I do not own any of the characters of the BBC Sherlock series. The only characters I own are the ones derived from my imagination.

Intriguing

Chapter One

Rhianna Arico climbed out of her cab, dragging her excessively heavy suitcase out with her. Lord, was she tired. That plane ride had been hell, and her back was already feeling the affects of her third-class seat.

"Fare, please," the cabby growled from inside the vehicle. Really, for someone who said 'please' they sounded as though they wanted to kill her.

"Yes, of course," she huffed, handing him a wade of cash. Cab fares were so outrageously high, but she was going to have to deal with it for the time being.

The grizzly haired man laboriously counted the money, making sure she had not cheated him. One can never trust Americans, you know. When he found it all there, however, he gave her a curt nod and drove away, leaving her standing alone on the sidewalk.

Rhianna rolled her eyes. "Mature," she mumbled, pulling her suitcase up to the door and pressing the button. God, she hoped this went well. She had applied for the University of London as a joke, knowing there would be no way she could go there. Later, however, when she received an acceptance letter, all of that changed. She had earned numerous scholarships and her parents allowed her to move to England to pursue her education. Her aunt offered to pay for her lodgings, giving her the chance to choose an inexpensive apartment all to herself. Now as she waited for the door on Baker Street to be opened, she was filled with excitement.

Finally, the portal was opened by an elderly woman who was smiling from ear to ear.

"You must be Miss Arico?" she smiled, looking down at the girl.

"Yes, that would be me. Mrs. Hudson, I presume?"

The woman nodded.

"Come on in then," she instructed, stepping back so that the newcomer could enter. By the time she had the door closed behind her, the landlady began chatting at an alarming rate. "I'm so excited to have you here," she expressed leading Rhianna further on down the hall to her room. The young American's eyes slid up the narrow set of stairs that led up to the second floor, wondering who her neighbors were. She had heard that a couple people shared a flat on the top floor, but she was never told who they were. In the distance, Mrs. Hudson's voice could still be heard prattling on.

"I could never get anybody interested in this room," she continued, unlocking the door of 221c with a key. "It is small, I must say, but it will be just the right size for a college student like you," she enthused, opening the door for Rhianna and holding out the key.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Hudson. I must admit, it is a little overwhelming being in a different country," Rhianna stated, taking the proffered key from her landlady's hand.

"I understand, dear. But you'll fit in just fine, I can tell. Would you like a cup of tea while you put your things away? I had some furniture put in to make you more comfortable."

"Thank you, and yes, that would be wonderful." Right as the kind lady was about to walk away, Rhianna asked, "Oh, and who are my neighbors?" She pointed toward the ceiling, indicating the second floor. Mrs. Hudson tilted her head in that direction and smiled.

"Oh, that's just Sherlock and John. You may not see them much as they're always running about on cases, but I'm sure you'll like them." And with that vague answer, Mrs. Hudson ran into another room to make her new resident tea.

)*(

Rhianna had just finished unpacking the last of her things and taken the final sip of her tea when the clock in the hall struck three. Setting her empty suitcase at the far corner of her room, she stretched and headed for the door. Before exiting her new home, she turned back round to gaze upon it. True, it was a sparse living quarter. The only furniture given her was a simple bed with a plan crème comforter, a light wooden dresser for her clothes, a desk to do her school work at, and a single chair beside it. A fireplace was the centerpiece of the far wall, with a mirror hanging over top of it. The room had the privilege of only one window whose shallow light was the sole energy illuminating its interior. Obviously she was going to have to buy a lamp.

Mrs. Hudson had explained to her how it had been newly aired out and adorned with new carpet (the same color as the bedspread) and fancy damask wallpaper. Though it still had a distinct basement feel to it, the room was more than enough to please its new occupant.

Satisfied, Rhianna continued out of the little hallway leading to her room, locking the door behind her. As her classes started in three days, she had to check in with the college administration to be registered for an ID. Textbooks were also on her list, as were the usual necessities of pen, pencil, paper, whiteout, eraser, etc. Honestly, she was terrified. Sure, she had easily maintained the top of her class in her hometown, but that was in a small county in America. Now she was in London, England, and she had no idea what to expect.

No worries, she thought. One day you will be an established radiologist and all of this will be behind you. Grabbing her black jacket and Beatles purse, she made her way out of the building and into yet another cab destined for the college.

)*(

Mrs. Hudson was cleaning the foyer when the door flew open and two men rowdily barged in. Without looking up, she knew who they were. Sherlock and John always came back in the same noisy fashion. Taking a break from her work, she looked up at them with a smile.

"Hello, boys. How was everything?"

"Perfect, Mrs. Hudson. Simply perfect!" Sherlock mused, greeting her with shining eyes. "He thought he could get away. You should have seen the elaborate plan he was about to instigate before we caught him! It was such fun!"

"And the mother and daughter were returned home safely," John added, glaring at

his friend and secretly scolding him for not mentioning the fact.

"Oh, yes, John. Of course they were. But the investigation was far more interesting than a couple of dull females. Really, I still don't understand why the man kidnapped them in the first place!"

"Maybe it had something to do with the mom being his lost love and the girl his biological daughter he had never met." Sherlock waved this comment away with a quick motion of his hand.

"I still don't see it. Anyway, the case is solved and Lestrade is once again in my debt. Balance has been restored. Now, time to get back to my – " He stopped abruptly and started sniffing the air. John raised an eyebrow and Mrs. Hudson looked on with surprise.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John questioned, walking toward him.

The detective stayed silent for a moment, until he slowly voiced the word, "Vanilla."

"Vanilla?" John echoed, completely confused by his flat mate's enigmatic reference.

"Yes, vanilla. Hand cream, I should think. Mrs. Hudson, has anybody else been here today?"

The confused expression on their landlady's face quickly faded away into one of understanding. "Oh! You mean the new tenant! Lovely girl. I think you boys would like her."

Sherlock's face darkened. "New tenant?" he reiterated. "Why on earth did you lease a new tenant?"

"Well, you know how I was fixing up the downstairs flat? Luckily, somebody gave me an offer. A modest one, I admit, but then again, the rooms themselves are modest as well."

John, curiosity now piqued, turned to her and asked, "Who is she?"

"Her name's Rhianna Arico. She's starting classes at London University this semester. From America, she is. Quite polite."

"America?" John exclaimed, surprised by the nationality.

"Yeah. You can tell by her accent."

"Why isn't she staying at a dorm?" Sherlock demanded, irate. "Surely there are some available."

"The way I was told was that she didn't want anything distracting her from her school work. The poor thing doesn't seem to have much desire for social interactions."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "Really? You'd think a young woman would want nothing better than social interaction."

"This one's quite private," she explained, going back to her cleaning. "She went down to the University a little while ago. You could meet her when she gets back."

"No thank you," Sherlock barked, quickly retreating up the stairs before John made him change his answer. The last thing he wanted was a pesky, little college girl getting in his way.

)*(

Rhianna returned a couple hours later with everything she needed. She had even managed to pick up a lamp to help with the poor lighting in her room.

"I guess those years of lawn mowing paid off," she muttered, lugging her new possessions to her room.

Digging the key out of her pocket while simultaneously balancing everything on her hip, she unlocked her door and stumbled down the tiny hallway to her room. Plopping her things down on her bed, she quickly followed suit, letting her body rest on the twin size mattress.

Lord, it had been a long day. The college was HUGE. She had been terrified that she wouldn't be able to find administration. Eventually, she did, and her terrible, god-awful ID picture was taken. The first time she saw it, she had quickly hidden the thing away in her wallet. Urgh, they always jacked up the lighting and made her face look weird.

Then the problem of finding the bookstore arose. Luckily, she had found a sympathetic Uni student (as they called themselves) that had graciously showed her the way. Calc, Bio, Chem, pretty basic classes. She had to finish those up before med school. Knowing that she couldn't go to bed unless all her things were put up, she lifted herself from the mattress.

Her textbooks were sorted on her desk, along with the rest of her school supplies. Now it was time for the lamp! Unboxing her new treasure, she dumped the contents on the bed. A nice, simple lamp. Without a light bulb. Shit . . . . She hadn't thought about that in the hurry she had been in. Maybe her neighbor had one. Well, she had to meet them eventually.

Tentatively, she stalked out of her flat and out into the foyer just in time to almost collide with a man coming from upstairs.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry about that. Didn't see you coming," the man said, stepping back to take a look at her. "You must be the new tenant. Rhianna, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. And you are either John or Sherlock, I presume."

"John Watson," he smiled, offering his hand. "I'm sorry our first meeting was almost a headbutt."

Taking his proffered hand, she shook it, smiling back at him.

"It's alright. I was just coming up to see if you had a light bulb. I bought a new lamp today and remembered I needed one of those for it to work when I got back."

He laughed. "We should have some up there. I was just heading out. It was nice meeting you, though."

"Nice meeting you too. I guess I'd better go get this bulb then," she stated, and was about to head up the stairs when the man stopped her.

"Just to warn you," he started. "Sherlock is not the nicest of people."

She cocked an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"Well, let's just say he doesn't go much for manners, or people for that matter."

Now both of Rhianna's eyebrows rose. "Really? Well, I guess I'll just have to brave the storm. Thanks for the warning," she imparted.

"No problem," he returned before turning and walking out the front door.

"Nice guy," she muttered to herself before going up the stairs. The first thing she was presented with was a closed door. Making the sign of the cross and taking a deep breath, she knocked, hoping to be answered.

For a moment nothing happened. She just stood there, staring at the door. She was about to turn and leave until the wood flew back and a man's face appeared before her. Her first impression was of how handsome it was. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the high, well defined cheekbones, then noticed the beautiful locks of black, curling hair that encased his skull. His lips were full, his skin pale, but the most startling feature of all were his eyes. His light blue, almost gray eyes. They were cold, sharp, as deadly as daggers, and entirely bewitching. How could a man this beautiful loathe society when he could have it grovel at his feet? Then she got her answer.

"Rhianna Arico, the new tenant, I take it?" he curtly remarked, eyeing her suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"A light bulb, actually," she replied, returning the stare. "Sorry to bother you."

"Did you not bring light bulbs with you from America?" he remarked, jabbing her with his words.

"Sorry, I guess that slipped my mind amongst the packing of necessities and the planning out of my living situation. Do you not happen to have any?"

"We have light bulbs."

"No, I mean manners," she spat. His eyebrows rose.

"I'm assuming you're not interested in the light bulb now?"

"No, a light bulb would be nice, but I couldn't resist saying that last bit," she admitted, smiling.

"I see," he mumbled, staring at her. This woman was admittedly interesting, despite her young age. Maybe this could prove to be more fun than mortifying. John had told him to get along with the new neighbor, so why shouldn't he?

"Would you like to come in?" he asked, looking down at her. In reality, the greeting didn't sound friendly or warm in any way. It was just a plain, matter-of-fact question. Though a bit surprised, she took up the offer immediately.

"I'd love to."

Stepping back, the man she now saw was only clad in some casual clothes and a house robe let her in. Walking through the door, she couldn't help but be taken aback by the state of the apartment.

Spying a skull on the mantelpiece, she jokingly asked, "Whose is it?"

Turning his gaze in the direction of her pointing finger, he replied, "Don't know. It was the product of a case."

"A case? So you're a detective?"

"Yes. A consulting detective, actually. The only one in the world," he continued, chest seeming to puff out in pride at his statement.

"That's cool," she stated. "It sounds like a fun job. I'm assuming, given your occupation, that you're extremely intelligent?"

He nodded. Hum, he possesses no modesty, she observed, watching him.

"I usually do the job of the police. They are extremely well adept at not knowing what to do," he expressed, causing her to laugh.

"Most people are that way," she stated, smiling at him.

His brows furrowed. This woman was . . . different. It's not that he couldn't deduce anything from her, he could. Like the fact that she loved reading, had lived in the countryside, and was anti-social, but the woman herself was something new to him. He watched her as she looked around the flat and was amused by the expression on her face when she happened upon the bullet holes in the wall.

"Bored often?" she deduced correctly, much to his surprise.

"Yes, actually. It appeases it a bit."

She turned to look at him, wearing a cautious expression. "I didn't just step into the flat of a psychopath, did I?"

He shook his head, exasperated that someone else had used the term loosely.

"No, I'm not a psychopath," he assured her. She nodded in relief. "I'm a high-functioning sociopath." At this she turned back to him.

"I would say that I love your dry sense of humor except for the fact that you don't seem to be joking."

"Most people react that way," he told her, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't expect you to understand."

"I am not most people, Mr. Holmes."

"Oh, really? What makes you say that?" he questioned, looking over at her skeptically. Her demeanor did not change. It remained completely cool and calm.

"Even though I may not be on your level of intelligence, and I'm assuming by your obvious arrogance that most people aren't and you know it, I am not any less than you. I am not stupid, and I'll even go so far as to say you don't think I am either given that you have let me into your flat which you normally wouldn't do."

"How do you know I normally wouldn't?" he asked, liking where this was going. It was true, she wasn't like most people, and he liked that. A lot.

"You do recall the less that welcome entrance you gave me? That and the fact that your friend Mr. Watson said that you didn't much care for people sort of gave it away. Also, your belief that most people are stupid would keep you from inviting most people into your home as you would become irritated all too quickly by them."

"You are correct. Except for one thing," he stated, catching her attention. "It's Dr. Watson. You failed to deduce that."

"Ah, the science of deductive reasoning. Interesting. But yes, I failed to deduce that. I, however, am not the detective. You are obligated to observe and add up such things. That is your job."

The curly-haired man cocked an eyebrow. "So you are blaming the fact that you are not a detective for your inability to deduce Dr. Watson's occupation?"

"What I'm saying is, I've never had a reason to use deductive reasoning everyday, therefore do not apply it as you do. To you it comes naturally because you are used to using it. I on the other hand, would have to try strenuously just to make a minor deduction about a person."

She said all this while looking him in the eye, and smiled at him when she was done. Maybe she didn't have the same skills as he did, but her mind was still formidable. What did Mrs. Hudson say about her? That she was going to the University of London?

"What are you going for?" he asked out of the blue, causing her to look back at him slightly confused. Then, going by process of elimination, she realized what he was asking.

"Oh, I want to be a radiologist," she answered.

"Why?"

It was strange that this man wanted to know so much about her. From what she's seen, he seemed to be asperger, and they usually only care about their own little obsessions. It wasn't out of cruelty, it was just how they were. Therefore the fact that he was intrigued by her interests was odd.

"I've always wanted to do something in the medical profession," she explained. "Science was always my favorite subject in school. Radiology was my pick because of the salary," she confessed. "I wasn't born with the money to do much, so having enough money to see that I don't ever have to worry about my finances was always a big thing."

"A sensible choice then," Sherlock commented. A silence then ensued, exploiting the anti-social tendencies of both parties. Eventually the silence was finally broken by the detective's question of, "Have you had dinner?"

To be honest, Rhianna was taken aback by the remark. She had started this journey with the intention of gaining a light bulb, not a boyfriend; though she didn't fear that was the case in any way.

Eventually, she answered in the negative, causing Sherlock to make the statement, "I'm sure we've got sandwiches somewhere in here," and run off to the kitchen.

She just couldn't get enough of this man. He was so different, for lack of a better word. Maybe weird would have worked, but it just didn't seem right. He was something she had not expected when she came to London, and she definitely wasn't going to be telling her mother about it. That would just lead to an unwanted visit from her parents. No, she was going to keep her curiosity in one Sherlock Holmes a secret for the time being and eat his sandwiches instead.

Thank you for reading the first chapter of my story! I hope you enjoyed it!