The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter One: Somebody Intelligent

The screech of the train brakes wasn't loud enough to drown out my inclinations that this was going to go horribly wrong. But then again, lately, in my mind everything is pre-destined to go horribly wrong.

"Greg!" I hugged him. I really was excited to see him. Even if he was a liar.

"Claudia. Did you get in ok?"

"Ok enough. Trains aren't exactly the most clean methods of transportation, but it accomplished it's purpose."  He nodded. It was clear that he was nervous...he was worried at one wrong move I would crack. "I'm ok, Greg. Really."

"Are you sure?" I nodded, sighing. "I just...with Mark, and everything..."

Mark was my boyfriend. My partner in crime is how he referred to it. He always said he had a love of irony, and because I was a detective, he found it Ironic that we would be partners in crime. I was hunting the most psychotic psychopath any of us had ever seen, and Mark...Mark ended up hanging from my chimney. Not by his own doing of course. You see, Mark was a message, to drop the crime solving business and leave the psychopath alone.

So that's what I did...until now.

"I just...I couldn't sit around sulking anymore. I loved Mark, but...he's gone. And I'm not going to let some unnamed psychopath keep me from living my life and doing what I'm best at." He nodded.

"I'm glad you're here. Did you find a place?" I nodded.

"Yup." I said, popping the 'p'. "A flat. But it has to be redone. According to the land lady the damp is something awful and has to be fixed up a bit. Should only take a few weeks, so if you're alright with letting me crash for a while."

"Of course! You're my little sister, what am I gonna say. No?" He picked up my suitcase, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "So...is it alright with you if we jump right in on a case? Just got one this morning. A bomb went off across the street from our consulting detective's place."

"Brief me in the car." I told him.

~~~

I sat in Greg's chair, at his desk, awaiting his return with the consulting detective. He refused to give me a name, which led me to believe that it was somone I would've heard of, and based on what I know about Cases Greg has received and stories that end up on line, it was clear to me that the consultant, or should I say consultants were none other than Dr. John Watson the Blogger and Detective Sherlock Holmes.

"You'll love this," Greg said as he entered. He was followed by a tall man with insane curly blak hair, and a shorter blonde man. Based on my previous deduction, it wasn't hard to figure out which was which. "That explosion."

"Gas Leak, yes?" Mr. Holmes asked.

"No."

"No?"

"Made to look like one." I stated. Mr. Holmes looked at me, confused.

"Sorry, who are you?" Dr. Watson asked.

"OH, right. John, Sherlock, this is my sister, Claudia. She'll be assisting on this case."

"I didn't know you had a sister Lestrade." Sherlock stated, not taking his eyes off of me.

"Something you didn't know? It's a happy occasion for everyone."

"Anyway, there was hardly anything left of the bomb site except...a strongbox." I explained, nodding to the box on the desk. "Inside the strongbox..." I picked up an envelope, tossing it across the desk to the Detective. It had his name on it, after all.

"You haven't opened it?" He asked.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?" Greg questioned. "We've X-rayed it, it's not booby trapped."

"How reassuring." He said sarcastically. He carried the envelope over to the lamp and I stood up, going over to inspect it as well. "Nice stationary."

"Bohemian." We said in unison. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. I met his gaze, unblinking.

"What?" Greg asked. I looked at him, while Sherlock continued to look at me. 

"From the Czech Republic." I explained.

"No fingerprints?"

"No."

"She used a fountain pen, though." I said.

"Parker Duofold, Iridium nib."

"She?" John asked.

"Obviously." Sherlock replied.

"Obviously."

"A man could not have handwriting this immaculate." I told him. He delicately cut open the envelope, opening it and pulling out a cell phone with a pink case.

"But that...that's the phone, the pink phone." John stated.

"What, from The Study In Pink?" Greg asked.

"Well obviously it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like..." Sherlock turned around. "A Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"Of course I read his blog. We all do. Do you really not know that the Earth goes 'round the sun?" A girl with curly hair snickered. I turned to Greg.

"Well actually, with all due respect, Greg, it's documented that people of a slightly higher intellect have the ability to filter what memory they maintain based on what they themselves consider to be...important." I trailed off, realizing that I was rambling again. They all just looked at me.

" Finally, somebody intelligent." Sherlock said, looking back to the phone. "It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new. Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means, your blog has a far wider readership."

"You have one new message." The phone let out five beeps, the last one longer than the others.

"Was that it?" John asked.

"No, that's not it." The phone beeped, and a picture of a gross looking flat popped up. An eerily familiar looking flat.

"What the heck are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips?"

"It's a warning." Sherlock stated.

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things of that variety." I explained. "Five pips, is warning us that it's going to happen again." I looked at the picture. "I've seen this palce before."

"Hang on, what's going to happen again?" John questioned.

"Boom!" I gasped, and they all looked at me.

"That's my flat." I stated. "The one that's supposed to be redone?"

"Where is it?" John asked.

"It's um...221C Baker Street." Sherlock and John walked out the door, and I stayed with Greg. 

"Coming, Lestrade?"

"There's two of them." John pointed out.

"Oh, right. Come along, Lestrade's sister." I rolled my eyes, following them out, the phone in my hand.

"You know, you could use my name." I told him. "Claudia?"

"Good luck with that." John told me. I sighed.

This is going to be interesting.