Hey! So this is my first time writing a Sherlock fanfiction.
This first one might be quite short, but if it does well I plan to try and branch out into a mini "series" of various cases.
I realise this type of thing has probably done before, but I am trying (emphasis on the fact I'm only trying haha) to bring SOME new ideas to a common theme. I'm not running off a script from the tv series, as I'm inventing my own cases for the sole reason that I don't want to "give" dialogue form Sherlock's character to my own character as I feel it wouldn't really convey the idea that Carrie is talented in her own way.
Anyway, I hope it's okay! :)
"Sherlock Holmes... You... Words fail me!" A voice bellowed from the other side of the door in front of us, "Why the hell do you think she was upset when you said that you complete and utter dic-"
Mrs Hudson chose this moment to simply push open the door herself and stride inside the flat, instantly cutting off whatever insult the man was about to hurl at this Sherlock.
"Boys! Stop your fighting and say hello to your new neighbour!" Mrs Hudson said, indicating me.
I stepped in a little more and looked over at both the men in the room; one was tall, with dark curly hair which looked as though it was in need of a shower, probably overdue one by about a week or so judging from the tangled mess and the small amounts of grease beginning to form towards his roots. The fact he was in pyjamas despite it being two in the afternoon also gave off a distinct impression that he had perhaps not been out for a while and had most probably been around the house for quite some time.
Upon seeing me he stood up a little straighter, and I noticed his eyes flitting around me, taking in my whole appearance. Realising at once what he was doing, I smirked, and turned to look at the other man in the room.
Evidently this was the man who had been shouting, I supposed this because his breathing appeared slightly heavier than the other man (who I can now infer to be Sherlock) and there was a distinct reddish tinge to his face which was clearly flushed with anger. Taking a moment to compose himself, he paused before moving towards me and offering his hand for me to shake.
"Lovely to meet you Miss..?" He said the sentence like it was a question, and I did my best o smile back at him and shook his hand.
"Monroe. Carrie Monroe." I told him.
"Monroe? If we can't handle your worst we don't deserve your best?" He chuckled, eyes twinkling. I laughed along with him and nodded.
"Something like that." I agreed. He smiled for real this time, and appeared to relax a little more, the last traces of his visible anger leaving him almost instantly.
"John Watson." He told me, "Delighted to meet you."
"Sherlock I presume?" I inquired of the other man, feeling it would be impolite to ignore the other person present in the room entirely, especially since he'd taken an interest in "reading" me.
Appearing to snap out of a trance, Sherlock walked over to me and shook my hand as well.
"How did you..?" John asked me looking confused.
"No doubt she heard your comment from outside the door John; you hardly kept your voice down." Sherlock replied before I could.
"Besides, Carrie here clearly leads such a boring everyday life she was probably eager for a bit of excitement and no doubt listening in to her neighbours arguments are the most her work filled student life can offer her. The lack of a boyfriend probably only heightens this desire for excitement and passion in her life."
"Sherlock!" John hissed at him, glaring daggers in his direction, even Mrs Hudson looked scandalised this time, I on the other hand found myself amused.
"Clearly?" I repeated, making it into a question.
"Yes, clearly." Sherlock replied, looking slightly thrown off by my reaction, yet unable to stop himself from showing off he began to reel off a list of his deductions.
"Your clothes are clean and well kept; not a single crease in sight despite the fact that today is a moving day for you, any other person would have been in a rush to get things sorted. That means not only have you had this move planned for ages and have probably analysed the move carefully selecting where to move, you have probably had those clothes ironed and planned out in your drawers for a while now and only had to put them on this morning before setting off for here. Your accent is Northern, which means you were either born there or have lived there a good few years at least. Yet your accent does not have typical disgraceful pronunciation, or rather lack of, that normally accompanies this. That means you are well educated. Hence the desire to move to a good university which you feel will benefit you the most. I say you feel because your lack of fashionable clothing and the simple hairstyle and no makeup show you don't like to follow fashion and the fads of the world. You are the type of girl to refuse Cambridge in order to go where your own stubborn mind feels you are needed. Also just now when you walked in you were not embarrassed or ashamed to be here in the middle of an argument and in fact smiled your way in and exchanged a flirtatious greeting with John here. You aren't the sort to be flirting when you are taken so; single, studious and meticulously neat in planning and preparation."
"Please don't be offended by him, he does this all the time, doesn't think what his words cause people to feel, hence why my deduction of him was that he is an ass as you ah.. heard earlier." John said as soon as Sherlock had finished his long analytical piece. I smiled once at him to let him know I appreciated his concern then said to Sherlock:
"You said my life was boring too?"
At this Sherlock turned away, evidently bored by our conversation. Just before he began to walk away into the kitchen he said.
"You iron your clothes every night after studying and just bought a dirty damp flat, without even factoring in the lack of a partner and that you only just moved out of your parent's house I think it was a safe assumption."
Normally I would say nothing when somebody insulted me. My mum had always told me to just keep it to myself. What goes around comes around. Was my mum's motto in life, and mine too... Until now.
Sherlock was exactly the kind of person who needed to get a taste of what he had dealt to people, and from my own experience... There were not many people who could do this.
"You're wrong." I said simply, and took a seat on the armchair by the fire. Judging from the stiff expression on Sherlock's face when he entered the room again, it was his. Brilliant.
"I'm sorry what?" Sherlock said, at the same time John looked across at me like Christmas had come early.
"I said you are wrong." I repeated, smiling sweetly up at him and leaning back in his armchair. When all in the room appeared too shocked to respond so I stood up and looked him straight in the eye. "My life is not boring. In fact I chose this place to have somewhere to relax and to become boring for a few hours each evening before going out in to the world every day."
The entire room was silent until John clapped his hands and burst out laughing.
"That. Was. Amazing! Sherlock got a deduction wrong." He wheezed, having to clutch his desk for support as evidently a humiliated Sherlock was too much for his weak knees to bear.
"Quite." Agreed Mrs Hudson as she moved into the kitchen herself.
"I find nothing remarkable in some stupid girl trying to escape her life in a damp flat!" Sherlock insisted, his pale skin flushed from embarrassment.
"Just as I find nothing remarkable in a man who needs to wear five nicotine patches in one go to cope with everyday life then." Sherlock opened his mouth briefly then closed it once more.
"She's got your there dearie." Mrs Hudson said, emerging from the kitchen with a laundry basket which she set on the table briefly to mop her forehead with a small handkerchief that she drew from her pocket. "Right, I'll leave you all to chat, I must be getting on. Let me know if you need anything Carrie dear. Boys- behave." And with that she went downstairs, the tapping of her small heels slowly growing fainter until she reached her own door.
"What exactly is your job?" Sherlock asked me when I turned back to face him.
"Hardly something I would like to tell you about right now." I replied briskly, before straightening my jacket and turning to John.
"Lovely to meet you both, I must get back now, I have a lot of unpacking to do and I also have to get some work done." I nodded to them both and set off for downstairs.
"Wait!" It was Sherlock.
"Yes?" I asked him, raising my eyebrows as he appeared to struggle for a moment.
"Would you like some help unpacking?"
At this question I burst out laughing and carried on walking downstairs.
"I'll manage, I have a feeling you just want to look around my flat and find out more about me Sherlock."