Anthology - A Collection of Fanfic One-Shots

I Believe - a Sherlock mini-fic, Part 1

Authors' Note: This is the first part of the one-shot requested by @WingedMonkey28, who was the first 'winner' of our randomly-picked-follower-gets-to-choose-a-oneshot-plot drawing. It has been a real challenge to do a Sherlock piece, neither of us experienced in the 'whodunnit' genre, so we hope you like this offering. PLEASE leave us some comment love, and we promise the next part won't be too far away!

"Nothing? How can you have nothing? You're Sherlock bloody Holmes! You know two hundred types of ash, for Christ's sakes!" Lestrade was more than a little perturbed that his consulting detective had no clues at all for this case.

"Two hundred and forty-three," Sherlock corrected him.

"What about the samples you took, the soil and blood?"

"Standard soil, the usual composition of clay, sand, decaying leaves, rock particles - all that can be found in millions of locations. Nothing distinctive. Type O blood sample; most common blood group, held by 47% of the population, including the victim. No genetic anomalies." He went back to peering into the microscope, placing another slide under the lens and twiddling the dials on the side.

Lestrade pounded his fist on the table, frustration oozing from every pore. "She's not some nameless victim you don't give a toss about, Sherlock; this is Molly, who you've worked alongside, who has helped you on numerous occasions. She's your friend, man! And now she's been hurt by someone and needs your help; how can you be so damned cold and clinical?"

Equally exasperated, Sherlock looked into the inspector's eyes. "Will sentiment help anything? Emotion clouds judgement, overrides logical decision-making processes, short-circuits synapses..."

"Dammit!" Lestrade opened his mouth to say something further, thought better of it, then turned and stomped out of the door, mumbling under his breath all the way down the stairs and on to the street.

"That was a bit rough, even for you," John said from his armchair. Sherlock ignored him. Sighing heavily, John picked up his newspaper but laid it down again no more than thirty seconds later. "He's right, you know – this is Molly we're talking about. We should be helping all we can to find the bastard that did this to her." He carried on even in the face of the silence from the other room. "I'm going to visit her tomorrow and you're coming too; perhaps you'll find some clues you overlooked the other day." Sherlock sent him a scathing glance, to which he responded, "Yeah, all right, you're the great bloody Sherlock Holmes, but even you can miss things sometimes." Sherlock snorted and this time it was John's turn to ignore, simply flicking the pages of his paper and peering interestedly at an article on page ten.

At St Barts the next day they reached the intensive care ward only to find Lestrade outside Molly's room along with a woman they did not know. Not just any woman; a beautiful woman. Shoulder length brunette hair with a pale streak through her side-swept fringe, delicate features, slim build, full lips, aquiline nose and the most amazing eyes Sherlock had ever seen, surrounded by long, lustrous lashes. Tall too, only an inch shorter than his own six foot.

"Ah Sherlock, I'd like you to meet Sandra Gordon, who helped us out with some cases while you were...gone. Sandi, Sherlock Holmes, and of course you already know Doctor Watson."

Giving a soft smile, the woman held out her hand to Sherlock. "Nice to meet you, Mr Holmes." He ignored her outstretched hand, merely stood there staring at her, deducing her. Seemingly undaunted by his snubbing and silence, she turned instead to Watson. "John, how nice to see you again."

"You too, Sandi," said John, remembering the softness of her hand as he shook it.

"Thirty-two, single, three - no, four - siblings, moneyed, plays the cello, owns a dog," Sherlock pronounced, still staring. "You're here because..." The others waited patiently for the rest of his deduction, John noticing Lestrade had somewhat of a smirk on his face, while Sandi looked simply amused. When the seconds ticked by without further speech, John looked at Sherlock, curious.