_Chapter 2_

Meeting the Great Detective

I knock on the door of the flat, and the landlady, whom I know to be Mrs. Hudson from the blog, answers the door. "Hello, are Sherlock and John upstairs?" I ask.

She looks confused, but nods, and probably passes me off as another client. As I knock on the upstairs door, John answers and when he sees me he says, "A client? We can't take any-"

But Sherlock, when he glances up at me, cuts John off, "No, not a client," and he looks at me with his piercing gaze, and I can tell he recognizes me from the café that morning.

John looks confused but politely invites me in.

Sherlock scrutinizes me from the sofa, appraising me, sizing me up, and probably figuring me out, if everything on the sites I'd found were to be true.

"Alright, my name is Neries Tripull, and you probably don't know why I'm here," I pause and look at Sherlock, "Though you might…" I pause and tell Sherlock, "You may as well go ahead, and do what you do best. I want to see if it's true."

Sherlock raises his eyebrows slightly, considering, but he looks satisfied as he starts in, "You are 22 years of age, and have been at college in America for four years. You are athletic, but only in individual sports. You love nature, and you play the piano and the violin. You are single relationship wise. You are fairly intelligent and have always gotten good grades in school. You were also at the same café this morning, and as of yet… I'm not sure why you're here," he looks slightly disgruntled about this.

I smile mischievously, and my mind is made up now. But before I ask on that count, I want to know what's going on, and I state so.

"What do you mean?" John asks.

"I mean all the strange things happening lately: the explosions, the murders, the people getting kidnapped and strapped to bombs. I overheard some of what you were saying in that café this morning, and I know that you must know something about it; that you're connected to this mess somehow. So, I want to know what's going on."

John looks surprised and slightly confused, but Sherlock looks mildly impressed.

After a few seconds of silence, John looks to Sherlock questioningly, "Um… Sherlock, should we-" but he stops as Sherlock nods.

"Alright, Neries, after the first explosion, Sherlock received an envelope addressed to him, with a phone resembling the one from a "Study in Pink", but do you know?" I nod hurriedly and gesture him to go on, "There were five beeps, or five pips, telling us that the bomber was going to do it again, as well as a photo of inside 221C, the flat downstairs. When we went in, there was a pair of shoes in the middle of the floor. Sherlock then got a call from the phone from the envelope, and a kidnapped woman told him that he had 12 hours to solve the puzzle of the shoes. He figured out that the shoes belonged to Carl Powers, a swimmer, who had died because of poison in his foot cream, paralyzing him and causing him to drown in the pool. After solving it, he posted on his website, and then the woman was released. The next day, he got a second puzzle, this time on one of the police's phones. He was given 8 hours to solve his next puzzle, and he solved this one as well. The third one he received in the café this morning, and it was to solve Connie Prince's death. He solved it: botox poison in the face cream. But the old woman, whom was his "voice" and was strapped to the bomb, was blind and when she started describing the bomber's voice, he killed her. The explosion also killed 11 others. That's what's happened so far…" John said hesitantly.

The more I listen, the more certain I become. I look at Sherlock, and addressing him, I say, "There's one more thing I want to ask. Do I have to ask it?" Sherlock studies me for several seconds, while I gaze back steadily, wondering if he'll catch on. Then comprehension dawns on his face.

He looks away and shakes his head, "No."
"I'm not taking that as an answer."
"I'm sorry. What exactly-?" but John is cut off by Sherlock

"When I say no, I mean no."

I smirk, "Not this time you don't. I can tell."

Sherlock looks a tiny bit surprised, but covers it up quickly. "It'd be a waste of both of our time."

"No, it wouldn't. You can't say that I don't make you just a little curious."

"Yes I can!" Sherlock says, starting to look seriously annoyed.

"No, I don't think so."

"You can't read me."

"Not as well as you can read me, but just a little, I think can."

"Not enough potential, sorry."

"Look," I say, "I want to help and I want to learn."

Sherlock just glowers at me, irritated, but he's intrigued, I can tell, but "No." He states solidly. "Now go back to your own flat." I sigh heavily, but I won't give up just yet.

"Can I have a cup of tea before I leave?" but Sherlock is purposely ignoring me now.

John, looking bemused and annoyed, but still trying to be polite says, "Of course, I'll go put the tea kettle on for you."

I smile and nod at him, "Thanks." I say.

I follow him into the kitchen. "Okay, John, do you want to know what that was about?"

He looks relieved and nods.

"I want to learn from him. I've learned a lot about him and his skill just now and from both yours and his websites… I've always imagined and hoped to meet someone like him… to be able to go on an adventure. I kind of… want to apprentice him. I also want to help… I don't want anyone else to get hurt, including you two… you're still caught up in this whole mess."

John looks a little surprised and shrugs, "Well… I can't say he wasn't intrigued… but it's hard to tell, you know; it's Sherlock…" He pauses awkwardly, "Let's go back into the sitting room while we wait for the kettle."

I nod and accompany him back into the sitting room.

Sherlock ignores our re-entry. He has a violin out and is playing a thoughtful tune. As John sees and hears this he smiles knowingly. I however don't know what it means and just raise an eyebrow at him. John shakes his head, telling me that he'll tell me later.

We hear the kettle whistle a few minutes later, and John and I get up to get ourselves some tea.

I look at John, "So what was with the violin, then?" I ask, "You acted like it meant something… more."

John smiles, "It means he's thinking… he's not on a case right now. So, there's only one thing that could make him suddenly start deeply thinking." He winks at me. I smile back.

John takes his cup, ready to go back into the sitting room, and looks confused when I don't follow. "I'll drink it in the kitchen. You go on." John looks confused but shrugs and goes into the sitting room with Sherlock.

I hear the violin playing pause, and some murmured words. "…in the kitchen" I hear John say. I sip my tea.

I look around at the cluttered mess of contraptions and the makings of strange experiments.

I hear words from the other room, "…try it?...new experience… learn something."

"what…I… to learn?...No."

"it couldn't hurt…"

"Yes it could."

"How?"

A pause, then, "Her… too young… dangerous."

There is silence after that. I come quietly into the sitting room with my cup of tea. Sherlock and John turn away from each other, trying to act as though they hadn't been discussing me: the curious new incident. I look at Sherlock, "I'm plenty old enough to make my own decisions, and life is boring without danger. You're the one always craving the intellectual problems and the thrill of the chase."

Sherlock shrugs slightly, and doesn't look at me, saying nothing.

I sigh, and walk over to John. "Thanks for the tea," I say, handing him the cup. I cast a disgruntled, resentful look towards Sherlock. I grab a notebook and a pen from my pocket and write down my phone number. "Here's my number, if either of you would like to contact me." I say, and rip the paper out, and begin handing it to John, but Sherlock puts out his hand. I raise my eyebrows, and he silently holds his hand out for the piece of paper. Suspiciously I give it to him. He looks at me, nods curtly and then turns away. "Good-bye, then." I say, somewhat exasperated. John waves as I head out the door of 221B.