The American Fire that Melted the Ice Man (Mycroft Holmes x OC - BBC Sherlock)

Chapter 1: The Way We Met

Sophia Cartwright sat in her lab surrounded my computers and technology. Strewn across tables were various pieces of equipment, in various states of disassembly. Sophia was Scotland Yard's newest digital forensic specialist. It was her job to perform forensic analysis of various technology found at crime scenes. At times she also assisted with research for investigations as it related to technology. Today she was backlogged and trudging through an encrypted hard drive working to access the information.

That was, until a voice called out from behind her. "You."

She spun around and saw a tall, lanky curly haired man standing at the door to her lab. "Excuse me?"

"You're the American that Lestrade has talked about. The one who is a supposed genius with computers."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. "And you're Sherlock Holmes, the high functioning sociopath who runs around London solving crimes."

"Not just London."

She waggled her eyebrows. "I won't box you in if you don't me. I'm not just good with computers, Mr. Holmes. If it has a chip, I can hack it, trace it, read it... you get the idea."

He grinned. "Perfect. I need you to hack into this phone."

"Excuse me? Sherlock Holmes wants me to hack a phone for him? I thought you were the super-genius. Can't figure out the password?"

"It's more than just password locked," he said, holding out the black smart phone to her.

She started to reach out for it, then pulled back. "Nope. I don't think so. I'm not getting into the middle of one of your messes. Not without authorization."

Sherlock hesitated only the briefest of moments. "This phone belongs to one of James Moriarty's last living associates. The information on this phone is of vital importance to national—to global—security."

She peered at him through squinted eyes a moment. "I think you're lying."

"I think you couldn't hack it if you tried," he bit back.

"You're baiting me."

"Is it working?" he asked.

She huffed and snatched the phones out of his hand, placing it onto a mat at her station. "Yes."

Just before her finger touched a key on her keyboard another voice spoke up.

"If your finger touches a single key on that keyboard, you will be locked up for the rest of your life for crimes against the British government."

She spun back around, as did Sherlock Holmes, who looked at his watch. "Forty-eight minutes. You're getting slow."

"You're getting brazen—stealing my phone and bringing it to Scotland Yard to try and have it hacked? Do you have any idea what information is on that phone?"

"Juicy gossip, I gather, by the encryption," Sherlock said with a grin.

Sophia growled, picked up the phone up, and marched it over to the man. "My deepest apologies, sir. Mr. Holmes led me to believe this phone belonged to an associate of James Moriarty."

Mycroft huffed and snatched the phone from her. "Yes well, perhaps you shouldn't be so gullible."

Sophia scoffed and drew back in disgust at his attitude. "Perhaps you shouldn't be so rude."

"Perhaps the Metropolitan Police needs to examine it's HR policies, allowing an American to work on the force."

"Perhaps Metro Police needs to examine its entrance policies, allowing a pompous government jerk to walk in the building," she snapped back, then cringed at her own behavior and squeezed her eyes shut. She had a policy of never fighting mean with mean, always kill them with kindness.