Babysitting?! They brought me all the way from America to babysit a grown man and his banging partner? The nerve! He isn't even part of the government apart from relation to the pompous ass who employed me. A common day citizen and an ex-soldier doctor. Fantastic. Might as well boil my whole career into this pivotal moment where I am contracted to follow around an OCD sociopath with no crime record.
I huffed down the street from Scotland Yard trying to blow off some anger. The afternoon was dreary and gray much like my attitude. The people walking adversely scattered to not get run over as I powerwalked to the domain of said sociopath. It was a two and a half mile walk and a taxi would be faster but a stroll would help calm the fiery rage seething in my body. The manila folder in my left arm was heavy against my side. The contents even heavier. There were newspaper clippings about the famous consulting detective by the name of Sherlock Holmes and his lackey blogger Dr. John Watson. His expertise in deductive reasoning made him a few fans but from the rumors circling Scotland Yard, royally pissed of many detectives including several working with him. Other contents such as landlady, people of interest, and recent activities were also logged on very official looking papers with pictures included. Don't want to walk in blind.
Two miles later, although still smoldering a tad, I grabbed a coffee and three teas from a cute little café called the Apostrophe. If I was going to invade someone's privacy in the sake of government, the least I could do was buy beverages to sweeten the deal. Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson were going to be easy to appeal. They were simple-minded folk and easy to appease. A little bit of sweet talk and open body language will gain their trust. Plus I bought tea, and Brits love tea. Mr. Holmes junior however was going to be difficult. From the file and his brother, I could tell he hated people following him around or even breathing his air. He hated boring people and my only plan of action so far was to not be boring. But how does one do that? With his deductive reasoning and obviously genius observation skills, I might as well be an open book for him. Or so he would think. We all have secrets, but as an agent for the United States, I could mask anything I wanted and be whoever I wanted to be. Maybe this is all a test of my training and once he's deduced nothing, I can go back home with a stamp of approval. Sighing, I gave up that fantasy and trudged on.
As I continued on my way, I sipped my first coffee in England. Careful of the scalding temperature, I lightly poured the promised paradise in my mouth and promptly spit it out. Coffee, a main staple in American society, and these Brits couldn't make a decent cup? This tasted like dirt and diesel. Gagging, I threw it in the closest trashcan. This was going to be a long mission. I couldn't have been contracted in Italy, Spain or France where they have the same appreciation of coffee as the caffeinated minds of the world? Damn the English and their love of tea. So bland and watered down. I shudder at the thought. No wonder the Boston Tea Party happened, Americans finally realized how much tea sucked. I chuckled, simply thinking "'Merica".
Smiling, I continued my way with the three teas and a manila folder, and happened upon my destination. The quaint apartment was adorable with its framed black door. Mrs. Hudson must be proud. I scanned the building. Six windows in the front. Two on the street side were easily accessible, and the rest within climbing distance. They had turning locks, which were easy to open, and the second floor right window wasn't even locked. The door had one dead bolt lock and looked standard which meant it could be knocked down easily. The drain pipe on the right most corner provided leverage to the roof, and brick always served for good traction. In short, this was an assassin's wet dream and I hadn't even seen the back. I sighed knowing I had my work cut out for me. On top of babysitting a grown man of no importance except for his relation, I had to work around this death trap known as 221B Baker Street.
Accepting my fate, I walked across the street and knocked on the dark door. From within I could hear voices on the second floor above me, and a flustered voice from behind the door. The door opened from the inside and I quickly painted a simple smile on my face and lifted my eyebrows in a non-threatening expression of peace and innocence. A short woman of around sixty opened the door with one hand while trying to fix her curling gray hair with another.
"Oh!" she exclaimed surprised, "What can I do for you love?" Her kind face burrowed in confusion. Obviously, she was not expecting anyone, much less a woman in a black pantsuit with three to-go cups of tea.
"Hello. Mrs. Hudson, right?" I inquired.
"Oh an American! We don't get much of your lot here!" she stated excitedly. "Yes, yes! That's me! What can I help you with?"
"If I could, may I speak with one of your tenants Sherlock Homes?"
"Sherlock?" Once again her face contorted with confusion. "What could a pretty girl like yourself want with Sherlock? Is he trouble again? Dear me, that man does have many people over." Her mumblings continued until she looked at me again and said "Right. How rude of me. Please come in dear!" She sidestepped behind the door and opened it wide.
As I entered the house I did a quick look over. Stairs were directly in front of the stair and a hallway extended parallel to the right. Presumably the apartment down the hallway was Mrs. Hudson's while the two men of the manila folder occupied the apartment upstairs. There was an umbrella stand to my right filled with random objects. Nothing dangerous. The layout was feasible to work with. The voices from before had quieted and the house was silent.
"Boys!" a shrill cry came from the frail Mrs. Hudson's mouth. " You have a visitor!" She smiled at me and hurried up the stairs. I followed behind her quietly and walked through the door Mrs. Hudson disappeared into.
Upon entering, my senses were overwhelmed by the smell of chemicals and something decaying. The room was a disaster. Books laid on every possible surface. There were glasses, mugs, old plates, and an odd skull scattered about the room. Not to mention take-out boxes lying on top of everything else. Great. I left America and its amazing coffee to take care of this loony bin. Please God, don't be hoarders. I can't deal with finding dead animals crushed by the sheer amount of crap in this room. The overwhelming status of the room blinded me to the man who rose to greet me. His shorter stature and graying hair was a dead set for his identity. He stood straight like a good military man and extended a hand towards me. I placed the manila folder under the arm holding the teas and shook his hand firmly.
"Agent Nicole Miel. You're Dr. Watson, I presume."
His eyes widened a bit and he stuttered a yes, and turned to the slouching figure hovering over a laptop. The tall man was searching the screen of the laptop meticulously. His curling brown hair hung like a mop upon his head. His long face was strained with concentration. Eyes as clear as the blue sky. Well, America blue, not England grey. Watson shifted uncomfortably.
"Sherlock?" he asked. "Someone's here. Aren't you going to acknowledge her?"
Without looking up from the laptop, Mr. Holmes sighed. "American. Female. Government worker. Probably Mycroft's doing" he simply stated calmly. "Boring."
My eyebrow cocked involuntarily. "Oh, I see. You're performing. What did your brother call it? I think he said it was a 'deducing fetish'." I shrugged my shoulders smiling at Dr. Watson who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. "Shame it won't work. Sorry Mr. Holmes but your stuck with me. I have been assigned by your omnipotent" I rolled my eyes here, "brother, to protect you, or in better terms, stop you from getting yourself killed."
With that, Sherlock turned in his chair and stared me down. I stared back unflinchingly as he analyzed me. I could tell his mind was working furiously on how to offend me enough to get me to leave. He was unhappy and you could tell by the grimace gracing his long features. His face was quite handsome. Good English boy look. As the stare-down continued, Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson looked hesitantly at each other. They were both uncomfortable by the situation and looking for a way out.
"Well I'll make a fresh pot of tea for you." She scrambled to get out of the apartment before I stopped her.
"Nonsense." I claimed pointing to the teas in cardboard holder in my hand. "I was walking by a café earlier and bought these for you as a peace treaty of sorts. I know this is a little bit of an invasion of privacy, but I'm going to try and make this as easy as possible without interrupting your daily lies whilst performing my job at the same time." I handed one to Mrs. Hudson, and two to Dr. Watson to give to the still stoic Mr. Holmes. John placed it on the desk by the laptop and hesitantly brought the cup to his lips. "Don't worry. It's not poisoned." I commented rolling my eyes. Mrs. Hudson gladly started drinking and gleefully commented that wild berry tea was her favorite. Dr. Watson also began drinking his slowly while switching his gaze from Mr. Holmes and me.
"Fine." Mr. Holmes said finally, startling both Mrs. Hudson and Dr. Watson. He turned back to the computer and continued to type.
Dr. Watson nearly choked on his tea. "Fine? That's all you're going to say? No analyzing? No embarrassment?"
"Simple, John." Mr. Holmes paused and looked at him. "Mycroft certainly has gone out of his way to procure Mrs. Miel. She said it herself; she will not be in our way. Plus, this might be what it takes for Mycroft, the insufferable man, to leave me alone." Mr. Holmes then turned towards me. "You didn't bring luggage so I'm suspecting a short visit."
"Actually, it was not specified or disclosed to me. Your brother is playing this one close to the chest so not much was given to me except your names address and recent activities." I faced Dr. Watson. "Lovely blog by the way." He blushed and looked at his shoes.
Mrs. Hudson, feeling left out, suddenly exclaimed "Staying! Oh well you must use the empty room upstairs! I was meaning to rent it out but it so hard to sell a single room, and with this lot, nearly impossible. It's right by John's room. Oh, you'll love it!" she continued babbling while continuing to the third floor.
The room became suddenly silent except for the typing on laptop. I turned to Dr. Watson feeling as though to make my job easier, befriending him would be best. "Thank you Dr. Watson for making this so easy for me. I sincerely appreciate it." I sent him a wide smile.
"Please, call me John. Dr. Watson sounds so formal." He said fidgeting with his cup.
"As long as you call me Nicole." I countered smiling. He smiled at me. Slowly I could feel him trust me. "Well, I have to gather my things. I will see you this evening." I slowly made my way to the stairs. "Thank you once again, John." I smiled at him, and then looked to the tall man in the room. "Mr. Holmes." He didn't move or acknowledge what I said. His tea cooling slowly untouched. John looked apologetically and shrugged his shoulders. I just laughed at his childish antics and made my way down the stairs to hail a taxi.
Oh this was going to be easy. Too easy.
Hello all!
Thank you for reading :) I know it sounds very harsh against the British but don't worry! I love the English (maybe a little more that I should) and an avid tea drinker. Have no fear. Our little agent is a proud American and newly landed in England, so her manners will change. Anyways, I am trying to keep this story as geographically honest a possible so all the stores and cafes I mention are real and the length of travel just as real too.
Feel free to review:). Good and bad appreciated!
-Posa