(A/N) This story is dedicated to my best mate Artz. Love you sweetie. xoxo Mels

Chapter One- Something Blue

Lexi's POV

The day started off like any other when you are living with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. It began with the sound of a screeching violin. My eyes flashed open quickly and I cried out as I found myself falling before I landed on the floor with a loud thump. The sounds of a dying cat cut off as I groaned and stayed where I had fallen as the sounds of footsteps came towards my bedroom. The door opened and I looked up, staring into the face of Sherlock Holmes. He raised an eyebrow at my current position one hand on the door knob, the other holding his violin and bow. I groaned again and he stepped into my room and offered me a hand. I eyed it for a long moment, narrowing my eyes at the appendage before I slapped my hand into his and allowed the consulting detective to haul me to my feet. He steadied me as I stumbled before smirking at me.

"Morning," I said brightly and Sherlock chuckled slightly.

"Do you make it a habit of falling out of bed?" Sherlock asked me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk and I narrowed my eyes at him in a glare.

"Only when consulting detectives are murdering cats in the flat," I told Sherlock rolling my eyes. "Give me that," I told him as I snatched his violin from him despite his protests and stomped out of my room. I ran through the kitchen, gliding into the living room on sock covered feet, hooray for uncarpeted floors, and darted around John's chair which contained the army doctor with a greeting of "Hi John" before I threw myself into Sherlock's chair as the consulting detective caught up with me. "You can have it back later," I told the detective, pointing at him with the bow before I set it and the violin on the side of the chair away from Sherlock, guarding them.

"Morning Lexi," John said with a slight grin as he looked up from his paper as the consulting detective threw himself down on the couch and curled into the fetal position as he began to sulk. I shook my head fondly at him before turning back to our army doctor who was fully dressed unlike Sherlock who was still in his nightclothes and robe.

"Morning," I told John as I tucked my feet underneath me and picked up my book which I had discarded on the arm of Sherlock's chair the night before. "Did he wake you up too?" I asked John and the army doctor nodded.

"Hmm yes, not too long ago actually," John told me as Sherlock huffed loudly from the couch. "Tea?" John asked me suddenly as he folded his paper in his lap.

"That would be lovely thank you," I told the army doctor with a slight grin as he got up and went into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. I got up and padded over to the couch, nudging Sherlock in the shoulder. The detective groaned in response and curled in tighter on himself. "Sherlock?" I asked and the detective rolled slightly so he could look at me.

"Bored," Sherlock whined as I heard John clinking mugs together in the kitchen. I sighed and ran my fingers through Sherlock's curls and shook my head slightly at him.

"I know Lock. Cheer up. Maybe Lestrade will call us with a nice murder," I told the detective and he grinned at me as John came back into the living room holding three mugs of tea aloft. "Thanks John," I said as I accepted a mug of tea from John. The army doctor left Sherlock's tea on the coffee table within arm's reach of him as I went and claimed Sherlock's chair again. The flat reverted back to silence as I picked up my book and started reading again as I sipped on my cooling mug of tea. It was only when I was finished that I bent the corner of my page and set my book down on the arm of Sherlock's chair again as I stood up. John looked up at me as I passed by his chair and walked into the kitchen. I put my mug in the sink to wash later before I padded back to my room to find some clothes for the day.

I chose a black tank top and a sky blue cotton button up shirt to go with a pair of yellow skinny jeans. I took the clothes with me to the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower, combing through my hair and getting out of my night clothes as I waited for the water to heat up. I jumped into the shower as soon as the water had lost its frigid quality and stood back in the water letting it spray over my face and wet my waist length copper locks. I wiped the water out of my face before I opened my eyes and reached for my apple scented shampoo. I squeezed a good amount into the palm of my hand before I started lathering my hair with the soap. I scrubbed at my scalp and sighed in contentment before I leaned back in the scalding hot water and washed the soap out of my hair. Once it was finally out I scrubbed myself with my body wash before rinsing and turning off the water. I squeezed my hair to get as much water out of it as possible before I shook myself like a wet cat. I grinned to myself as I grabbed my towel off of the rack by the shower and wrapped it around myself, quickly drying off. I was careful as I stepped out of the shower and I took my towel off and wrapped it around my hair before I began dressing.

I kept the buttons of the blue shirt open and rolled up the sleeves to my elbows. I turned to the mirror once I was dressed and pulled my makeup pouch out from one of the drawers we had set up by the freestanding sink. I applied a slight bit of mascara and a light bit of pressed powder before I packet everything away and set upon attacking my hair with the hairdryer. I let the curling iron heat up as I worked and I used it to put just a few more curls into my hair. I found a white headband with a red bow on it in one of the drawers from when I first unpacked and I slid it into my hair to keep it all from falling forward into my face. I nodded once at my appearance before I bundled up my towel and clothes and padded out of the bathroom and back to my room. I dumped my clothes into my hamper and pulled on my black boots before I walked out into the living room where Sherlock was sitting in his chair in his prayer position, fully dressed now.

"Ah good, you're ready. Lestrade called us in with a case," Sherlock said as he jumped out of his chair. I raised an eyebrow at him as he crossed over to the coffee table and picked up my case bag from where I had tossed it and picked it up, brining it over to me. "Five murders all the same. He wants us to take a look," Sherlock told me as he excitedly walked over to the door and started pulling on his coat and scarf.

"Where's John?" I asked Sherlock as I followed him over to the door and let him help me into my coat before I slung my case bag over my shoulder and slung my scarf around my neck, tying it like Sherlock's.

"He had a date," Sherlock told me with an irritated huff and I laughed and patted his arm.

"Looks like it'll just be us then," I told him with a grin and he grinned back at me slightly as I darted past him and started down the stairs. He caught up with me and we thundered down the stairs at top speed until we came to the door. I laughed in triumph as I made it to the door first and I flung it open before skipping out onto the curbing. Sherlock closed the door to Baker Street and locked it again before he joined me and hailed us a cab. We slid into the back of the cab and Sherlock gave the address of the crime scene to the cabbie. I pulled out my phone and texted Lestrade to let him know that we were on our way. I grinned as we sat in the cab. As morbid as it was I was sort of excited. It had been boring over the last few days without a case and I was starting to lose my sanity. That and Sherlock had been bored as well and dealing with Sherlock when he was bored was like pulling teeth.

The cabbie drive us as far as he could as the street was blocked off by the police tape. Sherlock paid the cabbie and we got out of the car together and took a look over at the scene. It wasn't in the best place in London which was typical. Five murders said serial killer, especially if Lestrade was calling us in on the case finally. That told me he was way out of his depth on this case and desperate for any help he could. I looked around the scene carefully. I shivered a bit when I got the uneasy feeling that I was being watched. I looked up instinctively and shook my head when all I saw was an angel statue. I followed Sherlock over to the edge of the police tape where Donovan was hanging around. She sneered when she saw us and crossed her arms as she came to "greet" us.

"What are you doing here freaks?" Donovan asked us and I raised my eyebrow at her and mirrored her posture as I crossed my own arms.

"Lestrade wants us to take a look," Sherlock told her unfazed by her attitude.

"Why?" Donovan asked us and I shook my head at her and snorted.

"Let's not start this again Donovan. He wants us to take a look," I told her as Sherlock held up the police tape for me and let me duck under it first before he joined me on the other side.

"Whatever," Donovan told me, rolling her eyes before she uncrossed her arms and pulled her radio off of her belt. "Freaks are here, bringing them over," Donovan said into the mouthpiece as she started walking back towards the alley. We followed after her and I uncrossed my arms as I started sweeping my gaze around to look for any clues. There were a few CCTV cameras on the buildings surrounding the alley which might prove useful as there wasn't much to go off of by looking at the ground.

"Ah Sherlock, Lexi," Lestrade greeted us tiredly as he met us at the mouth of the ally. I was able to see over his head and I caught sight of the white sheet lying over a body. What was even more interesting was the black paint smeared over one of the brick walls of the alleyway, but I couldn't make out what it said from here.

"Details," Sherlock snapped and I looked at him pointedly as Lestrade sighed.

"I'm getting there hold on," He told Sherlock before taking a deep breath. "So, we've found five bodies all over parts of London. It's random where we find them. The only thing that connects them is that the victims all have had their necks snapped, they were all killed sometime at night, and there's no evidence left at the crime scene except for a warning," Lestrade told us and I frowned at him in confusion.

"A warning?" I asked Lestrade and he nodded as he titled his head back in the direction of the alley.

"Take a look," He told us before he turned and led us down the alleyway. We stopped in front of the graffitied wall and my frown deepened as I read the message that had been smeared in what looked like black paint in large letters across the wall.

BEWARE THE WEEPING ANGELS

I took in a deep breath as I remembered the angel statue I had just seen and I shivered as Sherlock walked away and bent down, pulling the sheet off of the victim. I walked over to join him and crouched down beside the body as Sherlock pulled out his magnifying glass and snapped it open as he began inspecting the body with me. The victim was in his early twenties. Dead for at least twelve hours and the cause of death was in fact a snapped neck. Other than that he had no other marks on his body, no defensive wounds, just nothing. I stood up and looked around the crime scene and frowned again. There was no sign of a struggle either. There was just nothing. It was as if the guy was just walking down the alley one moment and the next he was just dead with a broken neck. I looked up at Sherlock and despite his calm expression I could see he was just as baffled as I was.

"Anything on the CCTV cameras?" I asked Lestrade and he shook his head at me and let out a frustrated breath.

"Funnily enough no. We've checked them. The guy goes into the alley next thing the camera turns off and then turns back on again about a minute later. We've narrowed it down on the time of death and he died within that minute. The victim is a Thomas Mills. Worked as a busboy at a restaurant two blocks from her and lived in a flat one block over. Must have been using the alley as a short cut. We've got nothing," Lestrade told us and I nodded at him as I looked back over at the message on the wall.

"And this warning, any signs that he was the one that wrote it?" I asked Lestrade and he shook his head again as Sherlock just continued to stare down at the body. I looked over at him in concern as he was being unnaturally quiet.

"No, he wasn't the one who left it. Look have either of you got anything? My ass is on the line over this case," Lestrade said and I looked to Sherlock.

"I've got nothing. At least right now I don't. Sherlock and I will need to see the other bodies and go over the crime scene pictures of each of the murders," I told Lestrade who nodded at me slightly and then more definitively.

"Alright I'll get those sent over to you," Lestrade told us as Sherlock finally snapped out of his trance and rejoined the land of the living.

"Do that," Sherlock snapped at the D.I. before he just started walking away the way we came. I threw my hands up into the air and sighed as I looked over at Lestrade who watched Sherlock's retreating back.

"Good luck with him," Lestrade told me with a smirk and I snorted at him and hurried after Sherlock, childishly flipping him off as I walked. I heard his chuckle behind me as I stormed after Sherlock, finally catching up with him just as he ducked under the police tape. I looked back only once, looking up at the building where I had seen the angel statue and I blinked in surprise when I saw that it was gone. I shook my head. No, that was stupid. Statues couldn't move. I was just tired and stressed about his case already.

"Sherlock!" I yelled and I ran to fall into step beside him. "Sherlock," I tried again and he looked over at me finally, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "What's going on in that brain of yours?" I asked the consulting detective as I slipped my hand into his coat pocket and linked my fingers with his. He squeezed my hand slightly as he took in a deep breath and sighed heavily.

"It doesn't fit, the message the body. Beware the Weeping Angels? What angels?" Sherlock asked me irritated. I bit my lip nervously before shaking my head. No, there was nothing about that statue I had seen. I probably was just seeing things I told myself even though the part of my brain that responded to danger was telling me to run.

"I don't know Sherlock. I just don't know," I told the consulting detective as he looked up at me. We shared a look for a long moment before we continued out to the main road to find a cab. As we passed by another alleyway we missed the blue police box that stood at the end of it, something old, something new, something borrowed, and the bluest of blues.