and laughed to myself quietly. A few nearby people caused me to bite my lip to try and stop. But it was all rather funny. I wonder if its funny for Sherlock? Oh lord. Now I'm acting as if he's real, I sighed opening up the laptop to see it still on Sherlock's page. I frowned refreshing to see if he had posted answers to the third hidden message. But no. the waitress returned with my water. I didn't really even look up. Just continued on. I hadn't realised she's stayed a moment. I went to the information part to see significantly more than before. More than before? Am I rhyming now that is great.

"Sherlock Holmes? Funny, didn't know he had his own website." I rolled my eyes turning to the waitress.

"What?" I asked blankly not really caring what she said. But a moment ago that didn't make sense. She nodded at the laptop.

"Brilliant detective he is, ignorant to feelings and a total ass, but still. Can't complain all that much, helped by fiancée out." She said before turning seeing it was me frowning slightly and walking off. I paused. Was I being set up? No she genuinely thought Sherlock Holmes had helped her. Odd. I clicked eject on my laptop and pulled out the Sherlock disc that remained in there. I placed it back in as it was fine but went to the internet. Googling Sherlock brought up his cases. None of the books, films, anything. I glared at my screen and typed Benedict Cumberbatch. Nothing? How could there be... Oh.

Its like those stories online, what they called again... Oh! Fanficion, first the person realises it just them tat seems to know then they freak out. Me? I'm off to see if I can get a cab to 221B Baker Street, if it really does exist. Maybe I will find out if Sherlock Holmes can decode that message after all.

Ok! Um, so that's the first part to my attempt at a Sherlock fanfic. Yeah...uh, not much left to say other than please, please, please, PLEASE leave a review. I wish to know how I did with this.

So for some virtual cookies! REVIEW! 8D