Based on the rather old 'My Dear Miss Watson' series, these new tales will chart the beginning of this unusual partnership, hopefully in chorological fashion and with a little more accuracy.

I certainly don't own any of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's characters and frankly I don't own Miss Watson either, she was well documented by Rex Stout and many others long before I found her.

However, I do enjoy innocently playing with her and especially with Sherlock Holmes and well all of with them really.

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Chapter One

Scarlet in the Study

My small leather purse slipped open, its hinges so loose that the worn silver plate cherubs no longer clasped each other when shut, they now merely touched and often abandoned their unison entirely. They safeguarded a grand total of four shillings and six pence, all that was left of a merge allowance inherited from my father's estate. So, whilst pushing aside a familiar feeling of helplessness, I tried to calculate my basic needs against this pitiful sum and compress the mechanics of the purse in the vague hope that everything would just stay together.

My afore-mentioned and much beloved father had once taught me to draw a plan of action when faced with a dilemma; therefore I now took up a pencil and jotted down a list of survival priorities. Thankfully the need for immediate accommodation could be moved downwards to 'presumably impending', whereas eating some decent grub had to be risen to 'urgent'. As if in agreement my stomach rumbled rather loudly, it was clear I needed a hot meal and although I had an abundance of half-eaten cold leftovers, obtaining something wholesome and warm was looking increasingly unlikely. Once started my list of basic needs was beginning to look alarmingly long, but when I got to 'a change of undergarments' I realised the futility of it all, threw the thing into the fireplace in despair and pulled a wool blanket tighter around my shoulders. 'Writing some dashed list will not produce a pair of woollen stockings Watson, frankly what you need is a proper income my girl and jolly fast.'

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, this was something I had taught myself; having inherited a dreadful bull pup of a temper and again from my father*. There was always a solution if one kept ones head and refrained from engaging in something entirely stupendous, such as volunteering to nurse the armed forces abroad. I needed to consider a more mundane direction in my life for once and therefore must absolutely, definitely and utterly not be tempted by adventure ever again.

Moving over to my window I allowed myself to bask in the afternoon sunlight, it was the one small luxury of this dreary little room. It overlooked the patient's garden at Barts Hospital and presented a view over a small patch of nature amongst the combination of grim blackened stone and grubby glass. A little cherry tree grew in the centre of this oasis and I duly scanned its branches for any signs of pink blossoms…

"Miss Watson!"

The bellowing baritone of Matron McNally shattered my thoughts and caused me to jump backwards, landing against my purse and driving the cherubs apart again. The few coins I possessed now scattered across the floor, "dash-it!"

"I beg your pardon young lady?"

"The dishes, they needed clearing madam- Matron I mean." I cleared my throat, "do you want me for anything Matron?"

"I don't want you girl, I never wanted you, nor will I ever likely want you. Indeed child, it's highly unlikely that you will ever be wanted, tolerated perhaps, but not required. You have a visitor."

"A visitor?" I peered past her as if expecting such an oddity to be trailing behind.

"A young gentleman and I'll warn you now Miss Watson, I will not be standing for any more of them. I'll not have swarms of young men hovering about in my waiting room. I don't care who gave you permission to reside here, it will simply not do, not at all, do you hear girl? It won't do at all."

"But I don't know any young gentlemen Matron, surely he must be mistaken."

"Good and mind you don't become acquainted with any more. You'll have to get rid of him, but not in front of my patients. You may take him to the students study, but be quick about it, your shift starts soon. Oh and do tidy up in here, you have far too many belongings girl, this room is starting to look like a rag-mans alley, look at these dirty plates, stolen from the wards no-doubt. Respect is what you need girl, respect for those that give you shelter, do you hear?" She reached out and pulled at my blanket, "dear-me child, you test the patients of a saint. Here, put this blanket back, it's not a coat and I'll not have you disgrace my ward by looking like the beggar you are."

I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply and reminded myself of my debt in gratitude to this woman, "yes Matron."

"Well, don't just stand there girl, go NOW!"

My room catered for the on-call night duty, so it was almost adjacent to the admissions waiting-room. I quickly adjusted my uniform, slipped across the corridor and soon found myself amongst the patients.

I immediately recognised him.

Our previous short encounter had ill afforded any real opportunity for study and certainly no occasion for familiarity, therefore my initial reaction was indecision. So I stood and rather boorishly stared in dismay, vainly hopeful I was in error.

His height was unmistakeable, even whilst sitting that tall frame dominated the waiting room. A brutal slenderness emphasized it, yet he sat with an air of solidity that somehow seemed at odds with this stature. There was scarce in the way of colour about him, below a fringe of raven hair his clothes were a coal black and his features bleached, perhaps there was a little in the thin red lips and a slight pink on the cheeks, but these tints merely emphasised the lack of any other hue. This cold darkness seeped, ensuring an empty space on either side of him in an otherwise crowded room. A huge hawk nose framed a pair of bright gray eyes, which peered in interest, I too was being observed and I suddenly felt self-conscious.

As I approached he stood and bowed with a grace that defined him as a gentleman of breeding, such swiftness in movement is acquired and not adopted. "Miss Watson, you are momentarily free I assume?"

"Yes. It's Mr Holmes I believe."

"Indeed, Mr Stamford introduced us on Wednesday."

"How could I forget? Are you ill?"

"Certainly not," he seemed to find the question peculiar and looked at me with obvious disappointment.

"You are in a hospital sir and I am a nurse, it is only natural for me to be concerned. Then perhaps you have come to apologise?"

"Whom have I offended?"

He was either deliberately unreasonable, or simply ignorant. "If you are not ill nor can you discern a breach in social etiquette, then why are you here Mr Holmes?"

"I find myself needing information to solve a problem."

"Then how can I help sir?"

He looked about determining his audience and then seemed to brace himself for a shocking revelation, "please state your true intensions in this foolish fancy and then explain your unreasonable persistence."

"What the devil are you talking about Mr Holmes?"

"Accommodation madam, why are you insisting we co-habit?"

I was momentarily stunned and then almost relieved; the question was mild considering the deadly seriousness in his manner. It was clear the he was uncomfortable and despite any lack of sympathy for his feelings, I determined it unwise to provoke scandal and simpler to remove him to the more private location which Matron had suggested, so I turned and motioned for him to follow me. Once alone in the study and with some moments to take stock of his last assertion, I rounded upon him, "what absolute balderdash sir, you made it quite clear that the lodgings you had in mind were male only, indeed I believe you were fairly blunt about the matter. I rather suspect that a woman is not your ideal housemate, nor is she worth the disruption of your work. I'm sorry we interrupted your little mediocre experiment, but your chastisement was both harsh and rude. You could have at least acknowledged my presence before you demanded we leave."

"My work is far from 'mediocre' madam, I do not expect you to understand. Stamford had no right bringing a female into the labs and I have no time for etiquette, nor do I appreciate a lengthy introduction to someone's needy relative whilst working on more pressing matters."

"No, I rather suspect Mr Holmes that your attitude and tone would have been vastly different were I a gentleman. I have recognised this as bigotry, unfortunately it is common-place and unavoidable, so I must accept it." I turned my back to him and began to walk for the door, but he out-stepped and blocked me in an instant. Indeed, I was so stunned anyone could move so fast that I stopped dead in my tracks.

"I have not yet finished Miss Watson and it was not bigotry but decency that forced my hand. My valid objection to your gender is now immaterial, as it seems I have no choice in the matter but to converse with you. Your brother-in-law demands I re-consider and obviously without your knowledge."

"Michael Stamford? What has he said to you?"

"He attempted to bribe me and when that failed he made several imprudent threats. Now he has used his influence with the hospital trustees to remove access to facilities, permission to use the labs for my work has been removed and my equipment confiscated."

"Good-lord, that's rather a poor show. You were doing something rather delicate with chemicals I remember?"

"I believe I have at last found a re-agent which is precipitated by haemoglobin and by nothing else," he appeared to wait for some momentous reaction to this announcement; when none was forthcoming he continued, though somewhat flustered. "Yes, well… indeed this discovery is highly innovative madam, revolutionary even and it will be crucial in aiding my work. However I need at least another week to finalise the experiment. " He shook his head in frustration, "after paying the full deposit and two months rent to secure Baker Street, it will perhaps be another year before I can now accrue the funds for my own apparatus. Stamford's meddling has undone everything."

"Stamford may be a fool, but he is quite harmless and not at all a bounder, unlike some." I gave him a pointed look and then slumped in a vacant chair somewhat exhausted. "However if he's been badgering you then that's dashed bad form and I'm sincerely sorry, though he does have my ultimate welfare at heart."

"Why this sudden need to lodge with me madam?"

"Oh don't count yourself a special case Mr Holmes, we have found ourselves in somewhat desperate circumstances and you are one of many solutions, all of which have spectacularly failed." I rubbed my leg, not because of any direct physical pain, but because this feeling of total frustration had somehow projected itself into my wound. "Unfortunately Michael lost his entire lot on an ill-advised investment of salted beef from Australia. I returned from… err well, I returned from some business abroad to find him plotting a dash from his creditors with my little sister and my niece. He seemed to think I would want to follow them, but having barely survived one sailing I simply refused to partake of another. Besides I want no association with such dubious financing. So there lays the need to find alternative accommodation and rather quickly. I do concede that the proverbial barrel has been scrapped with yourself, but it seems that these days respectable ladies lodgings are not to be found anywhere at short notice. Michael has no wish to leave me homeless, or put me at the mercy of complete strangers, so we resorted to considering anything that looked half decent. He judged you a respectable fellow Mr Holmes, not likely to take advantage and had you down as unconventional and rather open-minded. He mentioned that you talked about wanting to share rooms on a suite in Baker Street and he actually went to inspect them."

Mr Holmes shook his head at that, "stealing a chaps digs from under his nose was he?"

The nose in question was currently flaring in anger and I desperately tried to avoid gawking at its enormity, "no, he actually came back with some scheme in his head about us going halves and living on two entirely different floors. I believe there is a small room on the top floor and we were prepared to negotiate for this, but you quite rudely cut us short, so that opportunity was lost." I threw my hands in the air, "a shame as it sounded half workable considering his other schemes. No Mr Holmes, you are not 'unconventional', but appear to be as narrow-minded and short-sighted as the rest of your gender." His back straightened at this and his chin shot up-wards, I had clearly found a crack in his armour. "Of course," I pushed on, "Stamford is not the best at surmising anything, you sir are like Australian salted beef, nothing spectacular except in my brother-in-laws failure of judgement." I fully expected him to stalk off sulking at this, but he took a step closer, his gray eyes now almost black.

"It appears that this failure of judgement is actually yours madam, or rather in your choice of options. There are clearly more appropriate charitable institutions to inflict yourself upon, I believe several of them specialise in abandoned females, I do not."

I felt myself flinch, but managed to smile through it, "yes and I've visited two. I was duly informed that 'ladies of my breeding' are not expected to find themselves destitute and therefore not welcome. No doubt if I disguise my voice and manners I would have more success, however it appears I do not fit into their neatly pre-conceived concept of needy." (This was a slight distortion of the truth; actually I had been thrown out of the first institution for being 'insolent' to some patronising old bat and walked out of the second in total horror at the lack of hygiene.) "Now, if you are quite finished Mr Holmes I wish you a good-evening. I have been thoroughly unpleasant, yet you still remain and I do not like it, this rudeness is not in my character."

"And yet you do it quite effectively." His smile was quick and bitter, "this interview has indeed been tiresome, but most enlightening. You have furnished me with sufficient information to expose your family; if Stamford is deserting his creditors then perhaps a threat of such an exposure will bring about my vindication?"

"Yes, you would think so." I checked my pocket watch, "however it's rather too late, you see the birds have flown their nest Mr Holmes, Mr and Mrs Stamford left Liverpool at noon today on a ship bound for New York, America." He cursed under his breath and I merely raised an eyebrow, smiled, then pointed courteously at the exit, "Mr Holmes, you are still here and the door is in that direction."

That bitter smile plucked at his lips again, "as are you Miss Watson, here that is. This hospital is a place with beds and food and shelter, all of which you currently lack." He folded his arms and looked down, "yes, from your clothes and hair I see you have spent last night in a small, sparse room close at hand and you probably intend to stay for at least another week. So, you work throughout the night on call as an unpaid nurse, clearly you are unfit for paid work, the board would simply reject an application as unsuitable due to ill health, but volunteer work with free board is obviously better than living on the streets. Someone has aided you in working here, evidently a person with considerable influence whom no-one else would dare question, such an unusual arrangement would require an unusual benefactor. But all this work is taking its toll, that shoulder wound you received whilst nursing in Afghanistan has yet to fully heal, your leg also troubles you, but only when under emotional stress, normally you would be somewhat disciplined about showing any signs of weakness. There was also a recent illness… perhaps some type of fever has left you short of breath, as I believe you were once quite active, now I fear you are rather useless to your profession." His thorough scrutiny finished at my feet, "you are still walking and looking for a bed, so this arrangement is not secure." His eyes darted upwards again and challenged mine, "how would the trustees react if they realised that such an honourable institution as Bartholomew's Hospital is being used to house homeless women?"

"How-how do you know all this? Have you been spying on me sir? Spying and asking questions no-doubt. So now you wish to expose me for revenge? Have me thrown out helpless, is that your game sir?"

He raised his hand and impatiently wiggled his fingers, "no questions, a name if you please, otherwise I feel it my duty to expose you and your lover. Yes, don't look surprised, this person has managed to install you here no-doubt for the express purpose of clandestine meetings at night…"

It was my turn to rile indignation and I felt myself blush scarlet, "I beg your pardon sir, I do not, nor have I ever entertained a 'lover.' Sir Bernard and his wife are both aware of my situation and it was her ladyship herself that suggested this arrangement. Indeed, Sir Bernard is like an uncle to me, an old family friend of daddy's, nothing more and he has put much at risk to give me this shelter. As you well know sir, I am in the active process of finding diggings and this is merely a temporary solution, it is not some... some underhanded scheme to indulge in vulgarity." At this point I had entirely lost what little control I ever possessed of my temper and was viciously stabbing my finger barely inches from his nose, quite ready to engage in mortal combat with the massive appendage. "You may not be aware sir, I still occasionally assist Sir Bernard in surgery as I did a year ago and he considers me a-a proficient professional, not at all useless. And I also volunteer here, so I feel it is my right to expect some kindness in return. And you sir ... you sir are certainly not a gentleman; you have a filthy mind and no manners and you... you are a cad sir and quite frankly deserve to lose your little chemical playground. "

He was so board with my outburst that he had resorted to examining his nails, "and you are far too easy to dissemble Miss Watson, you need to be more careful and guard against such weakness, I had that name with very little effort indeed. I find that a proud female can always be rattled with an allegation of adultery, toss them an accusation or two and they simply fall to pieces, works every time." He rubbed his hands with satisfaction, chuckling to himself and then peered directly into my face, "ah, it is true what they say about red hair, however you seem to have adopted a new skin colour which does rather compliment it." Predictably my face only burned harder at that and I turned from him, unable to control my reactions and unwilling to allow him pleasure in my discomfort. Yet he continued to address my back regardless, "and you may currently be more useful to this hospital, but certainly less resourceful than myself. There are those of us who are less appreciated here, perhaps because we are less haughty about our benevolence."

"I have a right to be high-minded Mr Holmes, you may very well amuse yourself with chemicals in the labs, whereas I am actually doing some good, administering to the sick."

"While my benevolence has a long-term contribution to society, yours is merely transitory; however I am much less noble about it and therefore less appreciated." His sarcasm was cutting, he was clearly ridiculing me. I braced myself and spun around, ready to end this battle of wits.

"I wouldn't call bashing the subjects in the dissecting rooms with a stick 'benevolent', 'childish' perhaps if your intensions were mischievous, but I think 'macabre' and 'ghoulish' would be more fitting in your case."

His face suddenly blazed with expression of devious delight, like a hound standing before a cornered fox. "Ah, Stamford told you about that I suppose? Yes I am unconventional in my methods, but you madam 'appear to be as narrow-minded and short-sighted as the rest' and rather disappointingly so. I also believe an appropriate idiom for your opinions would be 'somewhat hypocritical', though considering your situation I think 'ill-informed' would be more fitting."

"And you are twisting my words." I conceded defeat, again closed my eyes and took another deep breath. This fellow was clearly bent on revenge and I needed to limit the damage he could do. "I suppose you are planning to blackmail Sir Bernard with your filthy accusations? I won't have it, I'll leave now. You insult one of the few good and decent gentlemen by suggesting…."

He waved his hand dismissively, "please do be quiet, you chatter far too much Miss Watson, if you stopped and reasoned more then perhaps you would be less destitute. What I am suggesting is that we both reach a compromise and continue our existence here in peace, using the same benefactor. If Sir Bernard is bending the rules in one direction, he may well twist them again in another. Well, well, well, he's an opportunity at least, perhaps one that can get me back my lab." He turned sharply, "Sir Bernard is surgery, so his office would be to the rear of the building, that way I think," as his hand pointed abstractly at a bookcase, a small piece of sticking-plaster shot from his fingers and landed against my skirts. Automatically I looked to see its origin and then scanned him for more blisters or wounds, fearing perhaps a disease, but he forestalled my examination with a set of razor-sharp eyes. "If you will excuse me madam, I've left my riding-crop in the morgue, two birds with one stone I think." Then he fluttered his hand, indicating me to move aside, "I scarcely doubt you will have a good-evening whether I wish it or not Miss Watson, so I will simply take my leave of you."

…. and he was gone.

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As usual; I thank the patience of fanfiction readers and beg them to point out any errors. I also apologise for twisting ACD's wonderful characters to fit my own little warped universe, but such is the destiny of all things Miss Watson.

I'm afraid most of the irony in this story is lost if you are unfamiliar with the first chapters in 'A Study in Scarlet', as it is set to follow that wonderful first meeting, (with a touch or two of BBC's 'Sherlock' to spice it.) So lastly, can I please apologise if like me, you haven't read that book for a while

Feedback always makes writing worthwhile and spurs me onwards.

I will take the opportunity to thank the following regular reviewers of 'My Dear Miss Watson', who have been there for me at the very start and held out, frankly keeping me going;

Arty Diane (full of suggestions and my inspiration), delia cerrano (a wise owl that keeps me on my toes) Coolb92 (your reviews are cool), FJH4ever (straight to the point and honest) and Jfreak (thank you for the encouragement.) tree1138 (we both love Lestrade) Book girl fan (you somehow remind me of a character in 'You've got Mail'... don't know why, but it's a great film.) Ebony Fox (wish I had that pen name.) and TheGoldenHairedMockingjay (did I spell that right?) Louisethelibraian (I so wanted that job, but became a teacher instead.) Riandra (miss you) eylandria13 (your reviews made me laugh) and Gittacat (you so wanted up-dates and I'm so useless with them!)... oh and the many others who reviewed...XXX

Thank you Tegan

*Watson referred to keeping 'a bull pup,' in Study in Scarlet, believed by Jacques Barzun to be Victorian army slang for a short temper; others believe it to be an abbreviated name for a type of handgun, while many fans, (especially of the film-watching kind) believe this to be an actual animal called Gladston. Sadly, I can't at this point handicap Miss Watson any further by having her hampered with animals, especially as she is homeless and dossing in a |hospital. Also I find it difficult to write 'cute' pet characters; however for those pet owners like myself who love animals, I will eventually allow her to become rather attached to Toby the dog in My Dear Miss Watson