"Morning Sherlock." John said stepping into the flat with a small smile, making his way for his chair. He would never say it out loud, but it gives John mounds of joy to be back at Sherlock's side.
"We have a case in approximately, four minutes." Sherlock said bluntly, pulling his arm to his face as if he were looking at a watch, even know he wasn't wearing one at the moment. Actually, he wasn't wearing much at all at the moment, but a robe. Laying on his sofa like he was some Egyptian fellow.
"A hello would have been nice." Watson sat down on his chair "And, why aren't you dressed then?"
"Oh please, she's not the Queen." He turned over facing the door and groans
"She-?"
The door sprang open.
"Sherlock, did you not hear the doorbell? You have a nice young lady waiting here for you." Miss Hutson waddled in setting down some tea on the table as she made herself in, and out from behind her a short little golden hair girl came out from behind her. She was quite lovely, but I doubt anything much older than 20, she had glasses rose-like cheeks and she seemed nervous.
Sherlock just smiled and got up, fixed his robe back over his chest and spun around to the behind of Miss Hutson and started to push her out the door "Thank you so much for fetching her for us, and the tea, marvelous, how do you do it?" Miss Hutson wasn't fond of him pushing her out and was trying to ask him to stop be she couldn't get a would out from his non-stop rambling about and she was uneditable pushed out the flat and Sherlock closed the door shut, and turned his back on a door with a smile, looking at the pretty young woman with a grin. She locked back with a face kids nowaday call "meh."
Please, "Take a seat Clare." He showed her to the client chair.
"U-uhm, thank you. I'm good, though, I rather stand.."
"Sit!" Sherlock said with a little force in his tone, and the poor girl sat straight down.
John rolled his eyes "Uhm, nice to meet you ma'am. What seems to be the problem?"
She seemed like she was going to say something but Sherlock flopped back onto the sofa and began "Don't listen to him, he is the help." John knew that was meant to be somewhat of a joke, but it wasn't funny.
"Now Miss. Cross, what is the problem." Sherlock said, sitting up a bit
"..Well, I uh-"
"Other than the fact your glasses are crooked, and prematurely crooked, it seems you hit your head often, clumsy? Your very posture shows your a bit of a dutzy aren't you? You also seem to be going through a big heaping helping of writer's block, by the way your hair on your right ear seems to be constantly parted by some type of pencil." He got up and took a hold of your hand and pulled it up to his face and smelled it, "Oh yes, your hands smell a lot like paper cuts, pens and pencils."
The poor dear just leaned her back far on the back of the chair with a facial expression of many emotions and looks very uncomfortable with Sherlock touching her
"Uhm, Sherlock, you may want to tone yourself down a bit.."
Sherlock ignored that, and kept looking at Clare with eyes of a spector "Well...are you going to say anything"
She slowly retracted her hands slowly from Sherlock as he made his way back unto the sofa "Well, I have a bit of a problem…" her accident clearly wasn't British, maybe she was from Poland?
"Not, kidding." Sherlock said with a smile than looked at John, John looked back at Sherlock and shook his head.
The girl just sat there and stared "...I guess, it is better I just show you…" she sighed, and started to pull at the end of her shirt rim, which was a button up with a colorful pattern of red, black, and white, and slowly but surely she lifted her shirt up a bit exposing her stomach, hands trembling a bit.
Sherlock and John's eyes opened wide at what they saw…
~To Be Continued~
