//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 - The Lady in Pink and Black, Part 1. 
// Story: Operation "Mist Mystery." 
// by lightningman 
//------------------------------//

It had been almost a week since Amelia had contacted me and I was still working on my violin while Pinkie was researching ways to get the time travel spell to work here, she still has a ways to go before we can use it practically, but she had the theory done a bit. I smiled as I had finally finished learning how to play all the notes well enough to fake my way through any song I wanted. I wasn't a master by any stretch of the imagination. But to the casual listener, I was good. I was about to set my violin down for the day and go join the pups and hang out with the new pup, Everest. When suddenly my phone rang. I picked it up.	
"Hello?" I ask. "Has John Watson contacted him yet?"
"He's on the move to go meet him now." Said Amelia through the phone. "I'd hurry if I were you."
"Got it, I'm apparating there as soon as I deal with a few things here at the Bay," I say as I hang up and tell Pinkie to pack up our stuff, but leave our base for the pups. She nodded and got to work and I went up the ladder as I put on my helmet and armour.
"Ryder!" I called up the lookout. He looked out over the balcony.
"Yeah?" He asked.
"Can you come down here? Bring the pups as well!" He nodded and tapped the pup pad a few times. Soon, all the pups were lined up along with Ryder to listen to me.
"Hey pups. I know we haven't gotten to know each other that well, But I wanted to say bye." I said as I kneeled. There were cries of surprise as they looked at me.
"What?!" They said in shock.
"Where are you going?" Marshall asked as he walked forward to nuzzle me.
"I'm going to Britain to help Sherlock Holmes and save possibly a couple of hundred lives in the process. If you ever need to get into contact with me. My phone is connected to the frequency of your tags and pup pad." I look at Ryder as I pet Marshall. "That's how I always knew there was an emergency." Ryder sighed and nodded as Pinke came out the hideout, our stuff in her backpack. "But there's one more thing I need to do before I can leave here with a clean conscious. Everybody raise your hands or paws." They all did. "Before I do this, you must swear an oath." They nodded and follow my lead. "I... (Their names) Do solemnly swear to protect the innocent and the weak... No matter who they may be, If they be egotistical or wrongly accused. Elderly or Childlike" 
They all repeat their vows and I reach the void out to them. There were yelps as they all stared at their paws or hands and the mark burned onto their hands.
I smile and say to them. "Congratulations, you are protectors 3 through 10 of the Earth." They stared at me in shock. "Those marks give you access to the void, I'm trusting you to practice it on your own like I did. Now, I really have to go." All the pups run to me and begin to hug me and licking me. I laugh and pet them all. I stand up and Ryder and I bro-hug each other. Before I take Pinkie's hand and we apparate out of the USA.
We reappear outside of St. Bartholemews Hospital Morgue. I walk up to John Watson.
"Hello Mr. Watson." I say as I stick out my hand. I'd like to commend you on your outstanding work as part of the 51st Northumerbland Fusiliers." John looks at me in surprise and shakes my hand.
"Um... Thank you. Who are you?"
"I'm going to be giving you some advice when you meet Sherlock Holmes. When you meet him, after you lend him your phone and he asks you a question. Say exactly these words. 'Afgahnistan, Also, I'm sorry to hear about Redbeard.' That should give him a surprise." I smile at the look of a fish out of water on Watson's face.
"Um... Alright." He nods. "But you never answered my question. Who are you?"
"My name is Voidic. And I'm going to be a flatmate with you and Sherlock."
"OH... Um... Alright." He nods. 
Soon we were walking into a lab and I watched as Sherlock took a good glance at us and did the tiniest of frowns when he looked at me.
"Bit different from my day." John said as he looked around.
"You have no idea." Mike said.
"Mike, can I borrow your phone. There's no signal on mine."
"And what's wrong with the landline?" asked Mike.
"I prefer to text." Stated Sherlock in his bland tone. Mike sighed.
"Sorry, it's in my pocket." There's a little silence before.
"Here, use mine." John said as he cast a sidelong glance at me.
"Oh, thank you." Sherlock said as he took it and flipped it open.
"This is an old friend of mine. John Watson. This person beside him is someone who just came up and introduced himself to us outside."
"Hmm..." Sherlock said. "John, Afghanistan or Iraq?" John blinked before saying.
"Afghanistan, also, I'm sorry to hear about Redbeard." Sherlock stiffened and look at John quickly.
"Where'd you hear about Redbeard?" He frowned.
"Umm... Voidic told me to say it." He pointed at me. I waved and smiled under my mask. Sherlock frowned deeper. Suddenly, the door opened.
"Ah, Molly, coffee... Thank you. What happened to the lipstick?" Sherlock asked curious.
"It wasn't working for me." Molly sighed.
"Really? I thought it looked rather good on you." Sherlock said as he took a sip of his coffee. "Mm. Delicious. Thank you." He said as he walked back over to his microscope. Suddenly he asked. "How do you feel about the violin?"
"I'm sorry, what?" John asked as Molly left.
"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end, would that bother the two of you?"Sherlock asked as he looked at us.
"Not at all, In fact, I would probably be compelled to join you in playing as I'm currently learning right now."
"Ok." John Watson said and turned to Mike. "Did you tell him about me?"
"Not a word." shook Mike's head.
"Then how do you know anything about me? And how do you know I was looking to be flatmates with Sherlock?"
"I know the future." I state deadpan. "It would be best for you to accept it right now." Sherlock frowned even deeper but didn't say a word. "And Sherlock knows because he's one of the smartest sons of bitches out there."
"Language." Sherlock chided.
"Ok, but would you care to explain?" John looked to Sherlock.
"I told Mike this morning I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, with two people in tow. One who is an old friend who came back from military service from afghanistan, and another who is a mystery, and I love a mystery." He said as he put on his coat. "Wasn't a difficult leap."
"Ok, But how did you know about Afghanistan?"
"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London." Continued Sherlock ignoring the question. "Together, we should be easily able to afford it, especially with the discount the owner is giving me." He said as he looked at his phone. "We'll meet there tommorow evening. seven o clock. But I've got to run, I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.
"Is that it?" John asks as Sherlock almost goes out the door.
"Is that what?" Sherlock turns to look at us.
"Just met you both and we're already looking at a flat."
"Problem?"
"I only know your name. Sherlock Holmes and that's because Voidic there told me it." He pointed to me.
"Ah yes, the mystery." He smiled. "But I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him – possibly because he’s an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic – quite correctly, I’m afraid."
"Sister." I interrupt. Sherlock looks at me.
"What?"
"Harry is short for Harriet."
"Ah." Sherlock nods. "Well, that should be good enough to go on don't you think? I look forward to seeing you two there. The address is 221B Baker Street, and as you already know. My name is Sherlock Holmes. Ta Ta. He said as he left the room.
"Right, I'll meet you there," I said as I got up.
"Wait!" John said.
"What?" I ask.
"How did you know all this stuff?
"I told you, I know the future. There's more stuff going on in the world than you or sherlock can dare to comprehend. I'm not being egotistical, I'm just trying to state a fact." I said as I left the room.
----------------------------------------------------------------Tomorrow.------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ah! Mr. Holmes." I heard John say from around the corner.
"Sherlock, please. Where's Voidic?"
"Right here." I say as I walk up to them
"Well, this is a prime spot, must be expensive. What was that about the discount the owner is giving you?"
"Few years back, her husband got sentenced to death in florida. I helped out. Her name is Mrs. Hudson."
"Ah, you stopped it?" John asked.
"No, no. I insured it." Sherlock said as the door opened up.
"Oh, Sherlock. How are you dear?" Mrs. Hudson said as she hugged Sherlock.
"Mrs. Hudson, this is Doctor John Watson and this is Voidic." He introduced us both and I have to admit, She didn't even blink at my bizarre appearance.
"Well, come in. Come in." She said beckoning us to join her upstairs. I smile under my mask as Pinkie gave our stuff to me.
"Shall we look at the flat you... four?" Sherlock blinked as he had just noticed Pinkie.
"Oh. I can just go to my house." Pinkie said. "I just came to help Xavy get settled in." She smiled.
"Hmm..." Sherlock nodded as we all went upstairs. We walk in to see a bunch of boxes all over the place.
"Well, this looks nice. Very nice indeed."
"Yes, my thoughts exactly. What say you Voidic?" Sherlock asked me.
"Better than half of the other places I've been living in the last nine years. Trust me, you don't know low until you sleep in the storage equipment lockup of a high school." I sigh. "We just need to organize everything up and it should be good to go."
"What do you mean?" John turned to me.
"This is all sherlock's stuff." I said gesturing to everything.
"Oh... Well, I can move this stuff around to get everything to fit."
"Don't worry that much about my stuff. I've gotten used to moving so I don't have that much."
"Got it." John said. Suddenly Mrs. Hudson came in with some tea.
"What do you think then you two?" She asked me and John. "There's two more bedrooms upstairs if you'll be needing three bedrooms."
"Thank you." John said.
"Yeah, thanks. I thought there were only two honestly and I was going to have to bunk with sherlock or something."
"With me? why with me?" Sherlock said as he looked over the chair that he had just occupied.
"Well, John is an army doctor. If he wakes up in the middle of the night after a bad dream and he thinks I'm an enemy. I don't want to be in the same room as him before he regains his senses. You, on the other hand, have a quicker mind, so you'll probably realize exactly where you were before you tried strangling me."
"Ah." Sherlock nodded and relaxed back in his chair.
"Sherlock, you've made a huge mess." Mrs. Hudson said from the kitchen as she begins to tidy up the chemical lab. John sat down and looked at us both.
"I tried looking you both up on the internet last night."
"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked as he logged into his laptop.
"Found your website. The Science of Deduction."
"Ah, yes. What did you think?" Sherlock asked, just the barest hint of a smile on his face.
"Well.... It was interesting to read to say the least, although highly confusing for me. You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"
"Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits in your mobile phone."
"How?" John asked confused. But Sherlock merely smiled and ignored the question.
"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that’d be right up your street. Three exactly the same." Mrs. Hudson said.
"Four." Sherlock suddenly stated as he looked out the window. "There’s been a fourth. And there’s something different this time." He said. I could sense the excitement in his voice, but I'm pretty sure nobody else could. Suddenly, Greg Lestrade came up the stairs.
"Where?" asked Sherlock, all business.
"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."
"What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different." Sherlock said to Greg as if he were bored.
"You know how they never leave notes?"
"Yeah."
"Well, this one did. Will you come?"
"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock finally turned to Lestrade.
"Anderson."
"Hmmph. Anderson won't work with me." Sherlock said.
"Well, he won't be your assistant."
"I need an assistant."
"Will you come?" Greg repeated.
"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."
"thank you." Greg sighed, relieved. He left and Sherlock waited for the door to close before jumping.
"Yes! Brilliant! Ahh... Four serial Suicides and a note, ohh.... it's christmas. Mrs. Hudson! I'll be late. Might need some food."
"I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper."
"something cold will do! John, you stay here, make yourself at home. Don't wait up both of you!" Sherlock shouted as he ran down the stairs."
"Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same. But you’re more the sitting-down type, I can tell." John was getting slowly more agitated. "I’ll make you two that cuppa. You rest your leg." Suddenly John shouted.
"Damn my leg! Sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s just sometimes this bloody thing ..." He said as he hit his leg with his cane.
"I understand, dear; I’ve got a hip." She said as she walked to the kitchen.
"Cup of tea’d be lovely, thank you."
"Just this once, dear. I’m not your housekeeper."
"Couple of biscuits too, if you’ve got ’em."
"Not your housekeeper!" Slowly. John rested and began reading a newspaper, when a voice at the door began saying.
"You’re a doctor. In fact you’re an Army doctor. And you..." Sherlock turned to me. "I don't know how, but you've faced war as well. In fact, it seems you led the war." John turned startled to me.
"Long story. But Yes."
"And... I am an army doctor, yes."
"Any good?" Sherlock asked John.
"Very good."
"Must have seen a lot of injuries then. Death."
"Yep."
"And both of you must have seen a lot of action then.
"Yeah, killed a lot. never lost one on our side." I said proudly.
"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." John said as if trying to convince himself.
"Wanna see some more?"
"Yes." Both John and I said as we began to move.
"Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I’ll skip the tea. Off out." John called as we ran down the stairs with Sherlock.
"All three of you?"
"Impossible suicides? Four of them? There’s no point sitting at home when there’s finally something fun going on!" Sherlock said as she took Mrs. Hudson by the shoulders and kissed her cheek happily.
"Look at you, all happy. It’s not decent."
"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!"
"And the Hunt is Afoot!" I cried dramatically as we hurried out the door.
"Taxi!" Sherlock shouted. Soon, one pulled up and we piled in. I handed one of the few gold galleons that I had taken from out of my vault in Gringotts to the driver.
"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens. Step on it." I said. The drive nodded and we left for the crime scene. Soon, Sherlock sighs and looks at John.
"Ok, you've got questions. Shoot."
"Who are you two? What do you do?" john asked as he looked at us both.
"What do you think."
"For you, I'd say Private Detective..." said John hesitantly.
"But?" Sherlock encouraged.
"But the police don't go to Private detectives."
"I’m a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job."
"What does that mean?"
"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."
"The police don’t consult amateurs."
"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, “Afghanistan or Iraq?” You looked surprised." Sherlock said, throwing him a look.
"Yes, how did you know?"
"I didn’t know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room ... Bit Different from my day? ...  said trained at Bart’s, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned  but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing.  Your limp’s really bad when you walk but you don’t ask for a chair when  you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly  psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were  traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan –  Afghanistan or Iraq."
"You said I had a therapist."
You’ve got a psychosomatic limp – of course you’ve got a therapist. Then there’s your sister."
"Yeah."
"Your  phone. It’s expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you’re looking  for a flatshare – you wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift, then. Scratches.  Not one, many over time. It’s been in the same pocket as keys and  coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item  like this, so it’s had a previous owner. Next bit’s easy. You know it  already."
"The engraving. That's why you thought it was a brother originally. You didn't know Harry was short for Harriett." John said, understanding.
"Exactly. Harriett Watson: clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father; this is a young man’s gadget or a homosexual female. Could  be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live.  Unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who’s Clara? Three kisses says it’s a  romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend.  She must have given it to her recently – this model’s only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he’s just given it away.  If she’d left her, she’d have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted to be rid of it. She left her. She gave the phone to you:  that says she wants you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation, but you’re not going to your sister for help: that says you’ve got problems with her. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don’t like his drinking."
"How can you possibly know about the drinking?"
"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone; never see a drunk’s without them. There you go, you see – you were right."
"I was right? Right about what?"
"The police don’t consult amateurs."
"Huh...That ... was amazing."
"Do you think so?" Sherlock said slightly surprised.
"Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary."
"That’s not what people normally say."
"Really? What do people normally say." Sherlock chuckles a little.
"Piss off." Sherlock quoted.
"And you?" John turned to me.
"Protector." I said.
"Protector of what?"
"Of earth. I travel around the world keeping an eye on wherever anything serious might be happening. That's why I came here. You guys are some of the most serious I've ever encountered."
"What do you mean?" John frowned.
"I know the future, and you guys deal with a lot of mysteries and murders. I'm here to stop any unnecessary bloodshed like I did in that war."
"Yeah, what war did you fight in anyway? All wars going on have had at least one casualty on both sides."
"You wouldn't know about it. They are obsessed with secrecy. That's what the war was fought about. Whether to reveal themselves. It's been building up ever since the Second World War."
We soon stopped at Lauriston Gardens and we got out.
"Hello Freak." Sergeant Donovan said to Sherlock as we walked to the crime scene tape.
"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.
"Why?"
"I was invited."
"Why?"
"Maybe because he wants me to take a look at it." Sherlock said as if explaining to a child. Which she might as well be.
"Well, you know what I think, don’t you?"
"Always, Sally. I even know you didn’t make it home last night."
"I don't..." She notices me and John going under the tape. "Who are these two?"
"Colleagues of mine. Doctor John Watson and Voidic."
"Colleagues? How do you get Colleagues?"
"By being smarter than the average cockroach and not sleeping with Anderson while his wife is away. Something of which you check neither on the clipboard." I snap at her. Donavon turns to me and frowns at me. "Now, kindly move over so that we can do some work unlike you!" I use my shadow walk on my torso to walk right through the tape. Donovon gasps and takes a step backwards when she notices my entire body moves around the tape like smoke. I glare at Donovan who takes out her Radio.
"Freak is here. Brought another freak with him and an apparent colleague." We walk to the door to be stopped by Anderson.
"Ah... Anderson, here we are again.
"It’s a crime scene. I don’t want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"
"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?"
"Oh, don’t pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that."
"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock said bored.
"My deodorant?"
"It’s for men."
"Well, of course it’s for men! I’m wearing it!"
"So’s Sergeant Donovan."
"What?" Anderson looked at Sally. "Well, look, whatever your trying to imply."
"I'm not trying to imply anything."
"Exactly, I am. I still can't believe you had sex with this jackass though." I say to Sally as I point to Anderson. They both flush red in anger.
"Let's go." John said as he steered us both in. John puts on a coverall. Sherlock looks at me.
"You need to put on one of these."
"I'm good. What am I going to do? Contaminate the body with stray metal clippings?" Sherlock sighs as we walk upstairs.
"Here she is. Her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her." A woman’s body is lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room. She is wearing a bright pink overcoat and high-heeled pink shoes. Her hands are flat on the floor either side of her head.