Here is #2. Thanks to the one person who reviewed!
Tia was understandably not very happy.
After a talk over the phone with her aunt, she found out that there was another person living at Baker Street who was on vacation. She got into bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep.
Perfect. Just great.
If that wasn't enough, she woke up at 1:41 a.m. to repeated explosions going off upstairs. Quickly, like any sane person would do, she leaped out of bed, threw on her bathrobe, and ran upstairs to see what was going on.
Sherlock was lying idly on the couch, staring at the ceiling, with a pistol in his hand pointed at the wall. The wall had holes in it. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
Seething, Tia managed to hiss out, "What the bloody hell are you doing?!"
He glanced at her passively and said with a nonchalant shrug, "Bored."
She honestly did not know how to respond to that.
"You're bored," Tia stated in a flat tone, just realizing that her hair was sticking up in about twenty different directions.
"Yes. I already said that."
"And you're shooting the wall."
"Yes. Problem?"
To say that she was offended would be a slight understatement.
"Do I have a- Of course I have a bloody problem with you shooting the bloody wall at bloody one-forty-one in the morning!"
"One-forty-seven," Sherlock replied in a monotone voice. He pulled the trigger, and another explosion went off as another hole appeared in the wall. Tia jumped.
"You are a bloody psychopath!"
He glanced at her again, seemingly annoyed. "I am not bloody, nor am I a psychopath. Now, if you would have the decency not to barge into people's flats at bloody one-forty-one in the morning, I would be oh so greatly obliged."
Tia had no idea how he managed to sound sarcastic while keeping his tone of voice monotone.
"It's one-forty-nine," she snapped.
"You came in here at one-forty-one. Bye-bye."
He glared, and she went back to bed.
The next morning, Tia got up and made some coffee. She usually drank tea, but when one wakes up feeling exhausted, they tend to want some caffeine. After choking down the bitter black liquid, she got dressed and sat at the table, staring at her blank phone screen. Beside her she noticed a white three-ringed binder with a note next to it.
Picking up the note, she read:
Dear Tia,
I can't thank you enough for agreeing to look after the flats for me. I understand they alone can be a bit
of a handful. About John and Sherlock- well, you've met the latter. John is quite a bit more civilized, and
things should get better once he gets back from vacation. Some important things should know:
First, Sherlock's occupation is not normal. It is about as strange and unpredictable as he is. You may run into
some strange and/or frightening things because of it. Don't panic. It will be fine. Just try to stay out of it all.
Next, John has a daughter named Rosie. She is three now. If you could help watch out for her a bit, I would feel
a lot more at ease. Sherlock tends to leave out a lot of dangerous poisons and chemicals. Stay away from those, and don't
trust anything in the fridge or the cupboards. Keep all of your food items in my flat. In Sherlock and John's fridge, you may
find severed body parts. Don't be alarmed. Sherlock legally gets them from the morgue. He is not an ax-murderer or
anything of the sort. Lastly, sometimes some officers come by to do "drug busts" on the flat. Just stay out if it.
There is a lot more that you will discover while staying there. I have left some instructions in the binder.
Stay safe!
Love,
Aunt Martha.
The note had been slightly alarming, to say the least. Tia had known it was from her aunt before reading it because of the familiar, neat scrawl. It was odd, really. Her aunt seemed to find Sherlock and this John character... endearing.
The only promising part of the note was the part about things getting better once John got there, supposedly with his three year old daughter.
Tia liked kids. She didn't mind watching out for the little girl. She didn't like the bit about the poisons. It was concerning. Then there was the part about the drugs.
Her aunt had put quotations around it, meaning that it was fake. Then again, the police would have to have a reason for a drugs bust, so Sherlock may have a history. That was some ammunition, at least.
Paging through the binder, Tia found information on her chores. It wasn't bad; most of it was just cleaning up.
Deciding to get started right away on the cleaning, Tia went to find the vacuum cleaner. Just as she pulled it out of the closet, there was a muffled knock on the door.
Upon opening it, she found a man with a girl in one arm and several bags in the other.
"You must be John," Tia said.
"Yeah," he replied. "Can we come in?"
Tia was tempted to do what her schoolteachers had done and say, 'I don't know, can you?', but she refrained and nodded, stepping aside for him. He walked inside, set the girl down, and turned back to Tia.
"You're Mrs. H's niece, then?"
He was much more polite than Sherlock.
"Yeah."
"Sherlock hasn't caused you too much trouble?" He asked as he caught Rosie before she crawled up the stairs.
She didn't know how to respond to that.
John sighed heavily. "What did he do?"
"He shot the wall, and I think he's a stalker."
John sighed again as if this were a regular occurrence.
"He's not a stalker, and I'll talk to him about shooting the wall."
Finally, another civilized human being, Tia thought.
"That'd be great," she said as he and Rosie went upstairs.
She then went back to vacuuming the floors.
A/N: Thanks for reading!