HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLOOOOOOOOOO~~~~~~~
I'm back! With Johnlock!
Please review this because I need to know if it's good. Also, please pardon the horrible grammar.
Love y'all!
Oh and thanks to my favorite beta reader, littleblackneko . (Love ya!)
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING! Not even the plot. BBC owns all this stuff. Except Em. :) She's mine.
Emelia Golbernetti was walking down the not-so-busy London street. Her clearly dyed blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which allowed a clear view of her gray-green eyes. She took a sip of the coffee she was carrying and wiped her mouth on the long sleeve of her black shirt and stuck her hand into her jean pocket. She watched her black gym shoes carefully, making sure she never stepped on a crack. She took another sip of coffee and listened to the conversations around her.
She was lost in the London sounds until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She faced the man who had summoned her attention. He was middle-aged, thirty at most. He had blonde hair much like hers, and bright blue eyes.
"Yes?" She asked.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am. But what is your opinion of Scotland Yard these days?"
She smirked and responded jauntily, "They wouldn't know evidence if danced and held a neon sign." Emelia took another sip of her coffee.
The man turned to a companion she just now noticed. He was very tall, and skinny, but not anorexic-looking. He had a dirty mop of curls and the same colored eyes as she.
"See Sherlock, not everyone thinks the Yard is so great." Sherlock, what a peculiar name.
Sherlock looked her up and down. "So not everyone is an Anderson. What are you trying to prove Jawn?"
John sighed and rolled his eyes. He mumbled an apology to Emelia and glared at Sherlock. "Trying to get you to be more positive."
Emelia laughed, causing both men to look at her. "Positive? Everyone is an idiot, and those who aren't are labeled as insane." She finished off her coffee with a frown. She would need more.
Sherlock however, beamed at her. "Jawn, look!" He said happily, bouncing over to Emelia, "A little mind like mine! And she's for adoption!"
Emelia looked at the tall dark man with curiosity. "How'd you know?"
John sighed behind her.
Sherlock launched into an elaborate explanation, that by the state of her clothes he was able to determine her exact place of residence.
"Wow." She was awed.
"I'm sorry," John muttered, pulling Sherlock away.
"For what? That was bloody brilliant!" Emelia took Sherlock's hand and shook it vigorously. "Absolutely brilliant Holmes!"
"How'd you know?" Sherlock asked with a slight upward twitch of the lips.
"With a name like Sherlock, how couldn't I know?"
"John?" Sherlock called over his shoulder.
"Yes?"
"What do you think of becoming a father?"