AN: A little something that popped into my head. Whether it's story material is yet to seen. Hope you like it!

L approached this case much the same as he would any other. But this time was different. After all, it's not everyday there comes a case that the greatest detective in a century has difficulty in solving. In fact, it had been a great many years since it'd happened.

This case was but a shadow of what was to come. It was a reflection on one that had not yet happened. This was the case known to some as The Sherlockian Paradox. The only case yet to momentarily stump the great L.

L, of course, couldn't see any crime scenes with his own eyes, find clues with his own hands. So he needed a surrogate investigator. Or perhaps a team of them. Yes. A team would do quite nicely. He had heard that there was just such a team in the FBI. Called the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Profilers.

L needed them on the scene quickly as the death count had already reached 12. He knew the proper way to contact them, but completely ignored it. Instead, he sent a message to the leader of the team. Besides, in an emergency, not many people stand on ceremony.

Within minutes, a beep from one of his many computers told him that they were assembled. Another beep told him that the 'L' logo was floating on their computer screen. He had always wondered what it was like for other people to see that and know that they were speaking to the L. But that was a subject for another time. For now, back to the matter at hand.

He pulled up the video camera and viewed those who would act in his stead. His eyes took in everything. He profiled the profilers, essentially. Took what they did to others and turned it upon them, not a feeling he enjoyed himself. Turning on his synthetic voice, he spoke to the team of the BAU.

"This is L."

The reaction was a little less than he had anticipated. The man who was known as Hotch, the leader, nodded. A woman in a bizarre outfit got very pale, very fast. L recognized the woman next to her. She was the undercover agent from Russia... Prentiss was it? Yes, that was it.

L sized up those who remained. It seemed to him that there was an 80% chance the young man with the unkempt hair, the one who had some sort of humorous, play-on-words name, Reid or something like that, was the most intelligent. No, 90%. Therefore, L focused on him.

"I am requesting your help in a case I am currently working on. It's known as The Sherlockian Paradox. Have you received the information for it yet?" the fake voice asked. The man, Hotch, who was in charge, nodded. "How can we help you?" he asked.

"As I cannot look over the crime scenes myself, I wish for you to do so and compare your profile with mine. I cannot, of course, force you to. But I must ask that you do as I say." L did not cut corners. Nor did he embroider upon what he wished. He wanted the team to do this, therefore, what could they do?

"S-so we just drop the rest of our cases?" the strangely dressed woman wondered aloud. "As far as I am concerned, this is the only case you have at the moment." L replied. It may have been the false quality of his voice, but the remark sounded emotionless. No, as far as we will ever know, it may well have been emotionless. But as before, we do not know.

L studied everyone's reactions to his statement. Not for the first time, he wondered what they might have been thinking. He shrugged and told Watari that he could enter the room now. Watari did so and greeted the team.

L studied everyone, "This is Watari, if you need anything, let him know and he will help you to the best of his ability. Do you have any questions concerning the case and your involvement in it?" L asked them.

Apparently, the young man called Reid did, in fact, have a question concerning said case. "How do you know it's Sherlockian? There are not that many murders in Sherlock Holmes. Could you explain that a little more clearly?" he enquired.

"Of course, the perpetrator seems to have twisted every story from the canon into a murder. He has already finished with the 'Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' and has moved onto the 'Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes'. He doesn't care about the victims, just the books. All that would appear to matter to him is following the stories in his own twisted way. Does that answer your question?"

Reid nodded. Everyone else looked mystified though. Reid was evidently the only Sherlockian there. L decided that he could most likely trust these people. So, he continued "Should you have further questions, Watari will provide you with my phone number. Your plane leaves in one hour. Please be ready. Also, might I add, do not be alarmed, but I have sent one of my agents to meet you at the airport."

With that, the screen went blank. L got up from his usual crouched position. He knew he had seen Reid somewhere before... but where? He shook his head and got back to the matter at hand. Knowing he was no good to anyone while stressed, he made himself a cup of coffee. His way. They were almost out of sugar, he reminded himself to tell Watari to buy more.

He settled into his seat and sipped at the brew. He reached for the cake on the table and munched away. He puzzled over the case. What kind of sherlockian would change the stories to such an extent? Who would think to kill people in such a way.

But one thing else was on L's mind. What significance did the puzzles found at each scene hold? Why did the killer leave these things behind? So he could get caught? Or because he wanted to say 'Look what I can do that you can't!' it made L bend his fork out of shape to think about it.

He cleared his head of such thoughts and calmly went over the facts. The murderer had left a Latin sentence at each crime scene, pointing to the next murder. The first one went: 'Quid clarum crassa? Rutilae comae et foedere!' which meant 'What's thick and bright? The red hair of the league!' within four days, the next victim, Millicent Wilson, a red head, was killed.

L himself did not know how to tackle the case, but felt that if he got a goo noghts sleep, but felt it unlikely. He knew that the team would never guess the identity of the agent he was sending. And really, that was for the better. For everyone.

Though, he couldn't help but feel useless about needing to call in anyone. However, he knew of nothing else to do. Thus did he speculate over what the murderer might be gaining from all of this. Aside, of course, from the pleasure of confusing the great L himself. L decided to let sleeping dogs lie and attempt to sleep. Not that it was very likely.

L never did sleep. He hadn't for quite a while. As he trotted of, he muttered something to himself.

"Sleep. Hmmm. 7% chance."

AN: Hmmm, I think I will make this a story. I will update it whenever I get the chance. But one thing more. I have to wonder when L met Spencer before. If you have any ideas, feel free to let me know!