Hello readers! After recently getting into Sherlock, I found it impossible not to write a story. I hope you enjoy!
"No, no, this is all wrong!" I snapped, pounding my fist into the table.
My voice echoed through the empty room. Muttering under my breath, I grabbed the pencil that slid off the table. "Stupid. Stupid," I scowled. Then I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I had been working on this case for nearly a week, and yet I was no further into it.
It should have been easy. Finding a killer could be rather simple, if you look for the right things. Mostly small details, such as gravel on the shoe, dampness from rain. The hard part was piecing them together.
Since I was little, I've always had the ability to notice these seemingly pointless things. But, because of it, I've solved more murders than the rest of the police force. Still, I wasn't very popular among my coworkers. I knew I wasn't easy to work with, but other people's idiocy definitely got on my nerves. I was looking at the exact same thing, the exact same person, and yet they didn't see anything.
For example, Abe Newel. A case about a year ago, and everything was laid out like a puzzle. Gunshot in the leg, so he might have bled out. A blood test showed chemical very similar to those found in some drugs, so possibly a drug overdose. No one noticed a mark on the back of his neck where a needle had been inserted. Poison. Very similar compound of the chemical in drugs. Just like that, everything pieced together.
I jumped as my mobile started blaring. "Selena Brooks," I said, putting it on speaker and pinching the bridge of my nose.
"You can drop the case," Kyle Frederick said, sounding quite exasperated. "Someone else solved it."
"What?" I asked. "How? Who?"
"Get over to the station. This guy wants to talk to you anyway."
"Who. Is. He." I said again, grabbing my coat and pulling my hair back.
"Sherlock Holmes. Now get over here," he said before the line went dead.
...
"It's about time," Frederick said, walking next to me.
"Who is this Sherlock Holmes?" I asked. "And how the hell did he solve the case when I couldn't?"
"It was brilliant!" Frederick exclaimed. "I heard something about him a long while ago from Gregory Lestrade. You know him, right?"
"Of course I know him," I said. "But he never mentioned this guy before."
"Oh. Well anyways, I decided to contact him and he came right over. Looked over the files, the pictures, everything we had on it and he pieced the story together in minutes!"
"Huh," I muttered. "Do you know anything else about him?"
"Well, no. He keeps to himself mostly," Frederick said. "But he did say he wanted to meet you."
"Okay," I said, incredibly interested in this guy. "Where is he?"
"Okay? You mean you actually want to talk to him?" Frederick asked, obviously surprised.
"Yes," I said, glancing at him with a smile. "I do."
"Alright. He's right in there," he said, nodding his head towards a room to our right.
"Tell Sarah I said hi," I added before going into the room Frederick gestured to.
A tall figure stood staring out the window. He had curly black hair, wearing a coat with the collar turned up. "You must be Mr. Holmes," I said, trying to be polite. "I'm-"
"Selena Brooks," Holmes said. "I know that."
"Uh huh," I said, eyes narrowing slightly. "I was informed you wanted to talk with me?"
"Yes," he said, turning around with a smirk. "I want to work with you."
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Well, more accurately, I would like you to work with me," he corrected, reaching for a file sitting close to him and handing it to me.
Sighing and opening the file, I was surprised to see several of the cases I solved. "What is this?" I asked, looking up at Holmes again.
"You are good at what you do, looking at those," he said, gesturing at the file. "And I could use an assistant. Of course, you'll have to move to London, but that can easily be arranged."
"Wait, I never agreed to this!" I said, completely unprepared for this conversation. "Besides, you seem to do just fine on your own."
He stared at me for a long while before answering. "An outside eye can be very helpful."
I rolled my eyes. "Mr. Holmes, I don't work well with others."
"Fantastic, neither do I!" He said. "When is the earliest you can move in?"
"I still haven't said I'd move to London," I sighed.
"I can tell you want to, though," Holmes commented. Without warning, he suddenly stood right in front of me. "You despise it here."
"Excuse you!" I said. "You have no say in my life!"
"But you aren't denying it."
"I'm not accepting it either. So if you don't mind, Mr. Holmes, I need to get going."
As I tried to push past him, he grabbed my arm and whirled me around so I faced him. "Let me go," I said as calmly as I could.
"If you want another form of motivation, I can do that to. You said it yourself, you don't work well with others. I don't either. You solve a massive number of cases in a way similar to my own, I believe." Holmes whispered into my ear. "I happen to know someone who noticed that too. You are in danger."
With that, he released me. I glared at him, trying to mull over what he said. Holmes smirked at me in return, bringing his hand out from behind his back. I realized he stole my mobile from my pocket, which led me to hate him even more.
"Meet me at 221B Baker Street tomorrow morning. I'll fill you in on everything you need to know," he said, handing me my mobile and walking to the door. "I hope you aren't like everyone else and you actually have some sense to do that."
With that, he left. I was astounded at his pride, and every inch of me wanted to go home and forget anything happened with this Sherlock Holmes. But I couldn't.
...
Early the next morning, I found myself in front of a small flat in London. I rang the bell once, stepping back as a beaming old lady opened the door.
"Oh, you must be Selena!" She said brightly. "I'm Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock told me all about you. I hoped you would come!" She led me inside, leading me up a flight of stairs.
"Thank you," I said with a smile.
"Oh it's no problem!" She smiled. "I wish you the best of luck with Sherlock, dear. He can be a bit of a handful. Although you came at a good time, John is still here!"
"John?" I asked, curious over who he was.
"He was Sherlock's former flatmate. Best of friends, but John moved out after he got married. Actually, it was after Sherlock... Oh never mind that I'm sure you've read it in the papers."
"I'm not big on the paper," I replied honestly. "Or the telly for all that's worth."
"Really?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Oh. Well Sherlock was a bit of a celebrity a few years back. But then some things came up, and well... He faked his own death for two years."
"What?" I asked, taken aback by this ridiculous concept.
Mrs. Hudson nodded her head sadly. "Oh, but that's the past! Go in there!" She said, smiling brightly again.
I smiled again before going into the flat. Holmes was pacing around the room, and another man I figured was John sat in a chair. "It's about time you got up here, it's been ages since the bell rang!" Holmes snapped, pacing vigorously.
Anger burst through my chest as I glared at him. "It's about time you learned how to treat people properly! You need to shut up every once in awhile!" I said, crossing my arms tightly.
"Well then." We both looked over to John, who was glancing at me with a shocked expression. "Sorry, are you a client?"
"Client? No. Apparently he wants me to move in with him," I said, jabbing a finger towards Holmes.
The look on John's face was a mix of surprise, amusement, guilt, sadness, and joy all mixed into one expression. "Well it's nice to meet you! I'm John Watson," he said, standing up and holding out his hand.
"Selena Brooks," I answered, shaking the proffered hand.
"You should come to my place sometime for dinner. My wife would love to have you over," John said, grabbing his coat and walking to the door. "Sherlock has the address. You can stop over whenever you'd like."
I blinked. "That would be nice," I said, immediately liking this man.
John smiled. "Good luck with Sherlock. I'll come over sometime next week," he said, before walking out the door.
"You don't have your things," Sherlock Holmes interrupted again. "I thought I told you to bring them."
"Sorry, but I don't need to move in with anyone," I said, walking over to the armchair John was sitting in a plopping down. "But I am curious about what you said to me last night."
"Yes of course," he said, sitting down in the chair opposite to my own. "I thought you might be.
"You may have heard of a man named James Moriarty. He was in the news quite a lot a few years ago, the mastermind behind the stolen crown jewels." Now that he mentioned it, the name did sound familiar. "He was after me, trying to quench his boredom. He used me to do that, playing mind games until I wasn't enough for him. I've never told anyone this, but he threatened to the people I care about if I didn't die myself."
"That's why you faked your death for two years?" I asked, recalling what Mrs. Hudson told me.
"Yes. He shot himself after I realized I could save them without dying myself using him. That's why I did what I did.
"I came back to London not too long ago when another threat came. After solving those cases, Moriarty revealed that he also faked his own suicide, and hasn't done anything since. However, I have reasons to believe he is now after you."
"After me?" I asked with a scoff. "I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but I keep a rather low profile. Why would he be looking for me?"
"A low profile my ass," Holmes muttered, and I scowled at him. "Like I said, he looks for people who can cure him of his utter boredom. I'm sure you can relate."
"Are you comparing me to a seemingly random psychopath?"
"Yes. You and I are very similar, I can tell. And yet, I can't tell anything else about you. You are very curious, Ms. Brooks, and we can use that to our advantage."
"Fine. Say I do agree to your rather insane idea. What then?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.
"That's why I came to you. Now tell me, are you in or not?" Holmes asked, smirking slightly. He had his elbows on his knees with his hands together, fingers brushing the bottom of his lip. Surprisingly, I found myself nodding.
"I never thought I would say this, but yes." I stood up, walking to the door. "I'll come tomorrow with my things. And Mr. Holmes?"
He looked at me impatiently. "What?"
"Thank you."
He looked surprised, and I smiled. As I walked to my car, I glanced over to the black door with 221B shining in gold letters. It seemed I was moving in with Sherlock Holmes, and I was certain one of us would kill the other within a month.
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L.G.