"You've got to be joking."

Lottie Blakely gave an exasperated sigh in reaction to coming home to her electricity being out. She had been out doing a bit of shopping when the explosion happened, apparently a gas leak, and came back as soon as she'd been told the news. Her body slumped in irritation and annoyance as she tried once more to flip on the light with no luck and headed over to her heating unit. Of course, it too was out because of the electricity. She sighed again and decided it was probably best to inform her landlady of the issue. Not to mention she was absolutely freezing down there in that basement and she would've really liked a cup of tea. She went through a few boxes, only having just moved in the day before, and pulled out an extra blanket to wrap around her small frame and headed upstairs to the main floor, where her landlady lived.

She peeked out from her door and saw the door to 221A closed and took a few steps towards it, knocking lightly to get Mrs. Hudson's attention. After a few minutes of waiting it was fairly obvious that she wasn't home and Lottie's shoulders slumped again. She really didn't want to sit down there by herself in that cold, dark basement. Just when she was about to give up and drag herself back downstairs she heard a somewhat familiar voice calling from above.

"Sherlock!" It sounded like that lovely man Mrs. Hudson volunteered to help her move in. She had insisted that he didn't need to do that, but he and Mrs. Hudson insisted that he did. He was really very kind and Lottie wondered if he would know where Mrs. Hudson was or when she would be home. He might even spare a cup of tea. She shrugged and started up the stairs, thinking of the conversation she'd had yesterday with Mrs. Hudson, who had warned her about the two men that lived above her. Once she got to the top, she knocked and poked her head inside the already half opened door.

"Goodbye, John. See you very soon."

A man Lottie did not recognize walked passed her, nodding his head at her, and out the door. She watched him go for a second before a rapid medley of violin notes pierced her eardrums. She squirmed a bit, but they stopped shortly after they started.

"Lottie," the man she recognized as Dr. John Watson, the man who helped her move in, came over and gestured her inside.

"Hi, Dr. Watson." She smiled, happy that he remembered her.

"Please, call me John. Sherlock, this is Lottie Blakely. She's just moved in downstairs in 221C."

The curly haired man looked up from his violin and gave a sarcastic, forced smile. She gave one back to him, but the way he looked at her was somewhat off-putting. It was as if he was reading her whole life story just by scanning her frame. John rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what his flat mate was doing.

"Was there something you needed or were you just dropping by to say hello?" John said.

"Actually, I was looking for Mrs. Hudson."

"She's gone out to the grocery. Is everything alright?"

"Well, actually, my bloody electricity's gone out and it's freezing down there, and if I'm honest, all I want is a cup of tea." She chuckled, realizing she was sounding a bit whiney, "Sorry, just a bit frustrating."

John laughed, "It's alright. Mrs. Hudson should be back any minute. In the meantime, you're more than welcome to sit up here. Would you like me to fetch you a cuppa?"

"God, yes. If you don't mind."

He smiled and gestured for her to have a seat in the chair across from Sherlock while he stepped into the kitchen area to make a pot of tea. She sat and crossed her legs, wringing hands together and looking around at the boys' living area. Sherlock watched her with little interest seeing as she really didn't have much to hide nor did she seem like the person to hide anything even if she did. There was paint and charcoal on her hands, and probably forearms as well, so she was an artist for sure, she had a history of chronic anxiety or nervousness, having several nervous ticks and he could practically see her heart beating from across the room. John came back in with her tea, and she thanked him when he handed it to her, her eyes watching his lips as they moved, telling Sherlock she had some sort of selective hearing and was very much a visual type of person, probably the reason she picked up on painting and drawing. She watched the way he moved as he went back to the kitchen for tea for both himself and Sherlock, observing his body language and the way he interacted with others, probably having some sort of experience in the sociology department, watching peoples' body language and the way they interact with the people around them. She had a very genuine, kind smile and features and there was no sign of a bad home life, so why make the move all the way to London by herself?

"Not enough inspiration in Yorkshire?" Sherlock sipped on his tea.

Lottie furrowed her eyebrows, "I'm sorry?"

"The paint on your hands, you're an artist. And your accent, from Yorkshire, South Yorkshire I presume and it seems you've got some sort of anxiety or nervousness, you keep biting the inside of your cheek and rubbing your hands together so you didn't move here for the hustle and bustle of the big city and there's no indication of a bad home life so you're not trying to get away from your family, so probably your job, or rather your lack of one brought you here to little ole' Baker Street."

"Sherlock," John rubbed his face with his hands in embarrassment and Lottie sat with her jaw open in awe. This girl was going to think they were crazy if she didn't already.

"That was bloody brilliant."

Sherlock looked confused for only a split second and the only thing John could do was laugh. Sherlock glanced at his flat mate and back to Lottie, "You're only the second person to ever have that reaction."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." John and Sherlock spoke and after a second, all three of them started to laugh. Lottie took another sip of her tea and set her cup on the table.

"Really though, that was fantastic. How do you do that?" she smiled.

"It's simple really, I observe. I observe what everyone else sees."

"See now, look what you've started." John joked and Lottie laughed.

"So it really is true, what you write in the blog? She asked, crossing her legs in her seat.

"Oh God, you read it too?" Sherlock stood and grabbed his violin from beside his chair, "It just shows how much of a drama queen John is."

"Oh, I'm the drama queen?" John replied, "Is that why you lied to your brother?"

Sherlock gave him a look and Lottie picked up her tea again, a hint of a smile playing at her lips as she took a sip of the look warm liquid. It made her wonder if their heat was out too.

"You've got nothing on." John continued, "Not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell him you were busy?"

Lottie glanced over at the wall John gestured too, furrowing her brow in astonishment at the bullet holes that accompanied the big yellow smiley face they surrounded. She couldn't help but smile, taking another sip of tea.

"Why shouldn't I?" Sherlock answered.

"Oh. Nice. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere."

Lottie glanced between them; keeping herself out of this argument she obviously wasn't a part of until Sherlock's mobile started to ring. With the whoosh of his violin bow, he broke the intense eye contact he had with John and pulled his mobile from inside his jacket.

"Sherlock Holmes." He answered. His faced fell from annoyed, probably both from the phone call and from John badgering him, to completely interested in what the person on the other end had to say in a split second, "Of course. How can I refuse?" he hung up his phone and grabbed his coat, "Lestrade – I've been summoned. Coming?"

"If you want me to." John stood with him.

"Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger." He gave Lottie a wink and she rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair, but Sherlock had other plans, "Miss Blakely, why don't you join us? Since you won't be doing anything but loitering up here in our flat anyway."

"Are you sure?" She stood cautiously.

"Of course I'm sure. I'm sure Dr. Watson is tired of having to babysit me by himself." He adjusted his coat and was out the door. John turned back to a smiling Lottie, nodding his head for her to go in front of him. Lottie ran down the stairs to her own flat, calling out that she just needed to grab her coat and she was back up just in time for Sherlock to hail them a cab. John waited for her to lock the door to her home and they jumped into the vehicle with Sherlock.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Obviously."

Lottie followed John and Sherlock and this new man, Lestrade, through the corridors of the police station, observing the sights around her. It seemed to be your average office, cubicles, filing cabinets, phones ringing off the hook, bulletin boards and white boards with important messages scribbled on them. She almost didn't feel like she was important enough to be here, so she kept close to Dr. Watson, knowing that as long as she was with him or Sherlock she'd be fine.

"You'll love this." Lestrade continued, "That explosion."

"Gas leak, yes?" Sherlock answered.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Made to look like one."

"What?" Lottie looked confused, "You mean the one across from our flat?"

"Yeah, hardly anything left of the place, except a strongbox. A very strong box, and inside it was this."

There was an envelope sitting on Lestrade's desk with nothing but Sherlock's name written on the front. Sherlock picked it up, "You haven't opened it?"

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

"How reassuring."

Lottie suppressed a chuckle and looked away when Lestrade gave her a look. Sherlock took the envelope over to a lamp on the other side of the office, examining the writing in detail, "Nice stationery. Bohemian. From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?" Lestrade replied negatively to his question and Sherlock continued his analysis, "She used a fountain pen. Parker Duofold, Meridian nib."

"She?" Lottie asked.

"Obviously."

"Obviously?" she looked to John but he just sighed and shook his head.

"Welcome to my world."

Sherlock took to opening the envelope with careful ease, examining the cut of the paper before peeking inside; his face falling when he realized what was in it.

"What is it?" Lottie asked, impatient by nature. Sherlock pulled out an iPhone with a pink case on it and John sucked in a breath.

"That…That's the phone. The pink phone." He said.

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

"Well, obviously, it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like-Study In Pink, you read his blog?" The realization hit Sherlock like a smack in the face and he turned to the officer in disbelief.

"Of course I read his blog. We all do. Do you really not know that the Earth goes round the sun?"

"Oh my god, I totally forgot about that part!" Lottie said and both John and Sherlock gave her a look and she muttered an apology.

"It isn't the same phone." Sherlock continued with the matter at hand, "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." He unlocked the phone and tapped the phone app indicating that there was a new message waiting for him.

You have one new message.

There were five Greenwich Time signal pips just after the automated voice and Lottie furrowed her eyebrows, "Was that it?"

"No, that's not it." the phone signaled another message, a text message, and Sherlock opened it, letting John and Lestrade view it with him.

"What in the hell are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade said, "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips."

"It's a warning."

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that – five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again."

John was examining the photo in the phone and it suddenly hit him, "I've seen this place before. Lottie, isn't this your flat?"

"What?" she hadn't got a chance to look at the photo and Sherlock waited for her to have a look and her eyes went wide, "Yeah, that's it. Before I'd moved all my things in."

"Ah, yes, that's where I've seen it." Sherlock started walking towards the exit, taking the phone from Lottie on the way out and John and herself followed him.

"Hang on. What's going to happen again?" Lottie asked.

"Boom!"

Once they were back at the flat, Sherlock unlocked the front door and headed straight for the door to Lottie's flat. She wasn't afraid to admit she was a little freaked out about all this, but she knew better and said nothing.

"Do you have your keys with you?" Sherlock asked her.

"Yeah," she took them out of her coat pocket and he stepped aside so she could unlock it.

"The door's been opened recently." Sherlock muttered while Lottie struggled with the lock, still not quite used to its tick.

"You mean since we've been gone? I've got the only key." The door finally opened and Sherlock stepped passed her, down the stairs and into the living area of her flat. She followed all the boys down and poked her head inside, unsure of what she might find but to her surprise all of her belongings were exactly as she left them: half unpacked and scattered all over the place. It was still freezing cold and dark, the only light came through the window to their left. The only thing out of place was a pair of trainers sitting right in the middle of her living room floor.

"Shoes." John observed. Sherlock took a step toward them, but John held up his hand to stop him.

"He's a bomber, remember."

Sherlock sipped in a breath and continued toward the shoes, a little bit more careful about where he placed his feet, and his hands when he got down on his hands and knees to get a closer look. As soon as his hands touched the floor, his phone sounded, causing the entire room to just about leap out of their own skins. He pulled the pink phone from his pocket and a blocked number appeared on the screen. He took a moment to answer it, putting it on speaker when he did.

"Hello." He said, his voice soft. A ragged breathing came through the phone's speaker before a woman's voice did.

"H-Hello…sexy." The woman began sobbing.

"Who's this?"

"I've…sent you…a little puzzle. Just to say hi."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I…I'm not crying. I'm typing. And this..." the woman sniffled, "Stupid bitch is reading it out."

Sherlock's eyes went wide in realization, "The curtain rises." His voice was low, almost too low for anyone to hear.

"What?" Lottie asked.

"Nothing."

"No, what did you mean?" John pried, something Lottie wasn't comfortable enough with them to do yet.

"I've been expecting this for some time."

"12 hours to solve…my puzzle, Sherlock…or I'm going to be…so…naughty." The woman hung up the phone and Lottie took to massaging her temples. There was a moment of silence before Sherlock picked up the shoes and headed back upstairs. Lottie watched him with furrowed eyebrows and John took a deep breath, placing a hand on her back.

"Come on, better go with him. Make sure he stays out of too much trouble."