The Idea: Well, this idea came to me as I was actually prank calling my brother on my mom's cell. I said something about being Sherlock Holmes and my mom said, "Sherlock isn't a girl. If he was, his name would have to be Sherla or something!" And so, this story was born.

Notes: The story won't follow the exact lines because, well you know, I want to mix it up a bit. Also, the characters may be a bit out of character, but they're still them. One last thing, the whole story will be told as if it is a movie, so, to get the full effect of it, you may want to read it while the certain theme song (which will be written in bold) is playing.

Please let me introduce to you a love story with a sprinkle of action:

Shannon Holmes

(I do not own Sherlock Holmes…obviously)

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John's eyes popped open again as he blasted up from his bed. His breathe was heavy and sweat slowly dripped down his face. "It's just a dream for christsake," he whispered, gently wiping his forehead.

He blinked several times and sat up, leaving his legs hanging on the side of his bed. It was just a dream, he chanted, it was just a dream. He stood up and headed for his closet, quickly changing into something decent and sat in front of his computer, simply staring at it.

John shook his head and looked at the clock, it was only five in the morning. He sighed and logged into his blog. He didn't know what to write. Nothing ever happened to him so what could he write about?

What does his therapist expect him to write down? Sitting here and staring at my computer? It's not like anyone would actually read it. It's not as if John was a famous person. So, what exactly was the point in this?

John finally gave up and logged off, walking to his kitchen to make some coffee. I wonder if anything interesting will ever happen to me, he thought, sipping his coffee.

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"So, have you written anything in your blog yet John," Dr. Jameson, his therapist, asked.

John stayed quiet, but eventually shook his head.

"John, you're a retired soldier. You need to express your feelings somehow and I think it would be best if you kept a blog," she said, scribbling something in her notebook. "I know you have trouble expressing them, but you need to learn."

"You just wrote 'has trust issues'," John accused her.

Dr. Jameson sighed. "See, you just read my writing upside down." She closed her notebook. Just write down what happens to you."

There was a moment of silence until John responded. "Nothing ever happens to me," he muttered, staring straight ahead.

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Sherlock BBC's Theme Song Plays

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The First Suicide: October 12

"Where's my car," a man asked over his phone.

The woman giggled. "The car went to Waterloo. Get a cab," she insisted.

"But I don't want to get a cab," he said, walking around in the airport.

She looked around the office. "I love you," she whispered.

"Gwen," the man muttered, slightly blushing.

"Get a cab," she giggled, and then hung up.

Later on….

The man who had spoken on the phone was suddenly sitting on the floor in an abandoned building holding a bottle which contained a pill which was colored red and white. He hesitated before he opened the cap. Then, he swallowed it; leaving him to collapse onto the floor, foam coming out of his mouth.

Few Days Later:

"My husband was a happy man," a woman in front of the media stated, "lived life to the fullest. He loved his family and his work and that he should have taken his life this way is a mystery and a shock to all who knew him."

The woman who had spoken to him on the phone stood at the back, gentle tears slowly dripping down her cheeks.

The Second Suicide: November 26

Two young men ran down the street as the rain poured harshly over their head. One had an umbrella and has insisted they shared, but the other was getting frustrated as only he was the one getting wet.

A cab then came rolling down the street. The frustrated man whistled and tried to get the cabby to stop, but failed.

"Ugh," the frustrated man muttered. He turned to his companion. "Let me get my umbrella. It'll only take me five minutes."

The man began to run. "We can share mine," the other man yelled, but he ignored him.

Five minutes passed by and still the other man waited to the other man to show up. He shook his head and gave up, following the other man back home.

What the man didn't know was that the other man was sitting on the floor in the gym, water dripping around him. He held the same bottle that the other man had held. Inside it was the same exact pill that the other dead man had taken.

The man began to cry and shake as he took it. Then, the next day, his face was on the cover of the newspaper. He had committed "suicide".

The Third Suicide: January 27

A woman dressed in formal wearing came out of the dance hall and up to a dark skinned man dressed in a tux. "She's still dancing," he asked, a bit shocked.

The woman nodded. "Yes, if you can call it that."

"Did you get her car keys," the man asked, smirking.

"Got them out of her bag," she said, jiggling the keys in front of his face.

He nodded and looked into the dance hall. "Where is she?"

Outside the parking lot, the woman they had been talking about was standing there, drunk. She searched for her keys frantically, but couldn't find them. When she looked to her left, she spotted a cab and headed for it.

She later ended up in a storage facility, taking the exact same pill that the other two men had taken. She was found dead.

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I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'll be updating maybe tonight or maybe a few days later! Please reviews! It makes Sherlock and John happy!