Strangest Stranger

1

(A/N): Sorry that I don't have names for the chapters. This story wasn't written in chapter form, it was just divided by short and long squigglies. My bad. This story is about 47 notebook pages, so just bear with me on typing all of them up. If you want, you can comment a good chapter name at the bottom of each one, because I don't have to time to come up with some.

"We could be immortals. Immortals. Not for long, for long." My iphone sings through my earbuds. I'm just wandering around London, wishing I had a life. I also seriously wish I had a boyfriend, too. I'm just really lonely so-but my thoughts are interrupted by someone slamming into me, knocking me to the ground, and falling on top of me.

The person scrambles to their feet, and offers me a hand, saying, in a deep, accented voice, "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry."

I take the strong hand, and the person pulls me up. That's when I notice. The man has bluish-green eyes (with a slight gold tint) that see right into your soul, curly black hair, and a jawline that can cut diamonds. I wondered for a moment that if I slapped him, would my hand bleed. I feel my vital organs drop to my feet, and I say, "Oh...hi..."

He says, "Are you alright? I need to be on my way." Well dang! Don't care much?

I say, now feeling confident, "So you look like a gentleman, but in reality, you're not."

"Never judge a book by its cover."

"Oldest saying ever."

He smiles, giving me chills, and says, "Walk with me."

I speed walk beside him in silence for a while, then say, "So, I'm walking to a strange place with an even stranger man, but I don't seem to be thinking about my safety much. What if you're a rapist or a sociopath or something?"

He chuckles, then says, "I'm definitely not a rapist, but I am a sociopath. Most people say I'm a psychopath or a freak, but there is a difference between a sociopath and a psychopath, believe me."

"They do sound alike, but I'll take your word for it."

"I'm Sherlock, by the way. Sherlock Holmes. I'm a detective."

"I think I've heard of you, but I may have just seen you in the papers, I don't know. I'm Alliana...London. Alliana London is my name. Being weird is my game. Also, where are we going?"

Sherlock gives me a look, then a little smirk. We turn the corner, seeing yellow tape and police cars. "Crime scene, where else?" he says, hopping over the yellow police tape, as if he enjoys crime, then slides into the building.

A voice behind me says, "Did he find you on the street?"

I turn to see another man, but he's shorter than Sherlock. He has a slight limp. His face reminds me of an animal's, but I can't think of the name of the species right now. I say, "He actually ran into me."

The man says, "I'm John Watson. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Sherlock's...friend."

"That's ironic, because he's not very friendly, but I kind of like that about him. I don't know why."