Katarina Hudson found herself stuffed full of a multitude of feelings. Excitement, fear, nervousness, another dash of excitement. Her Mother was allowing her to visit her grandmother- by herself. No escort, no hovering family member, just herself. Katarina smiled and gave herself a pat on the back. It may have seemed odd for a twenty four year old woman to need permission from her mother to go anywhere, and in all technicality she didn't, it just made her mother feel better when she got a say. She gave a deep sigh and pushed her hat rim higher above her brows. Katarina's relentless crusade against her mother's good intentions had been hard won. She shuttered to admit that she had even employed the silent treatment, but there she was, walking down Baker St. with an air of pride. So many summers and Christmases had brought her down the little street in London, but she'd never been alone. She usually let people dote on her, out of the irksome habit of caring for people's feelings, but this trip would be gloriously different.
Forty Two.
Katarina stopped and turned to her left and stood stock still. A small, childish smile spread across her face. She was there in front of her grandmother's door, but she wanted to revel in it. Little bubbles rose in her stomach and she gripped the hard plastic of her suitcase handle. It had rained a few hours before, she could smell it. People passed her on the street, plastic bags clattering against their legs as they rushed on by. There were Christmas presents in those bags no doubt. People were guilty of last minute shopping even in England. Kitty had gotten her Gran a rather expensive bottle of perfume for Christmas, and it was tucked away in her suitcase. She didn't usually spend a lot of money, despite the fact that she had more than enough money to spend.
"Sorry, Miss, we don't take cases on Christmas Eve." A man's voice startled her out of her thoughts and made her jump a bit. She hadn't been paying attention.
"Cases?" She blurted out confused. Her free hand jumped to her braid and gripped it out of habit. She turned to the man."Is this 221B Baker Street?" A panic rose in her stomach as she wondered if she'd just made a fool of herself, smiling like an idiot in front of some strange man's door.
"Yes-...Y-you're not here for a case then?" He was trying his damndest not show his surprise but was failing miserably. The man smelled like aftershave, tea and rubbing alcohol.
"No,.." Katarina's brows furrowed together in confusion. "Doesn't Mrs. Hudson live here?" There was a long pause and then a chuckle of what sounded like understanding came from the man. He sounded very pleasant.
"Lord, I'm sorry, I should have guessed you were her granddaughter. The accent should have told me. I let one of Mrs. Hudson's flats; She told me you'd be visiting. I'm John Watson." Katarina held out her hand instinctively. John shook her hand without pause. He had a good firm grip, and his hands were a little rough, but they were warm despite the winter air.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Katarina." She gave a smile in his general direction. Mom would be so pissed if she knew I was talking to a stranger. "You mean Dr. Watson don't you? Or are you a nurse?" A silence stretched out for a moment.
"How did you know?" The man asked sounding cautiously curious.
"You smell like a graveyard shift and rubbing alcohol." She smiled apologetically. "And you shook my hand so that means you aren't a germaphobe. That leaves a doctor or a nurse."
The man gave a chuckle.
"Oh he's not going to be excited about you." He mumbled under his breath.
"Sorry?" Katarina asked, pretending she hadn't heard him.
" Oh nothing. Here let me get that bag for you, I don't think Mrs. Hudson is in right now, but I can let you into her flat if you'd like." He sounded like a very kind man when he spoke and Katarina felt immediately at ease. Besides, he knows my Grandma, and he said he'd let me in. Perfectly safe.
John took the suitcase gently out of her hand and opened the door to 221 B. Mrs. Hudson had been expecting her granddaughter's arrival and the poor woman had baked herself into a dervish, preparing all sorts of Christmas goodies. She'd popped out only a few minutes before to fetch some groceries for the Christmas party she was having.
John waited as the girl took the few steps into the flat and then shut the door behind her. She was about five foot six with auburn hair that was braided to the side. Her accent was intriguing, but not so much as her style of dress. She wore a bright yellow, knit hat, a blue coat that was the same color as painter's tape, and a pair of obnoxiously red boots. Even her suitcase was an assaulting shade of orange.
"What part of America are you from?" He tried to make some light conversation as he led on to the flat. He was glad Sherlock was out so that he wouldn't deduce the poor girl first thing. Sherlock's deductions and jet lag could not possibly mix well.
"Pennsylvania." Katarina followed him without faltering and stopped exactly when she should have so that he could unlock the door to Mrs. Hudson's flat.
"There we are," John pushed open the door to the flat and let Katarina pass him before entering. She smelled a bit like mint tea, and acrylic paint. "Mrs. Hudson should be back soon. I think there are some goodies in the fridge for you." John was surprised at how little she looked like Mrs. Hudson. She even had a smattering of freckles on her cheeks.
"She's been baking hasn't she?" Katarina said with a grin. "That's Granny for you... She's always made Christmas special." She made her way around the kitchen table and found one of the chairs before sitting herself down. See, here I am in Granny's kitchen, safe and sound. Katarina knew she should call her mother immediately, but she didn't feel like handling the barrage of questions that were certainly waiting for her, so she left her ridiculously expensive smart phone in her pocket. Her mother had bought it for her about a year ago. Kitty didn't want it but couldn't, in good conscience refuse the gift.
"She certainly does. Tonight will be the first Christmas party I've been to in... Two years?" John set her suitcase next to the door and put his hands in his pockets. Must be a bachelor if it has been that long. She mused quietly. Katarina's mother would already be shoving her at the older man had she been there.
"Would you mind talking to me for a bit, if you aren't busy?" Katarina asked suddenly. She liked the sound of his voice, and the company was welcome.
"Certainly, if you'd like." John took the chair on the other side of the little table and sat down.
Katarina smiled and began removing her outer wear. She had a sweater on, her purple one, or so she had been told when she'd bought it.
"I'm going to apologize in advance if I talk your ear off. It's a bad habit of mine." She began absently twirling the worry ring on her right ring finger.
"Nonsense, some good conversation would be awfully refreshing. Sherlock just sits in silence for hours on end and doesn't even notice when I go out." Katarina paused and furrowed her brow. What the hell kind of a name is Sherlock? She thought with an inward smile. I'd hate to be the poor bastard with that name.
"Oh, sorry, Sherlock is my flat mate. You'll meet him tonight at the party." For some reason John's tone made it seem like meeting Sherlock was not an occasion one should look forward to.
"What's wrong with him?" She asked bluntly. The look of surprise John gave her was tangible.
"I beg your pardon?" John gave an awkward laugh. He'd been asked that question often enough, but usually after someone had met Sherlock and fallen victim to his nonexistent socialization skills.
"Your voice did a thing where it sounded like I'd be giving blood, or inoculated with the plague rather than meeting your flatmate." Her response made John laugh outright.
"Well I suppose I did make it sound pretty dreadful, didn't I?" John leaned forward a bit and rested his arm on the table. This woman was as sharp as a tack.
"You sure did. So go on, what sort of plague are we talking here?" Katarina replied jokingly as she draped her coat over the back of the chair and stood. The flight from Doulas airport had been exhausting and she hadn't eaten anything for fear of the air sickness that enjoyed terrorizing her for every flight. Granny's peanut butter cookies sound divine right about now. She walked slowly to the fridge, knowing all too well that a new appliance or one thing in a new position could end in a stubbed toe or a fall.
"Sherlock is... an acquired taste." John chose his words carefully, and tried to be delicate. Katarina let out a laugh and shook her head.
"So in other words he's an asshole." She yanked the fridge open and began rummaging about. Milk carton, Ketchup, Salad. Her stomach growled.
"You could definitely say that, yes." Katarina could hear the grin in his voice and smiled. He wasn't offended by her blunt manner of speaking and it made her feel a bit better. Everyone expects me to be a quiet little girl. She thought with an impish grin. Whenever someone met her in America the first thing they'd think of was her parent's money. So they always expected some refined bitch who couldn't even imagine a curse word.
"There you are you little devils!" She exclaimed giddily as she found the cellophane covered tray of assorted cookies. "So, John, what about you?" She asked before triumphantly stuffing a cookie into her mouth and savoring the sweetness.
"What about me?" He asked good-naturedly. "There's not much to tell really. You've already guessed what I do." John rubbed the back of his head and watched as Katarina made her way back to the table and sat herself down with her prize.
"Nonsense." She sampled another cookie and grinned. "I'm not a genius, I just have a sharp nose."
"Actually, I used to be a soldier." John felt a bit underhanded about throwing in the soldier bit but it always impressed the ladies, and despite her obvious quirks, Katarina was definitely an attractive lady. Katarina smiled and nodded.
"That must have been terrifying, makes me glad I'm a girl; Nobody is going to ask me to fight for king and country." John chuckled, which was not the usual response.
"I dunno, I wouldn't want to run into you in a dark alley." His joke made Katarina almost choke on the cookie she'd just bitten into. Well I'll be damned. He had both surprised and delighted her.
"Smart man." Mrs. Hudson chirped from the hallway. She had several bags that rustled as she came skittering in. John hopped up and took the heaviest of her load and carried them to the counter for her. "Let me have a look at you, Kitty! I haven't seen you in ages!" Katarina smiled and stood, opening her arms for her granny's little frame to fill them. Jesus she is strong for her age! Mrs. Hudson gave her granddaughter a vice like squeeze and then held her at arm's length.
"Look at you! Colorful as always, and that pretty hair hidden away! How do you expect to catch a man if you don't let your hair down every now and again?" Katarina smiled at her Granny's good hearted chiding and shook her head.
"I missed you too Gran. I'm sorry but I've already dug my way into your cookie stores." Kitty said with a gesture to the tray of cookies.
"Good Lord, help yourself! I've made them all for you, Dear! John here has been trying to get his hands on them for days, so you might want to share." Gran released Kitty and began to putter around the kitchen, getting things ready for the party that night.
Later That Night
Kitty wasn't one for bothering much with her appearance, but Gran had insisted upon doing her hair at the very least. She'd showered and put on a change of clothes. A snugly fitting pair of jeans and a blue sweater that fit well was pretty much the extent of her "formal" wear, so after an hour of Gran battling with her unruly curls, the two women headed upstairs laden with trays of food.
It was slow going but Gran didn't rush her along or try to take the tray from her for fear she'd drop them. Gran was always great like that. The smell of a fire in the hearth welcomed them when John opened the door to his flat and greeted them enthusiastically.
"Good evening ladies! You're a sight for sore eyes." A deep aggravated groan came from inside the flat but John didn't miss a beat. "Here let me take those from you, Kitty."
"She's fine, John." Gran scolded, tatting him away and leading Kitty to the kitchen. "Now be careful, dear, Sherlock has all sorts of mess on the table, I made him clean the floor for you but I'd be careful of any surface." Kitty nodded and held the tray out for her Gran so she could set it down safely. The flat was warm, and smelled like violin rosin, and... chemicals?
"Do you play the violin, John?" Kitty asked, turning towards him. An ill natured chuckle came from the living room and Kitty turned to the man only a pace or so away from her. She smiled and held out her hand. "Hello, you must be Sherlock."
"Indeed, and you must be Kitty." The way her name slid out of his mouth made Kitty feel uncomfortable. His voice was edgy, like a supervillain in a movie. She imagined he could sound downright devious when it pleased him. He didn't shake her hand so she let it fall to her side unbothered.
"John told me about you earlier. He says you're brilliant." Kitty gave a teasing smile that made Sherlock fight a smirk. Who was he to disagree with John?
"I've heard quite a bit about you, as well." The sudden change of tone in Sherlock's voice made Mrs. Hudson and John go on full alert.
"No, Sherlock." John said firmly, a finger pointed at his friend in warning.
"No? I haven't done anything." Sherlock protested, a look of interest on his face as he examined Kitty unabashedly.
"You're on the verge of misbehaving, young man." Gran chided, worry in her voice. Sherlock sighed and waved their warning off like annoying insects.
"I was simply wondering why neither of you mentioned that she is blind." Sherlock drolled before looking out the flat window, bored by the way the conversation had turned it's attention to him. There was a silence in the room.
"What?" John spat out. He didn't understand what Sherlock meant. She wasn't blind. She showed no obvious signs of any optic nerve damage , and she moved about just fine. Sherlock rolled his eye and looked at his friend disapprovingly.
"It's just not the most important thing about me." Kitty replied. "Just as I'm certain your asinine behavior isn't the most important thing about you." She hadn't been upset by his declaration, nor by Johns reaction.
"Kitty Anne, you'll watch your language in my house."
"You're blind?" John repeated dumbly trying to figure out what he had missed that could have possibly given it away Sherlock gave a sigh of frustration and sat down into his chair.
"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, John." Sherlock quipped sarcastically.
"Don't be mean, a lot of people don't notice." Kitty said the last part to reassure John.
"Nonsense, only an idiot would be able to miss how slowly you came up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson never takes that long by herself, even with her hip. Most people's eyes sweep a room when they enter it but you just looked blankly ahead." Sherlock rattled off his little and admittedly obvious deduction without much interest. His eyes darted over her taking in every incriminating detail. John had made him swear he wouldn't deduce her but Sherlock couldn't just shut his brain off.
"John said you were going to do that." Kitty gave a light laugh and found her way to a rather plush arm chair. It smelled distinctly like Johns cologne so she assumed it was, in fact, his chair. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you, John?" She asked looking in the doctor's general direction. John was burning with shame. He was a bloody medical doctor and he had completely missed it.
"No, no, feel free." He slouched into the couch, seriously considering his career choice.
"How did you know that was John's chair?" Sherlock asked feeling mildly intrigued. There were several indicators but none most people would consider obvious.
"What do you mean?" Kitty asked sitting back and nestling in. It felt very warm by the fire. Sherlock noted the way she crossed her legs under herself.
"When you sat, you asked John specifically if you could sit there. How did you know it was his?"
Sherlock repeated himself. He was using a tiresome amount of patience with the girl. She made a funny sort of amused look and rested her head on her upturned palm.
"It smells like him, simple. Just like you smell of your violin and... Old Spice?" Sherlock examined the girl closely. She had a sharp nose. Not surprising considering she was blind. One's senses are often heightened after the onset of blindness, but she had mentioned his violin. He had deliberately not shaken her hand after she asked John whether he played the violin. He was bored and so he had set a little trap he hadn't expected her to evade.
"Who says it is my violin?" John shot Sherlock a disapproving glare but Sherlock completely ignored him. The girl made a face that was halfway between a pout and a smirk.
"You wouldn't shake my hand so I can't be sure but John does not have the hands of a violinist."
"He could be freshly started. Perhaps he just hasn't built up calluses yet." Sherlock shot back, wondering what the girl would do.
"Nope." She said with a confident shake of her head and an impish smile. Sherlock frowned and sat back in his chair not quite sure what to make of her. He was about to speak again but she cut him off. "If you want an explanation I'm going to need a glass of wine." Her smile went from impish to cheeky. Sherlock turned her demand over in his mind before rising and walking into the kitchen to find a bottle and glass. At least he wouldn't be utterly bored this evening.
John was startled when Sherlock actually left his seat and returned with a bottle of wine and a glass. The attractive woman he had spent hours talking to earlier that day was actually holding a semi-normal conversation with Sherlock Holmes. John had half expected to have to scold Sherlock at some point, but the girl seemed unfazed by what most people would have taken as rude.
"Now, would you care to elaborate?" Sherlock asked, sounding absolutely bored but anyone who knew him would know that even asking proved he was mildly interested. He poured a red wine into the glass he had brought and placed it into Kitty's outstretched hand.
"A neglected violin, or one played gently at that, won't leave rosin all over the flat. It takes an avid violinist to do that." Kitty stated it as though it was just simple fact. John scoffed.
"You should see him prancing about at 3:00 am in nothing but his robe and trousers playing that silly thing." Gran whispered conspiratorially to her granddaughter as she returned with a tray of goodies which she offered to the two men.
"I'm sure that would be a sight." Kitty chuckled and took a sip of her wine. She sounded almost rueful. "Would you play something for me?" She asked after allowing the sweet red wine to sit on her tongue for a moment. Sherlock found himself oddly stirred by the words she had used. She'd asked for a song for her. Nonsense it's only turn of phrase. Sherlock reminded himself. She's awfully arrogant behaving in such a relaxed manner anyway.
"Oh yes, Sherlock! Play us something merry!" Gran piped in with an excited grin. Sherlock gave the older woman one of his rare smiles and shrugged.
"If you insist, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock grabbed his violin from next to his chair and rested it against his shoulder. Truth be told he had been itching to play. He'd never admit it but he was a showoff through and through. He ran the bow across the strings and then paused for a moment. He didn't like many Christmas carols. Most of them were idiotic and far too boisterous to do his beautiful violin any justice.
"Silent night?" Kitty suggested after taking another deep pull from her wine glass. Sherlock nodded, deciding that Silent Night would do, even if it wasn't particularly challenging. Momentarily the song began to float through the flat and his little audience closed their eyes to listen, even Kitty. Sherlock found the action redundant but continued to play anyway. Right in the middle of the song a mobile phone began to ring at a blaring volume. Kitty's eyes shot open and she yanked the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. The phone was expensive, far more so than anything else the girl had on her. She was up and out of the flat in an instant, answering the call as she stepped into the hallway.
"Mom? I'm so sorry!" Then the door shut and he could no longer hear her hushed voice. Sherlock hadn't even realized he'd stopped playing. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. John was looking at him strangely.
"What?" Sherlock snapped, not much appreciating his friends alienated look.
"You just had a conversation with a woman." John said with a surprised shake of his head. "I thought I'd seen everything." Sherlock frowned and set his violin aside.
"What do you mean? I have plenty of conversations with women." Sherlock couldn't understand why John was so startled by the obvious. He was beginning to question his choice of the doctor as his assistant if he couldn't observe even the most basic of things without sounding astonished.
"Yes, but normally your conversations end with the woman thinking you're an arrogant sod." John was right of course. Women were such delicate , confusing creatures, but Sherlock was sure that as soon as he would turn his deductions on her she would prove just as weak and emotional as all the rest.
"Give him time." Mrs. Hudson chirped from the kitchen. Sherlock frowned and crossed his legs.
It wasn't long before people started arriving. Lestrade arrived first.
"I've just passed your granddaughter," He said with a polite smile to Mrs. Hodson. "Beauty must run in the family." Mrs. Hudson giggled like a young girl and swatted his arm.
"Don't you flirt with me, Detective, I'm far too old for that." Mrs. Hudson tried to sound stern but her sweet old voice showed flattery. Sherlock grimaced. Lestrade took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack behind the door. As Lestrade stepped away from the door it opened and Kitty snuck back in, an apologetic look on her face.
"I'm really sorry, Sherlock. I didn't mean to interrupt." Lestrade looked down at the girl with an eyebrow raised. He didn't bother hiding the way his eyes raked down her frame. Sherlock frowned.
"Quite alright. Lestrade here was just telling us about how he is going to Dorset first thing in the morning with his wife." Sherlock gave Lestrade a dirty look, and Lestrade took a step away from Kitty.
Kitty knit her brows together and frowned for a moment. Perhaps she had caught wind of what he had done but Sherlock brushed the thought aside. Everyone was looking at him disapprovingly but he didn't care.
"I've obviously missed something." Kitty could feel the awkward in the air. "Anyway," Kitty began. "I've brought you a present, Gran, should I go and get it?" Kitty turned her head towards her grandmother. Sherlock was mildly irritated at how hard she tried to appear normal, what was more irritating, however, was that people fell into the ruse.
"Oh you didn't have to bother with me." Mrs. Hudson waved at her granddaughter, gesturing for her to save it for later. Sherlock couldn't handle the idiocy of the moment any longer.
"For God's sakes , she's blind!" Sherlock spat in a moment of sheer frustration. Lestrade, imbecile that he was looked startled and then gave Kitty a good hard look. She chuckled and ran her fingers through her hair.
" Are you going to announce that every time someone arrives, Sherlock? I could save you the trouble. 'Hello, I'm Kitty, and I'm as blind as a bat wearing sunglasses.'" Katarina's voice wasn't angry at all, but it was blatantly condescending, at least to Sherlock's ears. She had the habit of breaking awkward silences with humor. Everyone but Sherlock chuckled in relief. However it was short lived.
"Do you think that they'll just forget if you make them laugh hard enough?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he frowned angrily. Her tone had pushed his buttons. Kitty spread a smile and laughed like he was an amusing child. Sherlock felt absolutely livid.
"Do you think I'll get angry if you keep behaving like a child?" She shot back. John and Greg leaned forward. It was like a fight had broken out in school and everyone was waiting to see who threw the first punch.
"Please, Kitty, don't antagonize him." Mrs. Hudson fretted, but it was too late. Sherlock's gloves had come off.
"Why on earth would you be angry? You like the attention it gets you, and has gotten you your entire life. As an only child, in a wealthy family you should have been spoiled enough, but no, your parents gave birth to a little,blind baby. You were doted on and coddled a disgusting amount, which has given you your unapologetic attitude. You're used to people letting you do whatever you please and talk however you like. You use their pity." Sherlock leapt out of his chair and stalked over to Kitty. Her hazel eyes followed him, always a bit behind where he actually was, but she still seemed absolutely unfazed.
"Kind of like how you use your brilliance." Kitty fired back. "You're right though, or at least you would have been had you met me a few years ago." Kitty poked her index finger into Sherlock's chest and shoved him a step backwards. "Go on I know you have more bouncing around in that brilliant brain of yours." It was like Kitty had lost all sense of the people around her. She had a foul habit of courting danger. It had gotten her into trouble before, but why stop him. It was obvious she'd set off a reaction that was fascinatingly aggressive.
Sherlock clenched his jaw and batted the girl's petulant hand away from his chest.
"You lashed out as a teenager, drugs, bad boys, parties, although your favorite of the three was the drugs. Anything you could do to force the idea of your independance on those around you, but particularly your mother. Oh how you fought to be just like everyone else, you're still fighting in fact, but what did you do to make you change, hmm? Must have been awful considering the way you bend to your mother's will." Sherlock leaned closer to the girl, frustrated by how calm she looked as he dragged her dirty secrets out for everyone to see. He wanted her to be angry. he wanted for her to lash back and be done with it. He wanted her to be defeated."Flirting with John all afternoon, and flashing dazzling little smiles to distract everyone from what is staring them in the face."
Kitty could hear his angry breaths and feel his height looming over her. He was acting like an animal that had caught a lesser specimen of his species traipsing through his territory. It's sexy in a terrifying sort of way. Her subconscious sprang forward inconveniently. Kitty just raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, squaring up to him. Sherlock grinned maliciously.
"So tell me, dear, little Kitty." Sherlocks tone was venomous." What did I get wrong" He had won. He had already tucked the victory away in his mind palace to replay for a moment of severe boredom when Kitty shrugged.
"I wasn't born blind…- and my favorite was actually the bad boys." Her tone had started out trivial, but became flirtatious, and was punctuated by a sassy wink. Everyone's mouths fell open in shock. Sherlock however was completely blindsided by her clever little attack. He had been sure she was on the verge of breaking. He came dangerously close to murder in that moment, but the size of her pupils stole his attention.
"That's enough!" Mrs. Hudson's matriarchal voice cut into the intense battle between the two and caused them both to turn to her surprised. "You've done quite enough damage, young Lady! Go downstairs this instant!" It was Kitty's jaw that fell open this time.
"What?" She blurted out astonished. "I'm not a child!" Kitty's face grew hot with embarrassment.
"You have yet to behave like an adult!" Mrs. Hudson admonished. "You're almost as bad as Sherlock!" The man in question gave Mrs. Hudson an incensed glare." Don't think I've forgotten your part in this." She waggled a furious finger at Sherlock as she turned Kitty to the door and shuffled her out without another word. It was at moment that Molly chose to arrive.
"Hello, the sign on the door said to just come up so.." She stopped mid sentence coming face to face with Sherlock who looked fit to be tied. "What have I missed?" She squeaked.
"Nothing." Sherlock snapped before turning on his heel and stalking over to his chair. He snatched up his violin and began to play the angriest rendition if 'I Wish You a Merry Christmas' that any of the others had ever heard. He hoped it would drive the blind girl mad.