A Tale of Deduction
Chapter 1
*The Girl's POV*
I knew I should have brought my umbrella… Maria thought. The cold rain stung her face as she was hurrying home. She pulled her collar up over her scarf and turned the street corner.
She was coming home from a long day at work. Dealing with so many angry-and occasionally drunk- idiots became stressful. One got 'toughened up' a bit. After that, her boss told her to go home for the night.
She opened the door to her flat and yelled, "I'm home, Em!" She walked in and shut the door with the back of her heel.
"Finally," Emily said, walking to the front door. "I was getting worried. How was-"
"Dreadful," She hung up her dripping jacket on the hook by the door and untwirled her scarf from around her neck and placed it beside her jacket. Sulking to the living room, she kicked off her shoes and plopped on the couch.
"It can't be that bad. It's only your second day on the job." Em began to walk to the kitchen, "Care for any tea?"
"Sure," Maria rested her feet on the end of the couch. How can such idiots be alive? She thought back to her work day, rubbing her bruised knuckles.
Emily set the tea cups on the small tray and filled them. "I hope she didn't take her anger out on anyone," Em muttered. She can be a bit aggressive.
"So… got any new-"
"Nothing," Maria interrupted. "How can London be so…boring? The U.S. was never this dull." She sat up a bit and took her tea cup.
"Well, you just haven't seen the exciting side yet," Em moved Maria's feet and sat on the end of the couch.
Maria rolled her eyes and sipped her tea.
"Oh, give London a chance! You've only been here a week or so."
"Three weeks."
Three weeks," Em corrected, "and you've only been on the job for two days. Just…give the place a chance. You might like it here."
Maria sat her cup down and walked to her bedroom without saying a word. She shut the door and layed face-down on her bed.
"Goodnight," Em said loudly and sighed. She put both her cup and Maria's half-drunk cup on the tray and took them to the kitchen sink. What am I going to do with her?
*The Boy's POV*
John came through the front door with heavy bags of groceries in his hands.
"Please shut up. Your stupidity is emanating through the phone and- Hello?" Sherlock's voice carried through the flat.
"Another case?" John walked to the kitchen and sat the bags down on the floor. He began putting up the produce.
"Of course not," Sherlock hung up the phone and lied on the couch, his back facing the room.
"What about Myc-"
"Why would I ask my brother for anything?" Sherlock interrupted.
"Just…asking," John put up the last of the groceries and walked to the living room. He sat in his usual chair. Sherlock didn't say anything and listened intently, hoping to hear the wail of police sirens nearby.
"Nothing new? Really?" John seemed surprised.
"Besides the fact that you're wearing perfume? No." Sherlock smirked, though he knew John couldn't see him.
"Perfume…ho- oh! The new nurse ran into me coming out of the ladies room. That must be it."
"Seems so. Number?"
"Uh…no. But I did get a name. Emily. And the poor thing has an American flatmate." John joked.
"American?" Sherlock asked. He sat up a bit.
"Yes. Moved in a few weeks ago. Why?" John wondered why Sherlock was interested in that. Maybe he really was bored.
"An American woman was just hired at the police station. Anderson told me 'not to contaminate her'."
John chuckled a bit, "It might be her. I'm off to bed. Goodnight Sherlock," he got up and left for his bedroom. Sherlock muttered something that sounded like, "Goodnight, John" and headed straight for his laptop. He began searching for anything that would tell him who the American woman was. Or, at least her name. This is what happens when you let a consulting detective get bored. He thought to himself.