Not tall girl was walking along Baker Street, lugging her brown leathern case. Her thoughts were somewhere far away; she hadn't even paid attention to the car noises while crossing the road against red light. Lady was defiantly thinking about someone who she was interested in more than anything surrounded her.
However, soon her soul has come back into her body. The oddish old man, about eighty years old, grabbed girl's wrist.
"What… Sir, what are you doing? Do you need help?"
"Yes, ma'am, you see, I'm lost a bit… Hope, you might help me," at these words he let his interlocutress's wrist go.
"Well, I'll try. What are you looking for?"
"I need 221B Baker Street. Could you tell me, where is it?"
"We have the same way. Come with me; I'm going to mister Holms…"
"Please, be quite! Don't pronounce his name!" intermitted the old man and fixed a checked cap on his head, covering his face, hidden with dirty green scarf.
On the whole man was looked suspicious. Long maroon overcoat, high red boots and black glasses. All his appearance shouted about will not to be recognized or noticed. Although exactly this look attracts street's glances.
In the Sherlock's flat was daily chaos. In the fridge, as always, was someone's head. In the cup of coffee, as always, an eye was floating. Next to the entrance to the kitchen, as always, was hanging a suicidal dummy. Desk, as always, was flunked with various stuffs. And as always, great detective was sitting in the armchair and having another client, whose case he had already solved, although was being silent, keeping composure. Doctor Watson was sitting in front of his laptop and finishing writing his story, recently happened to him.
Doorbell rang. Missis Hudson by frequent steps approached the door and opened it.
"Oh!" exclaimed the old lady and subsided.
Mister Holmes shortly stood up and started moving the nearest bookcase.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" asked John, giving their visitor know that it is a daily thing, and it is nothing to worry about.
"Hurry, John, help me to move this bookcase! I've got just a few seconds!"
In complete perplexity doctor Watson hanged up on his place next to the chair. Client dumbly asked John about happening. From the stairs was heard creaking sound. Detective quickly gave up with a last one idea and hid in the wardrobe.
The strange old man and the young lady with her case entered the room.
"Common, Sherlock, are you eight? Immediately get out of the wardrobe! It's impolite!" exclaimed lady.
"Disappear! Why exactly to me? Go to Mycroft!" detective's surly voice was heard from the wardrobe.
Girl discontentedly took off her cinnamon-coloured broadbrim and the same colour gloves, then she hanged up the first one on a hanger and put the second one in the pockets of her overcoat. John was surprised by impassive communication between stranger and his best friend. A thought suddenly appeared in his head, which he said immediately.
"Do you know each other?"
"Yes, we do. Ah, Sherlock! Behave like a human; come and take off my overcoat."
"Let Mycroft do this, when you arrive to him!"
Girl nicely smiled, apparently, she expected such answer. That's why she took off her beige coat by herself and hanged it up on the same hanger, next to the entrance. Under all her outerwear were classical black trousers, classical white short hidden. Straight milk-chocolate-coloured hair was loose and smoothly flowed from shoulders to lush breast and from breast to thin waist. Her green eyes quickly flopped from Watson to the wardrobe. Lady with on movement asked missis Hudson to leave the room and take client with her.
"But… Wait! My case!" resented client.
"Your case is insoluble, even for Sherlock Holmes! Just tell your wife the truth, she'll understand, and everything's gonna be fine!
As soon as door had slammed after woman and guest, John asked:
"How did understand, that he was a thief? How could?.."
"It's easy, John! Man is cheating on his wife! He's too tanned; no mark of ring on his finger. Also you can see that ring wasn't worn for some time. It, probably, was had been lost repeatedly! He'd been needed money, urgently, I think, to buy his lover a wedding ring," the content of wardrobe talked again.
John turned his eyes from place, where Sherlock had been sitting, to the girl. She confirmed detective's words with a slight nod and gentle smile. Doctor coughed into a fist and then stretched out his arm to the new friend as the sign of greeting.
"My name is John. Doctor John Watson. I'm sorry, that I hadn't introduced myself earlier. Are you a detective, too?"
"Ha-ha, detective! You're ridiculous, John!" exclaimed Sherlock.
"My name is Elizabeth. I'm a doctor, too. Doctor Bright. Such skills I've got because of childish pastimes with Mycroft and Sherlock. I spent all my childhood with them! Please, sit down, sir! The great and fearless detective Sherlock Holmes soon will take you in."
Finally, the old man let everybody know about himself and softly sat on the sofa. He looked from side to side; it seemed like he doesn't trust even his own clothes. Weirdo was plucking his fingers, nibbling his lips and slightly wobbling. After handshake with John Elizabeth sat in the armchair, too, and crossed her legs. Doctor Watson did the same thing as guests.
The girl had started a countdown with her fingers. Three. Two. One. When she clenched her fist, Sherlock popped out the wardrobe and ran to his armchair, in which Elizabeth had been already sitting. She interrogatively raised her eyebrows and lifted up her head to see properly, how detective's gonna be astonished of her impudence.
About a minute Sherlock had been standing still, in order to give girl a chance to leave the armchair, after which he'd gone to the kitchen and came back with a chair, which was now standing before lady and in front of weird client. Sat on it, Sherlock had started watching weirdo, waiting for his story. Girl calmly smiled and left detective's flat, soundlessly closed the door behind her.
"Now you are safe, sir. What's happened?" asked John.
"Stupid question! Of course, it was attempted murder! I'm carefully listening to you, where had it place to be? And who are you?"
"You are right, Mister Holmes, attempted murder. Right in my home! I had been calmly finishing writing a new theory, suddenly tall thin man appeared from nowhere! He caught me with my night scarf and started suffocating me! I had hardly crashed out! Then I called the police with some help of my neighbours, explained them everything, and the just laughed at me! Told me, I have dotage! Nonsense! I'm resented! But I'm worried about my life!"
"Hmm… Do you have a hanger next to your desk?"
"Yes, I do, Mister Holmes."
"Well, you do have dotage. Your scarf had been caught with a hanger. You couldn't escape from tall male, even thin. Goodbye!"
"Famous Sherlock Holmes! I knew that!" disappointing exclaimed man and moved to the exit.
Unexpectedly for the guest Elizabeth opened the door from the other side. She had already changed her clothes to gentle-pink bulbar and white leggings; above it jean shorts were worn. Her hair was collected in a ponytail. She pushed client into the room and asked to sit down.
"If Sherlock Holmes can't help you, then I can. I hope, doctor Watson won't leave you too."
"It is inanity! You understand, it's nothing interesting in this case," resented Sherlock.
"Of course, nothing to you! Because I'm going to solve the case of Herbert von Lubertz (famous physicist, chemist and biologist), which you couldn't handle. You know, what is the most exciting? You called the assailant "a hanger"!" – Elizabeth was satisfied; she smiled and sat in the armchair.
This argument quickly effects on detective, he shortly ran to the girl, got her out of the chair and sat on the freed place.
"Okay, please, show me your house and your work place, - after these words he ran to the door. – Hurry up, John! Criminal will not long coming!"
Doctor still was amazed of happened, however he followed his friend, couldn't stop looking at stood next to the wardrobe lady's smirk.
