Chapter 1
"Ugh!" Sherlock muttered. John rolled his eyes woefully. He hadn't had a single case in over a month and his patience was wearing dangerously thin. The lack of any real stimuli was almost painfully suffocating. Either the police were getting smarter or the criminals were getting dumber. Sherlock let out a small smile. He highly doubted the former.
"John, I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back soon." Sherlock called out, as he shrugged on his long grey coat and loosely wrapped his blue scarf around his neck.
"Get some milk while you're out, will you?" John asked hopefully. Sherlock chuckled "Never." He heard John sigh as he departed down the steps of 221B Baker Street, into the cool, crisp breeze of the early morning streets.
Pulling his leather gloves put of his deep pockets and onto his paling hands and tightening his scarf, he casually strolled down the pavement.
Nothing interesting.
He only saw about three people anyway, all just going about their business. Well, expect the second one, who was going to meet his mistress, but that was blindingly obvious anyway. What investment banker goes out at 11pm wearing hoodie and keeping his head down? A cheating one.
Sigh. When did the world become so dreadfully dull?
He was half-way turning around to go back to Baker Street, when his eyes caught sight of a wild, curly mass of red-ginger hair, peeking out from among the piled up rubbish bins and tips.
How intriguing.
He shuffled closer, silently, so as not to make his presence aware. There he found a young woman, sitting quietly, and fiddling with her finger nails nervously. "You are not homeless" Sherlock stated, slightly bemused by her situation. She looked up, confused as to why this man was talking to her.
"No. No, I'm not." She sighed, pushing aside her pride "I'm lost actually. How did you know I'm not homeless?" Sherlock smiled. A new challenge.
"Apart from the fact that you are wearing at least 2 carat gold earrings and designer high heels? Not typically homeless attire, might I say" Sherlock questioned, more to himself than her, "You don't smell very homeless," Sherlock was cut off by her abrupt laughter.
"Well that's nice to know!" Sherlock grinned ever so slightly. Her laugh was precariously contagious.
He continued "You're an artist and you play the guitar. You're an only child from a wealthy family but you don't like to rely on them...too much. You are quite independent; you don't expect anyone to look after you. Your father left your mother when you were young and you haven't seen him since. Your mother never really coped with his absence, she loved him and she died last year" Sherlock stopped, watching carefully for a reaction.
"How on earth could you know so much about me? Have you been stalking me? Are you some night-crawler or something because I swear I will call the-"She ranted off until Sherlock stopped her. "I am not a night-crawler and I do not stalk you. I am not that bored" Sherlock told her. "Then explain how you know my life story!" She exclaimed frustrated.
"That you are an artist? Easy. You have callouses on your fingers where you hold your pencil for long periods of time at a go. Very dedicated, I see" Sherlock cocked his head to the side "That you play the guitar? You have incredible long fingers, often cause by playing an instrument that requires you to stretch your fingers. Piano? No, you don't look like one for the piano. Or a violin for that matter. So guitar then" Sherlock supposed.
"My fingers seem to give away a lot of information about me" She wondered vacantly. "They do. Also, your necklace says "Best Daughter". Imagine the rivalry THAT would have caused if you had any sisters! You hold yourself like a proper lady, no doubt you've had lessons on it. They I would be surprised if you had any male presence at home at all. No brothers or father. Now, how on earth could an artist afford a 2 carat gold earrings and designer shoes? I'm guessing that you don't work considering its Wednesday tomorrow and you were content on just sitting here. So, affluent family, your mother was probably somewhat in the public eye. Also, you're not British. You're American from New York I suspect but you came to London a while ago, but you still haven't lost your accent no matter how hard you tried."
The lady nodded absently smiling, clearly reflecting, however Sherlock took this a signal to continue "You have a small tattoo on your ankle of someone's birth and death year, 1955? That would have made them 55 years old, now who would you know who would have been around that age? Well, it must have been someone pretty close to you for you to get a tattoo. I'm guessing that your lack of a father made your bond with your mother rather tight" Sherlock finished.
She nodded once again, though this time, much more sadly. "I'm sorry, did I upset you?" Sherlock questioned cautiously. "No, no. I'm fine really" She lied. She never really liked thinking about her dysfunctional family life or her parents. Sherlock looked slightly sceptically.
"But, there is one thing that I don't know," Sherlock supposed. She arched a eyebrow, suspiciously "What your name is" She laughed, almost in disbelief. "You are an odd one! You can tell my whole life story but not my name?" She questioned. Sherlock shrugged. "Esme Valentina, It's a pleasure to meet you..." Esme's voice trailed off slightly "Sherlock Holmes, you have quite a lovely name" He answered quickly, looking at the floor, which had suddenly become extremely fascinating. Esme flushed red "Thank you" "Anyway, Ms Valentina, enough chit-chat! Up you get, now where do you live?" Sherlock enquired. Esme stood up from her hiding place and Sherlock politely looked away as she straighten and pulled down her rather short dress, which had ridden up her thigh.
"Salford Street" Esme replied. "Come on, that's not far, we can walk it" Sherlock had already started to stroll in the direction of her street when Esme called after him "Mr Holmes, you don't have to escort me home, really I don't want to waste anymore of your time. Just tell me the directions and I'll be one my way"
"Ms Valentina," "Miss. Sorry, it's Miss" Esme interjected before realising she had been slightly rude . "Miss Valentina, You did not waste my time at all. In fact, I found our small conversation rather enjoyable" She smiled "I would be my pleasure to walk you home, and it wouldn't be very gentlemanly like of me to just send you off, would it?" "Thank you, I-I'm flattered" She replied gratefully. And with that they set off on the short walk to Esme's street.
They walked in silence, albeit, a comfortable silence.
They reached her house in approximately 10 minutes and Esme walked up the three steps to her doors and then turned around, to where Sherlock waited at the bottom of the stairs. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me and see me home, Mr Holmes" She declared. "Again, it was my pleasure" Sherlock divulged simply. "Do you think that I will be seeing you again anytime soon?" Esme spoke hopefully.
Ok, she had to admit. She found him attractive. Mid-length black curly hair, razor sharp cheekbones, light gray irises that almost seemed to melt and disappear into his eyes and an ultra tall and slim but muscular figure. Delicious.
"Oh Miss Valentina, I think we've had enough of each other for one night!" Sherlock chuckled, but Esme's face fell. "But how about this Friday?" Esme smiled "It's a date!"
"Goodnight, Miss Valentina." Sherlock replied.
"Goodnight...Sherlock."
(Sherlock's thoughts)
Did that just happen? Did I just ask a girl out on a date? She accepted. Of course she accepted, it's me. I have a date. Wait, what do normal people do on dates? I barely know the girl! But there's something about her. Something different. She's quite pretty too, I'll admit. Soft, almost pixie like features, tall and slender and as pale as death. Her hair was quite literally crazy, with wild auburn curls. Auburn. What an intriguing colour.
Oh, what would John say?
Probably blog about it. I could imagine it now. "SHERLOCK HAS A DATE L-O-L!"
Or whatever internet slang, illiterate people use these days.
A/N: Hmm, I'm not too sure about this chapter. Tell me if you think I should continue! Thank you for reading! x