I am a relatively new fan of Sherlock who has only just dipped her toes into the entire fandom. I've only watched the series, I haven't read the books, so please don't go absolutely nuts if I make a mistake, though I would appreciate if you would point it out to me. I want to make this as good as I can, so please offer suggestions or pointers on how I can improve. If you like my story, please tell me so! I really would appreciate it!
"Welcome to London!" I stole a glance at the figure in front of me, the back of his head sprouting patches of golden hair. Doesn't he know that looks absurd? He should just shave it all off… it would look better. His eyes caught mine in the rear-view mirror, and he smiled, a not-so-genuine smile, towards me. Of course this was probably a normal routine for him, he was a taxi driver at the airport, he had to be nice to visitors.
I smiled warmly, offering a nod to the man. "Thank you." Not much left to say there. Looking towards the window, I ran a hand through my own brown locks of hair, currently soaked by the rain. London was a very wet place, or so I've heard, but it also seemed quite beautiful. The roar of jet engines overhead bothered me, so I quickly pulled out my earphones. Of course they are tangled, they always are. Before I could drown out the noise with music, the man began to speak again, pulling out from the curb.
"Are you a tourist? You don't sound like you're from around here." He watched the road ahead of him, so he couldn't see me roll my eyes.
"Something like that." I really was not in the mood to discuss my business with him. But he just didn't want to shut up.
"Oh really? London is a beautiful city. I came here myself 20 years ago for work. Of course, back then I wasn't a taxi driver." He laughed heartily, smacking the side of the driver's wheel. It's not really that funny… Even so, I giggled out of courtesy and continued unraveling my earphones. "So, where are you from? Nah, let me guess… the U.S.?"
I nodded, silently pleading for a plane to crash down on me right now so I didn't have to talk to this man. "Yep." I stuck one of the earphones in my ear, the one closest to him. Maybe he'd take the hint?
"My…" Nope, hint not taken. "...you're the quiet type, ain't ya?" No I wasn't, I just really didn't feel like talking to this man. I could feel his eyes watching me through the mirror as I continued looking out the window. I liked watching the raindrops race one another, as childish as it may seem, it was somewhat entertaining. Silence filled the cab, and he finally seemed to get the hint as he returned his eyes to the streets in front of him. Perhaps it was the nagging guilt of being somewhat rude to the man, or perhaps it was my mother's whispered words long ago about manners that possessed me to speak.
"I can be quiet." I stated, smirking at my own decision to speak. What kind of idiot am I?
He chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at me. "I can see. So, where's a young lady like yourself from in the U.S.?"
I shrugged, looking back towards the front of the car. "I'm from around, Sir."
He laughed as if I said something funny. "Around, eh? Tell me some places." He paused a moment, tossing a business card in the back seat beside me. "And no need to call me Sir, Damion is just fine."
I'm the most idiotic-idiot an idiot could meet, apparently. I plucked the card from the seat and skimmed over the letters.
Damion S. Oswald
Personal Chauffeur
(020) XXXX-XXXX
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Damion." I smiled, tucking the card into the pocket of my jacket. "And I was most recently in New York, to answer your question."
"Ah, New York! I lived there before!" Oh joy, more to talk about then? "It's a beautiful city, still is from what I see on the news. It's a shame what happened to those towers though…" Is the World Trade Center still a relevant topic to discuss with a taxi driver? I thought that was old information.
"Sure is…" I mumbled, hoping this conversation was over. I was not so lucky.
"So, you're headed to The Landmark London Hotel? Place is nice." I hummed in agreement. "Sherlock Holmes lives around there too! Maybe you'll meet him."
What was he going on about? "Sherlock Holmes?" I questioned, not even bothering to look the man's way. This Holmes guy must be some sort of celebrity if a taxi driver expected me to know about him.
"Ah, yes, Sherlock Holmes! He's a detective of some kind. He's got a website, if you want to look it up." He smiled at me through the mirror. "I think it's called The Science of Deduction." I grunted noncommittally, the driver seemed unimpressed by my lack of interest and wonderful caveman sounds. How rude of him. "He helped me out a while back when I was in trouble. Got me off a fraud charge that would have cost me thousands." So Sherlock Holmes was some sort of lawyer as well? Great, maybe I could get his business card too.
"I'll look it up." Not really, I probably wouldn't, sounded like a bore to me.
"You should. He deserves a lot more credit than he gets." The man nodded as if agreeing with himself, then spun the wheel to turn. It was odd being driven on the left side of the road… I'll probably stick to riding a bike or bus while I'm here. The remainder of the ride was silent, well, there wasn't any talking between us at least. I listened to music, and he occasionally cursed at passing bad drivers when he thought I couldn't hear.
As we pulled up to the curb, I yanked the earphones from my ears, a little more roughly than I should have. I pulled my wallet from my pocket, and peeked at the meter in front. Wow, these cabs were cheaper than the ones in New York. I handed Damion the money and pushed the door open, stepping out and grabbing my luggage from the backseat.
"Hey, I never caught your name!" He smiled, looking over his shoulder at me. I leaned back into the car, smiling mischievously as the rain continued to pound on my back.
"I never gave it." Closing the door swiftly, I spun away from the taxi cab and entered the hotel, backpack swung over one shoulder. I liked to travel light, made for less things to keep track of.
It didn't take me long to reach my hotel room, thankfully, and after plopping my luggage on the floor beside my bed, I examined the room thoroughly. It was a lovely room, decorated finely with golden colored furnishings and wooden cabinets. I took a few minutes getting acquainted to the room, then undressed and used one of the supplied robes from the hotel. My clothes were drenched, so I draped them over the shower bar. Only moments later, a knock at my door interrupted my solitude.
I opened the door a crack, feeling it was impersonal to speak through the door. Two men stood before me, both seemingly out of breath. "May we use your window?"
I stood dumbfounded, "M-my window? Um… why?" Who were these men? I looked at them carefully, taking note of their height and hair, their eyes, their features. One in particular had very prominent cheek bones, and the other had a very pleasant but sturdy face. If I'm attacked by these men, I could spot them in a lineup.
"Yes, we are chasing someone." I was left with no time to react as the taller of the men pushed open the door and ran towards the window, paying me no mind. I clutched my robe tighter as the shorter of the men addressed me.
"I apologize for our intrusion. We'll be out of your hair-"
"John, come here, I need some help." The man at the window called to the man beside me. So the shorter man's name was John, okay, we're getting somewhere. John gave me a glance then went towards his friend swiftly. "John, I need you to hold my hand for a moment." The man was halfway out the window as he offered John his hand. John sighed, grabbing the man's hand firmly and allowing the man to tumble out the window.
I gasped as I watched all but his hand disappear from view. John also seemed surprised by the action as he took a more solid stance. "Warn me next time, Sherlock!" Wait… Sherlock? The detective lawyer guy that the taxi driver told me about? What? Aha, I get it, this is one of those interactive play things, right? The fact ran through my mind, but that didn't make this any less weird. John seemed to be losing some of his traction as his feet began slipping.
I didn't have time to think about it as I reached out and wrapped my hands around John's and Sherlock's, attempting to help them stay steady. Even if this was some sort of play, I wouldn't have anyone falling when I could help. It was only now that I noticed Sherlock was swinging, trying to kick the glass window of the room beneath mine. "Thank you, Miss."
I looked sideways at the man beside me, offering a smile. "Evie. You can call me Evie." A shatter of glass sounded below just as Sherlock's hand slipped from both of ours. After stumbling for my balance, my eyes widened as I headed to look out the window in worry. The man seemed to have fallen into the room, rather than down towards the street below. I sighed in relief as I looked at John who was now picking himself up from the ground and was beginning to look out the window himself.
He mumbled something under his breath as he looked towards the street below. His eyes fixated on me and he seemed to want to say something. I suppose he thought better of it, because a moment later he clutched the windowsill and swung out the window himself and into the room below.
As I looked below at the broken window, one thought crossed my mind. Looks like I'll be reading the Science of Deduction tonight.