Prologue: A new face
Dr. John Watson just returned into the Baker Street together with his flat mate, the famous Sherlock Holmes, after they hunted a criminal the whole night. The only thing John wanted to do was to fall into his bed and gathered some sleep, but Sherlock seemed to be confident with the result. His blue-grey eyes glimmered in excitement, while he just wanted to open the door of their apartment, but he hesitated.
"Sherlock? What's going on?" John asked confused and stepped aside to see, what the around head taller man had seen before. A black transporter stood in front of the door, the doors of the bot wide opened.
"A moving van" Whispered the doctor.
"Or the transporter of a thief, maybe?" Sherlock replied to him with a serious face.
"Sherlock!" John admonished his flat mate, sighed and rubbed his eyebrows. Please, not this again!
"Of course it is a moving van. That you always have to speak out the obvious things." Sherlock grumbled at him.
"I haven't known that we got a new male neighbor."
"Not a male one." Sherlock bawled and turned towards him. Although Sherlock did not say a word, it was like John could hear a "Tzz…Tz…Tzz…"
"It's a female neighbor. A young one, around 20, I guess." John sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Fine…what did I oversee this time?"
"Shall I start with the obvious things?"
"Please!" He hissed and shook his head. And now it started again: the big Sherlock Holmes Show. How nice, that he got a permanent ticket for it.
"There." The detective showed on a box that stood right in front of the boot. With a thoughtful view, John stepped forward and watched it. John rolled with the eyes, when he saw that on the brown carton stood the word "shoes".
"Ok…" He admitted. "That was pretty obvious. But how do you know, that she's young, Sherlock?"
"Do you really think that an old woman would put her shoes into the boot that they're the first thing she would pack out? No. Then it would have been porcelain or jewelry, don't you think?" Sherlock responded with a dry tone in his voice. A sighed relieved from Johns throat.
"Ok, got it. But that isn't enough as a proof. It could have been random, because of the packing."
"Yes, properly." Admitted Sherlock and bowed his head slightly. One of his dark brown curls fall into his slim, pale face with the high cheekbone. "But do you see the carton in the back?"
He pointed out another carton. A top looked out of the lid. It was purple and glimmered.
"Obviously interested in fashion. Inspired by Chanel, but it isn't an original piece. The cloth is too cheap for that. Not to speak about how it was sewed. Conclusion: Our new neighbor is fashion-conscious and this model is out of the new season, so I would say rather young."
"Just a moment…" John spluttered. "Since when do you have knowledge in fashion, Sherlock?"
"You have to be proficient in many things, my dear John." Answered Sherlock calmly and started to go around the transporter.
"For God's Sake, what are you doing?" Whispered the ex-military doctor and followed his flat mate.
"What I'm wondering about is…" Sherlock murmured like he hasn't heard Johns question. "How could a young woman have enough money for a flat in the center of London?"
"Sherlock!" Hissed John and tried to pull his friend away, but Sherlock did not let himself being misled.
"Uh…Can I help you?" A female, skeptical voice asked. John blushed immediately and stood up, while Sherlock continued to investigate unabashed the wheels of the transporter.
"Excuse us, young Lady, we don't want to be impolite…we…" What should John say?
"God damn it! Sherlock, stop it!" He angrily hissed at Sherlock.
"Why should I?" Replied Sherlock innocently.
"My name is John Watson and this…" John thought about how he should introduce Sherlock the best way, but she may know who he was. Sherlocks name was quite famous. His hand fawned unsecure through the air and sighed. "This lovely man is Sherlock Holmes."
He held out his hand in greeting, and after a few moments of hesitation, she grabbed his hand.
"Catherine Amell." She introduced herself, but she had an eye on the Consulting Detective.
John used the time to have a look on their new neighbor. Sherlock had been right. She was young, around 22 he guessed, and had long, bright brown hair which built curls in the hair tips. Bright, blue eyes watched Sherlock skeptically, who kneeled in front of a wheel and brayed earth between his fingertips. John war irritated. Sherlock never took an assay with bare hands. The young woman raised an eyebrow and twisted her pearly lips.
"Sherlock…for heaven's sake, stop it!" John shouted at Sherlocks face. The situation was unpleasant for him, but unfortunately his flat mate couldn't be stopped. He gripped the arms of the dark-haired man, grumbled and pulled him away from the wheel.
"John…let me go…John!" Grumbled the taller man and stood up finally. His eyes threw a gaze towards the woman. Secretly, John rolled his eyes. Not this again! As if the whole situation wasn't strange enough for the new neighbor. She shifted from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable, but she defensed herself against the searching gaze out of the grey-blue eyes. John nodded approvingly. Not all could say that from themself.
"Catherine Amell, Age 22…" Sherlock started his deduction immediately. Catherine narrowed an eyebrow and watched the situation carefully. "Originally from Cardiff. Probably moved here for study. History or philosophy in the first semester, I guess. A passionate cavalier and fashion victim, but not so much that you would describe her as a fashion doll." Sherlock glanced and looked at Catherine intensively now, stepped up to her. For John's surprise, she did moved back; instead she even turned slightly on her tiptoe, looked back at Sherlock and stretched out her chin.
She was about a head smaller than Sherlock, nearly as tall as John, so that she needed to make herself big to look into his eyes. John looked from one to another.
"Impressive." She said sarcastically.
"Just a warm up." Replied Sherlock calmly and his corners of the mouth jerked. He enjoyed it, but John noticed that Catherines admiration wasn't as big as Johns had been when he had met Sherlock for the first time.
"What else have you noticed yet? That was certainly not all. Most could have been read out of the transporter easily." Catherine remarked briefly and narrowed an eyebrow. The famous Sherlock Holmes barrowed his slim head and seemed even a bit frustrated. By God, what kind of game were they both playing? John ran his hand through his short, ash-blond hair. Typical for Sherlock. He always searched for confirmation, but he did not get it from Catherine. Not yet. John knew that Sherlock had already found out a lot more about the young woman as he showed and now every detail would be revealed no matter how intimate it was.
"Sherlock…" He tried to dissuade his friend in a calm tone. To get her deepest secrets spread out on a public street could be disturbing. He grabbed the cloth of the wool coat gently, trying to pull Sherlock away, but the slim, almost frail Sherlock was unusually strong and did not move a millimeter.
"Come on, Sherlock, let it be!" He shouldn't have done that. An evil look by Sherlock was the answer, before he turned back to Catherine. She still looked challenging back at him, her arms crossed in front of her body. The gray-blue eyes of Sherlock wandered over her arms and hands and he got certainly more conclusions. John sighed and gave up. Sherlock was unstoppable now; he knew his flat mate well enough.
"Why, John? She seemed to be curious about what I've found out." Sherlock replied discontentedly in his deep baritone, which normally appears, when danger was appearing. The blond-haired man sighed and stepped aside. Not good, really not good. Sherlock never knew when to stop and he didn't care about social conventions. He was justly known as a freak or a sociopath in the homicide of Scotland Yard.
Catherine snorted and put a strand of hair beyond her ear, while the doctor gave up, sighed. He knew that Sherlock was unstoppable.
"I'd rather know why you go around my van. Is this the way how to be welcomed as a neighbor in London?" She asked mockingly, closing the doors of her van as a precaution.
"Only if you have a sociopath as a neighbor, but yes, for Sherlock it may be a normal greeting ritual." Sneered John before he got thrown an impenetrable gaze.
"All right, Mr. Holmes. Bring it on. I'd love to unwrap my transporter before it starts raining." Instead of replying, Sherlocks lips twitched amused. Apparently, he seemed to be pleased with Catherine- or in other words: she did not bore him completely.
As Sherlock wanted to say something, Catherine raised her hand and stopped him. The black-haired saw irritated to her, but Catherine just smiled slightly.
"How about a deal?"
"What kind of deal could you offer to me?" Sherlock asked deprecatorily and raised an eyebrow. Catherines got back on her foot sole and crossed her arms in front of her chest again.
"How about this? If you help me carry my boxes into my flat and I allow you to analyze about me as much as you want?" Sherlocks lips curled scornfully and he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.
"Why should I do that? I'm able to do it right here. I know everything yet."
"Yeah…", Catherine started and a small grin let her mound twitched. "But my apartment is already fully furnished and I'm sure it tells you even more about me and afterwards I'd say, what was right." John grinned now as well. Now she got Sherlock.
"I'm always right." His voice was icy and he threw an angry look at Catherine.
"Are you really sure about that?" She grinned evilly and nodded encouragingly. John looked surprised at his new neighbor and could hardly suppress a smile when he saw Sherlocks derailed face. Just the idea that Sherlock could have been wrong in his deduction was unthinkable for him. The new woman had really struck a nerve now and John liked her a little more. Just to see Sherlock like this was worth the unpleasant situation.
Sherlock seemed to weight the offer. Thoughtfully, he had folded his hands over his mouth- as he always did when I was thinking strongly. He had closed his gray-blue eyes, while a cold breeze played through dark brown curls. After several minutes he finally opened his eyes.
"John, help her unpack." And then Sherlock disappeared into the door of 221b Baker Street.
"What…hey, Sherlock! Why should I…" John shouted irritated after him, but his flat mate was already gone. He looked after the Consulting Detective, the green door had been shut already. That could not be true! Was he Sherlocks sidekick or what? A frustrated sigh escaped him and he looked at Catherine, who chuckled in amusement.
"A really interesting way to say welcome. I believe that London could be exciting." She murmured softly, tugging at her clothes. She replied Johns view, while a bigger grin twitched in her mouths corner. "What a strange guy." She said simply and only shrugged her shoulders.
"That's an understatement." John laughed.
"But he does not seem to be a sociopath." Catherine murmured again, this time so quiet that John could barely understand it. Just before he could ask, she continued:
"Come on, Mr. Watson. There are only four boxes left and they're not heavy. If you help me, I don't need to come down a second time." She looked at him with a sugar-sweet gaze, but John wasn't really moved. Catherine saw it and grinned again.
"The deal was for Sherlock, not for me." He replied frustrated and looked up to their window. Meanwhile light glowed in her room and he saw Sherlock's lean figure, which was applied across the room. Apparently he thought about the new situation.
"But you're curious. You show it even more than your friend. So, Mr. Watson, be a gentleman and help your new neighbor." She looked again at him and grinned even wider.
"I'm sure you don't want to miss the show." Confused John furrowed his brow.
"Show?" Catherine nodded, her grin was almost vicious. Something deep inside him said to John, that he really wanted to see what Catherine was talking about.
"I'm gonna knock your friend for a loop. He was wrong in two things." Her grin was now almost radiant and the former military doctor looked surprised.
"Sherlock was wrong? Are you serious? Sherlock Holmes was wrong?" John laughed and walked up to the van.
"Oh yes, he is."
"I have to see that, really." John could not deny it no more. He wanted to see it. Definitely. Just to see Sherlocks face when she opened towards him that he had been wrong was totally worth carrying some boxes. Oh, he started to like this girl. Pretty much. She was going to affront Sherlock and keep him on his toes. This was going to be interesting.
"Then help me unpack or the deal is done."
"Ok, that's definitely worth it." The young woman grinned and tied her hair up.
While Catherine opened the doors of her van and snapped the two boxes in the front, John took the one remaining. Meanwhile they walked to the entrance of 220 Baker Street, he finally said with amusement:
"Oh and Catherine…"
"Hmmm?" She turned around and watched John questioningly.
"Welcome to the Baker Street." His grin was returned and the young woman just said with a smile:
"Thanks…I think I should maybe look for a new apartment."
"If you love peace, you should consider it."
"No…" Catherine answered now clearly serious and quiet. "No, not really."
Sherlock came out of the apartment. He waited for them and watched them. John carried obediently the boxes into the apartment. John grinned at Sherlock, which irritated the Detective and immediately he tried to read his face, but he turned his head away to avoid that he could deduce something and followed Catherine in her apartment.
Catherines flat was in the house next to 221b and was in the second floor. It was a small, but cute apartment with four rooms- bath and kitchen included. The style of their furniture was rather rustic, fitting for the old flair of this street. A leather chair stood in front of a fireplace and next to it stood a ceiling-high bookshelf. At the other end of the room was a three-meter long desk. The kitchen was rather simple. Stove, fridge, some cupboards and a dishwasher.
The furniture was unusual for a student. The apartment was rather sparse, but all of them were from high quality and expensive, too expensive for a student. John had to give Sherlock right. How could a student afford such an apartment? Especially since the flats were sold in the center preferred. Their apartment was Mrs. Hudson actually the owner. They were only tenants.
"Where should I put those boxes?" John asked as he walked into the cozy apartment.
"Oh, just somewhere. I have not a closet for the shoes yet." Said Catherine and disappeared into the kitchen. Sherlock had entered the room after them and his eyes wandered around the room.
"Could you please close the door, Mr. Holmes, before you're gonna start?" She asked, peering around the corner. Sherlock hesitated a few moments, but then followed the request to Johns surprise.
"Tea?" her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, before she began to boil water.
"I'd prefer coffee." Said John. It had been a long night and he would like to sleep, but he needed just caffeine to stay awake.
"With two piece of sugar." Came from Sherlock. John threw an annoyed look towards his flat mate. Civility has never been his strength. Catherine just rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen, searched the coups, cursed, because nothing was where it should be and then came back. She put the steaming cups in front of their visitors and sat down on the couch.
"Well, let the game begin. I'm curious how much you have discovered." Said Catherine and she crossed her legs. Carefully, she sipped her coffee. Sherlock let his gaze wandering through the room for the last time.
"You're not artistically talented, but you like it. You love music, playing piano. Your taste of music itself is diversified. Technique is not your area. Although you have a smart phone, you use it just for calls or SMS. You cannot cook as well." Sherlock sipped his coffee and watched the emotions of Catherine exactly. She tried to hide them as good as possible, trying to avoid telling him unconscious if he's right or wrong. John was sure that Sherlock still could read something in her face, but for him it was not possible to say if Sherlock was right.
"Next?" She asked quietly and took a swig. Sherlock grinned sadistically. Soon he would show his greatest triumph. John would like to protect the young woman before it, because he felt that Sherlock had discovered something very savory and he would keep that until the very end. A smile played on his lips. He wanted to impress her no matter what it's going to cost.
"Shall I continue with the obvious or head towards the private things?" He asked quietly, taking a sip of coffee. If it was uncomfortable for Catherine, she was doing pretty well in hiding it. Her bright blue eyes watched Sherlock emotionless and she waited.
"I'd like to know everything, so I know how much I could keep and how much you already know about me. Then I know where I stand." She finally said and sighed. John felt sorry for her. Catherine was still young, even though they were very mature and tried to hide it, he had long noticed that something was wrong.
"A wise decision." It sounded almost like a compliment from Sherlocks mouth and a small smile played on his lips again. Finally he stood up and walked through the apartment, watched some furniture accurate and flipped through books.
Catherine gave John a look that asked if Sherlock was always behaving like this, but John could only shrug his shoulders, meaning that it was common, unfortunately. She nodded slightly and her eyes went back to Sherlock, who had turned back to her now.
"You're more the shy kind of person, but you're trying to change this now. New clothes, new haircut. Your hair tips are not yet grown out, so I'd say you were at the hairdresser within the last two weeks. Also, you do not wear makeup very often. Your eyeliner is blurry and you can the edge of your foundation. Plus your skin has a light ax, because she's not used to make up. Conclusion is, that you trying a new start here. Were you unpopular at school or weren't you even noticed? Did no one see you what are you trying to hide so desperately?" Sherlock grinned, when he realized, that he brought Catherine out of countenance. She was biting her bottom lip and avoided his gaze. With a sip from the cup she was trying to escape the situation. Sherlock slowly walked towards her, the searching gaze still on her. He was apparently confident that he had broken her fighting spirit. John saw, that Sherlock was still keeping something. Finally, he stopped in front of Catherine, leaning forward so far that their faces were only inches apart. An evil grin played across Sherlock full lips before he breathed very softly, so John could barely understand it:
"You were so insignificant that you are still a virgin, Catherine Amell." Silence. With wide eyes the young woman saw up to him and he stood up again. "Well, how was that?"
An amused smile was on his lips, while John has blushed. He had expecting nearly everything that Sherlock could have found out, but not that he would deduce that. He nearly spitted his coffee. No wonder, that Sherlock had been amused all the time.
"Sherlock!" He gasped horrified, but Sherlock still looked at Catherine, who sighed and looked up after a few moments.
"Am I right, Miss Amell?"
"Does that matter? Even if your assumption was untrue, and I would tell you that, you would not believe me. What sense would this make?"
"So it's true." Said Sherlock satisfied. The young woman sighed again.
"Yes, it's true." She said dryly without a blush. John could not believe it. She admitted something so intimal like this? And that without becoming embarrassed?
"You're smart." The dark-haired sat back in his chair. "Smarter than the most."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Catherine was visibly upset, but gave effort to stay calm. John could see this. Her nostrils flared as she forced herself to breathe out and she closed her eyes to calm herself down.
"May I know how you find this out?" She slowly got up and stood right in front of Sherlock. "You didn't touch my hymen, didn't you? I could say that it's not intact because of other reasons."
John was just embarrassed and would prefer to escape from the apartment. By God, what kind of people are these two? Do they have no reverence?
His flat mate simply laughed and leaned down to her.
"She's quick on the comeback as well. Interesting. No, of course I have not."
"Fine, otherwise that would make me seriously concerned." She said dryly and pushed a pony strand from her face. "So, how did you do that?"
"I've guessed more or less."
"Guessed? Sherlock, you never shot in the blue. Especially not with such a thing." Exclaimed John. Sherlock spun around and narrowed his brows.
"Of course I don't guess without a hint just to see her reaction. For God's sake, I thought you know me better, John. I had no concrete evidence. As she said, I could hardly touch her hymen, but there were several clues that confirmed my suspicion." Sherlock continued annoyed and snorted.
"Such as?"
"Well, as I said earlier, you were rather shy. I have not found any boxes with photos from your friends in the entire apartment, which suggested me that you had not been particularly popular. However, you're not unattractive out of the view of society, so it must have been your behavior. So I concluded you to be shy or rather unremarkable. Another indication was your statement to John that you are not having a closet for your shoes yet. Would you really be a fashion victim, this would be one of the first things that you would build up. Or you would post on Facebook, tweet on twitter or whatever. More likely you would have checked your cell phone for SMS from your friends. Earlier, I saw you briefly watching your cell phone before you had gone into the kitchen. I was able to see your call history. It showed me that you do not use your cell phone very often. She handed back two months and showed that rather you called someone instead of being called."
Catherine raised an eyebrow and looked really impressed. That a little sentence and her cell phone could reveal so much about her personality, she probably never guessed. John never did as well until Sherlock had made his deduction about him. Maybe Sherlock was right. He saw it, but he did not notice. His comments made sense so far.
"Really impressive." She said finally appreciative. "But that's not enough for your conclusion."
"Of course not." Sherlock said. "Between the clothes that you have carelessly thrown on the bed, I found some baggy sweater and frayed jeans. Of course, each young woman has a few. For sport or for leisurely Sundays, but in your case, the ratio was unbalanced, which showed me that you had never paid attention to fashion, as I initially thought. You always twitched on your skirt and played with your hair, which indicates that you're still not familiar with it. I guess you hair was mostly worn as a ponytail. Along with my knowledge regarding the make-up and that you, as a young passed by and watched you interested, avoided his gaze shyly reinforced my suspicions. Perhaps you have problems of talking to people in your age. You're not familiar with the subjects they're talking about and your sarcasm is normally not understood. So you trying to avoid him and that make you feel uncertain. This is noticed by other people and you were probably seen as weird. With John and me it's something different. We are too old and out of the…" –Sherlock made quotation marks with his fingers- "danger zone. You've noticed that we're using sarcasm ourselves, so that you're showing your true self now. A classical mistake: You're thinking too much about what somebody might think about you and trying to get along with everybody- or at least do not make unpleasant impression.
"Something that would probably never happen to you, right, Mr. Holmes?" Catherine replied acidly and gave him an appraising look.
"Of course not." Sherlock grinned. "Then life would be so boring." John sighed and rubbed his eyebrows. Gradually he was going to get a headache.
"There were other clues as well. On your call list was not a single boy name." Continued the Consulting Detective calmly while he watched Catherine. He stared back impassively. Somehow, she knew that there was no turning back. She could not hide anything from Sherlock. John saw that his friend had great fun and he was in top form. He formally awaited that Catherine would demand.
"I would be possible that I just haven't a relationship for a long time." And she already was doing him a favor.
"Of course, but since I had discovered no former gifts, souvenir photos or other evidence of a relationship, I could be quite sure. There were not even torn photos. Along with my other findings, the probability was higher, that this is not the case."
Catherine closed her eyes and stood up, walked to the window and stared out of it for a while the sun went down gradually. For the first time in a long time Sherlocks eyes wandered back to John. He twisted his face and shook his head.
'What?' Asked the gray-blue eyes.
'Timing!' His own answered.
'Not good?' A confused expression wandered into Sherlocks eyes. John sighed and rolled his eyes. Sherlock would never understand. He could just speak Chinese as well. Although the probability was high that his flat mate would understand Chinese.
Suddenly a sarcastic clap broke through the uncomfortable silence and both- the Consulting Detective and the Afghanistan veteran- turned around surprised. Catherine had turned around now and threw a withering look at Sherlock.
"Excellent…really excellent, Mr. Holmes." Her voice was acidified and apparently she felt hurt in her privacy.
"I just did what you asked." Sherlock replied, but Catherine let him shut up with an angry look.
"It's really impressive how much private things you've found out in such a short time…but though it's even more surprising that you were wrong in such obvious things." A slender eyebrow rose and she leaned against the window sill.
"Wrong?" Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth. "I am never wrong."
"But you are and I can prove it pretty easy." She walked into a backpack, who was standing carelessly in the corner, and pulled out her purse. Apart from the usual cards and some cash, John discovered a student ID from the University of London. To his surprise, she pulled out exactly this ID and handed it to Sherlock. Suspicious he looked at it.
"History or Philosophy? Oh so wrong." Grinned Catherine, who had now recovered her voice.
"Then what?" John asked, leaning forward in his chair.
"Biology…" Muttered Sherlock with raised eyebrows. "Sixth Semester. But…the history books." His eyes looked at her aghast.
"What?" Now Catherine giggled and held her hand in front of her mouth. "Is it forbidden to be interested in history when you're a biology student? It was my favorite subject right after Bio. But the job prospects." She waved her hand. "…Are more than bad."
"But…biology? The beginner science?" Sherlock grimaced and ran a hand through his curly hair.
"Beginner science? I don't think so, my dear Sherlock Holmes." Catherine replied smugly and her eyes began to sparkle. John immediately saw that this subject was her passion and that she would not allow anyone to say something bad about it.
"But it's not chemistry or physics." Sherlock said.
"The biology includes EVERYYYYYYTHIIIIING!" Her hand made a wide gesture. "Chemistry, physics, medicine, mathematics. Without them you're not able to understand it." She said with shining eyes. "You have to study everything to understand Biology. She is the only true science. For a moment the two unlikely opponents stared at each other, wore out their battle over their eyes until both finally grinned. John looked confused between both. What had they agreed now? Heaven, hopefully she wasn't a young, female version of Sherlock, right? He would not survive this, but she seemed to be at least a little presentable.
"Well…we put this aside. There is something that interests me more." Sherlock said quietly, leaning back in his chair. Catherine also sat down again and looked at him skeptically.
"Something you could not deduce yourself?"
"Perhaps, but asking is faster."
"All right, I have no choice anyway."
"You're learning quickly."
"The question, Mr. Holmes." She said annoyed.
"Why did you move to London so close before your final exam? The University of Cardiff has a good reputation in sciences, even in biology, while London is more specialized in law and the humanities."
Suddenly the smile disappeared from her face and a sad gleam lay in her light blue eyes. Of course it was nor remarked by Sherlock, but John did not miss it. Something very traumatic happened recently in her life. John knew the look in her eyes too well- too often he had seen him in his own eyes.
"Personal reasons…" She murmured softly with narrowed head. "I had to move to London and I had luck to get a scholarship at a regarded professor lap for my thesis."
"Which branch?"
"Functional Genome Research. So it's something like genetics in microorganism." She said.
"At least not botany." Sherlock said relieved.
"For God's sake, not botany…" Moaned Catherine.
"What? Why?" Mingled John now totally confused. A fatal mistake.
"This is too boring!" They both called out at the same time and looked at each other, shaking their heads.
"Who wants to look at plants?" Laughed Catherine, when she turned back to Johns flat mate.
"Nobody." Sherlock replied with a grin. His gaze wandered through her apartment and then back to her. "How can you afford this apartment?"
"Well my parents…"
"You're lying." Interjected Sherlock.
"Sherlock!" Hissed John annoyed and poked him in the ribs.
"Ow!" Sherlock said and throw an angry view to John, but Catherine just shook her head.
"It's alright…" She sighed. "My call history, right? If my parents would pay it, they would certainly call me within the last two months."
"You learn really fast. You should watch it, John."
"Better not…" Muttered he annoyed. Sherlock and Catherine looked at each other, but just grinned. There were a few minutes of silence, but then Catherine sighed and continued with a suddenly trembling voice:
"I guess it has no sense to conceal it any longer…even if it's very uncomfortable for me. I inherited this flat not from my parents…that's true…it's from my…"
"From your brother." Sherlock finished her sentence. She looked at him with a confused view.
"I think I can break the habit to finish my sentence." She said, a small smile played on her thin lips.
"This is still the most harmless thing." John grinned, while trying to loosen the strange atmosphere. He was not comfortable in that situation. Although he was not as intelligent as Sherlock he was good in understanding people. Maybe this was the reason why he was able to stay at Sherlocks side for such a long time, because he knew him a little. More than anyone else, and especially more than Mycroft. Something was in the air like she was suffocated by a heavy cloth. Sure, Sherlock did not notice. He was good in reading emotions based on facial expressions and gestures, but he never understood what lay behind it. What the soul tried to tell was always a big secret for Sherlock.
It was John who understands this and he was trying to stop Sherlock when he was driving too far in his inability, but he was too focused on Catherine and her past, caught in the storm of his knowledge, that he did not even notice John- once again.
Sherlock looked confused between his new neighbor and his roommate when he noticed how they looked understanding at each other, but he did not understand the reason why. The feelings of human were too irrational, illogical as he could get them and even more than this: they were annoying.
Even though John has always managed to amuse him with his biting sarcasm and he sometimes seemed to…worry?...about him when John was in danger, he would never understand the world beyond logic.
Sudden, however, something changed in Catherines body language. Her eyes blinked several times to disguise tears and her hands trembled.
"How do you know? I have no memorial things here…" She began to stutter and her voice seemed close of being broken. Seeking for help, she looked at Sherlock and he gulped his urge to present himself and just pointed to a small dresser. Although he did everything else to highlight the ignorance of the people around him, he did not this time- to his own surprise. Something about Catherine made him forget his superiority and he just gave her a simple answer. He saw John's irritated look that did not understand what was done well, in Sherlock, which he did not own and it was answered with a shrug.
She got up slowly, ran distractedly through her hair and went to the dresser. When she reached it, she stopped and suddenly she seemed as fragile as a doll. Her whole body was shaking and even from the distance both men saw that she had tears in her eyes. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand and took a silver picture frame from the dresser.
"I did not know…" She said, swallowing hard like she had a big lump in her throat and she fought bitterly against the tears. "That he still had this photo…oh, Jeffrey…" Catherine fell back into the chair powerless and looked at the photograph.
John could see from his position that there were two people on it. A small and a tall one, who were holding hands. It was snowing in the photo and both were packed in warm clothes like the Michelin man.
Since she had the picture in her hand it seemed like all her power went away. Infinite sadness flooded through her eyes like a rough sea during a storm and tears glistened in her eyes. And there she was. Although she had trying everything to defense herself from Sherlocks attacks, the strong, adult woman was gone and left a twenty year girl who was completely overwhelmed with her situation.
John had to admit that she had fought better than most adults. No matter how hard Sherlock tried to provoke her, she always remained polite or at least humorous, but right she seemed to be…broken. Something had happened what she hasn't been able to overcome yet. John secretly hoped that Sherlock would not be tactless again, but to his relief the Consulting Detective stayed silent and just sit in the chair in his thinking position.
Sherlock saw the sadness in her eyes all too well. During the last half hour that they were in her apartment, she had always tried to make it too easy for him to understand her and she had realized quickly what his conclusions were based on or hid her feelings better than many did. She did so well that he almost forgot how young and inexperienced she was. But now he saw it abundantly clear that her feelings were overwhelming. Catherine held the picture desperately as if she was clenching on the memories and her whole body shook under suppressed sobs. She did not want to annoy neither John nor him with her grief. Something that he valued, but Sherlock that she could not win.
Catherine was going to lose this fight against her feelings like all the ordinary people., but Sherlock had to admit that she was strong. More than he would have expected it…and that he had no idea what had happened to her brother.
"What happened?" He finally said softly, almost sympathetic tone. He could imitate emotions well, if it was necessary. He could even cry on demand, but this time it was reals. Squinting, she looked up again and tried to hide her tears.
/Brave girl/, it suddenly shot through his head. Because she was just that. She was not a woman, even if she tried it so much, she was still a fragile girl, what had to find her way, but became blocked because of big rocks. Probably this situation had increased her sarcasm even more, she tried to push everyone away so that she could not be hurt. He guessed at least, but nobody could hide something from Sherlock Holmes. Although she grew on her task, it destroyed her at the same time. Sherlock knew this feeling of brokenness. He had fought against it with drugs in his young age.
"He…" She began and took a deep breath. "…died two months ago." She spoke it out too fast and showed so the emotional suffer that was still behind it.
"What a luck." Sherlock said quietly, taking a sip of coffee and made a face. It was cold.
"Sherlock!"
"What? Brothers are exhausting and annoying."
"Not everyone has a Mycroft Holmes as a brother." The doctor replied sternly, pulling down his eyebrows.
"That would be even worse." Exclaimed the brunette. "That would be a damn big British government."
"Eh…what?" Catherine looked confused, but the sadness remained and her fingers ran across the frame. John gave her a look and shook his head.
"Not so important." He tried to calm her. Catherine nodded. She had learned not to ask about Sherlocks ominous hints. After several minutes, in which only the beating of the clock broke the silence, Catherine whispered so softly that she was barely understandable:
"He's the only family member left…my parents died ten years ago…and now…" She bit her lower lip. "I have no one anymore. That's why I came here…to find out more."
"How did he die?" John had wanted to initiate Sherlock in the ribs, when he heard how he started to speak, but then he stopped. It was not a cold calculation in his voice, no neutrality, as it was normally heard from him, but there was something…soft. Perhaps something like humanity? Like sympathy for a girl who had lost her brother?
"I don't know…" Sighed Catherine and just shrugged her shoulders. "I got a letter from Scotland Yard, where I was told, that he's dead. I was not even allowed to see him and I do not know where he's buried."