"Right," John starts slowly, staring at his friend disbelievingly."So, what you're saying is you expect to find a woman who is willing to go undercover, not for the police but for some random civilian who claims to consult for them and risk her life for said stranger? You have got to be joking me, Sherlock. No one in their right mind would do that!" he shakes his head. Did Sherlock hear what he was saying? John wondered.
Furrowing his brow, Sherlock turns to face the doctor. "I never said I'd have to find one, I already know who to ask" he replies before continuing to gather his scarf and jacket.
Confused, John remains sitting in his armchair by the unlit fireplace before a thought hits him like a train. "Please tell me you aren't meaning Molly. I mean, she would probably do it, but she wouldn't exactly fit in. It would just look suspicious. Plus, I doubt she'd be able to defend herself if she needed to. What about Agent Donovan?" Sherlock grunts in reply. Moving down the stairs, quickly followed by a sighing John.
Hailing a cab, the taller of the two steps in, giving the driver the address and leaving the door open for John, he grabs his phone out of his pocket and starts typing a text. Staring at him as if expecting an explanation as to where they were headed, John rolls his eyes. Of course he wouldn't explain, when did he?
Smirking as read a text reply, Sherlock puts the phone away quickly, as they pull up in a main road near a long line of shops. Handing the driver some cash, he quickly moves down the street, not waiting for his slower friend to catch up. It was still quite early, only 7.30 in the morning, and most of the shops were shut, confusing John even more before he sees the detective move towards a large building, unlocking the door and waiting for John.
The room was large and mainly empty, a polished dark wooden floor with chairs surrounding it, spotlights coming down from the roof and a black wall covered in mirrors taking up most of the space. To their left was a modern reception desk made of white painted wood and glass, down the other end of the room there was a slightly raised area with a computer system perfectly set into a white desk. The room was scattered with empty used plastic cups and napkins, but the rubbish was only near the chairs. John was confused, to say the least, as to where they were.
All of a sudden, Sherlock moves away from the door, taking the lid off of a near by rubbish bin, picks up the bin and starts to put the rubbish in the bin. John merely stands perfectly still in utter shock. Sherlock was cleaning. Not only was he cleaning, he was doing it without a fuss and of his own accord. John couldn't help wishing Sherlock would adopt this habit at Baker Street, however, he said nothing.
Soon, a pale woman with dyed bright red hair and midnight blue eyes walks in, a slight smile on her face being the only indicator she was aware of their presence. Whipping down the seats with a bottle of spray cleaner and a sponge, her waves gently hit the back of her black and grey patterned jumper as she moves in silent rhythm.
Still confused, John clears his throat, hoping to at least nudge the lack of conversation towards introductions. "Oh," the red head looks towards him, a soft smile fitting her face perfectly, "did you want me to put on some music while you wait, Doctor Watson?" she asks calmly, but honestly, as she puts down her cleaning equipment and walks up to the raised desk, quickly typing something in before a song starts to play over speakers in the ceiling. The song had a fast beat and a happy feel, causing the woman to smile even more so as she moved off the stage and continued cleaning, every step to the beat causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.
John stands still, arms crossed in front of him. She knew his name, presumably Sherlock had told her. But why didn't he tell John who she was?
"You're welcome to look around," her voice calls over to him. "This will take another half hour, so you might as well use that time to deduct what you can about me and the studio" she grins, looking the picture of innocence, expect for a glint in her eyes, challenging him.
Knowing whatever he found would be nothing in comparison to what Sherlock would find, he wasn't very enthusiastic, however both the woman and Sherlock had become silent as the moved around cleaning. He might as well give utterly a try.
She had called the building 'the studio'... John assumed it was a dance studio, taking in the modern furnishings, he guessed it was one of these jazz/tap dance schools, but beyond that, he couldn't find anything. He didn't want to snoop, even though she glad allowed him to, he didn't know where the kind might be drawn, so he left the desks alone, deciding to focus his attention on her.
She was good looking, he thought, cursing his brain for the unhelpful remark. Tall, her body was hidden under a bulky jumper, but her legs appeared to be fit, covered in skin tight faded blue jeans. The faded-ness made him think she must be doing poorly financially, unable to afford the cost of a new pair, but her black healed boots looked expensive, maybe they were a gift? John shakes his head. He couldn't be certain of any of his so called deductions.
The song repeats itself, and the woman finishes cleaning the chairs as Sherlock finishes picking up the rubbish. Both walking out of the room through a door near where she had put the music on. After a few minutes, the duo walk back in, a broom in either right hand, laughing quietly at something, the woman gently smacking Sherlock's arm as she rolls her eyes starting to sweep under the chairs.
She was obviously very comfortable around the detective, and he around her, perhaps they were friends from college? John quickly struck out that thought, remembering their second case together when Sebastian had made it clear Sherlock hadn't had any friends. So how did they know each other? He puzzled, ideas becoming more and more abstract as he continued.
Not noticing the two others leave the room and return, Sherlock placing his discarded scarf and gloves back on as she turns off the music. John continues to be lost in his mind until the woman hits Sherlock in the chest with her bag, making a slight sound and catching Johns attention.
"Hold this" she says to Sherlock as she puts her coat, scarf and beanie on. "Now, here's my deal, doctor. We're all going to get something to eat, you're going to tell me what you think you deduced and for every correct statement, I'll answer one question. Deal?" she asks, placing her hand out in front of her for him to shake.
Looking quickly towards Sherlock, who nods impatiently, John takes her hand and gives it a quick shake. "Fantastic! It's been ages since I've been deduced!" she grins. Taking her bag back from Sherlock, she gestures towards the front door, waiting for the men to leave before setting the security code, walking out and locking up. "Now, food!".
A/N: So, This is a new Sherlock/oc fanfic. It is NOT the sequel to Round And Round The Garden, it is entirely separate. I still don't own Sherlock... Trust me, if I did... that's not a topic we should get onto... If there are grammar mistakes, sorry. Tablets are terrible for writing on, They keep guessing stuff, Including unnecessary capitalization...