He slid the dossier across the desk. Sherlock opened it and examined its contents. Inside there was a mugshot of a woman with (Y/H/L) (Y/H/C) hair, gleaming (Y/E/C) eyes and a smirk on her lips. "Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Lestrade told Sherlock. "She was a prisoner at Bronzefield." "Was?" Sherlock inquired, cocking a brow. Lestrade inhaled deeply and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk with his hands interlinked. "She escaped." ✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵✵ (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has the majority of Europe's finest wondering how she escaped from one of the securest prisons in England. She, of course, had help. But now he wants payment. (Y/L/N) agreed to scratch a few names off of this man's - rather extensive - Hitlist. Doing so whilst on the run is difficult, but (Y/N) manages. That is, until she bumps into a certain consulting detective... ★★★★★★★★★★★★★ Hello! This is my first FanFic so, bare with me; sit back, relax and enjoy.