I am a big fan of Sherlock Holmes and I wanted to write a novel about his child/children. I was hoping to be his daughter or something like that. Maybe his neice. But I would like to make it a role play insted.

Okay. I hope everyone knows whi Sherlock Holmes is. This role play will be a modern twist on the books. Instead of sherlock being in the late 1800s or wherever he normally is, he will be in modern day England. As his neice, Caitlen Holmes, I have grown to be as observant and daring as my fater Microft and Uncle Sherlock. I will be a sixteen year old girl who has gone to 221B Baker Street to seek a flat in which to live. When I get it, because I don't have a job, I will need a flat mate. There can be as many people in this RP as you deem fit. You can also leave whenever you feel like.

I will start.

As Caitlen approached her Uncle's flat at 221B Baker Street, she was surpised to see the it was next to a resturant. She really needed a flat to live in but she had no money. She had applied for many jobs but they were all denied. It wasn't her fault that they were all doing things wrong. Either way, she needed a place to stay. And she was not staying with her father. He was driving her mad. She knocked on the door and waited for Mrs Hudson to open it. When she did, she said hello and asked for a flat. She signed a form and was told that she would probably have one in the morning. After that, she went to her Uncle's flat. It was no surprise that the door was open. She knocked anyway. "Uncle Sherlock. Mr Watson. Do you mind if I come in?" she asked.

Mr Watson looked up from a pile of papers, before Sherlock could say something he called, "Come in, come in." He thouroughly adjusted his glasses, picking away sleep from his eyes. He sighed noisily, "How may we assist?" His head was slightly dropped and his clothes were ruffled. A tie was slung around his neck and his jacket was on the chair he sat on.

(You can be anyone you want you know. You don't need to be Watson.)

"I need a place to stay for the night. I will be gone tomorrow morning. I promise. I'm trying to get a flat." She walked over to him and looked over his shoulder. "What are you working on now?"

(Who is gonna be Watson then?)

(I can be Watson if you want. But if you want to answer the question, you can and then I can control Watson afterwards.)

(Okay, cool!)

Watson flicked his hadn through the air dismissevely, "This is nothing!" His voice had an uncertain ease to it. "Oh... and of course you can stay with us!"

Sherlock moved closer to Watson and also looked over his shoulder. "You know exactly what that is Caitlen. Why are you asking him?" he said. "You know why Uncle. To see if he was going to tell me. Oh and if you intend on kicking me out of the house for a few hours. Don't. I am of good help to you and you know it." She looked at the wall where Sherlock had put his crime sceen photos. "He has a broken neck. Army style. But why?" A number of things came to her head but she dimissed a lot of them.

Gandal came up the hallway, tuxedo on and silver platter raised in his left hand high above his head. On that platter was an array of fancy cocktails, lemons dipped in the liquid. He approached the open door, knocking subtly.

"Go away. We're buisy." Caitlen said, not turning around.

'Oh...' Gandal mumbled, sighing as he took a step back hesitantly and began to depart.

Sherlck looked at Caitlen. "That was rude. Go back. Follow him."

Gandal heard the girl call but ignored, and kept walking down the hallway, sighing, wondering if he could drink the cocktails for himself.

"I said wait! God I hate waiters," she mumbled. When she had caught up with him she put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. She observed him and came to her conclusion. "Mrs Hudson doesn't have enough money to hire someone like you. What are you here for?" she said eyeing him.

Gandal put on his posh voice. A voice which he had come to reckon with over his years as a buttler, one that most house masters had wanted. He sighed, moving the platter towards her nose, "Drinks."

"I don't think so. Your suit is too stiff. You don't look a day over nineteen and your nose is too crooked for a butler. What are you doing here?" she said eyeing him.

"err..." He mumbled, eyeing his feet, completely lost for words.

"I won't ask again. Or do I continue with my analysis?" She followed his gaze. "I advise you to get a new pair of shoes. Those ones will break in three days."

"All I want to do... is serve drinks." He mumbled, twisting his shoes awkwardly.

"Sure. Mrs Hudson is having a hard enough time paying the bills for this place. She can't afford you being here. You'll be working without pay. And you're letting a sixteen year old get on your nerves. Do I really have that affect on people?"

Gandal fidgeted nervously, 'Pay is none of my worries.' He said awkwardly, his nose twitching.

Caitlen looked at him. "Do you want to share a flat?" She knew that was a strange thing to ask but she couldn't pay for a flat on her own.

He nodded abruptly, smiling, 'I can't stand living with my dad.'

She smiled back. "Nor can I. Do you have any idea what it is like to live with Mycroft Holmes? Of course you don't. You don't even know who he is do you? Any way, it's not easy. Expectations are extremely high. Thank God I have my Uncle Sherlock. He's a little more easy going than my dad." She looked down at the ground and the smile faded. "I'm wofolling on again."

Gandal laughed uneasily, moving the dish towards the girl, "Take one -- I insist." A posh voice was still coated over his voice.

"Okay. Can you use your normal voice please?" she asked taking a drink. She sipped it and sighed.