Synopsis: Obsession makes for a dangerous and destructive livelihood. Rejection will either stamp it out or, in the worst-case scenario, fuel it. Four years have passed since the tragedy of a double homicide and undetermined death that struck two of society's well known families. The case, to Scotland Yard, appeared to have been solved and was officially closed. But two ghosts from that night resurface in the present, one hell-bent on finishing what he started. Case reopened. Holmes / OC.

Author's Notes: Set after the movie. Between double quotes, "…" is spoken dialogue. Between single quotes, '…' is sign language. Italics is a memory in long form and internal dialogue in short form. Also, I do apologize for the name of the villain if this bothers some people. I am not a twilight person, for those of you who share my sentiment, but it just happened that Jasper worked and nothing else did.

Warnings: Some disturbing subject matter as far as the cases go, but nothing explicit. Probably a warning for language is in order somewhere in the future. The romance won't be too intense either.

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and anything affiliated with it belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The movie and such things are due to Guy Ritchie. I get no profit from this whatsoever. I own nothing, minus my original characters (mainly being the Andrews and Perry families).

A piece of red hair fell into Caroline's eyes and she sighed. In the sunlight that shone through the window of the train her hair sparkled copper. The funny thing about red hair was that it had a mind of its own. Some days it wouldn't shine at all, taking on the guise of a dull red-brown. Some days it would shine so brightly that it would attract too much attention for Caroline's own good. She just hoped that today it would be tame. She didn't want to give the wrong impression. It had been hard enough finding a job within the past few months.

She couldn't really complain about the fact that her parents had gotten it for her…probably because they were tired of her self-imposed exile in Norwich and wanted her closer to home. And she couldn't really say that she wouldn't be pleased when she saw them again. She wouldn't admit it, but the past few years away from home hadn't done her any good. Their only correspondence had been through letters over the past four years and it practically killed her every time she had to seal another. But it had been necessary.

A working girl at twenty-seven who was also unmarried was just uncommon. And to the world who knew her as Caroline Andrews, she was dead. For the past few years she'd been Lydia Collins, an immigrant from Ireland looking for work. And besides physical appearances, it wasn't wholly a lie because her mother was of Irish descent. It hadn't been too hard for her to play the part at first because pretending to be someone else was a comfort. She could be whoever she wanted to be, but she settled for someone simple, someone boring because it was safe and would keep her safe.

Ideally, she'd like to be the one to visit her parents first, to minimize the amount of embarrassment that would surely follow in front of her new employer. That wouldn't go over well at all. Many people were familiar with her family, as well as the rumors about the inheritance that her father had waiting for his children. But the truth was that they weren't rich, just middle class. Her father had been adamant since the beginning of his career that any extra proceeds he earned would not be spent on luxury. So, he gave it away to charity, to the poor houses and orphanages so they could afford better food and keep an unpatchy roof over their heads.

Caroline smiled softly. She didn't mind the way they lived. She rather liked it. But, of course, it made it that much harder to attend parties and make friends in her youth when all the children your age wanted to do was boast and brag about how many Sunday dresses they had in a particular color. It hadn't been easy to swallow at first, but she learned along the way. She had turned to her four brothers and grown up a bit of a tomboy, always preferring boyish clothing to the frilly lace of girlish things. But, for her mother's sake, she remained socially acceptable and didn't cause any trouble for herself, if she could help it. She did miss William, Richard, and Thomas.

Carefully, so as not to draw attention to herself, she wiped at the tears in the corners of her eyes at the memory of Christopher. But she wouldn't dwell on him today because she couldn't afford it. Looking like a blubbering mess wouldn't seem like a good start to her new occupation as an interim landlady. And she certainly didn't want to appear weak.

From what Caroline could gather, from a distressed Mrs. Hudson, was that Sherlock Holmes was either a genius or a madman…or, Caroline worried, both. It was rather hard to believe that Mrs. Hudson could find no one to take the position for only a few months. Was this Mr. Holmes truly that reprehensible? She certainly hoped not. She didn't know if she had the strength for such a character. But she wasn't quite afraid of the man or this job either. Hell, she'd grown up with four brothers for God's sake! Caroline Andrews was no pushover. At least, she tried not to be anymore.

Her heart twisted then, and, not for the first time, loneliness struck her. How long had it been since she'd felt free enough to use her real name in public? People certainly didn't recognize her by appearance, so why did it matter anymore? Four years of hiding had been long enough, hadn't it? Lydia Collins, though, would have to endure for just a little while longer, just to be safe. She could be Caroline Andrews again, and soon, hopefully.

Then a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped, but sighed in relief when she saw the boy, who was her escort, from earlier. Dirty blonde hair, thin frame, a couple of teeth missing…judging from those facts alone could never tell you his life's story, but for Sherlock Holmes, she mused, it would have been more than enough evidence. She liked to let the secret lie. Sometimes the mystery of it all, the things left unsaid were the most interesting to her. Otherwise, if the picture was tampered with, it ruined the entire piece. Not for the first time, she asked herself what exactly she was getting into.

"We'll be arriving soon, mum," he said softly. "You'd best get your things together. I'll worry about the trunk as before."

Caroline nodded, shoving her belongings back into her satchel when she saw the station in the distance. She hadn't had much of a chance in the past few years to grow close to anyone, for her own safety. And she rather hoped that it would stay that way because it was normal for her. Disconnection had become a comfort. Companionship was why she cried herself to sleep every night for months after it first happened. Her father had been right. Trust was a delicate matter. Well, by now she'd certainly learned that lesson.

When the train stopped in London and they disembarked, Caroline followed the boy who seemed to know exactly where to go. He hailed a cab and stowed the trunk as soon as the driver stopped. Caroline allowed herself only one glance. Short, bald, healthy beard, clean hands, patches sewn into the knees of his pants if you looked closely, and bright wide green eyes…she liked him.

"Mornin' lass," he said cheerfully. "Have a nice ride did ye?"

Caroline nodded, politely. When the boy was finished stowing her things he helped Caroline into the cab and shut the door. She stopped, confused. He wasn't riding with her? She could vaguely hear the boy talking to the driver before the horses started moving. Perhaps he was riding up front? Instinctively she looked back through the window and noticed that the boy was, in fact, not riding along with her. Her heart sunk. She hadn't even the chance to bid him farewell…in her own way of course. But then again, the less people knew of her, the better.

The ride was a good hour, pleasant, and smooth. But it left Caroline tired when they finally reached 221b Baker Street. The driver helped her out of the cab and started helping her unload her things. She took a quick look at the building, committing the sight to memory and then, somewhat hesitantly, started up the stairs. One knock away and her life would change forever…well, perhaps not that dramatically, but there was no turning back from this point, no chance at returning to Norwich, no chance at going back to being a recluse. But, she realized, she owed it to herself to start this new life, to see this reinvention of herself through, even if it meant taking it all one-step at a time in the dark. So she knocked firmly on the door.

Within seconds the door was flung open, revealing a flustered and older looking woman whom Caroline could only guess was Mrs. Hudson. She didn't look upon Caroline with disdain as her other employers had at first meeting her in person. This time all Caroline could sense was relief.

"Good Lord, it certainly took you long enough! Come inside, come inside, dear!"

Quickly, she was swept inside the door, her arm instantly ensnared within Mrs. Hudson's. The interior was rather charming as compared to the austere exterior. It was warm, bright enough, and felt lived in, homely. Caroline bit back a grin that threatened to be set loose. It had been a long time since she'd been in a place like this. She could just imagine the changes her parents made to their home in her absence-

"I was afraid you'd reconsidered-thankfully you haven't. There are a few things you must know before my departure so pay attention—Second floor, Charlie, and to the left!"

"Right, mum," the driver said.

Caroline looked back and saw him carry her things up the stairs, wondering how Mrs. Hudson had gotten on a first name basis with a cab driver…perhaps his picking her up at the station had been planned. That was a comforting thought. But why go to all the trouble…unless there was trouble that Mrs. Hudson was trying to get away from. She turned back to the older woman and examined her more closely. Attributes aside, Caroline would bet that she was right. What that trouble was, of course, she could only guess.

"You're lucky I know a little about your condition. I can't say much for Mr. Holmes, though, or Dr. Watson for that matter."

Caroline's brows furrowed.

"Dr. Watson does not live here anymore. He was Mr. Holme's flatmate for a period of time. He has recently married and moved out of his old room. You'll be taking up his former residence. He'll be around frequently since he and Mr. Holmes are partners in their detective work. Speaking of which, if Mr. Holmes decides to actually take a case, members of the Scotland Yard may pop by now and again. Mr. Holmes is our only tenant…regrettably."

Caroline narrowed her eyes.

"He drove the others away if you must know. I won't deceive you, my dear, he is quite eccentric. I'll leave you to find out the rest on your own. Now, the kitchen is through there," she said, pointing to the back of the house. "If you have any questions about the daily routine ask the cook, but for heaven's sake don't pester him more than twice a day at least. I won't stand losing another worker in this house. Understood?"

'Yes, ma'am.'

Mrs. Hudson paused for only a second before continuing on. "Right. The dining room is through there. Your room is on the second floor to the left, Mr. Holmes is at the top of the stairs on the right. Follow me."

Mrs. Hudson led Caroline up fourteen steps until they reached the second landing. She assumed that the woman would turn to the left, showing her the room she'd be staying in, but sadly she was wrong. Mrs. Hudson banged on a door that Caroline had been told led to Mr. Holmes portion of the flat. Hastily she brushed a hand through her hair, praying it was tame and didn't look a mess, double checked the tarnished clip that held most of it back, and then hastily brushed at her skirt. From somewhere inside there was a loud crash and a shout. Caroline's eyes widened but Mrs. Hudson only sighed in annoyance. Boldly she opened the door and strode right in. Another loud crash sounded and Caroline could barely see what was going on in the dark room…having not moved an inch from the doorway.

"Really, Mr. Holmes! That poor animal does not deserve this foul treatment!"

"Does he look like he minds, Nanny?—"

"And what in bloody hell are you doing to yourself now?"

"You know, such language isn't fit for—"

"Flattery will not hinder my departure so you might as well shut up and listen."

Caroline heard Mrs. Hudson cross the room and then a shuffle from the floor.

"No-no-no, not the light!"

There was the sharp sound of curtains being drawn back and another loud shout.

Caroline slowly peeked around the door that was still ajar and took in what she could now see. The room was entirely in disarray, but it was by far not the pigsty like she expected it to be. There was some kind of order to it all…or perhaps that was just her own imagination at work, comforting her in this entirely new place with these entirely new and different people. They certainly seemed like characters, even the poor dog who was lying in a puddle of his own drool…a rather large puddle of drool. She spotted Mrs. Hudson in the middle of the room, standing over to the hunched form of a man sitting on the floor with mountains of books around him, fuming.

"Come in, dear," she called, waving her over.

Hesitantly, Caroline left the doorway and ventured inside, keeping her distance from the arguing couple. Though Mrs. Hudson had invited her in it was clear that she wasn't needed, yet. She shifted on her feet when the argument broke for that split second and Mr. Holmes' eyes landed on her. But then as quickly as they struck her, they moved away and back on their original target.

"Mrs. Hudson, how am I to do any work—"

"In the dark? Well, I frankly don't know, Mr. Holmes," she fumed. "Perhaps you've developed the eyes of an owl, though certainly not the bloody intelligence!"

"Language, Nanny—"

"Oh, do shut up! Now, Mr. Holmes, this is my replacement for the next few months—"

"No-she's-not," he said, trying to interrupt.

"Yes, she is! Despite your attempts to thwart this girl from the job, she will be taking over for the allotted time that I have told you, time and time again—"

"What now? You're leaving? Impossible. I won't allow it."

"You insufferable man," she shrieked. "I am your landlady and may leave whensoever I choose to. You, least of anyone has a right to speak to me in such a manner—"

Mr. Holmes tried to interrupt but Mrs. Hudson continued.

"Being that you are CONSTANTLY behind in RENT and with such INANE and UNLIVABLE habits that PERSISTENTLY drive anyone away from THIS BLOODY HOUSE!"

Caroline worked very hard to keep her quaking body still. Raised voices were a recent sensitivity of hers. She felt sympathy for the woman, sure. But she also felt sympathy for Mr. Holmes, despite not knowing him or his eccentricities. Mrs. Hudson was surely a nice woman and felt like a good-natured person. Whatever had happened to drive her to this point had Caroline vexed. Perhaps she ought to have asked her mother for a different kind of job…

"Holmes," a man at the door asked, striding into the room toward a flustered Mrs. Hudson's aide. She, in turn, strode towards the door, giving both men the cold shoulder. "Dare I ask, what have you done this time?"

"Incurred the wrath of Hera," Holmes muttered, darkly.

The man stopped short and furrowed his brows. "Mythology? Since when have you—"

"Recently."

"A case?"

"…maybe."

"Wait! Not the one about the suicide at the University?"

Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes. "There was no evidence that it was—"

"Oh bloody hell—"

"That note was not in his handwriting. How many times do I have to tell you? The L's and R's—"

"The man was distraught! There have been medical studies on this, Holmes."

"They are not proven fact."

"And who's to prove them? You?"

A silence followed. Something twinkled in Mr. Holmes' eye from Caroline's viewpoint. The man took a step closer and lowered his voice.

"Don't you even think it—"

Caroline wondered at the two men in the room. The newcomer was more put together than Mr. Holmes despite his easy frustration. She wondered if perhaps he was a military man or doctor by profession. He didn't have the pompous air of a lawyer, nor the stature of a business man. Perhaps this was the Dr. Watson that Mrs. Hudson had spoken of earlier…they did seem familiar and quite comfortable with one another, as if they had been acquaintances for years. Caroline had to bite back another smile. This was what she missed with her brothers.

Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat from the door. Mr. Holmes, to Caroline's silent amusement, took a discreet and quick step behind the other man who entered the room. Suddenly, both men eyed Caroline. Inwardly, she cursed her lack of invisibility and wanted to melt into the floor.

"Oh, forgive me," Dr. Watson said. "I didn't see you there, Miss—"

"You see," Holmes interrupted. "Your marriage has dampened your skills of observation!"

Caroline's lips parted, more so in surprise than to—

"Her name," Mrs. Hudson said, firmly. "Is Lydia Collins and she's a mute."

—speak. Caroline blushed, eyes wide. Good Lord! She didn't have to put it so bluntly! It took every ounce of her strength to keep her hands at her sides and not to fidget in place. She opted, instead of viewing the shock she knew would follow from the revelation, to studying her own feet.

"Really?" Mr. Holmes asked.

"She will be acting as landlady in my stead while I'm away with family business, doctor."

Dr. Watson crossed the room towards Caroline, who couldn't help but look up in sudden fright. But she relaxed when she saw warmth there, acceptance.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Collins," the kind doctor said. "You…you can understand what we're saying?"

Caroline nodded, thoroughly encouraged by such a small act of kindness.

"She isn't deaf. Now, don't be rude, Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson squawked. "If I miss my train, you are paying for the next one."

Mr. Holmes gave a strange glance at Mrs. Hudson and then turned to Caroline without moving from his spot across the room. Then, he did something that Caroline didn't expect.

'Good Morning, Madam.'

Caroline nearly gasped, and felt the shock plainly obvious in her face. His hands just…Did he really…?

'Hello?' she signed.

'Hello,' he signed back.

She couldn't suppress this smile, and quickly found that she didn't want to. They had accepted her and her shortcomings, which was more than what she could say about the people she met in Norwich, about the number of employers that she'd had previously. She couldn't even remember the last time someone had been so cordial to her and her condition. Perhaps this job was a new start for the better after all. She would have to remember to thank her parents.

"Good," Mrs. Hudson interrupted. "Now come along, Ms. Collins. You'll have more time to get acquainted later. I have mere minutes thanks to this one!"

And just as quickly as she had been swept into the house, she was being taken across the hall to her room and left to ponder over both the curious Mr. Holmes and the polite Dr. Watsoon. She barely had time to bid a 'Thank You' to them both.

"Do have a safe trip now—" Mr. Holmes called after them.

Mrs. Hudson popped her head in for one last split second. "For your sake it had better be!" she hissed.

Then, Holmes' door slammed shut.

This is a story that may or may not be updated too frequently, all depending on its reception. I like the challenge of a Holmes / OC story and thought it might be interesting to see if it's even possible. I am a little worried about Caroline's character, so R & R!

Rainsaber