A Game Of Chance

Prologue

A/N: HEEEEY GUUUUUYS

So I haven't been on in AGES. I KNOW. IM SORRY. It's been madness and we're having difficulties with Through The Maelstrom and I haven't touched Barriers in 629172 years and school and life and stuff so yeah. Excuses, excuses I know. But TheAutobotSpy and I have concocted a new thing here. And we are really excited about it. And we're really working to make sure it stays updated because quitehonestly... I'm very proud of it. So it's a constant work and we're making a point to work on TTM now too (we're having plot hole problems... We always write the BIG things and then have a horrible time writing bridges to them so they actually make sense XD oops) but this is NEW and SHERLOCK and I mean... I love it. A lot. And you have nO IDEA what's in store for this like wOAH HolD oNTo yOur fEeLinGs. So with that, I graciously give you the prologue to: A GAME OF CHANCE! *fireworks*

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"Kidney failure. " It was a fact. No way to dispute it. But he did. He always did.

"Cerebral hemmorage." That was also a fact. "But the question is, " he pondered, shining shoes tapping the sterile floor as he paced, "Which killed him first?" He spun around to face her on the last word, curls flying around his bright eyes.

"Well, see the-" she stopped mid sentence as his phone started to go off. He pulled it out of his pocket with a graceful precision. Remarkably well for someone who got few calls. "Yes, it's me. No Mycro- I... I'm busy. No. What? No you're kidding. Of course I know! I know everything. You idiot you're joking..... No I've never met her! I didn't go to the funeral, there wasn't a body. They're all idiots anyway. No. I cant. I won't. No Myc- no I. Fine. I expect to see you about this tonight. "

He suddenly snapped the phone shut and stuffed it Into his pocket, obviously irritated. "What was it?" She asked quietly but sternly, expecting an answer. "Oh Molly, put those heads on ice. I've got to go pick up a girl. " he draped his coat over his arm and then Sherlock Holmes was gone. Leaving only a flustered Molly Hooper in his wake.

~~~~~3hrs later~~~~~

The doors swung open and she stopped herself from looking to see who it was. "where's Sherlock?" John asked slightly breathless and even more than slightly annoyed. She turned around. "He said... He said he had to go pick up... A girl?" She stumbled through words, blushing against her will. He stared at her, head cocked. "A...girl?"

"Yeah, Mycroft called. He wasn't too happy about it. " she replayed the conversation in her head. When was Sherlock ever happy about something Mycroft was doing?

John stared at her, seeming to work things out in his mind. "I'll go... Find out who it is. If it's even a real story. "

"Thank you- er- I mean... Good. Good idea. " she bit her lip but he acted like he didn't notice. He nodded to her and was gone as well.

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John stormed into the flat, almost knocking Mrs. Hudson onto the floor. He flung open the DOOr to see none other than Sherlock Holmes on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling, pale hands steepled.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I live here, after all." He mumbled without opening his eyes, "But you do not. So the correct inquiry would be 'what are YOU doing here?'"

John took a deep breath and a step back to regain himself. "You told me you were with Molly and Molly that you had to... Pick up some girl?"

His eyes were still closed, hands folded at the base of his chin. "I was with Molly. Then my stupid brother intervened. I do have to pick up a girl. A relative. Cousin I believe. Her father, my mum's brother, just died and I'm meeting her at the airport so she can stay with me until she gets a place. "

"And you were going to tell me about this.. When?" He asked, still in the door frame.

"Again you don't live here. "

Seeing that that was going nowhere John tried a different approach. "So when do you have to pick her up?"

"Around..." He glanced at his watch and sighed, steepling his hands again before answering. "Three hours ago. "

John asked a question he dreaded the answer to. "So.... She's been at the airport.... For three hours? A teenage girl.... In a foreign country. .... Alone. " He rubbed his temples and knew what was coming next.

"Approximately, yes. But you don't have to be so melodramatic John."

"We are going to get her. Now."

"John... I've put this off long enough cant it wait more?"

"No! Sh-Sherlock. You have to grow up and go get your niece or cousin or whatever. That's how it works. And then she will come and live here for a few months and you'll be miserable and she'll be confused but then she'll move downtown, get a job, find a guy, and you'll just get Christmas cards. Life goes on. "

Sherlock just let out a discontented sigh and closed his eyes again.

"Now, Mr. Holmes."

"Do not call me that. It is my brother's name. "

"You have 30 seconds to be out the door before I call your dear brother. "

"You wouldn't."

John pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Sherlock groaned loudly and got up, grabbed his own coat, and marched down the stairs. John slammed the flat door behind them.

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Knowing it would get him nowhere to ask questions in the cab, they just sat. John lost in thoughts about who and how this girl could be and Sherlock thinking about.... Well who ever knows what sherlock is thinking about? They got to the airport and strode inside, looking for pink or a magazine among the gray and brown luggage and coats. John eventually saw a peice of cardboard with "HOLMES" written across it in marker. He grabbed sherlock's sleeve and pulled him over to the corner. There was a thin girl, about 18-20 years old,curled behind the cardboard, asleep with bright green earbuds in. Her legs were pulled to her chest and her suitcase was beside her. John looked at Sherlock accusingly.

"She was going to sleep here you idiot. Didn't you give her your number?"

"No. Then she might do something stupid like call me. "

John rolled his eyes and went to take her bag. When he started to wheel it away, it was suddenly jerked back and she stood up, facing him. One hand on the bag, the other fingering a distinct shape in her pocket. "Name?"

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, finally seeing all of her. She was as tall as John, maybe an inch taller, but he'd never admit it. The key part he noticed was that there was no pink or flowers on her. She wore dark jeans and gray trainers with a grey and white plaid button down on top. All of the buttons were open and there was a simple gray top underneath. The most lively thing about her was her face. She had impossibly thick brown and blonde hair that went past her shoulder blades and seemed to have a life of its own as it curved around her deep changing hazel eyes, currently burning with accusation. Her full mouth was set and it made the hollows of her cheeks seem to be pits. She stood strong, eyebrows furrowed.

"John Watson. Friend of Sherlock Holmes. "

She looked him over and then her posture relaxed slightly. Then she looked to Sherlock.

"Uncle Sherlock?" He put out his hand and she shook it firmly. He noted her strong grip.

"Unfortunately. " he muttered under his breath.

"Are your other bags in the claim?" John asked, hoisting the suitcase again, keeping a wary eye on her knife-grabbing hand.

"No, this is it. Those, " she gestures towards the suitcase, are my books and things. And these, " she pulled a backpack on. "Are clothes. That's all anyone really needs right?"

Sherlock half-snorted and stalked out of the airport. "Come along, Dawn. "

John took the suitcase and started walking with her. "Sorry he's unfortunately... Always.... Like this. "

"That's okay. " she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I wouldn't be happy to see me either. "