ABRIELLE'S POV
Gilded. That's what this place was. It seemed wealthy and shining like gold on the outside, but in reality it was broken and more like a speck of dirt than gold. What people looked at when they saw London, England was a magical place. A place that held job opportunities and hot guys with British accents and of course a queen. It was the beauteous place that television made it out to be. When in reality it was anything but beautiful. If you dug deep enough underneath all the smiles and rainbows, you'd see what I see. A piece of trash, because honestly that's what it was with all of it's murderers and liars and manipulators. Most people saw the beauty of the situation, the optimistic point of view. But I'm not most people. Those people, which was sadly most of the world, weren't as fortunate to see how beautifully messed up England truly was. But having a job like mine, and a view of people that was so utterly condescending I was fortunate to see just what my old home was like in reality. A trash hole, a place for the psychopaths, and a home for all the first class A-holes. I said that I'd never come back to this mirage of a place, and yet here I was walking down the cracked sidewalk in the nippy morning air, my cool breath coming out in swirls of white as it met the frigid cold. Cars sped past me in a rush of colors as if I was on a merry go round with no way off, this was London alright. Always rushing, never stopping not even for one second. I hadn't been in London for a while, yet, even I felt the the heart of London beating fast within my chest. Fast, like a drum, a never ending drumbeat. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. I felt it rush through my body like a drug. A drug I had constantly missed the feeling of while I been gone, it was like a piece of me was missing. But now, being back … it was like I was whole again. Well, as whole as a pessimistic person could be in the world. I stopped my long walk through the city as I neared my destination and walked carefully up to the door marked 221B. This is it, the place my brother had described to me in his emails. Ugh, my brother. Simply thinking about him made my head explode. Usually we got along quite well, sibling rivalry aside of course. But today, today was different. Today I flew back from America and my brother had supposedly forgotten to pick me up from the airport. I had stood there waiting for what felt like an eternity until I finally decided that he wasn't going to be coming to get me anytime soon. Stupid siblings and their stupid memory. I snapped out my thoughts of my terrible brother and knocked confidently on the door. After waiting a few minutes and receiving no answer whatsoever, I decided to pick the lock. My brother was after all most likely not home at the moment, and I had no intention of waiting outside in the horrid weather, so picking the lock would have to do. I slide a sleek black bobby pin out of my hair and crouched down towards the lock, twisting and turning it around within the lock until I found the right position. A few seconds later, much to my own success, the door clicked open, and I slid the bobby pin I had used back into my hair. My hair was a mess after sleeping on a plane for hours on end, so using bobby pins to make it look somewhat presentable was the best I could do. After fooling around with my annoyingly curly hair for no apparent reason, I lifted up my suitcase and lugged it up the stairs until I reached the right flat. I paused in surprise to see a silhouette of a person sitting in a chair. My stupid brother was still home, and he couldn't be bothered to go see who was at the door! That's it, that's a new low even for him! Not picking me up from the airport was bad enough, but now he was too lazy to even get off his lazy arse and answer the damn door! Now I was definitely cross with him! I walked calmly into the flat, even though my mental barriers were just screaming at me to punch something, preferably my brother, and storm out. I walked closer to realize this was indeed not my brother but a somewhat handsome curly haired stranger, reading on the couch without a care in the world. Definitely NOT my short statured, blonde haired big brother. Deciding that the best way to figure out where my brother had gone was to engage in conversation I gently set my suitcase on the floor as to not startle the man and formed a question so remarkably simple anyone could understand it.
"Hi, is this John Watson's apartment?" I asked in faux confusion, my tone wavering and unsure as if I were new to the area. The mysterious man looked up, and shut the book with a loud snap, staring up at me with cool calculating diamond blue eyes that matched my own.
"Yes." The man replied, an amused smile clearly on his lips. His eyes looked me up and down as if analysing me, the same way I analysed other people. It was like looking into a mirror, just you know, one that showed you how you'd look as the opposite sex.
"And you are?" I replied with a raise of my eyebrows, my eyes staring unfazed into the strange man's mystifying crystal orbs.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes." The man stated with a condescending tone, I glanced at him, my eyes watching as his fingers danced across the couch randomly as if out of boredom. This was Sherlock Holmes alright, there was no doubting that.
"Ah, you're the amazing consulting detective John told me about. Well, go on deduce me, I know you're dying to." I replied in a smug way. I was very interested in what he would be able to come up with. I knew that he was very good at what he did, which John had clearly expressed through his blog. From the way John talked about his amazing powers of deduction it was as if he was talking about a god, which certainly made Sherlock an interesting character. From the way he looked distracted, and from simply seeing how uninterested he was in the conversation, I knew that he was most likely bored. Thus, it meant giving him something to do, which lead to me allowing him to do the thing he loves the most, deducing people.
"Well, considering you know John I'd say girlfriend, but you've clearly been traveling. An eleven hour flight across the time zones I'd say from the look of your hand. Probably somewhere in America, most likely California or Florida. Besides that you came in here as if you expected to see someone, so someone, most likely John was supposed to pick you up from the airport. Then there's the fact that you seemed familiar with him, so not a girlfriend. From the way your eyes looked when you walked in, I'd say maybe an old friend but you look similar to John so most likely you're his sister." Sherlock rambled at an amazingly fast speed. It was interesting to see someone do that so quickly like me. After seeing it first hand, John was definitely not wrong. Sherlock Holmes was certainly something. In fact, in a way, she was kind of attracted to him. He was smart, and mysterious, which was certainly her type.
"Abrielle Watson at your service." I confirmed, bowing in mock playfulness, a small smirk resting on my lips. It was so good to finally say that to a normal human being after so long! It was always one fake name after another, and finally, now she could just be herself. Abrielle L. Watson, the youngest sibling of the family. I was snapped out of my thoughts when a deep baritone voice sounded through the tiny flat.
"How come he never mentioned you?" Sherlock inquired, curiosity taking the better of him. Of course John didn't tell him about me, he still felt the need to protect me even after all these years. I was the secret of the family, only known to even be alive by a tiny group of people. I was homeschooled growing up, and I was never really allowed out of the house, except on vacations. As for my social life, well I had John, and sometimes Harry. But other than that I never really had any friends. I didn't even start dating until I was well into my twenties … though that never did work out for me. After a few seconds of thought, I came up with the perfect way to explain John's reasoning for keeping me a secret without letting too much slip.
"Because he tends to want to keep me a secret. He doesn't want to put me in harms way so he doesn't talk about me. It's been that way since we were little." I explained. Isn't that how it was with any relationship between the eldest and the youngest sibling. The need to protect and mother the child relentlessly. That's definitely how John was with me, I was after all the weak little baby of the family. Too delicate to do anything, and too weak to do much else. I was the girl of the family, the doll my mother dressed up in frilly crap. I was the one thing my family had always wanted, a normal little girl.
"So was I right?" Sherlock questioned randomly, taking me away from my thoughts from the moment. Did he just ask if he was right? Of course he was, so why would he ask such a thing? Maybe he just gets a kick out of showing off, that smug bastard. Alright, I'll play along.
"Yes, you were. How did you know all that stuff?" I asked in fake surprise that seemed very well executed. He wants to act like a show off, I'll let him, but I won't let him have the victory of it. Just when he thinks that he's won I'll snatch out the rug from under him and flip the tables. He may think he's some amazing genius, but the truth was I was just as smart, and there was no way he'd ever win against me. Let him deduce me and let him think himself the smartest person in the room, because really at the end of the day, he won't be.
"Considering your hair looked messy and your hand has a indent on it, you were probably sleeping on a plane for a long time. So since it's morning here it was most likely a flight that crosses the time zone. The only flight that is longer than two hours and crosses the time zone is the flight from America. I said it was California or Florida because of the slight tan on your arms and legs but not on your shoulders, so it was somewhere that gets a lot of sun all the time. When I first saw you, you looked mad as if you were expecting to yell at someone, yet when you saw that John wasn't here that look went away, meaning that you were mad at him … probably for not picking you up. The way you hold yourself says you're familiar with John, so your someone that knows him. But considering you have his height, eyes and face structure you had to be his sister." He responded, ending his long explanation with a quick smile. He thought he had just showed me something amazing, something so new to me I would think it magical. When that was anything but the truth. I bet that he's done this to so many people without one ounce of regret to blurting out someone's whole life story. Well, I'm different. I'm not just going to sit back and do nothing, I was going to teach the great Sherlock Holmes a lesson once and for all.
"Interesting." I said, the tiniest bit of sarcasm slipping out. What was so interesting about one person being able to tell you the whole life story of someone with just one glance? It wasn't that amazing was it? I mean I've seen other people deduce, and it wasn't that interesting, in fact I found it boring. It was more a mental exercise than a game, so where was the fun in that?
"Really?" He questioned in surprise, my own mind wondering if he even realized that I wasn't at all being serious.
"Yes. So tell me do you know yet? Florida or California?" I proposed, my question lingering in the air as I watched him thinking it over.
"No, though I'd guess California but it could just as well be Florida." He admitted, my eyes surely twinkling in amusement at his answer.
"Alright." I retorted, choosing not to give him a straight answer either way. If he was going to find out, he was going to find out himself, and not because I told him the answer.
"Are you going to tell me?" He asked me in confusion as he stood up from the couch and approached me. His eyes looking down at me as I stared right back up at him with defiance in my eyes. Did he really think he'd get an answer out of me that easily, because that was not going to happen, not at all. I was a rebellious pain in the arse, and he had another thing coming if he honest to god thought I'd simply tell him.
"No. Why should I?" I inquired, placing my hands across my chest. I was having fun now, Sherlock was fun to play around with. He was like a stubborn toddler, and I loved playing with little kids.
"You can't just leave me guessing, I need to know." Sherlock complained, my laughter rolling off my lips at his adorable behavior.
"Why? Not knowing is a mystery that still needs to be figured out and every Detective loves a good mystery." I countered, moving towards him and removing the few inches between us. I think I was starting to like Sherlock, I mean sure he was annoying and an overall pain, but I was the same. Sherlock and I would be great friends soon, I just knew it.
"Tell me." He replied back in an annoyed tone.
"Deduce it yourself. You are the great Sherlock Holmes, well show me how smart you are." I suggested, my eyes glinting with mischief.
"I already did show you, how much more proof do you need?" He asked in a demanding tone.
"Oh, anyone can simply observe and deduce, but not everyone can be a genius." I retaliated, sliding past him as I made my way to the couch and sat down. If everyone just opened their eyes a bit wider and actually looked at their surroundings, we'd end up with more people capable of deducing other than the only three people in the world that could deduce now.
"That's false actually. Everyone can fake being a genius, but not everyone can deduce. They see but they don't observe." He pointed out, my own smirk leaving my lips as quickly as it had appeared. He did not just go there. I'm rarely wrong, and when I am I point it out. I don't need some A-hole to do it for me!
"Well, if you think you're so good at deducing and no one else is, why don't you prove it to me?" I questioned, a new plan already forming in my mind. He wanted to prove me wrong, yet what he hadn't thought about was the fact that I clearly had the upperhand. All I had to do was question him until he explodes with anger. It's worked with John in the past, so it's bound to work with Sherlock as well.
"Well, you're left hand has ink on it and your fingers look numb as though you spend countless hours writing. You most likely work as a newspaper journalist or a writer of some kind. So considering you'd only find jobs like that in California, I'd say you lived there for some time before you came up here. The question is why would you leave an area like that when you had the perfect job that paid tons of money. Answer: Something happened non work related that caused you to up and leave. Going by the faint whiteness on your ring finger I'd say relationship troubles … but then again you can never really know for sure." He shot out in quick session. My eyebrows raising as I stared at him in slight surprise. He wasn't necessarily wrong, but he wasn't necessarily right either.
"You're right. I was a screenwriter in Hollywood, I lived there for a little while." I stated, resting my head against the arm of the couch as he looked at me in interest.
"And, why did you leave?" He inquired, walking over to me in curiosity.
"Me and my fiance had a fight and I walked out. Simple as that." I said, remembering the horrible fight that had started it all. I loved him, but he loved his job more so than he loved me. Our love was fake. It was superficial, he was always kissing me for show but he never actually made my heart beat out of tune, or make my head explode with emotions. I was his arm candy, nothing more and nothing less. And yet, when he found a prettier companion he ignored me completely and knocked me out of the picture. Besides he was bad news, I needed to leave that past behind me before anybody found out. I looked up at Sherlock, my eyes briefly glinting with regret.
"So you decided to come live with your big brother." He sarcastically countered, smiling as he did. The smart arse probably thought I was just some weak little thing that ran home to her big bad brother at the first sign of trouble. He clearly didn't know the whole story.
"Yeah. It's better than nothing. By the way, where is John?" I inquired, hoping that I'd be able to see my brother soon. I needed to have a word with him about leaving his little sister stranded in the middle of London.
"He's out getting the shopping. He should be back in next ten or fifteen minutes." Sherlock replied nonchalantly, pulling out a book from the bookshelf and sitting in his chair.
"Alright. Do you mind if I hang out here then?" I asked, not even going to take no for an answer.
"I rather you didn't but considering you're John's sister you're welcome to do whatever you want." He stated, not even looking up from his book.
"Alright . Be that way." I replied playfully, staring boredly up at the ceiling. I considered going to my mind palace but when I was in the presence of another human being it wasn't the best idea in the world. I didn't really want to do anything boring such as simply sitting there and counting the dust specks on the ceiling… and I hadn't necessarily made Sherlock snap yet … so that's what I would do.
"So what do you do around here for fun?" I asked after a few minutes of awkward silence, deciding on how I would make Sherlock angry. I knew he hated stupid questions in general, and he was trying to read a book … so simply engaging in conversation would probably set him off.
As if to prove me correct a second after I had questioned him, he looked up from his book and shot me a menacing glare.
"Ugh! Shut up." Sherlock snapped, watching as my lips curved into a tiny smile.
"Oh I see, you're trying to read." I stated in amusement, watching him glance over the pages. It was working, he was getting fed up!
"Yes, and it would be nice if you would just shut up." He replied in irritation. My eyes widening in astonishment. If I knew he would snap this quickly, I wouldn't have even given any effort to make him snap!
"Well, tough." I stated, slowly regaining my composure back. If he wanted me to shut up he could kiss my arse. I didn't give a damn what other people wanted, I would do what I wanted when I wanted and no one could tell me otherwise.
"Wait, what?" He asked in surprise, staring at me in confusion.
"I can talk if I want to. It's called freedom of speech." I clarified, shooting him an innocent smile. Legally I could talk if I wanted to, it was after all in the constitution … although that was in America, not England. So did that me that it didn't count? Or did it count, since I lived in America before? Well, it didn't matter what counted, I spoke my mind and to me that was freedom of speech. I'd make it legal if I had to.
"Yes, well you may have freedom of speech, but this is my flat." He responded in exasperation, not even noticing the fact that freedom of speech technically wasn't even applied to this country.
"Oh yes, the flat that my brother who happens to be your flatmate invited me to stay in. So I'm welcome to talk here just as well as anywhere. So if you want to read go somewhere else." I demanded, pointing in the general direction of the hallway that I assumed lead to his bedroom.
"I'll be in my room!" Sherlock exclaimed as he threw his book to the floor and stomped off in a huff in the area I had pointed out. The loud sound of his door slamming shut resounding off the walls a minute later.
I got up from the couch and walked over to where Sherlock's book lay discarded on the dusty floor, and gently picked it up, dusting off the cover in one fluid motion.
"Geez, He's such a child, how does John deal with him! I would not be able to deal with that twenty four seven, that's just too much." I mumbled quietly to myself as I stared off in the direction he had stormed off. He certainly got angry very quickly, which helped me to figure out what not to do around him. I walked to Sherlock's chair, lost deep in my thoughts and sat down, glancing carefully down at the book still in my hands.
"How old is he? I haven't read the Hobbit series since I was eleven!" I exclaimed aloud to the empty flat. Sherlock was going to be quite the person to hang around with for the next couple of months. And maybe just maybe he would end up liking her and not begging John to murder her so he could solve it. Maybe just maybe she wouldn't end up killing him for being an utter twat. And hopefully at the end of all of this they would become the best of friends. Sherlock was the strangest of people, in fact he was a mystery. A mystery that I couldn't wait to unravel. He was my puzzle, my game of chess, and it was his move now. I'd figure him out soon enough, he wouldn't be able to hide from me forever. There's only so much time before someone wins the game of life, and I never lost. The game is on, and there was no turning back now. I was finally home, and I was finally myself. Abrielle Watson was back in the game, and I would win. I always win.