The first thing I became aware of was a throbbing pain in my head- the second was the feel of my face being half-submerged in a particularly foul-smelling puddle. So without wasting time I set about getting onto my feet, something which was apparently easier said than done I realised as the movement sent fresh waves of pain dancing across my head. Raising a hand tentatively to the left side of my forehead, I was surprised and horrified to find blood- just what was going on here?

Last night had been a pretty sordid affair- the sixth form had decided we would go to the cinema to see Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, free to those who went in outfit. I hadn't seen the first film, but I didn't want to be the only one not going- so I googled it and decided to have a dress like the one Irene Adler was shown wearing in the cinema poster. Although this one was a dark blue colour rather than the pink-like colour hers had been. That aside, I enjoyed the film and afterwards went straight home- immediately falling asleep on my bed. So the question to be asked would be how on earth did I wind up here? Wherever 'here' was.

I felt like the Doctor had come and whisked me away in the TARDIS to Victorian times- I didn't recognise any of it. The alley I was in looked like it had seen better years, and from what I could see of the street everyone was wearing Victorian clothes and driving around in horse-and-carriage style vehicles. The noises were that of a bustling high street, complete with the smell of horse crap and chimney soot. So obviously this was a place that took their playacting seriously- but not so much the health of another human being who was struggling to fight against the pain of her head. Surely someone must have noticed me?

"Well, well- look at what we got 'ere, boys."

I let out a stream of curses as I turned to look at the new arrivals- namely a tall, skinny red-haired idiot and his two muscle dumbass lackeys. Obviously clichés had to start from somewhere- although I had a feeling they weren't good for anything except torturing poor helpless women.

Although let me point out that I am not one.

"Such naughty words from such pretty a mouth," said red beard disapprovingly, shaking his head. "Your mother would have done well to teach you some manners."

The two lackeys laughed along obediently, thought they didn't appear to get it.

"Your mother would have done well to lose a few pounds," I replied coldly, drawing my fingers in to a tight fist as the look on his face changed to anger.

"Don't ever insult my mother!" he growled, pulling a gun out of his jacket- I froze as I stared up at the barrel, heart beginning to race as he started to pull the trigger.

There was a gunshot- a loud bang which echoed around.

Blood blossomed out of the wound- but not mine, and I watched in horror as ginger beard toppled over. The two lackeys looked down uncertainly, not knowing what to do now that the half brain to their plan had gone.

"I would suggest that you two come quietly, unless you want to face the same fate as your friend."

There was something about that voice that seemed so... familiar. I turned my head to look at my saviour and was surprised to see who it was.

"Sherlock Holmes at your service, miss."

/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/

When we first laid eyes on the girl, I can guess that even the great Sherlock Holmes had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. A simple case of tracking down a gang of thugs, turned into rescuing this poor lady and then into something even more. She was sitting in a puddle, a dark wet patch soaking through her dress and a large gash on her forehead. Her long hair was black with a red tint that stood out from her pale skin- rather unusual, but not so much unusual as her eyes. Though it wasn't the colour- for they were a dark blue- but rather the expression they showed. Anger. Not what one expects to see in a young lady when she has just been rescued.

"Please tell me this is some sort of a joke," she said, annoyance clear in her tone. She pulled herself to her feet, and I could immediately tell that she had an injury to her left leg. "What's going on here really?"

I was quite surprised by her reaction, and instinctively turned to Holmes to see what he was thinking. He was looking at the girl with a familiar gaze as she approached, limping quite noticeably- but made no attempt to talk to her.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I replied, when it became apparent my friend was too occupied in his thoughts.

She stopped level with me and gazed up into my eyes as she spoke.

"Well for starters you could tell me why I am here."

I was at a loss for words- completely beguiled by this woman who was like no other I'd met before. Most would have been grateful and polite, and yet she acted like we were the wrong-doers in this situation.

"What makes you believe that we may know anything regarding your predicament?" asked Holmes, finally speaking.

"Well you are the great Sherlock Holmes, are you not?" She asked, sarcasm quite clear in her tone. "Aren't you supposed to see more than anyone else?"

Holmes eyes sparkled slightly with amusement.

"Is that so?"

She seemed to clench her teeth before letting out an irritated sigh.

"Well if you're going to be of no help then would you at least let me leave?"

"Out of the question," I responded, indicating to her person. "You have been injured, and as a doctor and a gentleman it would be against my nature to let you leave without treating you first."

"So noble," she said dryly. "But if you don't mind I'd rather leave and go somewhere where you're not." With that she sidestepped me and walked off along the street, clearly not having a clue where she was going and limping in a way that attracted the attentions of everyone else present.

"What now?" I asked Holmes.

"We go after her," he replied, eyes shining brightly. "There is something about her that arouses my curiousity."

/*/*/ Alex's POV /*/*/

My heart was racing as I made my way down the street- there was definitely something weird going on here. Was it some sort of practical joke by my friends? Or perhaps I really had stepped into the world that was Sherlock Holmes' home. He certainly didn't appear to Robert Downey Jr- not that I could tell seeing as I'd never met him, but if this were for a film wouldn't he have noticed I wasn't one of the cast?

I let out another curse as I nearly tripped, causing even more pain in my leg- sensibility would have had me let Dr Watson look at it, but I just couldn't suddenly accept that I was stuck in a film. So with an indifferent facade, I ignored the looks of disgust from the various people I passed and continued on my way. Obviously people were not into helping one another in their time of need.

Would it have been any different in my... time? But then I thought back to Watson, who had actually wanted to help me... I shook my head, this was pure nonsense- he was just some actor, none of this was real. It was all some prank- albeit probably an expensive one from the looks of things. So in that sense it couldn't be- unless someone had taken the Truman Show too far.

I hummed Hello by Martin Solveig & Dragonette, before actually beginning to sing the lyrics as a mischievous smile lit up my face- if I really was in this time, then I could be in for a big adventure. Even if by this times standards I was an inappropriate person, but screw them- they couldn't help me anyway. I was an anomaly- a mistake in time, although that only made me grin more to the horror of the 'dignified' people around me.

However, the grin faded when I had the misfortune to see a someone's reflection in a passing carriages window.

Holmes!

I turned and saw that indeed he was following me, and immediately my nerves faltered- why on earth was he following me? He and Watson were both looking at me, Watson with concern and he with an amused smile on his face. I'll give you something to laugh about Holmes, I thought and gave him a mock bow before running off as fast as my injured leg could allow me- which wasn't all that fast to begin with.

Risking a glance behind me, I could see that they were indeed following me- now having broken into a run. People moved out of the way as they watched the scene with confusion, which meant they were catching up on me quickly. Looking about, I dashed into the nearest alley and cursed as I stumbled on another stone before regaining my balance and continuing.

"Wait! We only want to help you, miss!" shouted Watson, and I rolled my eyes at that.

"Watson she already knows that," said Holmes, voicing my thoughts. "Just focus on catching her before she hurts herself even more."

They sounded really close, and I knew it was now a matter of seconds before they caught me. As I thought this, my leg gave out and I collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap- adding new injuries to my person in the form of scrapes on my palms. Obviously now I couldn't get away, so I only tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my leg as the two men knelt either side of me and helped me to sit up. Watson then went to study my leg, the ankle now swelling nastily and Holmes merely gazed at me with some amusement.

"Can I help you?" I asked, rather irritably.

"Well you could tell us why you ran," he replied. "That would certainly shed some light on the matter."

"I ran because you were following me," I replied, and he grinned.

"We were following you because you looked like you needed help," explained Watson. "It looks like you've sprained your ankle- we'll need to get this bandaged as soon as possible. You appear to have significantly worsened the damage by running though, so I wouldn't recommend trying to move again until it heals."

"Marvellous," I replied sarcastically. "I'll just sit here for a while, shall I?"

"First we need to take you back with us so I can have a proper look at all your injuries, and then we can get you back home."

/*/*/ Watson's POV /*/*/

At the mention of the word home, her gaze became more agitated and she averted her eyes to the ground. Obviously there was more to the story than it first appeared, so we helped the young woman up and slowly escorted her to Baker's street.

Upon entering the building, she looked around with a mixed appearance of curiosity and apprehension. As though she couldn't believe she was here- although Holmes could probably tell more about her than I could. After all, I once again found myself at a loss in regards to her actions and could think of no reason as to her earlier behaviour.

"Here we are," said Holmes cheerfully, as he opened the door, curiosity aroused by the strange case which this woman presented to us. "Place her on the sofa if you'd please, Watson."

When she was settled I went off to gather the various items I needed, coming back to find Holmes questioning her- his excited look facing her stubborn one. I in turn set to disinfecting and dressing her wounds, half-listening to their talk.

"What is your name?" asked He. "Your full name if you'd please."

"Alexandra La Reina Vargas," she replied with a quick, sarcastic smile. "Most refer to me as Alex though- saves time."

"Well then, Miss Vargas- would you be so kind as to tell me why you ran away?"

Surprise flashed across her eyes, quickly replaced by amusement.

"You are truly a genius," she said sarcastically. "Can't you tell why?"

"Nothing to do with the bizarre song you were singing earlier is it?" he asked teasingly, and she treated him to an offended look.

"I happen to like that song, Mr Holmes," she replied stiffly.

"Well then, perhaps it could be the result of you refusing your parent's wish for you to marry seeing as you would prefer to go out and see the world."

"In a way," was her nonchalant reply.

"Perhaps you seek inspiration for a novel you are writing."

She rolled her eyes and sighed to indicate her boredom as she inspected the grazes on her left palm, ink stains gracing her ring finger and pinkie.

"Still not quite there," she said.

Instead of being annoyed, this merely excited Holmes further- and I could only guess what kind of things were running through that head of his. But obviously he wanted to solve this- it was too interesting for him to ignore.

"Well if you have indeed got no home or money, then you had better stay here- hadn't she Watson," pointed out Holmes.

"It will take several weeks to heal," I agreed, resisting the urge to roll me eyes as well. "It would be best if you remained here so you don't aggravate it any more than you already have."

"Oh joy," she exclaimed sarcastically.

I started to work on the cut on her head, cleaning up the blood which had worked its way to her eye before stitching it up- noting that she flinched quite a lot, obviously she had never experienced something like this before.

"In the mean time," continued Holmes. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us a bit more about yourself."

"How about I don't? It is quite frankly none of your business."

"But I'm quite intrigued by you," stated he. "A young woman, whose clothes are relatively new, with the most unusual personality I have come across and finds it better to run away from help than to except it. My guess would be that the predicament you found yourself in earlier had come as a complete shock to you and seeing as you've never been out much you were unsure as to whether you could trust us when we offered to help you. However you also seem to be the kind of lady who seeks out adventure so perhaps you've had a little family trouble. Do you have brothers by any chance?"

She seemed quite surprised now.

"No actually, but as to the rest of it I can tell you that it is remarkably close to the truth," she replied, a small smile slipping onto her face. "I actually don't have any siblings."

"Really? I would have guessed from your outlandish behaviour that far more resembles that of a masculine influence, that you had brothers who you spent considerable time with. Perhaps then you have close male friends? You must definitely have some sort of strong male influence in your life to behave so."

She was definitely smiling, happy as to her ability to prove the great detective wrong- even I was smiling now. Holmes always acted like he was superior to use and acted like he knew everything- it was indeed good to see him get a taste of his own medicine.

"Actually no," she finally replied. "I don't have many friends- no proper ones anyway, and believe it or not I didn't actually talk to people back home. I found it hard to get along with anyone so mainly it was with my cat. So unless my cat can be classed as an influence I highly doubt that your statement has any truth."

"Indeed," replied Holmes dryly. "Well in that case I'll wager-"

"That my outlandish personality is not the result of male influence?" she finished. "The only part of my personality that has anything to do with that is my stubbornness and that comes from disobeying my father due to my hatred of him."

"Why?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

"No doubt it's because he was attempting to control your behaviour," replied Holmes. "You obviously have an aversion to being controlled."

"Who wouldn't?"

Silence fell over the room, and I quickly finished cleaning her hands.

"There, you should heal up fine now," I informed her. She nodded her thanks and turned back to her previous task of gazing at her hands. "So perhaps we should sort you out a room for you to stay in whilst you are with us."

"An excellent idea, Watson," agreed Holmes. "I'm sure nanny wouldn't mind lending a room to Miss Vargas."

He immediately dashed out of the room, leaving Miss Vargas and I in an uncomfortable silence once again. Both of us unsure as to what to say to the other, it felt like time was stretching out- at least until Holmes came back with a startled Mrs Hudson in tow.

"Nanny, we have a young, homeless woman here who needs a room to stay in whilst her leg heals," he declared, making a gesture towards Miss Vargas who looked almost as startled as Mrs Hudson.

In a matter of seconds Mrs Hudson was fussing over her and helping her as she escorted her to her new room- leaving Holmes and I alone, a situation I could deal with better.

"Remarkable young woman," exclaimed Holmes. "A mystery surrounds her which I must absolutely solve- she may yet be the most intriguing person I have come across."

"Are you sure you aren't trust attracted to her?" I joked, but Holmes looked at me with an absolute seriousness and said,

"Attraction is an emotion akin to love and I have no intention to start a relationship with her- she would only distract me from my work and make me doubt my own abilities." He then walked over to the window. "Besides, you seem to like her quite well."

"You are not starting that again," I warned him. "If you don't like my relationship with Mary that's your own problem but keep her out of it."

"I wasn't implying anything of the sort- being a bit defensive aren't we?"

I sighed softly, knowing full well that this didn't bode well. Holmes was determined to ruin my relationship with Mary- and the appearance of this young woman had just given him the help he needed. Listening to the murmuring voices, I found myself wondering if this good deed was going to turn into a nightmare.

Knowing Holmes it was possible.

A/N: Okay, my first Sherlock Holmes fanfiction thanks to my new obsession with that wonderfully eccentric detective… that sounded weird. Anyway, a little advice/reviews would be most appreciated ^-^