Chapter One
The professor's voice had turned into a fuzzy drone in Ella's ears. She loved history and had great hopes for this class until she met the professor. This man could turn the most salacious scandals of the medieval aristocracy into slumber inducing white noise. In an effort to stay conscious, Ella's turned her attention to the professor himself.
She observed him as he propped himself on his stool. The faded suit and socks would initially suggest that this professor lived on a modest salary. However, the glasses that he kept shoving up his nose were new. The watch he wore was of an older style, almost antique, but the leather of the band was supple and in good repair. A sentimental piece. The disheveled state of his hair and the stained rings in the tea cup on the desk suggest a man whose mind is not focused on the present. Judging by the tattered state of the books piled on the desk, chair and floor, they were what kept his attention.
Conclusion: This was a professor who made a moderate salary, enough to keep the important things in his life well kept but not enough to update his wardrobe regularly. He was a scatter-brained man who preferred the contents of his books to reality. The archetype of university professors.
Boring! She smiled as she heard her cousin's voice sound in her mind. Sherlock wouldn't last 30 seconds in this setting. A room full of stereotypical university students and this paragon of dusty professors would make him crazy. She pictured what he would do if he were there with her. He would either start deducing people (loudly) in an effort to amuse himself or he would do something completely destructive in order to get the class dismissed.
Her giggle was masked by the scraping of chairs on the floor and the shuffling of people gathering their things to leave. As she stacked her own books, Ella contemplated the odds of Sherlock being home if she dropped by Baker Street that afternoon. Mycroft had told her last evening that Sherlock had gotten a flatmate three weeks ago.
Annoyance flared as she thought of how her cousins often 'forgot' to communicate details with her. She had seen Sherlock for lunch three, no, four times in the last three weeks and she bloody lived with Mycroft and neither of them thought to mention it until yesterday.
By the time she had gotten off the tube and walked to Baker Street, Ella's irritation had subsided in favor of curiosity. Who was this flatmate that had put up with Sherlock for three weeks already? Having grown up with Sherlock, she knew exactly how challenging it was to live with him. Mrs. Hudson was practically a saint for all that she dealt with having him as a tenant for so long.
As she let herself in and climbed the stairs, she didn't hear anything. Pushing the door open revealed an empty flat. Ella sighed and dropped her bag on the floor. She decided she would wait for a bit. She grabbed one of her texts and sank comfortably into Sherlock's large leather chair. She had been wanting to re-visit some of her books anyway. Sherlock's place was as good as any to read, so long as it was unoccupied.
This was her last year of undergraduate study and she wanted to get a head start on choosing a topic for the thesis she would work on during her graduate years. She immersed herself in the colorful world of renaissance Italy and started to take notes on possible research topics.
After several hours of reading, Ella leaned to stretch her neck. She pondered if she should chance looking for a snack in Sherlock's kitchen when she heard the door slam open downstairs. She discerned a muffled voice, one familiar set of footfalls and one unfamiliar. Conclusion: Sherlock and the flatmate were home. She inserted her notepad and pen into her text book and closed it as she looked expectantly at the door.
A rather flustered looking man with blonde hair entered first. "Sherlock, you can't just expect a woman who's just lost her husband to respond well to you yelling at her! You have to understand –" The man stopped short as he noticed Ella. Sherlock, unfazed by the lecture he was receiving walked briskly into the flat, loosening his scarf. He looked at Ella; his mouth tilted into a half-smile and proceeded into his bedroom.
Ella smiled as Sherlock passed her and walked up to the flatmate.
"Hello, I'm Ella Holmes. You are Sherlock's new flatmate. It's lovely to finally meet you." She extended her hand to the flatmate.
He shook her hand with a confused look on his face as he replied "John Watson. Um, it's good to meet you too".
Sherlock emerged from his room without his coat and scarf and Ella called to him "Sherlock, why haven't you told me you have a flatmate? "
His reply was a wave of a hand as he walked into the kitchen.
Ella sighed loudly and turned back to John Watson with a smile. "Well, Dr. Watson, how do you find living with Sherlock thus far?"
The confused look on John's face deepened. He shook his head and answered "Sorry, I haven't told you I'm a doctor. Do you do the same thing Sherlock does? The tell-me-my-whole-life-story-from-one-glance thing?"
Ella chuckled at his assessment of Sherlock's abilities. "No, I'm not nearly as astute as he is. I knew you were a doctor by the way you carry yourself, and the fact that you smell slightly of anti-septic. There are a limited number of reasons why someone might be in a medical environment and smell of anti-septic. Seeing as neither you nor Sherlock are injured, I assumed that you must work in the medical field".
She paused as she saw John's eyes widen. "You stand tall and firmly so I'm guessing you're not a nurse, receptionist or janitor. And we've just ruled out that you're not a patient. That leaves doctor."
Sherlock re-entered the room and handed her a tin of biscuits. "Ella, you disappoint me in how little you observe."
"Little?" John cut in "How little she observed? She told me almost as much about myself as you did, Sherlock".
"Exactly, John. She told you almost as much as I did. Only she did it by assuming and guessing."
Ella rolled her eyes as she inspected the tin for any unsavory contents before taking a bite of a biscuit and plopping back down into Sherlock's chair. She grinned at the look of annoyance on Sherlock's face at her occupying his seat. He turned to the wall and began tacking bits of paper and photos to the papered surface.
"So," John began as he sat in the chair across from her. "You're Sherlock's sister?"
"Cousin." Sherlock corrected without looking away from the wall.
"I was brought up by my Aunt and Uncle as my parents died when I was very young." Ella supplied.
Shaking his head, John said good-naturedly "Well, you must've had an interesting childhood growing up in a house with Sherlock and Mycroft."
Ella's expression stiffened. "You've met Mycroft." She stated.
Unsure of what to say, John looked from her to an oblivious Sherlock.
Ella felt her earlier irritation return as she rose from her seat and began gathering her books "It was lovely meeting you John. I'm glad Sherlock's met someone who can stand him for more than a few minutes at a time."
John stood "Um, It was nice meeting you as well. Listen, it's nearly six, would you fancy some dinner?"
"She's not interested, John." Sherlock announced, turning his attention from the wall to stare sternly at his flatmate and his cousin.
Ella glared at Sherlock.
"No!" John quickly clarified "I was... I just thought she might want to eat with us. Both of us."
Seemingly satisfied (or bored), Sherlock turned back to his collage of papers and photos.
"Thank you for the invitation, John. I think I'll eat at home this evening. I suddenly have a desire to speak to Mycroft". Ella declined politely. "Anyway, it appears as though you have a case".
Ella shouldered her bag and tossed her scarf on as she walked over to Sherlock. She bumped his arm with her shoulder to get his attention. "Love you". She said simply as she looked up at him.
Sherlock's only response was a small smile as he continued to study and add to the web of information on the wall.
"Again, it was lovely to meet you John. I'm sure I'll see you soon." Ella called out as she exited the flat.
As the door closed behind her, John marveled at the odd exchange that had just taken place. Ella seemed nice and…normal...ish. She did deduce him but did so without the abrasive arrogance of Sherlock and the snobbery (and kidnapping) that seemed to be Mycroft's style. She and Sherlock clearly got on and meeting her was certainly easier than meeting Mycroft.
He shook his head. He was going to have to learn not to be surprised at the strange and unexpected things he encountered living and working with Sherlock. Putting Ella Holmes out of his mind, he walked over to the detective and the wall to focus on their newest case.
