Firstly I want to say hello to any new readers, yes this is an OC story but don't judge it for that. There was a previous story called 'The Tom Cat's Collar' which introduces this OC, Heather. But all you really need to know is that she works at the British Library, she lives in 221C (downstairs from Sherlock and next to Mrs Hudson) and she was not created simply to fall in love with Sherlock and throw John out of the picture. Also I give update times ect. on Tumblr (currently my url is 'aster-planetes' but if that doesn't work then I may have changed it so just review or message me and I'll send you the new one)

And to you old reader who have come back for more (including Rachel who will be highly upset if she doesn't get a little mention so hello, I know you're there) Thank you for returning to Heather! I know I've been away a while. A whole summer in fact, but this story refused to write itself at decent times in the day so it progressed very slowly. However, hopefully the wait will have been worth it. I've taken your advice and the main criticism I wanted to address was chapter length so I've tried to make them (generally) a little longer for you. However some really do work as short snippits.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story :)

Green Tea

"What is this?" Sherlock called, he strode out of the kitchen and held up the green box he had found. John looked up from his blog and then continued writing out their latest case in slow, stammered taps.

"It's peppermint tea."

"Yes I can see that but neither of us drink peppermint tea."

"No but Heather does on occasion."

"Bah!"

Sherlock threw the box onto the side and then himself down into his chair, his arms crossed and his feet tapping angrily. "She lives downstairs, why have we got her tea up here, and on that matter why is she up here all the time?"

"Maybe I like the company of a more responsive mind."

"Get a dog."

"You're not seriously comparing Heather to a dog."

"I don't see why not, she has many of the qualities."

"Warm, loveable, loyal and brave you mean."

"I believe he was actually using a rather pompous kind of language to call me a bitch." Heather stated from the sofa where she had been sat throughout the entire conversation with a copy of The Lord of the Rings on her lap and a pair of black rimmed glasses on the top of her head like an Alice-band.

"Ignore him." John commented.

"Always do." She replied.

Sherlock huffed and sprung out of his chair, grabbing his scarf from the mantelpiece and tying it quickly around his neck.

"Where are you going now?" John asked.

"St. Bart's morgue."

Neither John nor Heather got a word out as he strode for the door, coat in hand. John sighed and shut his lap-top, he glanced over at Heather, her head was still turned to face the door.

"It's not you."

"Yes it is. Let's not pretend, you're his friend, I'm the annoying housemate who spends too much time in his living room. Which is kind of true really." John frowned, he knew Heather had been spending more time in their flat than her own but he understood. He knew what it was like leaving a place where you were always in the company of your friends and then suddenly being thrown into a flat where you were totally alone. Besides he really did enjoy her company, unlike Sherlock she actually recognised the rules of board games and he'd gladly noticed that when she was bored she tended to bake and supply them with cakes and biscuits (which Sherlock gladly tucked into with little thanks). On the other hand in some ways it was like living with two of them, she also had a habit of talking to the tv as though it was another person and once she was engrossed in a book he had to repeat himself at least three times to gain her attention.

"John? John? Hello, anybody home?" John started and blinked rapidly.

"Sorry, just, dozed off there for a second" Heather smiled awkwardly and gathered her things.

"I'm going to head back to the office." She told him.

"But it's eight o'clock, what are you going to do this late?"

Heather shrugged and pulled on her coat, taking the glasses off her head and shaking out her dark red hair.

"I've got some books coming in that need paperwork sorted. And a staffing shortage to fill."

"But, Heather…"

"Night John."

He watched her walk out of the room, heard the stairs groan under her shoes and put his head on his hand. Great, alone for the night, again.

Please think of me, sitting all alone in this cold Uni bedroom, listening to drunk students stumble by beneath my window and review. I do believe it's the only thing keeping me sane.