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sherlockxreader · 6 years

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A Time Of Change - Chapter Three - The Fourth

Title: A Time Of Change Chapter Three: The Fourth Summary: Ava Bradford. Behavioral Analyst of the Miami Police Department. Or former Analyst after the events of the past force her to journey to England and take up a job away from the family she had created. Here, she struggles to keep to herself and her life quickly takes over as she readies for her future on Baker Street. Author: Alexa @alex-awesome1023 Words: 4023 (sorry, not sorry) Characters/Relationships: OC x Sherlock Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Past Physical Abuse, Nightmares Author’s Notes: Yes I know this Chapter is late but i haven't been around a computer to be able to write or post anything so that's on me. But im really excited for everyone to read this. Ive been reading and seeing positive feedback and i am overjoyed with the results especially with the tags!!! Can't wait to see more of your comments and feedback! LOVE YOU GUYS!!!

Original Character Ava Bradford is inspired by Zoey Deutch. Enjoy!❤

Finally arriving to Scotland Yard, you were surprised at how big the building was. The precinct in Miami was barely four stories whereas this building practically engulfed that plus more. Taking a moment to look around at the surroundings as you looked at the sizable sign, the text shining as it read “New Scotland Yard”, you shivered from the cold. It’s going to take some time to get used to this London weather. Not being able to stay out in the chill for too long, you quickly walked into the huge building and headed straight for the receptionist desk.

“Hi um, I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade, please.” You said to the receptionist while rummaging through your bag trying to find your ID and badge.

“Name.”

“Ava Bradford” Still typing away at her computer not really paying any attention to you, you handed her your identification when a commotion from the entrance caught your attention. You see two people enter, or rather storm through the doors discussing something in harsh tones. The woman, a young black woman with dark curly hair in her late twenties, was fuming, her face pinched into a scowl and lips pursed. The man was around her age, his hair parted neatly down the middle and his face equally mad. I don’t like the vibe they’re giving off. I can practically smell the stupidity and arrogance. As they walk closer you happen to hear their heated conversation.

“I’m going to kill him! That freak has got some nerve to do that shit in the middle of a press conference. Unbelievable!” She yelped loud enough for both you and the receptionist to look up.

“Oh Sergeant Donovan, are you going up to see Lestrade?” The receptionist asked with a hopeful tone. You had a feeling that she didn’t want to get up off her own ass to go show you where to go.

“I have police reports to give him, why?” She questioned unmannerly, looking to you for a moment with an interest and then complete ignorance like you were a child. Sergeant Donovan made her way over to you both as the receptionist gave you back your ID and badge.

“Would you take Miss Bradford up to see him please?” She asked and you heard the plead in her voice; you metaphorically rolled your eyes. I don’t need anyone’s help. Donovan’s heels echoed through the lobby, the noise echoing ominously, the nameless man still following behind just a step.

They stood with you at the desk, blatantly judging all five feet and two inches of your casual appearance. The man was practically drooling as his eyes trailed up your body and down again; you forced yourself not to gag.

You noticed that Sergeant Donovan was taking a long look at your scuffed pair of classic converse, laced up with polka dot laces. Her expression morphed from a dismissing glance to a repugnant smirk. You knew just then what she thought of you; she thought you were a kid, a teen and someone easy for her to bully. You knew that this was because of your short height plus the laces. Donovan herself was about 5’5 and him about 5’11 so it wasn't that big of a deal really, you were used to being to smallest in the room at 5’2.

“Sure follow me.” Donovan jeered with exasperation in her voice. The man behind her didn't say anything, he just started with a smug grin plastered on his face. They both walked a little in front of you guiding the way. As you three came to the elevator you stopped causing the two to look back at you in confusion. As you looked up at the silver death box, you felt you heart skip and your hand start to sweat. You cursed to yourself.

“Can we, um, take the stairs? I’m trying to work on my cardio.” You blurted out with a small chuckle trying to sound as calm as possible. They both looked at you with confusion and disbelief.

“I would just take the lift, it’s on the twelfth floor.” She insisted as the doors opened and both her and the man stepped in. You looked up at it once more with internal grievance. It’s not worth it Ava, just suck it up. You got it the elevator and were immediately filled with regret. As the two of them discussed what you assume was dinner plans, you decide to take your mind off the death box by figuring out more about the two officers.

Sally Donovan; works for the Metropolitan Police Service as a Detective Sergeant judging by her badge and attitude, she has a huge ego, very rude and hates to be told wrong. That will be fun. She has un-showered hair and worn clothes not more than a day old and is wearing men's deodorant. She’s had a night out. Dull… Seeing the name clip tag on the man’s pocket, you read him.

Phillip Anderson; works for Metropolitan Police Service as a police officer and forensic scientist. Snarky, stuck up, rude, loves to prove people wrong and a perv. He's got the whole package. he’s married going by the ring but I can't tell if it’s happy. A blue buttoned down shirt but un-showered. Taking a sniff, you are taken back by the strong powerful mixture of men's cologne and deodorant but you find that the deodorant, it’s the same as Sergeant Donovan. A colleague scandal.… How fascinating.

You giggled at your discovery and the drama that could come with it, causing both Donovan and the man, Philip, to look at you like you were insane.

“What's so funny that’s got you twisted in knots?” Phillip asked bitterly, his comment making you pause as you tried to figure out the meaning. I keep forgetting that I’m in London with people with British accents, weird being the only American sometimes.

“Oh nothing really. Ignore me.” You managed to say with a steady voice. You could feel your lungs tighten and burn from trying to keep your breathing steady, your heart quickening with nerves with every beep of the elevator letting you know that you've climbed a floor level. Reaching for your necklace, you took a deep breath to calm yourself and expel the anxiety within your core.

Finally feeling the box stop, you ushered towards the door rather quickly but not to the point of abnormality. You instantly felt better after getting out and you let the fresh air into your lungs with a deep breath. That wasn't so bad.

Donovan and Phillip pass by you without a second glance and you follow the two down the corridor to an office. You read the name on the door and desk laminate. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. As you walk in, you see a man in his late 30’s or early 40's with graying hair sitting at the desk drinking coffee, going by the smell. He looked up from his paperwork and flashed a weak smile.

“Hello, you must be Detective Bradford.” He said as he stood from his chair and reached to shake your hand. As you went to shake his hand, Donovan choked on the air.

“This ‘kid’ is the new Behavioral Analysis Detective!?” She barked, loud enough for the whole floor to hear.

“As a matter of fact, I am, Sergeant Sally Donovan and you should be quick to hold that tongue of yours considering the circumstances. I suggest you get back to trying to solve these suicides instead of spending the whole night out on the town. And Mr Anderson, please try spending sometime with your wife and not with the other woman.” You raised your brow and shifted your eyes between the two then turning around to shake Greg’s outstretched hand. “Oh and by the way, not that it matters but I am twenty-five, soon to be twenty-six and I do not get any bigger than this, so watch who you call ‘kid’.” You added not even bothering to look at them as you sat in the leather chair across from Greg whose jaw was hanging loose.

You can almost feel the daggers going through the back of your head from both parties. Without saying another word, Donovan stormed off with Anderson in toe. “Your file said you were good but not like that.” You looked up to Greg, who sat there with wide eyes.

“Oh please they were open books as far I can see. It was obvious.“ You said in an uncaring tone with a quick smile, crossing your leg over the other.

“It wasn't obvious to me.” He sat down in his chair, still looking at you with bewilderment.

“That's because you weren't looking hard enough. Shall we continue?” You smiled politely at him as he leaned back into the plush of his chair, his coffee mug raised to his lips as he drank. Little did you know he was thinking of his old Consulting Detective friend and how he is going to love watching you make him squirm.

You and Greg, as he insisted you call him, his casual demeanor a surprise to you, had talked for a while about the case and of how things worked around the Yard. Greg was finishing up the paperwork to get you in the system as you sat on your chair, your phone in your hand as you looked at the weather around the area to pass the time. You wanted to know when it was going to snow, but as you looked at the weather radar, your phone buzzed, alerting you of a text. It was your sister Lyra.

You were about to read the text when a knock at the door pulled you from your phone. You looked behind you towards the source of the sound where there was a woman standing behind the door frame, poking her head into the room. “Mr. Lestrade?”

“Yes Natalie?” He turned his head towards the woman as she stood out from behind the wall, her hands fidgeting in front of her. Why is she so antsy?

“There’s an urgent call for you on the phone.” She said, still fidgeting with her fingers. You couldn’t help the deductions that began to pop in and out of your head. Young woman in her early-mid twenties. Telling by her body language she is uncertain and flustered. Why? Her clothes are flirtatious and womanly to show and hug her curves. Her makeup looks to be refreshed and she’s just re-applied perfume, a sickly sweet floral concoction, probably from a local pharmacy. She’s trying to show off, but to who? Her eyes are dilated and targeted at Greg, who is looking at the paperwork, slightly ignoring her presence. Final deduction; she has a crush on the Detective Inspector, a crush that is clearly not mutual. You beamed to yourself as you sit back in the chair.

“Ok, thank you Natalie, I’ll be right there.” He replied looking to her for a moment. You caught a glimpse of her face as she exited and retreated back to her desk. She was beet red. You turn your head back to Greg, who was standing from his desk. You stand along with him.

“So I think you’re pretty much set up and ready to go. You don’t have a lot of paperwork for now since it’s your first day and as for now you're on call until you get more settled.” He started walking towards the door.

“Ok, that sounds great. I can’t wait to get started.” You bubbled with a cheeky grin. You were so happy to be here and help people by doing what you did. “Thank you again so much for this opportunity Detective Inspector.” You added with genuine smile walking out the door with him.

“Please, call me Greg and no problem. Welcome to our division Detective.” He muttered over his shoulder walking toward the horde of desks. You turn around and made your way opposite Greg to the death box as you decided to be brave and take the elevator again. You feel Sally and Anderson’s eyes piercing your back as you headed towards the elevator. What is their problem?

Down in the lobby once more, you made your way out the door, thinking about what you could do to pass some time. You had thought of going back home and unpacking but then your aunt popped up and you realised that you still hadn’t seen her yet. She was going to kill you for not seeing her right away. As you waved down a taxi you noticed that a police car had pulled up in front with haste. You furrowed your brow with confusion until you heard someone call your name out with urgency behind you, the pieces falling into place as you turned to see Greg coming out of the building.

“Ava!”He had his coat on and was approaching you fast, his face creased and plastered with worry and seriousness. Something is up. Another murder.

“Where?”

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens and this one left a note. Will you come?” He continued, not bothered by the fact that you knew it was another suicide.

“Are you kidding me? Three, now four impossible suicides and all the same cause and now a note. Is it my birthday already?!” You blurted out not waiting for him to respond. As you both get in the police car , you hear a chuckle coming from him. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just going to really like who is coming to help with the case.” He added from his side of the car. You were too immersed in your own thoughts to really bother asking him who the mystery person was but your answer soon came when you realised where you were headed; Baker Street.

“Let me guess, it’s the great Sherlock Holmes? That's your help?” You said mockingly in a British accent. Greg seemed to be amused and mocked hurt at your awful impression.

“He’s a consultant and a genius. He can be a real pain to be around but he’s a great man. Maybe one day he might be a good one.” He implied not breaking eye contact with the road. You didn't exactly know what that meant, but the look on his face told you that he wasn't lying. This Sherlock keeps getting more interesting as the day goes on. At leased you get to pop into see Aunt Martha.

As the car stopped you turned your full body over to Lestrade and asked with a pleading look. “Can I go in with you?”

“Uh, sure?” His eyes narrowed with confusion as to why you wanted to go in or why is was necessary to ask but he didn't argue. Both of you get out of the police car and you basically hopped out with joy. He couldn’t believe that you were so much like Sherlock that it scared him a bit. You looked up at the building opposite yours and you notice the man at the window on the second floor, looking at you. Your head tilted in curiosity as to who it was, or more like as to why he was looking. Pulling your sight away from the window, you followed Lestrade inside.

He didn’t bother to knock, which struck you as odd, and he bounded up the stairs taking two at a time. You stayed downstairs to see if your aunt was in but before you could, you heard footsteps coming from the stairwell. It was an old woman in her seventies she was wearing a purple dress that tied in the middle and a newspaper, a similar style to that of Mrs. Turner. You loved that color and knew from the family pictures that Lyra had shown over the years who the woman was.

“Aunt Martha?” She looked up from her skirts, which she was holding lest she tripped on them, and caught your figure at the bottom of the stairs. She paused in her stride before recognition made itself apparent on her face, her eyes brightening and a smile appearing upon her lips.

“Ava! Hello love!” She asked as she came closer to you pulling you into a loving hug. “How are you dear? How was the flight? Would you like something? Tea maybe?” Aunt Martha pulled back from you, her face now washed with concern over you. “I’m alright thanks. The flight was good long, but good but the train ride was tiring. But I’m working right now so I dont have much time to talk but I just wanted to see you and tell you I was here. I only got here a couple of hours ago.” You said with a cheeky smile, holding her hands in your own. The last time you saw her was three years ago at a Christmas dinner. It was the first time the whole family was together and knowing that the Bradford family had English heritage, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have a family like this one, knowing how bad some kids could get it. You of all people should know. You always loved the English language, everything was always so beautifully said even if it was an insult.

“We’ll just have to catch up next time then won’t we? I hope Mrs.Turner is treating you well. Has she told you about Sherlock yet?” She asked, with her hand over her mouth trying to hide the giggle.

“She mentioned him to me not even five minutes into the flat. The old women seems to get a kick watching your flatmate.” You laughed out, your aunt tries to hide her laughter with a playfully stern grin, lightly hitting your arm with the newspaper she had with her. “Be nice.” When her giggles couldn’t be contained you both laugh like school girls. Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs, you both quieted but still smiling like mad men. Seeing that it was Lestrade, he gave you a look to let you know that it was time to go. You nodded at him letting him know you got the message. “Ok, Aunt Martha I have to go but I will be back. We can have tea later.”

“Alright love. Be safe.” She waved at you as she headed back up the stairs. You were heading out the door you heard a yell from up stairs, the deep baritone of the voice rumbling through the walls with its volume.

“Brilliant!” It was a voice filled with excitement and you smiled as you closed the door on your way to the crime scene.

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You arrived at the crime scene with the knowledge of the victim given to you from a text in Greg’s phone. Jennifer Wilson according to the credit card found at the scene. Some kids found her not too long ago when they were ...Why kids be here of all places?

You headed up stairs without waiting for anyone, passing Sally at the entrance, ignoring the sneer she sent your way. A couple people from forensics tried to get you to put on a blue contaminant prevention suit, however you refused and stepped past them anyway, much to their annoyance. Like I’m going to mess up the scene. Idiots. Half way up, you realized that you didn't have any gloves and knowing what you do about Anderson, he would surely have a fit upon seeing your gloveless hands. You would prefer not to have to talk to him for more than necessary. Getting to the bottom of the stairs, you hear Sally’s voice come in over the radio that was left on the table. “Freak’s here. Bringing him in.”

“Freak?” You asked yourself, feeling an old pinch in your chest. Hearing Sally call someone that just made your blood boil. Nobody should be called a freak in any circumstance.

You heard Anderson come out of the room upstairs and, looking up the stairwell, you catch the look of pure disgust on his face as he furiously walked down the stairs, passing you without so much as a glance. You followed him out but kept to the shadows of the doorway. You watched as a very tall man with ebony curls and a belstaff coat approached the building. You couldn’t help but stare. He was... beautiful. You knew who he was by his cheekbones, it was the consultant. Mrs.Turner was right. Those cheekbones could kill. Turning your attention towards the table of forensic gear you could still hear Mr. Holmes talking to Anderson.

“I'm not implying anything I’m sure Sally came by for a nice little chat and just happen to stay over.” The deep mellow voice said making you freeze and your eyes go wide with realization. You covered your mouth to try to stop the bubble of laughter in your throat but it was no help. “And I assume she scrubbed your floors going by the state her knees.” He finished making you burst. It was loud and you knew that everyone could have heard it but you didn't care. You had tears in your eyes from holding the full laugh back. Oh my god, I can't believe he said that out loud!

Grabbing a pair of gloves you bounded up the stairs, wanting to get a look for yourself before this consulting detective came in. You entered the room seeing the body laying face down. The first thought that came to your mind was less a thought and more of an obvious statement. Pink.

[Sherlock point of view]

After Sherlock deduced Anderson's affair with Sally, he heard a burst of laughter from the building, smiling at the fact that someone else knew. With John close behind, the pair entered the building, meeting Lestrade at the door.

“I can get you two minutes.”

“I may need more.” Sherlock replied going toward the kitchen area.

Looking towards the staircase he caught a glimpse of a beige coat and strange pair of polka dotted laced converse. Narrowing his eyes at the sight, he put it off, assuming that it was nothing of import. Lestrade was by the table and he held out a suit of the most ghastly blue to Sherlock, waving it a little for him to take.

“You'll need to put this on.” He handed one to John as well and seemed taken aback by the new presence. He looked at Sherlock with raised brows, then to once more to John then back again. “Who is this?“ He asked bemused and pissed off.

“He’s with me.” Imbecile.

“Yeah but who is he?” He pestered putting on a blue cover up.

“I said he’s with me.” Sherlock turned his head like a whip and glared at Lestrade.

“Fine. At least put one of these on.” He asked which Sherlock, in return, ignored. I heard the frustration in his sigh, huffing my breath in humour.

“So where are we?” Sherlock asked as they made our way up the staircase.

“Upstairs. Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards, we're running them for contact details. Hasn't been here long, some kids found her.” Lestrade informed the two in front of him as they reached the room, stopping when they saw someone hunched down near the lady in pink. She was… an anomaly, as Sherlock had immediately thought. There was no other way to describe her he found.

Her small stature, childish laces and mundane appearance were all boring to him. Insignificant. Nevertheless, there was… something. But what? She’s obviously in this line of profession, expertly prodding at the body, turning the victim’s collar inside out and over again. Now there’s an interesting thought. The collar could indicate rain and wind, even snow if she came from the north, which would mean - oh, the girl’s traveled. She had moved from one side of the body to the other, now getting a view if her face, he could seem to pull his eyes away. She was different and interesting enough for him to be absolutely... captivated.