First Deductions

Hey there! This is my first attempt at a Sherlock fic so apologies if anyone (particularly Sherlock seems a bit ooc. This does involve Sherlock/oc so if it it's not your cup of tea don't complain to me!

Enjoy!

It was close to 8 o'clock in the morning and John was sitting in his favourite chair, newspaper folded on his lap and sipping a cup of tea. Sherlock on the other hand was lying across the whole sofa with his long legs dangling over the other end and his eyes closed. His hands, as usual, had adopted a steeple shape, middle fingers just touching his chin.

They sat like this for the next few minutes until they heard a small knock at the door and Mrs Hudson calling up the stairs 'Don't worry I'll get it!' Not that Sherlock was planning to get up anyway. John on the other hand looked up and then across at Sherlock to check of he was still breathing: twice now he had gone to his 'mind palace' only to have stopped breathing for several seconds. John made to stand up when Sherlock turned his head slightly and spoke.

'Don't bother, if Mrs Hudson's been talking this long it won't be long before she brings them up.' His voice was monotone and completely devoid of any emotion. To make matters worse he was right for a minute later they heard footsteps on the stairs, though oddly only one pair.

Sherlock sat up, no doubt hoping it was someone with a new case, and turned to look at the doorway where a young woman appeared. She was of medium height with long blond hair trailing down her back and a full fringe. She had green eyes and despite her apparent tiredness (bags under her eyes, the stifled yawn, john was almost proud of his deduction) she was quite pretty. She stepped forward into the room and gave small smile.

'Hi,' she started, 'I'm Samantha, or Sam for short, I've just moved in next door and thought I'd come and introduce myself.'

Sherlock stood up and walked towards her, studying her up and down. John sighed; he knew what came next and knew it would be harsher than normal now Sherlock knew she wasn't here with a case.

'Hmmm, five foot six, thirty, naturally brunette, recently moved from Portsmouth, no boyfriend, wearing the same t-shirt as yesterday: the crease is a giveaway. Not had much sleep, possible family problems from the way you're clutching your phone in your pocket. Either that or waiting for an answer to a job interview but unlikely if you've just moved.' He smirked at her dumbstruck face and was about to walk away when a fist collided with his nose, a loud crack filled the room as he fell backwards.

'That, Sherlock Holmes, is for being an arse. Yes I'm wearing the same t-shirt as yesterday because I moved here last night and everything's still in boxes. Yes I'm currently dealing with family issues: my mum's in hospital with cancer at this very moment and happens to be the very reason I moved back here. I can tell by the way Dr Watson is finding great amusement in your situation that you do this often to people. The mark on the underside of your chin also tells me you're the idiot who plays the violin at one o' clock in the morning and therefore the reason I was awake most of last night.'

Mrs Hudson chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs with a tray of mugs and biscuits. She gave a slight squeal and almost dropped the tray when she caught sight of Sherlock sitting on the floor clutching his wonky nose that was dripping blood.

'Sherlock! You're getting blood on the carpet! Someone get him a tissue!' the landlady scolded, not bothered that yet again Sherlock Holmes had blood on his face. John took that as a cue to grab a box of tissues off the desk and hand it to Sherlock before holding his hand out to this woman who had dared to hit Sherlock.

'Glad to meet you Samantha, nice punch by the way it is something he deserves quite often.' He joked as she took his hand.

'Please, call me Sam and trust me it felt good after his bloody violin kept me up last night.' She grinned back, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

'Well then Sam please have a seat.' John gestured to the armchair he had just sat in; sacrificing it so that she wouldn't have to sit next to a sour faced Sherlock. Mrs Hudson set the tray on the table and passed mugs to Sam, John and Sherlock. She stood there with hands clasped in front of her watching them.

'Anything else before I go?' she asked looking between the three.

'No, thank you Mrs Hudson.' John smiles and she bustles off back down the stairs to her own flat. They sit in silence for a few seconds, unsure where to start until Sherlock finally speaks.

'How did you know our names?' he asks in a tone that suggests he has guessed the answer already and only asks for Johns benefit. John himself was only just realising that she had seemed to know their names.

'Easy, I'm far-sighted and read the names off of the letters on the desk. As for who was who it was a combination of a guess and that Dr Watson had a more caring look.' Sherlock gave no sign of acknowledgement except to lean back into the sofa. John raised an eyebrow, several thoughts running through his mind including Jesus Christ she's just like him but with more…emotion and well at least she's dressed unlike Miss Adler.

'So, what do you do? As a job that is? And if we're to call you Sam then you can call me John, Sherlock on the other hand you can call whatever you fancy.' At this he got a rather reproachful look from his roommate.

'I'm a crypt-' Her answer was cut short by a small blast of police sirens directly below the window and flashing red and blue lights. Suddenly Sherlock was alert, bloodied nose forgotten as they heard the door open and slam shut. A man with short greying hair came running up the stairs, taking two at a time.

'Sherlock, we've got a case. Strange one; random woman poisoned and the guilty party left a clue.' The man plunges straight in, not even noticing Sam.

'A clue? Why do you want me if there's a clu- ah no it's not just any clue is it, it's a… code?' Sherlock deduces quickly enough and the man nods.

'Excuse me, did you just say code?' Sam pipes up; standing to make her presence known to the stranger who she guessed was some sort of detective. He looks her up and down before holding his hand out.

'Detective Inspector Lestrade, and who might you be?'

'Samantha Tate and codes are somewhat a speciality for me.'