Disclaimer: This is for the whole fic. Glee characters are not mine. Nor are the Sherlock characters. They all have rightful owners that I have no part of :

A/N: I am pretty sure there is a twist like this somewhere out there. I've been trying to finish and write this for awhile now (a year). I decided to post it up, hoping this would make my butt get into gear and actually finish it. As much as other AUs like to have their characters be exactly one fandom or the other, I definitely wanted to keep elements of Quinn and Rachel in this. Especially their friendship to relationship dynamic. There are also modifications to Quinn's and Rachel's background that diverges from the regular Sherlock characters.

ALSO, this whole story has pockets compared to the show because I am strictly following Quinn's perspective.

Enjoy and let me know what you think with a review :D

Quinn shot her eyes open into the dark as her body trembled underneath her sheet. She felt the cold sweat clinging to her body; her heart was pounding out of her body. A quick glance at the clock: 2:54am. The blonde internally groaned, she hadn't been sleeping for too long.

Her eyes slowly closed, seeking sleep once more. The sound of gunfire and explosions echoed in her mind as she was dragged back by the shouted orders and screams for help. Dust and ashes drowned her senses followed by the recognizable gunpowder. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest as her legs became weary; she hadn't remember running but she knew that she had been going for miles.

I am going to die. I am going to die. Please god. If there is a god don't let me die today.

One final scream was all it took. A shout for cover and she turned around to see a grenade launched in her direction.

This time she woke herself up to screaming. The sound was so foreign but she knew better. She had been waking up to the same nightmare ever since that day.

Her heart had fallen into her stomach sending that weightless sensation through her whole body. She shivered again. There was a void in her heart that she needed to fill but until then, she felt...empty. Her eyes sought the time once more, ignoring the cane resting on the side of the nightstand: 5:34am. Her therapy session was in a few hours knowing sleep had officially escaped her.

Quinn dragged her knees up to her chest and begged herself not to cry through the pain. She didn't miss it. She didn't need it. She was safe where she was. She was going to be...normal.

"How is your blog going, Quinn?" The therapist tapped her notebook with her pen softly as she waited for the blonde to respond. She held her breath but released it, trying to help ease Quinn.

"Don't you mean diary?" Quinn responded dryly. Her focus was on the birds chirping on the other side of the window. Her voice was caught in her throat after. She didn't want to talk anymore. There was nothing that could dissuade her from the truth. But that didn't mean she had to accept it.

"Blog or diary. I understand you have been through a lot throughout your time in the war and writing what happens in your life will help you ease your way back into civilian life."

Quinn could barely hear reason through the cacophony of sounds in her head. She toyed with the cane in her hand. The therapist wasn't impressive. Poor woman didn't know anything about Quinn.

For the first time through the session, Quinn stared at her therapist.

"Nothing happens in my life."

The former army doctor walked-limped-her way out of the building and took in a breath of fresh air. Her heavy heart felt lifted by the smell of home. London was a place that was better than everywhere else she could think of in England.

Even though it has changed so much and she has gotten older, there was more life there and more that completed her than she could ever want. London was as close as she was going to get to what she had before she was shot.

She winced as she looked down her cane. Acknowledging her state, she limped forward, seeking some coffee.

"Fabray?"

Quinn turned around, the name was foreign to her ears for years. All of those years she had decided to leave home and join the army. It hadn't even been more than 100 feet from the building and there was someone she knew. Her old professor, Mr. Schuester, stood there. He had aged well. His curly hair had streaks of white and his eyes were weary but smiled brightly seeing his older student.

"Mr. Schuester," Quinn regarded returning his smile.

"Where are you off to?"

"Just going to grab some coffee."

"How about I join you? It's been awhile, 10 years?" Mr. Schuester still held his smile, which was bright enough for the both of them.

"You know? None of us were expecting you to go into the army," Her professor said as they paid for their coffees. "We always thought you'd just become an internationally renowned surgeon with handsome men at your side when you got awards."

Quinn strained a smile as she struggled to keep up with his pace. She didn't want to admit it but her legs suddenly felt worse than ever. They locked up on their own as shivers went down her spine.

"Did you know after you left your sister donated a lumpsum of money in your stead?" Mr. Schuester went on. He noticed Quinn's lack of response and turned around to see her a few paces behind him. "Let's sit." He smiled as he sat down on the bench that was nearby.

The blonde let down a quiet sigh as she relaxed her legs. She tried to stop thinking about the pain as she sipped her coffee.

"So how's it been?" Quinn felt obliged to ask. Her eyes barely glanced at her old professor.

"It's been great, teaching is still going well. The students have been horrendous," he joked, gaining a small chuckle from the blonde. "They aren't quite up to how you used to be but I mean, they're still young." She nodded. "So...are you planning on staying in London until you get sorted out?"

The grass across the quad seemed to be more interesting to Quinn when she answered. "I can't afford London on an army pension." She kept her voice low as images shot through her mind. "It's not a big-"

"That's not what you said back in those years. I am sure you can work something out, why not just ask Brit-"

"Not in my life anymore," she cut off quickly. "It's not the same and I am perfectly fine with it. I mean it's not like I could share a flat would anyone." She brushed her bangs aside and rubbed her nose.

"Why not?"

"Who would want to share a flat with me?"

Mr. Schuester let out a light laugh.

"What?"

"You're the second person that's said that to me today," the old man ominously responded. He finished his coffee and got up. "Come on, actually, because you've been gone for so long, I want you to meet this someone."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. She never liked sudden introductions. At this point she didn't know how much more interaction she could take. The doctor wasn't one to interact much with those around her. Even those who were considered her best friends, they knew that she held back. With Mr. Schuester, he knew she held back, but that didn't stop him from being a great man to her, more of a man-no, a father-than her own father ever was.

She tried to feel at home as she walked through the halls of St. Bartholemew's Hospital. Her mind flashbacked to all the times, she spent in and out of the on call rooms and ORs. Those were the days where she actually did not sleep. The doctor's right hand trembled as she remembered the days before she became a trauma surgeon. The rush of being in the OR, cracking open a chest, and then feeling the heart beating beneath her fingers. She wasn't just a doctor.

The next step she took was something she had not been anticipating. Her cane could only do so much even with a misstep. The pain rushed through her leg suddenly and she stopped with a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you alright, Quinn?" the old teacher inquired as he slowed his step and walked back towards her.

Quinn nodded as she straightened her posture. She rolled her neck before staring back at the plaque near the entrance to a new addition of the hospital wing. It was added well after she graduated, she knew that, but it made bile rise up to her throat.

Mr. Schuester looked at Quinn before looking down the new hospital wing. He followed her eyes as she stared up at name of the wing.

Q. Fabray Wing

Underneath it was a memorial to who she once was: Department of Cardiothoracic Surgeries.

She cringed. She wasn't just a doctor but that didn't mean that she was that great.

"This is what I was talking to you about," he continued sounding quite proud. "Your sister really wanted to do something for you while you were gone. She was hoping you'd come back here when you got back from your service."

"I don't think this right for me," Quinn said as she continued down the hall in the direction that her professor had originally been walking. "I don't think this was done for me as much as it was done for the name of the Fabrays." She continued without looking, trying to get as far away from the hospital wing as possible.

"You can't honestly-"

"Who is this person you wanted me to meet?" She cut off, deciding to end their conversation. It was well over before it even began.

Luckily, he dropped it. "Right this way."

He led them down towards the labs. It wasn't long before he turned a corner and opened some double doors.

Quinn followed her old professor, trying to recall what Barts had been while she was there. As she scanned the lab, she realized a lot had changed. Everything was state of the art and polished as if they were never used. There was a full stock of chemicals to the point that it was much more expansive and excessive to what she had learned from.

Ten years. It was only ten years that things had changed so much.

"Much different than what I remember," Quinn muttered as she limped in.

"Time changes a lot," Schuester stated cheerfully as he strode further into the room. He stopped in front of a woman who was in a dark suit. The woman glanced at the blonde briefly before her eyes returned to focus on the contents under the microscope before her.

Quinn took a breath. Is this who he wanted me to meet? She stared at the woman carefully trying to discern more features. Quinn stared at the woman, forgetting the pain in her leg. She looked petite even sitting down, but every asset was well accentuated under the dark suit. Everything about that woman seemed to be in order, not a single wrinkle in her suit, not a single hair out of place even as it cascaded down her back in luscious brown waves.

"William," her voice was a melodious tune that Quinn had never heard before, "do you mind if I borrow your phone? There is no signal on mine."

"What's wrong with the landline?"

"I prefer text," the woman responded curtly to Quinn's surprised. The man was much older than she was and she hadn't even bothered to look up from the microscope.

"I didn't bring it. Sorry."

Quinn felt Schuester's eyes on her before she realized she had her phone as well. "Take mine," Quinn coughed out as she held her phone up.

The brunette turned her head. "Thank you." She stood up and walked over to Quinn. Taking the phone in her hands, her eyes raked up and down Quinn.

"This is Quinn-"

"Watson," the blonde finished quickly as she shot the man a look. Quinn didn't know how long she was holding her breath before she realized that the brunette was very close to her. As imposing as she might have been, Quinn felt her three inches over the brunette to be nothing. She relaxed and introduced herself quickly. "Just Quinn Watson."

The brunette quirked an eyebrow at Quinn, before asking a question that made her stomach drop, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" Her fingers typing away at Quinn's phone.

Quinn glanced at the professor, who merely shrugged for her to answer. "Afghanistan," she responded skeptically, "how did you-"

The door hissed open behind her and a tall man, more like boy, walked in balancing a coffee in his giant hands.

"Finn, thank you," the brunette feigned adoration as she returned Quinn's phone and took the cup. She stared at him momentarily. "What happened to you hair?"

Finn looked uncomfortable under the brunette's stare that it made Quinn smirk. How could such a big guy be intimidated by a woman so small.

"It wasn't working for me," he responded. His voiced carried such remorse.

"Aw, such a shame, now it's all messy like a boy's," the woman walked back to her work station taking a sip of the coffee before putting it down.

Quinn held back a laugh. She watched as the tall bumbling man named Finn walked out. Poor man looked like he had been a kicked puppy.

The woman spoke again, "How do you feel about the violin?"

Quinn glanced back at Finn, wondering if the woman was speaking to him but he was long gone. She looked back at the woman who continued on.

"I play the violin when I am thinking, but I could stop talking for days on end. Does that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

Quinn stared at the woman, alarmed more than anything, even as she was sent a charming smile. She looked at her professor, feeling uncomfortable. "Did you tell her about me?"

"Not a word," Schuester responded with a knowing smile.

The blonde turned her attention back to the other woman. Surprised that this was the second time, she had felt exposed to such questions. "Who said anything about flatmates?" she tried to remain firm.

"I did," The woman picked up her jacket and put it on in one swift motion. "Told William that I must be a difficult woman to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch with a former student, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't difficult to put it together."

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" Quinn felt like she was repeating herself but there the other woman brought it up again as if she'd known all along.

Her question was ignored as the woman wrapped her scarf around her neck and pulled out her phone. Quinn opened her mouth to mention it but was cut off instantly, "There's a nice little place in Central London. Together we should be able to afford it." Again the woman moved into Quinn's personal space, causing her to shift. "Let's meet there tomorrow, 7pm. Sorry, I've got to go. My riding crop is still in the mortuary."

"Wait a minute," Quinn stopped the brunette just as she was half way out the door. "That's it? We've just met and we're gonna go look at a flat together?"

The woman tucked a loose strand behind her ear with a smile. "Problem?"

Quinn gave her a look of disbelief before responding, "We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we are meeting. Hell, I don't even know your name."

Again, Quinn felt her personal space invaded as the woman stepped right back in and stared into Quinn's eyes.

"I know that you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got an ex-boyfriend that still tries to talk to you but you won't go to him for help because you are spurned by the fact that he's cheated on you, with someone close to you. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic - quite correctly, I'm afraid."

The smaller woman looked satisfied as Quinn stood there stupified. Quinn shifted her weight again as the woman spoke confidently, "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?"

Quinn felt a flare of annoyance as the woman walked out the door. She had never felt so exposed with anyone be-

The door hissed opened and the woman interrupted her thoughts, "I am Rachel Berry, very pleased to meet you and the address is 221b Baker Street."

She blew Quinn a kiss. "See you there." And disappeared behind the closing doors.

Quinn stared at her old professor, who nodded signalling that was a normal occurrence. The blonde felt like her emotions were in a jumble as she stared in disbelief. In a short five minute interaction with that woman, she felt her whole life was an open book that she couldn't close. It bothered her but impressed her so much.