The Neighbor Girl

Part Two: Spin me Around, Sherlock

A rainy afternoon found nine-year-old Eleanor Taylor in the Holmes' lounge. Sherlock Holmes was stationed by the window, playing chess against an imaginary opponent. He had been teaching Ellie how to play, but had deemed her a lost cause after she had lost her third game. He dismissed her from the chess board, which Ellie wasn't very upset over. Instead, she focused on the classical music playing from the record player in the corner.

Sherlock probably knew the artist that was playing, but Ellie did not. Still, she found the music soothing. She'd gotten used to hearing classical music over the last two years, whether it was from a record or from Sherlock's violin. Ellie was perfectly content to sway to the music while Sherlock played his chess.

And so she swayed and side-stepped to the music, lost in her own thoughts for some time before she glanced up and noticed with a jolt that Sherlock was watching her. Ellie immediately stopped, self conscious.

"You're not dancing correctly," Sherlock said.

Ellie was quite accustomed to Sherlock telling her she was doing everything wrong. And he was not always very polite about it either. Sometimes the comments bothered her, other times they didn't. This particular comment didn't offend her, but she did roll her eyes.

"There's no wrong way to dance," Ellie scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes there is."

"How would you know?"

At this, Sherlock glanced stubbornly away. Was it a trick of the lighting, or was Sherlock Holmes blushing? Quietly, as though almost embarrassed, Sherlock answered. "I know how to dance."

"You do?" Ellie asked. Well that was interesting; although, why should she be surprised? Sherlock knew how to do a lot of things she did not. No matter, this was great news to Ellie. "Can you spin me around!?"

Sherlock glanced up to Ellie, his eyes searching her. Perhaps he was surprised by her reaction? He got to his feet, walking over to his neighbor. "You mean 'twirl'. Spinning is-"

"Spin me around, Sherlock!" Ellie interrupted, her honey-colored eyes a lit. She grabbed Sherlock's hand and twirled herself around.

Sherlock almost smiled. He'd never admit it, never ever, but he was almost fond of Eleanor Taylor. Having a constant companion was new to him at first, but he quickly grew comfortable with Ellie's presence. She was simple, but it did not aghast him as others of average intelligence did. Perhaps because, unlike many others, Ellie was not intimidated by Sherlock's intelligence. She did not often grow angry over his need to point out her mistakes. Instead, she was in ore of his talents.

It was certainly a nice break from having Mycroft be one's source of interaction. His criticisms were maddening and Sherlock had spent many of his years thinking he was stupid. Even when he made a mistake, Ellie didn't comment or even notice. She did not criticize or judge and Sherlock felt safe with her. She made him feel that he was special and that she adored him for it.

And so Sherlock spun and twirled and under arm turned Ellie until the rain stopped.

Eight Years Later

Sitting in front of the mirror, Ellie frowned at her reflection. Despite her attempt to tame her auburn curls, her hair looked exceptionally unruly for a night such as this. She typically wore a bow in her hair for this reason, but she had been hoping to forgo said ritual this evening. She had wanted to look different from her usual for the end of the year formal.

"Just wear the bow," Sherlock's drawl came from behind her.

Ellie's eyes narrowed at Sherlock's reflection. He was lounging on her bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Supposedly. He must have been watching her if 0he noticed her dilemma with her hair.

"But I always wear a bow."

"Exactly. You don't look right without it."

A regular person would have taken offense at Sherlock's words, but Ellie smiled. She had known Sherlock for most of her life and long enough to know that was the closest he usually came to a compliment. She took the periwinkle bow and tied it in her hair. At least she had the proper color to match her dress.

"Why are you going to this?" Sherlock asked, not for the first time.

Ellie rolled her eyes, playing with her bangs and some hairspray. "Because, Sherlock, this is what us normal people do."

"Are you going with Henry?"

Ellie could have laughed at the way Sherlock slurred his name.

"Yes, Sherlock," she replied. "And I don't want you here when he picks me up. I've had enough of you ruining my dates."

"Well maybe if you picked decent matches..." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Ellie said, applying her eye-shadow. "And you don't think anyone is decent. Everyone has their flaws, Sherlock, and they don't want them broadcasted by some skinny, weird bloke that they don't know."

Sherlock opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but was cut short by the sound of the doorbell. Ellie's eyes lit up and she jumped to her feet.

"He's here!" she squealed in excitement before rounding on Sherlock. "You get out of here before you ruin my chances with the most buff guy on this side of town."

Sherlock looked affronted but did as told. He got to his feet and Ellie rushed him downstairs, making sure she pushed him out the back door before meeting her date at the front door.

Five hours later found Ellie storming down her street, wiping angry tears from her eyes. A car followed slowly beside her, its window rolled down.

"El, come on! Get in the car!" begged the driver.

"Don't call me that!" Ellie snapped. "Just go away!"

"El, come on, you're overreacting!"

Ellie came to a stop, glaring daggers at her date through his open window. "You're a pig, Henry Ellis! Leave me alone!"

"El..."

"I didn't know you let people call you 'El'," came a voice from Ellie's elbow.

Ellie didn't need to turn around to know who had come, for she knew that voice anywhere. Not to mention, she had stopped in front of a particular house on purpose.

"There's an awful lot of screaming happening for a date with a decent guy," Sherlock said wistfully.

Ellie did not comment, but grabbed Sherlock by the wrist, pulling him with her towards his house. And it was good timing too, as fat rain drops began to fall from the sky. Ellie only glanced over he shoulder long enough to say one last thing to Henry Ellis: "Don't call me!"

Ellie stormed into Sherlock's house, slamming the door behind her. His parents were at a gala and Mycroft had long since moved away from home. Ellie kicked off her flats and stomped into the lounge where she flung herself down on the couch.

Sherlock followed through all of this, but said nothing. He was not fond of Ellie's break ups, which seemed to be a frequent occurrence, even when he did not interfere. According to Ellie, all men were stupid, boring, or knew how to press all of the wrong buttons. Sherlock had to agree, for he found most people to be stupid and boring.

But this left Sherlock wishing she would swear off of dating. He never understood the need for a romantic relationship anyway. For Ellie, they just seemed to leave her frustrated and in tears. And what was Sherlock to do about that? She always came to him; not for comfort, but simply because they were Sherlock and Ellie. But then he had to see her cry, and he didn't enjoy watching that. And he certainly didn't know how to make it stop. Not consciously anyway.

But here they were again. Ellie sat on Sherlock's couch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her leg bouncing furiously and her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Sherlock stood awkwardly by. He didn't need to ask what had happened. Indeed, he presumed that even the dumbest of souls could deduce what had transpired in the short hours that Ellie had been gone. Sherlock probably should have asked if she was hurt, but a quick scan of her revealed that she wasn't. Besides, he had been at the receiving end of enough of her rights hooks to know she wouldn't have gotten hurt easily.

Sherlock had no desire to play counselor to Ellie tonight. In fact, he had been rather busy with some research in his room before he heard the shouting coming from outside. But even though Ellie was different, he knew better than to just walk away from her now. But he knew how her date went, and he knew she wasn't hurt, so what else could he say to her to fulfill his obligation?

"How was the dance?" he asked.

Ellie shot him a glare. "Henry didn't want to do much dancing..."

Ah, Sherlock should have suspected an answer like that. Well, he'd probably comforted her well enough. Sherlock made to leave when a sob suddenly escaped Ellie's lips, rooting Sherlock where he stood. It was a heart-wrenching sob that even Sherlock recognized as a deeper pain than Henry Ellis could cause.

"What's wrong with me, Sherlock?" she asked, glancing up at him pleadingly, as though asking him to find her flaws. "Why do I always seem to end up alone at the end of the night?"

"You don't; you always come here," Sherlock corrected her.

"That's not what I mean Sherlock..." she sighed, wiping fresh tears from her eyes. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm too picky. Maybe I am just a prude. Maybe I need to change..."

Sherlock watched Ellie's face fall into defeat as she questioned who she should be. Sherlock didn't understand it. So much doubt and despair over men who didn't matter? Sherlock was very selective of who he spent his time with and he had chosen Ellie. And if she was good enough for him, she was certainly good enough for everyone else.

So Sherlock simply said, "I like you."

Ellie glanced up and gave Sherlock a very shaky, watery smile. She wiped away a tear and got to her feet. There were a lot of things she could say, wanted to say, but Sherlock wouldn't understand. Not truly understand. How could he truly understand that she couldn't date these average boys because they were so boring in comparison? How could she listen to a man talk incessantly about his car when Sherlock could tell her ten facts about everyone in the room? How could she tell Sherlock the battle that raged within her? How could she tell him about the feelings that she did not always quite understand herself?

But the best thing about Ellie was that she was simple and she said none of what was on her mind. Instead, she grabbed her oldest and dearest friend by the hand. "Spin me around, Sherlock."

And he did until the rain stopped.

Author's Notes

So I've decided to take the drabble route, where each post will just be another 'part' to Ellie and Sherlock's story. I have at least two other ideas floating around in my head at the moment. Of course, I would love your opinions on this so far about what you like and don't like. And especially if I'm portraying Sherlock well enough. He's a challenging character to write and I want to make sure I'm doing him justice.

Also, as I am American, I find myself struggling with British terminology. I'm trying to use the proper slang and terms to make the story seem more fluid. Of course I watch Sherlock and I've got some knowledge from British novels, such as Harry Potter, but everything else I've been looking up. And for instance, I don't really know the etiquette for dances in England and my research only took me so far. SO, if I have any British readers who was willing to collaborate with me on phrasing, I'd be ever so grateful. I'm always looking to produce the best work I can for you guys.

Hoping to hear from you! Much love.