She stood in front of the bakery and glanced at her phone to check the time. Then she saw it, a man being pushed from a cab, kicked out hard. At first she figured he was an ass or some drunken jerk so the driver just booted him. She noticed the other body in the back of the cab, a large man, very muscular. She noticed the cab parked a few yards away and then watched the rejected man barely picking himself up. He truly is drunk. He was studying his surroundings then caught sight of her. He pushed himself up and attempted to walk towards her. She immediately noticed he looked as if had the hell beat out of him. She took action quickly walking towards him while taking a quick picture of the cab on her phone. Once she got closer it was clear he had been beat. One eye swollen shut, busted lip, cuts across his cheekbones and a bloody nose. She could see blood spattered on his scarf and black billowing coat. As he approached closer his legs started to go weak and she caught his arms steadying him. His body tensed. He looked her over as best he could then without saying a word handed her his keys. He motioned towards the door just a few feet behind her and she knew what he wanted. She unlocked the door and helped him in and up to his flat. Once they got into the living area it was obvious he lived alone. He fell down onto the Chesterfield and fumbled around his coat pockets for his phone. She went into the kitchen found a few towels and ice. She dampened one towel to clean him up and wrapped the ice in the other. She came into the room as he had finished texting someone. She helped pull him out of his coat and gingerly removed his scarf all while his eyes the color of sky over the ocean studied her. She then quietly started to clean his face. Once she was satisfied with the amount of grime and blood she removed she applied ice to his eye and nose.
"Do you have a first aid kit?" Was her simple soft-spoken question.
" Bathroom, down that hall,medicine cabinet second shelf." he replied in a baritone voice.
As she walked towards the bathroom, she wondered who exactly she had helped. He was obviously a bachelor by the state of his flat, the skull on the mantle, the skull on the wall wearing headphones, oh and don't forget that huge yellow smiley face riddled with bullet holes. He could have been a serial killer for all she knew. He could easily come up behind her now and slit her throat or worse. She shuddered at the thought, seemingly shaking it away and went into the bathroom. She felt safe though, his eyes had hit her like an ocean wave. She knew he was studying her, reading her every move and tic. He didn't feel threatening to her, he seamed to be more of a protector than a predator. The bath was actually the opposite of the living room. the bath was neat, clean and organized. She quickly grabbed the first aid kit and as she closed the medicine cabinet she noticed it. The tub full of some sort of intestines, livers and maybe even a pancreas suspended in some sort of pinkish liquid. Not human she noted as she quietly exited the tiny bath. She took large strides into the living area where he was still on the Chesterfield.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her tone taking him off guard.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes. And yours?" he looked at her puzzled, he couldn't' quiet read her expression. She seamed angry and embarrassed. Her face was not giving him ample clues about why this sudden urge to know his name.
"Am I supposed to be impressed? I will not tell you my name until I get an explanation as to why you have the contents of two cows in your bath." her voice was urgent with a hint of annoyed. Now he understood, he had forgotten about that experiment and now he was reminded he would have to check on how the progress of decay had been interrupted by chemical bath.
"One cow, one pig. And as to my experiment it is something I am sure you would not know much about so there is no need in me wasting my breath trying to explain it."
Infuriated by his answer she leaned in close to him. She knew he wasn't fond of touch, but didn't know why. She softy placed the first aid kit in his lap and whispered in his ear,
"My name is Vivian, but since you assume I am too stupid to understand your odd experiment maybe I shouldn't be the one bandaging you up" her lips popping on the last word. Her lips nearly grazed his ear and his body was rigid beneath her. She stood up and went to leave. Before she got out to the steps the front door flew open and another man came rushing in taking two steps at a time.
"Sherlock" he called out, not noticing the figure at the top of the stairs. Soon he crashed into Vivian sending her tumbling to the ground. The blond man jumped up and grabbed her by the arm, rolling her over onto her stomach and pinning her arm behind her back in one swift movement.
"Sherlock, Oh God are you alright? Who did this to you? Is she involved?"
"John, let her up she helped me into the flat and cleaned me up."
Just as john looked down at this woman he had held down he felt her body lift slightly and she flipped, turning her arm the right way and bringing her feet to John's chest and pushing him back away from her.
"What the hell? No Wonder that nice Mrs. Hudson can't rent out flat C!" Vivian stood and stared at John. " I help some stranger who obviously got the hell beat out of him, even clean his wounds only to find out he harbors animal parts in his bath. Then just as I try to leave this circus I get run over and assaulted by his friend"
John sat there, mouth agape as he listened to her. Why on earth would Sherlock allow a stranger into his flat. He then seen Sherlock's key in her hand.
" I was going to leave this on the hall table, but here are your keys back Mr. Holmes. Now if you excuse me I have an appointment with Mrs. Hudson."
Just as she was about to leave his smooth deep voice interrupted her.
"You should take flat C. It is close to the tube and your work commute would be easier that way, especially for an American just moving here to start anew. I am sorry for your loss Mrs, I'm sorry I didn't catch your surname." How did he know, she hadn't worn her wedding rings in almost a year, then her head dropped and her voice became a slight whisper.
"Herrington" was all she replied then she walked down the stairs and out to meet with her soon to be landlady.
Sherlock had started to heal, his eye no longer swollen, but a bruise remained, the cut was healing up as well. There were no more leads in who had done this to him, or actually who had paid for it. He knew that the brute that had offered him the beating was just paid muscle but he could not figure out who had put the price out on him. It could be a number of people, but the lack of data was driving Sherlock mad. Luckily there were a few more cases to be worked on, and he was finally done the animal parts so he cleaned them out of the tub, well Mrs. Hudson had removed them and cleaned the tub, but he had stated he was finished with them. He heard Vivian come in from her morning jog, and he shouted out to her to come up to his flat. She stood in the door for a moment, her breathing was almost normal when she asked, " How can I help you Sherlock?" he was looking through paperwork he had tacked up on the wall with strings connected different points of interest as he talked to her.
"Thank you for not calling me Mr. Holmes again, that reminds me have her met anyone lately?"
"Have I met anyone? Are you trying to set me up with someone Sherlock? because I am in no way interested in anyone whom you may associate with!"
He scoffed at her," No. my brother may contact you and try to buy your ability to spy on me for him and I didn't know if he had reached out to you yet or not."
She didn't bother to argue with him, his logic worked so much differently than most normal people's she couldn't fathom trying to win an argument with him. Then it hit her, he had a brother, she just never pictured him with a sibling. Then again she never thought she would meet anyone like him. she must have taken to long to answer because he just moved onto the next question he had.
"Do you remember anything about the man who was with me in the cab?"
"no. I did not get a good look at him, wait, oh my goodness, I completely forgot this here this may help." she then handed him her phone with the picture of the taxi opened up. the sent the picture file to himself and opened up his laptop. Nothing else was said as he just held her phone out for her to take. she walked over and quietly took her phone, she had only been living by him a week and she already had learned that he just stops talking at times, some of the time for days. John had kind of filled her in on some of Sherlock's more, interesting habits and was now aware to be careful in opening the fridge, his talking to someone even if they are not there and his mind palace. John had briefly mentioned Mycroft, but not a lot was said about him, just he is like a stranger version of Sherlock.
She showered and got ready to go into work. She walked out the door and passed Sherlock's, he was deep in thought on his laptop analyzing the picture she had given him. She smiled at the thought of him looking through every pixel trying to find some clue he could use. She took the tube into work, and had a pretty normal day. Sometime after lunch she got a text.
A car will pick you up from work. Do not worry, you should be safe. S.H.
She read the message twice before texting him back.
What do you mean "SHOULD BE SAFE"?
She got no reply, so she decided to go to a reliable source.
John, this is Vivian. I got a txt from Sherlock telling me a car would pick me up from and work and that quote I should be safe. Should I worry?
John replied with a simple, Um no. If Sherlock thinks you will be okay then I wouldn't worry. J.W. Vivian decided to just go ahead and get into the car, why put it off. Besides if Sherlock and John knew that she had been picked up, then surely would investigate if she was murdered. Then she decided if she did get hurt, she would haunt them.
She walked out of her office building and saw a black car waiting at the curb, a man walked around and opened the door. She looked at him as if she was trying to read his mind. He soon broke the silence.
"Ms. Herrington, my boss is waiting." She smiled at the man politely and climbed into the back of the sedan. The ride seamed to go on forever, and was eerily silent. Soon they pulled into what looked to be a derelict warehouse, but once the rolling door was open, it looked clean and operational inside. A desk sat in the middle of the expansive room. Behind it a man, who was balding, wore very expensive clothes and smile that was so fake she was afraid she might actually get hurt. Then his pursed his lips together and looked her over. He motioned to the seat across from the desk and began to talk.
"Ms. Herrington, how nice to meet you. Let me introduce myself. My name is Mycroft Holmes. I do believe you have heard of me."
"Mr. Holmes of course. Of what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you finally?"
"Well as you know my dear brother is somewhat distant from me, and I only wish to assure his well-being."
"How lucky he is to have a brother such as yourself looking after him. I am sure somewhere deep inside he doesn't hate you as much as you fear."
Mycroft looked her over for a bit before giving her that fake smile again.
"Well Ms. Herrington I am happy to see all those years working for C.I.A. are still paying off. Are you as good as they say you are."
"Mr. Holmes, my contract was finished with them over a year ago, I am no longer in that line of work, and I do not intend to go back. NO matter what the price."
Mycroft was sure of her resolve, he could see how the sadness flashed in her eyes before it was dissipated into cold calculated business. She could be a valuable asset not only to Sherlock but to himself as well. They sat and looked at each other for a minute, each one trying to look more empowered than the other before finally Vivian spoke first.
"If we are finished here Mr. Holmes, I would like to return back to my flat so that I may relax and have some dinner."
"Yes, I suppose we are finished Ms. Herrington. My driver will make sure you make it back to Baker Street straight away. Good Evening and please, send my best to Sherlock."
Vivian nodded in agreement then stood up and walked back to the car. The driver once again opened her door and took her directly back to Baker Street. Mycroft took another car home and thought to himself, Vivian Herrington was exactly what he had heard. He pulled a lot of strings to get the thought of London planted in her head, and landing her the job offer was no easy sell either, not until her file was read that is. She may just be the one to ensure the safety of Sherlock and his blogger.