Evangalique Swann jumped out of the cab, sucking in a lungful of fresh- well, not so fresh- air, her thin t-shirt, and leggings hugged her spindly frame as she walked down the pavement a little toward Scotland Yard. Her first day on a new job. Her arms wrapped around her middle, almost protectively, as she reached the doors, her anorexia was doing nothing to help her energy levels, all she'd had to eat in the past weekend was a large macdonalds fries, which to her.. was way too much. Eva walked up to the main desk after walking through, feeling confident in her new hooker boots, but the air of self-conciousness still lingered around her mind. Imperfect, imperfect, imperfect... "Hello," She said in her strong-but-soft clean cut English accent, "I am Evangalique Swann, Here for the..?" she trailed off, and the portly receptionist smiled at her, "Ah, yes." She said, "We're expecting you." /how cliché../ Eva thought, suppressing an eyeroll. The woman rose from her seat with some sort of difficulty, and grinned way too happily, leading her down the hall, and kept speaking, "okay, there's another on this case, he's, ah, hard.. to work with, i mean, of course, which is why he's working it alone." Eva just nodded, clinging to herself, head down... imperfect, imperfect, imperfect, "But, we decided to put you with him, show you the ropes, you know.." They stopped at the door, a clear door, with nothing written on it as to indicate whom waited behind it. The receptionist turned and dashed down the hallway, leaving Evangalique standing there, awkward as ever. Eventually, she gained the courage to raise her fist and knock, but before she could, a voice called from the inside, "Only come in if you have something interesting to give." She sighed, and opened the door, standing there, "Hello," she bagan, "I am-"
"Evangalique Swann, Yes, i know." Said a man, about her age, maybe a year or so older, sitting at a table, head bent, his black-as-night curls shining ever so slightly in the pale lamplight, his fingers were steepled, eyes shut, face fathomless. He slowly opened his eyes, which were just as dark as his hair and flickered his eyes over her tiny frame. She felt her lower lip tug into her mouth, teeth tugging on the soft flesh. He leant back in his seat, "So you're going to be working with me." And at that, he didn't seem happy. Eva nodded slightly, and took a seat opposite him. "Here's the case notes." He slid a file across the table, and she opened it, letting him go back to his, uh, thinking. "I'm sorry." She said, coughing to clear her throat, "I didn't catch your name," She crooked an eyebrow and waited. "Sherlock." He said, raising his head once more, with a slight smirk, "Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock Holmes, sociopathic, mysterious and yet darkly attractive Sherlock Holmes. She smirked back at him, "Well, Mr Holmes, I have a feeling this will be an excellent partnership." She said, the waves of cliché rolling off of her. He shrugged offhandedly, but the smirk still remained, making her forget all of her troubles- the anorexia- the modelling woes. "yes, Miss Swann, i think i may have to agree."