He is coming.
My eyes search the dim surrounding, taking in every possible details as I try to look for a place to hide. Sprinting towards a tall bush, I knee behind it and press my small hands against my lips, sealing in any noises that can attract him. Closing my eyes, I count to ten, willing myself to calm down. Just as I am about to reach nine, footsteps raise behind me. My chest tightens, and I wait for the moment of exposure.
"Found you!" my brother, John Watson, jumps out of nowhere and shouts with a beam. My heart lightens when I see my brother, feeling more relaxing and at ease. Then, in a blink, his good natured face melts away and turns into my father's face, blurry yet dangerous.
"Come on, love," he coos, his hands close around my wrist and collar, pulling me forward.
"John!" I scream for my brother, my feet kicking and struggling. But my father's grip is tight.
"Hush now, child. This will just be quick and easy," his words scare me, and a sharp pain of a needle tears through my arm.
The morning light falls onto my bedding silently as I wake from my nightmare, sweats sticking my dark brown hair to my neck. "It was just a dream," I mutter to myself, recalling the nightmare in which John and I were just kids. But it seems so vivid. And strangely, I have been having the same dream for quite a few days.
It takes me a good few minutes to calm my distractingly fast heartbeat. A soft knock is heard and John's head pops up from behind my bedroom door. "Breakfast's ready…" he pauses, taking a second look at me, "you okay?"
I nod, not wanting to explain much or worry John.
He narrows his eyes a bit before telling me breakfast's ready again. My brother knows, but he doesn't push it.
I get up dreadfully and change into my clothes. Today is our big day, kind of. After John has returned from the war and me from my useless college, both of us are not able to find a job. The place that we are staying currently is not affordable anymore for us. So, all we can do is just to find a new flat to share.
John says this flat in 221B Baker Street is rather nice, though the man who is going to share a flat with us is a bit, special, according to his use of words. I am genuinely rather curious.
I wolf down my breakfast, with John frowning at me, and get onto a cab with him quite shortly afterwards. I honestly can't wait to meet our new flat mate. Perhaps he will be tall and muscular? Perhaps he will be blond with an American accent? I peek at John, who is sitting by the window stilly, his habit from army. Hopefully my brother won't be able to read my thoughts just from my face. But as everyone says, I'm an easy book to read. Sighing, I decide I should be the one to break the silence.
"John, what's our new flat mate's name?"
John glances at me before answering, "Sherlock Holmes." I guess I have made a face. Because John chuckles a moment later and goes on, "I know, weird name, huh? But he is very…gifted. You'll see."
My brother does know how to sell a good. I am dying to know more about this Mr. Holmes.
The cab shortly arrives at 221 Baker Street. Slowly, I follow behind John's lead and find myself stepping onto the Baker Street's milky white pavement. It's such a nice place. I can't help but look around once more, while John attempts to press the doorbell to the building.
"Good morning," a deep voice greets.
John startles, before turning with a polite smile and an outstretched hand, "Mr. Holmes."
Hesitantly, I glance up from the man's nicely polished shoes to his pale face. Big, black coat, blue scarf, high collar. I raise an eyebrow slightly at his unbelievably high cheekbones. His dark curls fit perfectly with his strong features while his pale eyes lock on me.
"I believe this is your sister, John?" he asks, his eyes not leaving me once. My cheeks start to burn when John nods.
"You have told him about me?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from this Mr. Holmes. Though this time, it is John who smile mischievously.
"No. Not even a single word."
"Then how did you know about our relationship?" I wonder out loud, staring boldly at Sherlock now. I can see he is resisting the urge to sigh dramatically. His pale eyes finally look away from me to the street, darting around and observing.
"By deduction. You two act and behave with similar patterns, indicate a close relationship to learn and apply each other's habits. But you are too young for his age to be his lover, spending too much time together as cousins. Conclusion, you are his sister. However, you two have very different appearance feature. One pale blond hair with light blue eyes, the other with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Even the brows and facial bones structure are very different. Conclusion, you" he nods at me, doesn't even bother to look in my way, "are adopted."
I drop my jaw easily, so has John. Staring at him with wide eyes, I confirm each and every deduction of this man before us is a hundred percent correct. John mumbles something quietly in the background but I am too busy staring at the man before me. For a moment, Sherlock avoids our eyes and clears his throat. He almost looks like he is prepared to be pissed off. But yet, when I open my mouth, I can only find myself whispering, "that is just brilliant."
He blinks, then look at me, "What?"
John nods along and points at him, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline, "bloody brilliant." A light hint of smile and blushes appear on Sherlock's face.
Sherlock clears his throat again and walks towards the door, "let's take a look at our flat, shall we?" he is clearly desperate to change the topic. Somehow, a smile creeps onto my cheeks as I nod and follow. Half way up the stairs, I realize, embarrassingly, that I haven't introduced myself.
"Oh, and by the way," I starts, feeling the heat burning on my face, "my name is Leila. I'm going to move in along with John, too."
"Leila," Sherlock repeats. But his back is facing towards me so all I can see are his bouncing curls and swiping coat as he ascend the flights of stairs. Seconds later, he adds, "there's a room upstairs. Surely you can use it if we ask Mrs. Hudson, our landlady."
Shortly, we give a good look around the flat. It is decent and cozy. Well, at least that is how it is to me. The small fireplace is filled with piles of books. The wooden table is stacked with papers and works. The kitchen looks nothing like a place to store food. Sherlock has set a bunch of chemical works on it. I wonder what kind of job Sherlock does. John is probably wondering the same thing as he raises a questioning eyebrow at the messy diner table.
"It could be a nice place," John comments, glancing through the messiness in the house. I stiff a chuckle as Sherlock begins to push things out of sight.
"I like it," I add, hoping that will convince John to share a flat. Sherlock take a glance at me, his eyes unreadable and his face emotionless. Normal people would probably have a anxious feeling tickling their stomach but for me, his glance simply makes me more curious than ever. Rubbing the base of my jumper's sleeve, I scan around the flat again, having a feeling that John will want to settle in this flat as well.
"Great. Now maybe if Mrs. Hudson can bring us some tea..."Sherlock never finishes his sentence. Because just then, a man with grey hair races up the stairs and stumbles into the flat.
"Sherlock, there's a murder in..."it's a wonder how he can still speak with shallow and short breaths. The man pauses at once when his eyes fall on us, "you have guests?" he sounds surprised, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Sherlock rolls his eyes and exhales deeply, "I'm a consulting detective, if you're wondering." he is directing it at John, who looks startled and stares at Sherlock with jaw hanging again. Then, swiftly, Sherlock turns to the man with grey hair. If I am not wrong, his face lights up the slightest bit when speaking, "oh, is there a new murder now? This could be exciting! Almost like Christmas!"
So there, I take back whatever I have in store for this man's impression on me and watch Sherlock almost jumping on his heels in excitement. Then, he freezes. Glancing back at us, I watch him consider a few mental notes of his and asks, "are you interested in investigating a crime scene with me?"
And when I thought my brother would reject it immediately, being the always serious brother he is, John actually replies, without a second thought, "Thought you'd never ask."
Sherlock actually smiles this time, "could be dangerous."
Even though I don't want to interrupt this pair of blooming bromance, I raise my hand, "count me in."
Instantly, both men turn their heads towards me, one grinning one scoffing.
And I know, from that moment onward, my life in 221B is going to be an interesting one.