The Girl With the Baggage
A Sherlock FanFiction
Written by: DeDe
Chapter 1: A Rainy Afternoon
It was a boring, rainy day at 221b Baker Street. Watson was busy blogging, Sherlock was cleaning out his mind palace, thus neither of them heard the timid knock at the door.
Knock.
A few moments passed, and there was another knock.
Knock. Knock.
John looked up from his computer. "Are we expecting anyone?"
Sherlock appeared not to have heard.
The blogger sighed. "I don't suppose you'll get the door."
Still no reply.
He sighed again, saving the draft of his next entry.
"I'll get the door Mrs. Hudson!"
A young girl, maybe 16 years old, was standing there, with a single pink suitcase, a Vera Bradley duffel, and a backpack. She wasn't much shorter than John, there was only about 3 inches difference. She was wearing a long blue trenchcoat that looked to be a bit too big, and her hair was soaking wet-clearly she'd been in the rain a while.
"I-I-Is this-" she cleared her throat, "Is this the home of Sherlock Holmes?" She asked shyly, shifting uncomfortably-You didn't have to be Sherlock to see she was nervous.
John frowned in confusion. "Yes, yes it is." He hoped this wasn't a lost pet case-Sherlock was bored enough he might take it. And why did she have luggage?
"May I speak with him please?" There was something off about her accent. It sounded a bit too perfect, like she was really concentrating on it. Or maybe he'd just been around Sherlock too long. "It's rather important."
He decided to humor the girl. She seemed genuinely nervous about something, and it's not like they were busy. "Sure-please, come in." He stepped aside, opening the door wider and allowing the girl-and her luggage-inside. He led her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Hudson ushered her to a chair and started some water for tea-the girl looked soaked.
"Sherlock!" John yelled. He looked over at the girl, who was sitting demurely with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, like she was scared to touch anything.
There was no sound of Sherlock coming.
"Sherlock, there's someone here to see you!"
No answer.
John sighed. "Excuse me." He walked into the sitting room, where Sherlock was laying on the sofa, eyes closed. John reached down to shake him. "Sherlock, there's-" He cut himself off when Sherlock grabbed his wrist.
"I know, I heard the first two times. I was hoping she'd leave-She is a she, right? About 1.6 meters, nervous, been out in the rain-Am I close?" He stood up, releasing John's wrist and striding past him into the kitchen, sitting across from the girl. "I was right then."
"Are-Are you Sherlock Holmes?"
He gave her a once over. "You're fifteen years old, wearing contacts, 1.6 meters, 85 pounds, and I'm sure even Watson could tell you're nervous about something."
The blogger didn't even look offended by that.
"That coat is your mother's, oh, she's dead, and you took a cab here but were standing out in the rain for about 5 minutes before you worked up the courage to knock on the door."
The girl, who had turned paler than she was before, nodded quickly.
"Your name starts with a C, you were a dancer, you've more recently began theatre, and today you've eaten a cupcake, a bag of Cheetos, and you've drunk a bottle of water."
She shifted uncomfortably.
"And for an actress you hate being the centre of attention. Interesting." He sat back, crossing his arms.
"How-"
"I can see the faint blueness where your contacts are, I used how tall you are right now and the height of the chair, your tiny even for your height, and an imbecile could tell you're uncomfortable." He explained quickly. "As you became more uncomfortable you wrapped the coat tighter, indicating it belonged to someone who made you feel secure, and given it's too big and woman's style it's your mum's. You winced when I mentioned that, obviously something bad had happened, and why else would you have her coat? A cab drove by five minutes before you knocked, and your hair is soaked through but not your coat." He gestured to her bracelet. "Your bracelet has a 'C' charm, and a very worn ballet shoes charm. There's also a newer Drama Masks charm, and under your nails are frosting and orange crumbs," The girl blushed, "Lastly, there's a water-bottle shaped lump in your coat pocket."
She was still focused on the dirt under her nails.
"Obviously I'm Sherlock Holmes." He asked. She shook her head. "All that's left to know about you is your name."
"C-Castiel." She finally made eye contact with Sherlock, and he noticed their eyes were the same shade of blue. "Castiel Holmes."
This chapter was somewhat uneventful, but necessary.
Constructive Criticism and Reviews are much appreciated!
I love you all!
-DeDe