Mali had always been the quiet girl at school and university. Got on with her lessons, got good grades, never made a fuss over who was sleeping with who or who was in a fight with each other. She had never even been in a real argument so it had stuck her as strange when the two men in the flat upstairs had asked her if she minded hearing gun shots in the middle of the night and she was since regretting saying no. In fact she did mind but was in no position to turn away from the deal she was offered for the flat at 221C baker street. Mali often wished she was one of those people who needed only 4 hours sleep a night but unless she wanted to risk being grouchy and in a bad mood with everyone the next day, she knew she at least had to have 8 hours.

They were as odd and unlikely looking pair, the two men from upstairs. One tall dark and mysterious looking, taller than her she noticed, with quite possibly the most defined cheekbones she'd ever seen. He had dark curly hair that despite seeming untameable, fell perfectly around his head and across his forehead whereas the other man, John, was much shorter with dark blond hair that was much shorter and rather scruffy yet he very dressed very neatly as if it were a crime to wear a t shirt and shorts during summer.

Mali had only been in baker street for a week when she found herself in a constant bad mood and decided that the next time she heard that wretched gun, she would storm up those stairs and chuck it out the freaking window. But there was one problem; she was awfully terrified of confrontation and especially with people that she knew could probably pick her up with one hand and throw her on the floor. Nevertheless, she didn't have to wait long to get over that fear. The next night at 2am Mali had finally had enough. Did he ever sleep?

'BORED' Sherlock shouted firing his fifth bullet into the wall at 221B baker street. He had tried to stop firing the gun at the wall when the new girl had moved into the flat downstairs but then remembered that he had never stopped for anyone else, not even Mrs Hudson after one of her lectures, so why should he stop for her. But on this particular night, he knew he was going to have some trouble with her.

When she had sat in their flat that day and John had asked if she minded being woken up in the middle of the night to the sound and smell of gun and gunpowder, she was hesitant but eventually said no. He knew she had been lying by the way she diverted her eyes from his and by the way her facial features had sunk. She had thought she'd found the perfect flat for such a good price but was evidently disappointed by this announcement.

'COULD YOU PLEASE STOP FIRING THAT BLOODY GUN EVERY BLOODY NIGHT' Mali screamed entering 221B without even thinking to knock. Sherlock knew she must've been really angry to actually confront him. He had deduced from the minute he met her that she hated confrontation. That much was obvious by the way she fiddled with her bag, diverted her eyes and stuttered when asked any question. Really freaking angry he thought.

'I thought you hated confrontation' he said blankly to her, avoiding her question and playing a little game.

'what?' she shyed away with a confused expression on her face. She'd only ever spoken to him once before and she'd certainly not mentioned it how could he have known

'oh please!' he laughed 'it's really quite obvious'

'how did you know?' she asked retuning to her normal timid self.

' The same way I know that you're a novelist who recently got dropped by her agent, probably for not writing enough, I know that you were recently engaged, and for quite a while it apparently seems and spent a lot of that time abroad, probably somewhere much hotter than this. But i know that it ended less than 3 months ago. I know that he was the one who broke it off not you, leaving you in a state of complete ruin making you stressed which later lead on to quite a bad illness which is probably what lead to the lack of writing and the consequent lack of agent. I know you have family but not close family and family that certainly do not live in London and I know that you thought that by moving here you would get no trouble but I can assure you, Miss Evans, that that is a very incorrect assumption.

Mali stared at him blankly trying to hold back the tears, gripping onto the door handle. He was right on all accounts but one. But how could he have possible known. She didn't care to find out. Marcus she thought. A name nobody had dared to mention to her for the last two months. As her emotions finally got too much and the tears started to roll, she ran back out the door and down to her flat not even daring to look up at that monster.

'For gods sake Sherlock' John moaned getting up, clearly woken by the noise other than gunshots in the middle of the night. 'that was a bit harsh don't you think?'

'No.'

John glared at him.

'What? She was the one who stormed in here shouting at me'

'Shes also the one who apparently got dumped less that three months ago, has been dropped by her agent and has been in a state of complete ruin. Do you really think she needed you showing off and bringing it all back? Guaranteed we'll be the ones awake for the next for night hearing the crying. Now, are you going to apologise?''

'Oh John. Your mind. So simple. Why should I apologise for something I said that was completely and utterly true'

'Apologise.' This was no longer a question. The military man had come out and it was a command. John was not going to negotiate on this matter.

Mali shuffled her face over to the other side and reached her arm out to grab her phone off the bedside cabinet like she always did. She never had any messages but it was force of habit from when she used to receive one cute messages each morning from Marcus. Marcus Mali sighed as last night came flooding back to her. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the glaring light. Even longer than normal seeing as her eyes were still sore and blotchy from crying herself to sleep.

One new message.odd she thought. She clicked it open.

Sorry

-SH

Normally it would've surprised her how someone had got her number without her giving it out but after he demonstrated what he knew last night, she wasn't surprised. He actually seemed like a bit if a stalker.

Clearly not a sincere apology. she imagined. He'd been so cold. So Bitter. It made Mali wander if something had happened to him to make him be that way. The apology would have to suffice. It would do. Mali didn't want to argue with her new neighbour and despite hating his guts, she couldn't take the stress. She was only just beginning to get better from depression that had struck her. Starting to rebuild her life.

Its fine but you were wrong you know she couldn't help mentioning.

wrong?

-SH

Mali was in the process of typing a witty reply when she heard a loud knocking at her door. She checked her clock. 7:34am. Who the hell was knocking in her door at this time? She had moved to London to avoid having to speak to anyone. She shuffled out of bed grumbling about this and that, searching for a hoody to pull on over her pyjama top, nearly hitting the basement flat roof with her arms. She wondered why she hadn't taken up a career in netball. All 5'11 of her. Much more exiting than writing books for a living. All the while the knocking continued at the door.

'ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! IM COMING' she shouted out in response to the knocking. She managed to take a glance in the mirror on her way to the door; she looked like hell. Big bags under her eyes, no doubt who's fault that was. Her long blond hair like a birds nest dangling down in front of her face and her eyes, a darker brown than usual. She wandered if it was the stress. Despite not looking amazing, Mali couldn't have cared less, whoever was at the door would just have to cope.

What could she possibly be doing that taking so damn long! Sherlock's mind was wondering all over the place. Wrong? How could he possibly have been wrong? He rarely ever heard the word. He was just about to embark of his 6th round on knocking when the door flung open.

Sherlock bent down and stared intently into Mali eyes. Flicking from one eye to the other. wrong. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong she must've been lying to get back at him, but as he stared, all he could see was honestly.

Mali drew back slightly, confused, alarmed at how close the bitter man was standing. She couldn't help but notice though, how beautiful his eyes were. A mix of different shades. Like looking deep into and ocean, they seamed to change from blue to green and back again. If a distant galaxy was condensed down and turned into a ball, this is what she imagined it would look like.

' I wasn't wrong. You're lying. It's the only explanation' Sherlock claimed pulling away and standing up straight. He was so sure of himself.

Mali knew he wasn't going to leave so decided to get it over and done with. She walked back into her tiny kitchen, put the kettle on, knowing Sherlock would follow her and pulled out a chair.

'You were right about most things Mr Holmes in fact, right on all accounts ex-'

'I knew it! You WERE lying' he exclaimed like and exciting child

'except one'

'oh please, don't flatter yourself you're just trying to hide your embarrassment after lying'Sherlock said, full of spite.

'go on then, if you think you've got me figured out, tell me about myself.'

Sherlock let out a sigh before delving into revealing his deductions.

'When you first moved in you had a lot of furniture. And expensive furniture at that. You never seem to go out to work so that lead me to believe that you are currently working from home. If you were unemployed you'd be out everyday searching for a job, I then realized that if you were downsizing which you evidently were, due to the amount and expense of items that you own, you used to make a lot of money but you aren't making as much now. So what job could you have, possibly an architect? seeing as you use your laptop a lot but then architects never make much money in the first place and as to why you'd be downsizing? No it doesn't fit, so novelist, working from home, use your laptop a lot it fits. Plus the fact that when you moved in you were carrying a book with your name written on the front cover. So now, a clearly known, well payed author deciding to down size, obviously just been dropped by your agent and as to why; you had obviously been engaged, I can tell that much from your engagement ring, but you've moved it to another finger, could be a normal ring but no, there is a clear mark where it was placed on your other finger, a tan line, so spent some time abroad, somewhere hot, you evidently didn't get a tan like that from living in England, you still have a slight tan so that would suggest you haven't been back for all that long, 3 months. But why have you moved it? You obviously broke up. If you'd left him you would've gotten rid of it, no, he left you but you can't quite bring yourself to get rid of it. 3 months; time to move on don't you think. So well known author downsizing after just splitting up with your fiancée, must have had a bad effect on you so you stopped writing, your awfully thin so evidently just recovering from depression and sickness you clearly couldn't keep up with the writing so your agent got rid of you. Now novelist in trouble and just come out of a long term relationship your not going to your family for comfort? Says you're not close to them and if they lived in London they'd be visiting you to see your new flat. No visitors in the past week so obviously not close. I then mentioned that you thought that by moving here you thought you'd get away from trouble. That much was obvious, you seemed very positive about the flat when we first met but when John mentioned the gun shots your face sank, clearly not as perfect as you thought but you couldn't afford to look anywhere else on your low running budget.

There see I have it all figured out, I wasn't wrong you're lying.'

'You said I hated confrontation' Mali whispered, absolutely astounded at what had just happened.

'Well obviously! Whenever John or I asked you a question, you'd fiddle with your bag, avoid eye contact and stutter, evident you weren't comfortable, probably started hating confrontations after he had left you, didn't like the sympat-'

Mali leaned to grab the book in front of her a threw it right in Sherlock's face. She didn't care If it had hurt him, he was breaking her heart all over again.

'As I said Mr Holmes, right on all accounts, except one. He didn't leave me, he died. The sun tan; Africa. Died of Malaria after a week of being back here now, please, get the fuck out of my flat.'

Sherlock felt a whist of air ruffle through his curly hair as the door to 221C slammed right in front of his face.

Sherlock took two seconds to wonder why she had cared so much. *i mean, it happened three months ago, why would she still be upset* he asked himself but then remembered that not all human emotions where quite as laid back as his and Mycroft's, who thinking of which, would soon make his offer of spying on Sherlock for money to Mali. And Sherlock wondered if she might just take up his offer.

Eek hi guys, sorry of its not that good, first fanfic, please review -Mais xo