John Watson woke up to the soft hum of the television on downstairs. He stretched and let out a deep yawn, shifting his body around underneath his sheets. The first thing that came to mind was coffee as the scent abrasively smacked him in the face. He grunted to himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing his robe in the process and wrapping it tightly around his body.

The enunciated words of a news reporter hit his ears as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He popped his head in the door to see Sherlock watching the television, curled up in his chair and tapping his fingers against his cheek in an impatient manner. John smiled at the familiarness of everything and made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a tall cup of coffee.

"Late night?" He asked rhetorically. It was pretty evident that Sherlock had gotten no sleep, due to the dark, pronounced bags under his eyes and his screeching violin keeping John up until the early morning hours. It was about noon on a Saturday and John was very, very thankful that he did not have to be in at work that day. A grunted 'yes' responded to his question.

He entered the living space with his hot mug, sipping delicately and watching his flatmate stare emptily at the television screen. John furrowed his eyebrows as he realized that no, Sherlock wasn't even watching the telly; he was just staring blankly at the wall behind it. He let out a loud sigh and sat in his chair across the way, resting his cup on the end-table.

"So, where's Nancy?"

Sherlock snapped his head towards John, his eyes squinting into a glare.

"She's out."

John snorted out a laugh and leaned back further in his chair, turning his attention to the news. A sleek looking woman with a curled lip sneered on the screen, blonde hair falling in loose waves around her face. Sherlock made a small yelping noise and snatched the remote, turning the volume up louder.

"Shit! Shit, shit, that's that woman. Samantha Quick." Sherlock hissed, digging in his robe pockets, searching for his phone. In a fluidity of movement, he dialed Nancy's phone and held it up to his ear.

"Turn on your television. Just – yes, the BBC News… That is her, correct? I didn't catch the name on the bottom."

Sherlock kept the phone pressed to his ear, his eyes widening with curiosity and flicking back and forth as he processed the information.

"She's down at Waterloo by the Thames reporting a murder." He said to John, tilting his head towards his friend's direction. John turned his eyes back to the woman from Sherlock. She had a look about her that almost reminded him of Miss Adler – the femme fatale that could completely decimate you. When he turned his attention back to Sherlock, the man had hung up his phone and was very intently staring at Samantha Quick. John watched him for a moment, and then sighed loudly.



"I know that look. I've seen that look on your face before."

Sherlock broke his concentration and gave John a confused look. He shook his head and eagerly pulled his phone back out, snapping a quick photo of the woman before she disappeared off the screen. He began to furiously tap around on his phone, and then shifted over to his laptop, plugging in the USB cord to his mobile. John stood up with his mug and leaned over Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's a reverse image search. I'm hoping it'll detect similar photos of her face, or som- Aha!"

The image results snapped up a few compromising photos of the woman, causing John to whisper a 'fuck's sake' under his breath and travel back to the kitchen to wash out his cup of coffee.

"One of these pictures," Sherlock boomed out as he dashed into the kitchen and into the hallway leading to his bedroom. "The caption read 'come find me' and gave me GPS coordinates. I won't be gone long. Tell Nancy that I'll call her as soon as I find information."

His bedroom door shut with a click, and what seemed like almost instantaneously, emerged a fully dressed Holmes, running out the door as he tied his scarf around his neck. John leaned against the counter, a wave of uncomfortable feelings crossing his mind. He was scared of what was going to happen when Sherlock met this Samantha Quick woman, what she might do to him, and what the whole situation might do to Nancy.

"What the heck. He just hung up on me."

"Seriously? I don't know how you manage to stay around that guy."

George Fayne, Bess Marvin, and Nancy Drew all sat on a hotel room bed as the blankly stared at the blonde woman on the screen. The angry tapping of Nancy sending a text message reverberated through the room, causing George to clear her throat awkwardly.

"Um. She's pretty." Bess said quietly, rotating her body to watch Nancy properly. She looked completely enraged, or as angry as Nancy Drew possibly could look. The curvy blonde girl nudged her athletic cousin and shifted her eyes towards their titian haired friend.

"Nancy?" George asked quietly. Nancy ignored her, throwing her phone behind her on the bed and flopping down onto her back. She looked over at her two friends and smiled.

"I am having a really weird week and I would really really appreciate some retail therapy."

Bess let out a squeak of excitement, while George simultaneously groaned as she slapped her hand to her face.

The girls all piled out of their cab and found themselves in front of a large mall, causing Bess to make small yelping noises as she nearly jogged into the building. Nancy interlocked her right arm with George's left and shot her a crooked smile as the two followed their beloved friend inside.

Her phone beeped at her from her pocket. Nancy clasped her hands around the device and pulled it out – two new messages.

I have a lead. Don't call. – SH

He's a 'Quick' boy. Hope you don't mind if I borrow him! ;)

Nancy began to grit her teeth as she shoved her phone back into her jeans pocket, crossing her arms across her chest. Bes giggled as she turned to watch her friend.

"Nance, I thought we got rid of that shirt."

"What?" Nancy said, looking down. She wore her favorite green horse t-shirt she bought while on vacation and working (both seemed to coincide more often than not). She shrugged and smiled at Bess. "I love this shirt. I think it personifies me well."

The other girls groaned aloud in unison as they arrived in the luxurious mall. Bess led them everywhere, from expensive shops to the food court, where they devoured a plate of generic fish and chips. The thought of Sherlock meeting Samantha Quick lingered in her mind the entire time as she pondered what the woman meant by 'borrow'. She grabbed her phone again and sent a text to John.

Where did he run off to this time? – Nancy

Like I'm ever aware.. I don't know. He told me to tell u that he'd call later or something. – j

Did he go see her? – Nancy

Yes – j

She sucked in a stream of hot and frustrated air. The impulse to throw her phone across the room came into her mind, but she quickly dismissed it as her friends stood up to throw away their trash. Nancy followed suit and replaced her phone back to its place in her pants, and she loyally followed her friends around to the multiple expensive, brand name stores.

The day had been long and tiring when she finally departed from the mall and accompanied her friends back to their hotel. She hugged them goodbye and found herself walking back to Bridget's, watching as people went about their daily lives. She smiled to herself as she dug her phone out once more and dialed in the number she could never forget.

"Hi, dad." Nancy chirped into the phone, slowing down her walking pace. An excited chuckle greeted her.

"Hey sweetie! How's London treating you, are you doing alright? How's Bridget?"

"She's holding up okay," Nancy said quietly, nibbling down on her lower lip. "I'm heading over there now."

"Good, good. Any ideas so far on what happened?" He asked in an almost too happy sing-song voice. She laughed and began to walk a little quicker, her body beginning to feel tired and her legs screaming at her in exhaustion.

"I have a couple. I think it… involves mom." Nancy dropped her voice to a mumble. The line was quiet, until Carson Drew let out a raspy cough.

"Oh, okay." He responded with a choked voice. The two rarely discussed Nancy's mother, the conversation typically ending up in either tears or awkward silence. The latter seemed like the most likely situation. "I hear you broke up with Ned."

"Yeah," She sighed into the phone. "He was getting tired of everything, you know? He hated me being away."

"I can understand that part."

Nancy and her father chatted a bit longer until she reached Bridget's flat, saying goodbye into the phone and opening the door slowly. Bridget had sat herself in front of the television, watching the evening news. Nancy joined her on the couch, hoping that Samantha Quick would appear once more. She never did. A drama came on and Nancy laid her body down to rest, eventually falling asleep.

His black locks bounced around erratically as he shook his head in frustration. She giggled playfully and nudged him with her shoulder, swinging her legs over his lap. He rolled his head to the side, a gentle smile flirting with her big doe eyes. He leaned closer.

A soft vibration against the couch woke her up. She groaned and looked up at the TV. It had been shut off, and a digital clock nearby told her it was about 3 in the morning. She squinted her eyes and looked at the phone that rested on the armrest of the couch.

Nancy rubbed her face as she reached up and grabbed her cell-phone, unlocking it and staring. A new message. She bit the inside of her cheek and opened it.

A picture of Sherlock appeared. His hair was askew, his eyes tired and expression overworked. His shirt was unbuttoned a few more than usual and a cigarette was stuffed in between his lips. She glared at the picture and scrolled down.

He's SO much better than you'd ever imagine.