-Entry One-

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Sherlock is reading over my shoulder as I type and telling me I need to give you some background before I dive into the action. Well fine then, Mr. I-always-know best-no-matter-the-subject. Geez.

When this story starts, I've lived with the feared and famous Mycroft Holmes for two and a half years.
We've always had an odd relationship, probably due to the sudden and unexpected circumstance of finding myself in his custody. Oh, we butt heads now and then, but it's really not bad. Although he certainly has his own ideas about what I should do for University, but that's another matter.

If you're curious as to my situation and why I lived with Mr. Holmes (the eldest), pardon me for not explaining sooner.
My parents were brutally killed in a car crash when I was fourteen years old. Both my parents were only children and all but one of my grandparents are dead, the remaining one living in America in an intensive elder care program.
She's not exactly fit to care for me.
When my parent's lawyer told me that my Dad's "best friend" (aka closest business partner. Mycroft prides himself in not having friends) was my guardian, I had no idea what to even make of the situation. He was all but a stranger. As to why he was chosen to care for me till I was of age, my only guess was because he was (is) absolutely rolling in money and is the British Government. i.e. he's got power. A crap load of it.

So, at age fourteen I was a sent off to live with a man who didn't (and still doesn't) know one single thing about raising children; never mind a mourning, emotionally screwed up, hormonal teenager.
Those two years were difficult.
But one good thing came of all this, and that is Sherlock Holmes.
He's a strange man, obviously Mycroft's brother, though slightly less heartless and inhuman. He also has a much bigger emotional range, though he buries it under cleverness and deductions.
We crossed paths several times during my time with Mycroft, and you could almost say we bonded.
Bizarre and almost unbelievable, I know, but we hit it off right away. I became fascinated by crime and crime solving actually, and he was always willing to boast-I mean tell someone-about his latest and greatest cases. And of course, we bonded over poking fun at Mycroft. It was hilarious actually: if the three of us happened to be in the same room together, we'd instantly gang up on him, dropping sarcastic and sometimes insulting comments left and right.

All in all you could say I was fine. I was surviving: I had a best friend at school, I had my after school activities and things I liked doing, I had a friend in Sherlock....but things started to go down hill awhile after I turned sixteen. That's where our story picks up.

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