Hello folks^^ this is my very first fanfiction, and I am very excitedX3 I would love if you would give me some reviewes. (If I have some misspellings then please write it to me, and please don't get angry, english is not my native language, so I make mistakes.) I will update as soon as I am finished writingXD.
"Aunt Martha!" I closed the door after me, when I stepped inside the 221B Baker Street were my aunt, Martha Hudson lived. There was no answer when I called out and I stepped further into the house. A sound up stairs made me curious and I began to climb the stairs, there it was again, the sound, almost like a violin... wait, it was a violin. I didn't remember my aunt playing that, so I continued up the stairs. I stopped just outside the door on the first floor, the violin came from here, I cracked the door open, slowly, and looked through with just one eye, then the head, then the rest of my body. It was a man, tall, black curled hair, and pale skin, and he stood with his back to me so I couldn't see his face. I just stood there until he had played the piece done. Still with his back to me he said, with a dark, low voice "by the sound of your footsteps you are a woman, and by your hesitation you are not a killer, and you are not Mrs. Hudson, I know her sound. Who are you?" when he said the last words he turned to face me. His ice blue eyes looked at me, not undressing me, but looking through me, reading me like a book. "Judging by your appearance you are in-mid twenties, here to ask your aunt, Mrs Hudson, if you can live with her. Parents, divorced. Working part-time as a secretary, but you study art. Coming from the countryside, from a place where it rained not so long ago, probably Hampshire." I just glanced dumbfounded at the strange man for a few minutes before a "who are you?" blurted out of my mouth. The man lay down his violin and sat in a black chair before he answered "Sherlock Holmes, only counselling detective in the world. And you are?" "Freya Hudson, you live in my aunt's house."
Sherlock putted his hands together and closed his eyes. I just stood there, looking around. On the wall there was a big, yellow smiley, with lots of holes in it, almost like many bullets had pierced the wall, my eyebrows jumped up a bit, then I turned my head to the fireplace, and there I saw, was it? No it wasn't, it couldn't be, a skull, there was a skull in this man, Sherlock Holmes' living room. I tip-toed over to the fireplace and reach out to touch the skull, just to see if it was real and not a copy of plastic. Just before my finger touched a yell sounded from the chair, Sherlock jumped up and was by the fireplace within seconds as he pulled the skull into his chest, like a mother who cared too much for her child to be touched by any human being. "Don't touch him, he doesn't like other people!" I just stood there with my mouth a bit open, and then I heard my aunt downstairs calling for me. "Freya. Darling where are you?" I shut my mouth and called over my shoulder "upstairs aunty!" a mumbling that suspiciously sounded like an "oh god what have Sherlock done now?" came from the staircase. I rolled my eyes, aunt Martha had always been overprotective to me. Steps sounded up the stairs and a moment later Aunt Martha stood in the door with two big shopping bags in each of her hands, panting after air. "Sherlock, dear have you said anything bad to Freya?" Sherlock looked at my aunt with offensive eyes "Mrs Hudson, you know I only say what comes to my mind, and nothing else. No sweet-talking, I've always hated that, makes me shiver." I just couldn't hold back a laugh, and I had to sit down at the floor because of the stomach ache the laughing caused. My aunt and Sherlock stopped glaring at each other and turned to stare at me instead. "Sorry... I'm sorry it's just..." another laughing attack stopped me for saying more, and eventually Sherlock turned away and sat down in the chair again, my aunt sighed and looked down at me with a small smile in the corner of her mouth, she reach her hand down for me to take, and then pulled me off the floor. "The room I told you about is upstairs Freya darling." I followed her out of the room and away from Sherlock, the strange man who had a skull in his living room, and up the next pair of stairs.
The room wasn't so big, but it had a bed, a table, a chair and a wardrobe I could put my clothes in, but I could manage. Aunt Martha had invited me for dinner, so I quickly unpacked my things, and walked down the stairs. As I came to the ledge were Sherlock lived a loud "BRILLIANT! I AM BRILLIANT!" came from inside the room and I stopped, turned to the door and cracked it open for the second time that day. Sherlock walked around in a circle in the middle of the room with his hands spread out like he embraced an invisible person, he muttered to himself, his voice filled with joy, the only thing I got from the muttering was something like "of course, it was the brother, why didn't I notice the fold on his sleeve earlier?" He pulled out his phone and send a text. "What do you want?" he then asked calmly still not looking at me."I erhm I was just wondering how you could tell those things about me earlier." Then he looked at me, with those cold, sharp icy blue eyes, "you have to rings in a necklace around your neck, if they were dead you wouldn't have them, they would probably get buried with them, therefore your parents are divorced, you have some ink on your right thumb, and on your index finger, from when you lick at your fingers and flip through pages fresh from the printer, and the thing about you studying art, you have a blue spot of paint under your left ear, a place you would never notice it being there." As he said the thing about the blue spot under my ear my hand just flew up and scratched there by itself, I got a little uncomfortable with this man who could read my life story by looking at my appearance.