Sherlock Holmes sits straight as a die on his armchair, staring out of the window. In his hands he holds his violin and plucks the strings, lost in thought, with two fingers. He seems to have his own rhythm, but Watson hasn't yet made it clear.
John lifts his cup to his lips and takes the last sip of his tea. Then he takes a look into the jar to make sure it is really empty and reaches for the teapot to refill. The doctor doesn't look away from his friend for a second.
He can't say exactly why, but somehow there's something interesting about looking at the man when he's inside his thought palace. Then at least he can't do what Holmes' environment secretly calls "typical Holmes".
At that moment a door opens in the back of the apartment and someone enters the living room.
This person is a blond, blue-eyed girl who seems to be between seventeen and eighteen years old.
"Wow, what's going on here?" is Rosamund Watsons, called 'Rosie' or 'Rose' by her environment, first question when she lets her gaze wander through the room.
With a startled look, Holmes lets the instrument sink and looks at the two in shock: "How long have they been here, Watson? John briefly reflects on his daughter with a blaming look and then looks at his wristwatch: "For about half an hour. Didn't they notice?"
The doctor sounds completely amazed. Although this isn't the first time that Sherlock hasn't noticed what others are doing, the fact that he hasn't even noticed, that someone else is in the room at all, frightens him. Normally he at least knows that John is around him and talks to him in between about the things that are buzzing around in his head.
"And they didn't come up with the idea of talking to me," he sounds completely unbelievable about his friend's behavior. "No," John replies and continues drinking his peppermint tea. "Why? Don't roommates do that?" Sherlock actually seems interested.
"But no one does it this early in the morning voluntarily," Rosie joins John in the kitchen and drops herself onto the counter. Surely Mrs. Hudson would freak out if she caught young Watson, but at this moment she's less interested. Instead, she prefers to listen to the morning dispute between the two men.
"Rosie, that's not nice," her father blames her, but she just tilts her head and looks at it doubtfully. "It's not as if you hadn't thought the same thing," she simply names the facts and then turns to Sherlock again: "What did you even think about? "He stands up stiffly and places his violin on the mantelpiece.
"And what's the usual for you, Holmes?" the girl continues with interest. Somehow she has always been interested in the complex thought processes in his brain. For her it's just fascinating how he draws his conclusions and solves his cases in just a few days. He usually takes half as long as the staff at Scotland Yard.
When Sherlock is about to give an answer, he suddenly hears footsteps on the wooden steps and closes his mouth. "Mrs. Hudson?" advises Rosie questioningly.
"No," the curly head confidently denies, "Mrs. Hudson sounds different. That's Lestrade." "What is Greg doing here?" John now takes part in the conversation again. Sherlock looks at the man questioningly: "Who's Greg?" "Lestrade," Rosie enlightens him with an eye roll.
Holmes looks at them briefly as if he were trying to scan them, and then turns back to the door: "Lestrade is not alone. A second person is with him. "And who?" both Watsons ask at the same time. "I have no idea', it obviously hurts people to say these words.
Before anyone can say anything, the door of the apartment opens and two people enter. At first only Lestrade appears: "Good morning, Sherlock, Rosie, John". "Hey," Rosie's the only one who manages to say hello. The other two just try to look past the inspector and catch a glimpse of the second visitor.
"Who did you bring with them, Inspector?" I just ask out and say what everyone is interested in. "A partner for them, Mister Holmes," Lestrade explains briefly and then steps aside, so that now everyone in the room can see a brunette girl.
