The room was fairly mundane, nothing special and rather cluttered. Its black and white wallpaper was out of date and beginning to yellow with age and cigarette smoke. The furniture didn't match except that it was all well worn. The smell of tobacco and tea hung in the air. Papers and books and science equipment were scattered throughout the room on every surface. But there was a certain comfort that permeated the room as you entered. A feeling of coming home.
The ordinary visual aspect of the room hid the remarkableness of its occupant. A tall, slender man that stood alone by the far window. And even though he looked as workaday as anyone on the street, his eyes sparked with a knowledge only few understood.
The man stood as still as a statue, glaring out the window into the gloomy London sky. His shoulders hunched ever so slightly and his fists clenched at his sides. His chocolate curls sat messily on his head, hanging in his stormy blue eyes. His clothes were of a decent quality, his plum colored button down shirt fitted his body perfectly although it was slightly mussed and haphazardly tucked into his wrinkled charcoal trousers. His shoes were scuffed and worn, clearly a favorite pair.
A knock sounded on the door and the man snapped his head to look as an elderly woman with short cropped hair entered, leading a young woman behind her. The man's steely eyes scanned the new comers quickly before turning to look back out his window.
"A client, Sherlock," the older woman spoke up, her voice light and wavering.
"Ms. Hudson, the dishes from my supper are in the sink," the man spoke in a deep baritone.
"Not your housekeeper, dearie," Ms. Hudson replied in a manner that spoke of having repeated herself more then once. Ms. Hudson nodded to a chair in front one of the desks, motioning for the younger woman to have a seat. The younger smiled in thanks before removing her long peacoat and sitting. Ms. Hudson bustled over to the adjoining kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove to boil for tea.
"Sherlock!" Ms. Hudson scolded as she came back carrying a tray and seeing that the man had yet to move or acknowledge his client. Sherlock huffed and turned to glance over the girl once more.
"What do you want?" Sherlock spoke with a sharp tone, as if annoyed. The young woman didn't flinch and stared him down. Her gave him a once over before standing and approaching him.
"My name's Evangeline," she spoke confidently as she thrust her hand out to shake. Sherlock raised a brow but took her hand. "I'm looking for work. Detective work. And you're the best there is. I want you to be my mentor."
Sherlock furrowed his brow as he studied the girl's face. She was about sixteen years of age, boarding school from the looks of her posture, her hands were soft but there was a layer of dirt under a few of the nails. Her makeup was smudged, her thick brown hair in an untidy bunch at the back of her head. She had a smear of graphite high across her left cheekbone. Her eyes were bright, attentive, and piercingly grey. She was tall for her age, and had a runner's build.
"I am not looking for assistance at the moment. Come again later," Sherlock began to turn away but Evangeline spoke up.
"Really? You hate to clean, obviously, this room is a mess. You've been wearing the clothes for the last . . . three days judging by the smell, and the coffee stain on your left pant leg. Although you have showered recently, last night, I assume. You just haven't done laundry. You have four- sorry, five- cases that you're currently working at this moment. By the way on the missing persons case, it was the boyfriend. He and the victim, his girlfriend, had this planned to get her out of her parents house before they discovered she was pregnant. You need to learn not to leave your laptop and case files sitting out and open." The young brunette crossed her arms over her chest in an indignant manner, her chin raised defiantly.
Sherlock stared at the girl, his eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth quirked up in an amused smirk.
"Very well. I suppose I could use some assistance. You start tomorrow, seven am sharp," Sherlock finally answered, turning to shut his laptop and close the manila folder with the missing girl's picture on top.
"See you then," Evangeline nodded to Sherlock, smiling smugly, before tossing her coat over her arm and making her way down the stairs to the door. Sherlock listened as Ms. Hudson wished her farewell then the click of the door. He looked out his window to see her hail a cab. As she climbed into her taxi, she glanced up to his window and waved. Then she was gone.