~Author's note~
To those of you who had followed this story a year ago, I will now be finishing it YAY! I know it's been more than a year but I have been really busy with life and have now come across some time to write some FanFiction (as well as the recent exciting clip from the Sherlock Christmas special that created a hidden inspiration) so without further or do enjoy!
2
"I'm not taking any cases right now. I'll have to ask you to leave." Sherlock rudely pointed out with a thick tone lathered with annoyance as he bent down and snatched up his sheet. He curled the white fabric into a ball and brought it over to his computer, where he threw it down beside him. He sat down rather roughly and brought the laptop back to life by lifting the screen up. John let out a irritated sigh.
"Sherlock, don't be so rude. We have a guest."
"I don't want a guest."
John sighed and rolled his eyes. He looked over at the woman, who continued to sit on the chair and stare at the skull, and took a seat in front of her. "Don't mind my colleague; he's been through some very traumatic events throughout the last 48 hours," John mentioned calmly to the woman.
"I wouldn't have used 'traumatic.' More like 'intrigue'; that's the word I would have chosen," The woman replied. She spoke with a soothing, contagious tone. Her hands rested firmly in her lab as her lime green pupils never left their direct stare on the skull. The artifact had captured her attention more than the detective. She wore a hideous yellow sweater with a plain grey skirt. She wore worn sneakers, tattered socks and had shiny, long black hair that fell past her shoulders. She was young by her appearance because of her choice in youthful attire and also by her beaming complexion, but she definitely held a strong maturity. She was definitely a bit older than her outfit had suggested.
"Why intrigue?" Sherlock asked from his laptop screen. His eyes glanced over at the woman briefly and then back to the screen. Her unexpected choice of words had only caught Sherlock's attention for a mere second. The question happened to slip out as his attention was now fully on the computer.
"It's not a question of 'why?' it's a question of 'how?' Moriarty's sudden appearance has surprised you?" At this point, the woman had turned around in Sherlock's chair where she now faced him comfortably. Her crossed legs slightly moved as if she was lightly tapping the air.
"I don't see why he has anything to do with your cat?"
"My cat?" The woman asked with a small smile.
"Of course your cat. The small claw marks on the front of your dandelion sweater suggests that your cat is quick tempered, aggressive. There are remnants of fur on the back of your sweater where you sit on your fur littered surface and your cat sits in your lap. The cat is white by the colour of the fur. The smudge of cat feces on you sneaker means you and your cat live in small living courters. I smell a hint of food decay which suggests that you live behind a dumpster where your cat tends to attack your sweater thinking that it's a ball of yarn because of its lack of cat toys and that fact that a maggot is climbing up your sock at this very moment. Maggots suggest rotting food and rotting food points to garbage. You woke up this morning, realized the familiar warmth of your cat sitting in your lap as you rest your head on a wall in an alleyway was missing and so you came here to ask for my help. But, you see, I don't deal with missing cats. Put an ad out or ask around. If you're here about the homeless network I created, since you mentioned a very important topic where I might need you, I decline your services. My homeless network is flourishing. Am I right?"
The woman, not even a bit surprised, shook her head. Of course, at that very instant, Sherlock's head shot up.
"No? Which one was wrong?"
"Both."
"No. One of them is right you just don't want to admit it," Sherlock teased as he closed the top of his laptop down slowly and watched the woman's expression.
"Try again Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock held onto his chin quickly. His eyes darted around the room as he took a moment to sit in silence and think. John watched from his chair as he saw Sherlock's face contort in his usual strange mannerisms. He was thinking hard but no other conclusion was coming to him. The woman momentarily looked at John with an arched eyebrow.
"You put up with this one?"
John was taken back for a moment, but was quite pleased with the woman's words. He nodded and made a small snort as they both turned and looked over at Sherlock. He was still looking around as if searching for an answer.
"I'm sorry your name?" John asked suspiciously.
"Kay."
"Okay what?"
"No John, my name is Kay."
"Oh, is that spelt..."
John was interrupted by a loud creaking noise. He turned and saw that Sherlock rose from his seat and had caused the table legs to angrily rub against the wood floor, causing an annoying sound to occur to interrupt John's sentence. His eyes were now directly on Kay sitting in front of him. She relaxed her muscles and sat back more in his chair.
"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded.
"Apparently I'm a homeless, dirty cat lover in your eyes, Mr. Holmes," Kay stated obviously as John suddenly rose from his seat.
"Tea Kay?" John asked nervously, seeing Sherlock's expression.
"Two lumps will do me just fine."
Sherlock slowly made his way around the table as John walked into the kitchen. John would keep looking up at the two of them from whatever he was doing as he prepared some tea for their guest. He wanted to keep track at what the two were going to be talking about.
"Who are you really?" Sherlock insisted eagerly.
"You know, Mr. Holmes, I don't reveal myself to just anyone. That is why for you I am the image of a homeless cat lady, while I am a different image for others."
"Performer? Multiple identities?" Sherlock questioned with a hint of anticipation.
"More like a secret."
"Hmm, sounds rather boring," Sherlock admitted, beginning to leave when she caught his arm. Sherlock looked down and she immediately read the expression on his face.
"Sorry, just grabbing your attention, as you can observe there are no affections towards you so I would not like to discuss unimportant content. Is that understood?" Sherlock nodded. "I don't like wasting my time."
"Neither do I."
"Then we agree," she released his arm and grabbed his hand, giving a firm shake. "Kay Towers, Mr. Holmes. And it depends on what the secret is about. Don't be so quick to deduce something to be observantly boring when in actuality it could be extremely interesting." She then headed straight for the bathroom and snagged a towel on the way, and before John or Sherlock could say another word, she went straight to the shower and closed the door.
John's face blew up with astonishment, while Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and walked straight towards his room. He appeared back into the kitchen with a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of John's old sweaters. Sherlock then opened the door slowly, placed the clothes on the floor of the bathroom and proceeded to close the door behind him.
"What in God's name was that?" John asked frustrated. "She just walked in there without saying a word. Who does that?"
"Me."
John eyed Sherlock and a tiny grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. Intrigue and mystery rolled about on his lips as he moistened them with his tongue. They both stood in the kitchen, waiting for the moment when the woman they had just met would appear from outside of their bathroom. Sherlock sat with his back to the door and tips of his fingertips touching the bottom of his chin in his familiar thinking position as John finished making the tea. He placed the tea pot and two cups on the table.
Seconds later, the thin woman emerged from the bathroom, wringing out her hair in a towel as she walked over to her tea cup and began drinking some. She was wearing the clothes Sherlock had given her.
"So, I suppose you have observed the fact that I used other portions of clothes from different charity drop offs to lead you off my track. I also don't do anything in the nude like your female friend, so I concluded you would offer clothing since I am a woman and that is the most decent thing to do. Especially since my clothes were so revolting," Kay cleverly said as she looked at John and took a long sip of tea. All you could see were those lime iris's staring out from the rim of the tea cup.
"It wasn't too difficult," Sherlock answered coldly.
"Well, good then tell me why I am here, Mr. Holmes." Kay asked. She turned around and walked back into the living room. She went over to Sherlock's lap top and turned it on by flipping open the top.
"You're just going to let her do that?" John asked with surprise. He sipped his tea and continued to watch Kay.
"Of course, she needs to get what she came here for."
"I did not come here for your information on Moriarty, Mr. Holmes. Nor did I come here to see the video I have seen far too many times. No, I have come here to help you."
John choked on some of his tea.
"Help Sherlock Holmes? With what? He doesn't need any help."
"Coming from his blogger that gives him the motivation, admiration, and companion ship that Sherlock craves? Clearly he doesn't need any help. No, I'm talking about specific help," Kay answered sweetly.
"And what 'specific' help are you offering to me. Some sort of bargain? It must be why you're here. You have information you want to use to help protect you, right? I've seen this before you're getting boring again."
"Sorry to disappoint, but no. I already have protection. And I do have information but I wasn't going to give it to you. No, I came here because I wanted to meet you. I came here because I figured you would want to meet me as you have been searching for me for quite some time. I decided it was time to finally show myself."
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock questioned.
"I just didn't want you see the real me which was why I used the disguise. It was sort of fun wasn't it? A homeless, cat lover that one I was definitely have to keep in mind for another time."
"Why would I be searching for you? I just met you. I never even knew you existed," Sherlock argued.
"You knew I existed, but I think you thought of it more in the literal and not metaphorical sense. I suppose literal is the first thing you think of..."
Kay let her words trail off as she turned her back and Sherlock and peeked outside of the window at their flat. It was soon going to be dawn. They had stayed up for the majority of the night.
"You know Kay; I think we should do this another time. I want to head off to bed. You know, work in the morning and all I..."
"Head off to bed then."
Sherlock cut John off. John, miffed at being interrupted, just glared at Sherlock from his tea cup. "What are you doing just get her out of here," John whispered. "Not until I know who she is."
"Come on Mr. Holmes, it really isn't that difficult to conclude. If you think back, in a time in your life, you once were searching for something. Something that risked your life to the point that suicide was almost an option." At that very second, Kay dropped her tea cup to the wooden floor gracefully and allowed the broken pieces to shatter beneath her feet.
"Now that you have figured it out and I demonstrated that with the smashing of the tea cup, why don't you conclude what I have hinted at you to John, Mr. Holmes," Kay didn't bother to turn around as the image of Sherlock's face contorting with disbelief, shone behind her like a blazing light bulb recently turned on by the hand that had flipped the switch. The hand happened to belong to Kay Towers.
"Who is she Sherlock?" John stammered to ask as he had been shaken up by the tea cup smashing to the floor. Tea was now all over Sherlock's sweat pants and now slithered along the wood towards Sherlock's shoes. The sound of running feet up their staircase appeared as Mr. Hudson opened the door as quickly as she could.
"What happened? I heard the smash from downstairs? You should all be getting some sleep for God's sake then scaring a poor old woman like that."
Sherlock stood in silence for a few more seconds as Mrs. Hudson's eyes went around the room at everyone. Kay's back was still to all of them as she pressed her hand against the window, staring into her own reflection as she saw behind her the clever detective flutter his eye lids and bring his mind back from his mind palace and to what was happening around him.
"Is anyone going to answer me?" Mrs. Hudson asked alarmed as everyone in the room still wasn't moving or turning to look at her. The only one eyeing Mrs. Hudson was John. He glanced over at her with a confused expression, when Sherlock took a step forward into the puddle of tea, soaking his shoe.
"You're the key. His key."
Kay spun around on her heel and sent Sherlock a mischievous smile.
"In the flesh."
"In a world of locked rooms..." Sherlock began, quoting Moriarty from one of their encounters. But before he could finish, Kay took a step forward saying, "The man with the key is king."
