How do I even begin to explain what a difference has been made in the world? How do I write the story of - No, that's not right. John shook his head, deleting the last few sentences. He'd been trying to write a new post on his blog, but had gotten stuck. He'd been typing away for hours, but nothing seemed quite right. Mercifully, he was distracted by Mrs. Hudson, who knocked on the door as she walked in. "Yoo-hoo, are you boys around?"
John set aside his laptop, saying, "Sherlock's out, but I don't have anything planned."
"Good. I need you to help me move some boxes," Mrs. Hudson smiled, John following her into the hallway and marvelling at the stacks of moving bins that had been piled up.
"What's going on?" John asked, picking up a plastic box labeled 'clothes'. "You aren't leaving Baker Street, are you?"
"Oh, no, dear. Quite the opposite. You boys are finally getting a new neighbor. Someone's renting 221C." Mrs. Hudson picked up a box of linens, carrying it to the flat, which had been repainted and was slowly filling with different things.
She was just about to add more when a corgi ran in front of them, barking and looking for attention. "Chester, come back here!" A redhead ran over, scooping up the dog. She turned to the others, explaining, "I'm so sorry. I had him in his cage, since I was moving in." She shifted the dog, freeing her right hand to shake John's. "Alice Reilly. You're John Watson, aren't you? Mrs. Hudson told me."
"Ah, right," John nodded, setting the box down and looking about the flat. As Mrs. Hudson went back for another box, he leaned in to ask, "You really want to live here? I mean, you've heard about Sherlock?"
Alice nodded, smiling sympathetically. "Mrs. Hudson warned me, don't worry. To be fair, I work for Scotland Yard, so I'm in and out of the house at all hours. And I can sleep through a lot."
"Scotland Yard? What division?" John asked as they headed back to the pile of boxes in the front hall.
Alice picked up a cardboard box of books, telling him, "I'm in homicide and violent crimes. I've heard you two are there a lot."
John nodded. He and Sherlock were there a lot, and they had noticed the new cubicle in Lestrade's division. While they'd seen someone's things being moved in, they hadn't met the new sergeant. Mrs. Hudson stopped them on the stairs to ask, "Should I set the kitchen things on the countertops?"
"That's fine, Mrs. Hudson," Alice nodded, picking up another box.
It took them half an hour to get everything into the flat and organized by room. While John helped Alice unpack the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson began to make tea, telling them both that, "I'll cook tonight, if you two want. John, text Sherlock and let him know, just in case he's home." She set down two mugs before going up to her flat with an, "I'll see you around 7, alright?"
John stayed to help Alice unpack, telling her all about life at Baker Street. "We get people coming up to consult at all hours, and sometimes we're broken into for no reason. What else is there to know? Sherlock's… well, he's Sherlock. He's quite a character, as you probably know."
"So I've heard," Alice nodded, stacking plates in a cabinet. "I've read his blog. And I've read yours, to be honest. I wanted to know who I'd be living near, and who my neighbors would be. He seems like quite a character. I guess I'll see this evening, won't I?"
Sure enough, she did. When Alice got to Mrs. Hudson's flat, she'd barely stepped through the door when Sherlock began talking. "John says I had to come and be social. So hello. I'm Sherlock Holmes, your neighbor, consulting detective, all of those pleasantries that people use. Talk about work, about themselves - well, I do that a lot - ask you how you're doing, not that they really care-"
"Sherlock, dear, be nice," Mrs. Hudson warned, giving Alice a hug and taking the plate of dessert that she had brought. "Thank you."
"Alice Reilly," Alice smiled, shaking Sherlock's hand as he regarded her thoughtfully. "I'll be working with you too. I'm in homicide and violent crimes over at the Yard."
"Hmm, I see. I'm sure John and Mrs. Hudson have told you all about me already. I do my work at all hours of the day, play the violin when I'm bored, and you'll hear random bouts of gunfire from our flat. Does any of that bother you?" He turned to look at her from the window, where he had paced over while he was talking.
"No."
"Then you're either more interesting than I thought, or you already knew all of that."
"The latter."
"Oh, really?" He paced back, asking, "How do you know?"
Alice smiled, speaking quickly as she outlined the facts. "John told me about the work, but then again, with consulting work, it's really 24/7 no matter what you do. You've go a violinist's hands, and you've got rosin under your nails. That means either you've been doing a lot of work in music shops lately, or you've been playing music a lot. But you were out all day today, which means you've got another case. The random bouts of gunfire are obvious enough. There's a bullet hole in the ceiling of my kitchen, which is right under your sitting room. So either someone shot at one of you in there, or you did that. I'd have bet on the latter, since you seem like the kind of person who gets bored easily but hates leaving the house if it isn't for work or for something incredibly interesting. So the local shooting galleries are out, which means you shoot at the walls."
"Interesting, and all sufficiently correct." Sherlock paused for a second before adding, "Now John."
"Oh, no, don't make me a part of your test," John instructed. "I'm going to help Mrs. Hudson with dinner. You two talk and get along." He left the room, but Alice turned to Sherlock and started talking.
"Ex-soldier who's been wounded in battle. I'd say left shoulder, but he carries himself like he was limping for a while. I'd say psychosomatic, coinciding with the shoulder wound. He's a blogger, you can tell by the hands. Not a computer tech or anything, since he remarked about being a doctor earlier. But he has a typist's hands. So he writes a blog. Maybe part of therapy. He's been out today, doing the shopping, but then he came to help me move in. Seems like a nice enough fellow." She paused, but Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Fine, he's been out to the store, most likely the one a few blocks down. How do I know? There's dried mud on his shoes, and that road always stays muddy, even a few days after a decent rainstorm. Plus he had a receipt shoved into his coat pocket. Have I passed your test?"
"How many steps are there leading up to this flat?"
Alice had no trouble answering that question. "Seventeen."
"Seventeen? I've lived here for years, and I don't even know that," John remarked as he carried out a stack of plates from the kitchen, set them on the table, and went back to help Mrs. Hudson carry dishes or food out to the dining room.
Sherlock nodded slowly, taking a sip of his tea. "Curious."
"What's curious?"
"Curious that you have a certain gift. Most people pass things every day and yet never notice them, like John with the steps. But you, Miss Alice, seem to have a knack for observing things, instead of just seeing them." He flopped down into a chair, throwing his legs over the side restlessly. "You will make a promising Scotland Yard employee."
"Thank you, I guess." She took a seat across from him. "I'm glad I've finally gained your approval to have my job. It's not like I went through an interview process."
"Oh, Lestrade would hire a monkey if it knew how to type and make phone calls," Sherlock scoffed. "I, personally, have a much better screening process."
"You're not the one who hired me, though," Alice smiled.
"I do like to know a thing or two about the neighbors," Sherlock told her. "And yes, I am hiring you. If I ever need a pair of eyes in Scotland Yard, if I ever need someone to do legwork on a case that isn't at least a 7, I'll call on you."
"Thank you," she said hesitantly. "What does that mean, though?"
"Oh, you know what it means. Danger. Blood and guts. Maybe even a little glory. But the game is worth all of it," he assured her, jumping up again as Mrs. Hudson called them for dinner. "I expect you to be ready to be called in tomorrow morning. The rest of Scotland Yard is useless, so I'll have to rely on you."
A.N.: So here I am, writing more about Sherlock. I always seem to come back to it. I had a new idea, for some new plot twists and the like. So I'm going to be writing a lot more consistently (minus finals week, when things get stressful), but overall, I'll try to post a lot more often and write something even more intricate and even more Sherlockian. It's a process. But thank you all for sticking with me. It means a lot. As always, any questions, comments, suggestions, or PM's are welcome. Love you all!