Ch.2 Deduction of an Introduction

Zip.

A body bag is quickly unzipped by idle steady hands ready to uncover what has seemingly been put to rest unwillingly. Dead bodies would normally make any average person weary, but Sherlock was anything but average.

Sniff. "How fresh?"

"Just in. 67, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice," Molly stated with a cheerful smile on her face in an uplifted tone despite the fact that the man she was complimenting, was dead, while circling around Sherlock.

Re-zip. "Fine…" turning his body posture towards Molly "…we'll start with the riding crop," he states with a smile.

Upon leaving the room and letting Sherlock go about his business, Molly watched from the viewing room as the detective whipped with fearsome strikes upon the body's lifeless form. After numerous relentless walloping, Sherlock finishes with an exasperated yet satisfied exhale as Molly enters back into the room with a light banter followed by a small chuckle, "So, bad day was it?"

Ignoring her banter he states scientifically, "I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me."

Pulling out a small notebook and writing utensil, Sherlock began to take notes as Molly finally nerved up the bravery to ask, "Listen, I was wondering…maybe later when you're finished—"

"—are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before," Sherlock interrupted in inquiry after realizing Molly's lips were much more noticeable than usual and finding it oddly pleasant to look at.

Molly was caught by surprise as she replied in a stammer, "I, uh…I refreshed it a bit."

She smiled at the light notion that he actually noticed, but his expression didn't match the sentiment as his mind was still in a processing mode, looking back down at his notes, "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?" She asked in a cautiously flirtatious manner.

Closing his booklet he turns towards her with a logical response, "Black, two sugars please. I'll be upstairs," and then nods accordingly while walking away towards his destination.

Molly sighed, taking the obvious hint if it even was a hint while left to attend to the dead man she complimented earlier, "Okay."

-Bart's Lab-

Just as quick as his thinking, Sherlock made short work of a petri dish he was currently studying amongst the vast amounts of equipment and chemicals scattered about the lab. It was silent for a bit of time before Sherlock heard steps coming down the hall, making note it was three people from the amount of steps being made and soon enough a double knock upon the door before it opened with a light creak. Two gentlemen and a redheaded woman entered as Sherlock gave a quick observing glance over at the room's new occupants. One man had a limp with a cane as support, the other was Mike who Sherlock personally knew, and the third…

…oh the third.

Sherlock did a double take at the woman, finding her to have a strange display of familiarity, but wasn't quite sure why. Seconds before the woman looked up to meet his gaze, he had already looked away to continue fiddling with the petri dish.

"Well, a bit different from my day," the man with the cane stated.

"You've no idea," Mike replied in a chuckle.

Sitting in a nearby stool Sherlock asked, "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."

"And what's wrong with the landline?"

"I prefer to text."

Eleanor and the other man glanced at Sherlock before Mike replied, "Sorry. It's in my coat."

"Uh, here, use mi—" "—you can use mine." The man and Eleanor inadvertently interrupted each other upon offering the same courtesy to Sherlock. They looked at each other for a moment and chuckled lightly while Sherlock observed the two in amusement.

"Um…heh, you can use his," Eleanor suggested openly while tilting her head at the man and it was then she finally met Sherlock's gaze with another chuckle, finding his stare strangely proverbial, but why she wondered. Something was a bit odd, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

He broke the gaze as he focused it back to the other man in a friendly tone, "Oh. Thank you."

After briefly glancing at Mike, he stood up to go grab the phone.

"It's an old friend of mine, John Watson. The lovely lady beside him is someone we met briefly down the hall while coming to the lab. What did you say your name was Miss?"

"Blackburn…" she answered accordingly as Sherlock grabbed the phone from Watson, but not without giving her another glance as she caught it and received a small chill up her spine "…E-Eleanor…Blackburn."

Sherlock didn't look away until she had answered her full name, but he didn't say anything, just merely observed her. Turning away while flipping the phone open as he began to text, Sherlock openly asked in a lightly blunt manner, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

The question hit John blindsided as Eleanor glanced at him in an odd pondering as to what Sherlock was referring to in his inquiry, although Mike was all too familiar with Sherlock's habits of first introductions. John did a double take as he nearly stammered in a quiet tone, "Sorry?"

Pausing in his typing Sherlock looked over at John and asked again, "Which was it…Afghanistan or Iraq?" before continuing to text rapidly upon Watson's phone. The doctor could only look at Mike again in bewilderment as his old friend smiled back with a light glare hitting his lenses. He then glanced briefly at Eleanor, but she looked just as baffled as he did.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you kn—"

Door creak.

"—ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you," Sherlock interrupts upon looking up to find Molly entering the room as he hands John's phone back. Upon reaching for the coffee as Molly came out from behind Watson, Sherlock noticed something odd about Molly's lips as he stated out loud in blunt examination, "What happened to the lipstick?"

Feeling a bit awkward Molly answered regrettably, "It wasn't working for me."

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now," he stated openly in a logical fashion as he always did, causing Eleanor to jaw drop lightly. She had received rude comments before from men that were nothing short of sexist, but this was just so bluntly honest that it nearly made her laugh as she watched Sherlock turn his back nonchalantly and walk away while sipping on the brown coffee mug.

"Okay," Molly replied again as she did in a similar fashion in the mortuary, turning away and going towards the door to leave.

"Do you normally wear men's shoes?" Sherlock now directed his observational inquiries at Eleanor, causing her jaw to drop a bit lower as she stammered, "Uh…they're uh…more comfortable? And if I might add, they're better at running in then some annoying high heel."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and glanced at her momentarily again. Her shoes weren't completely masculine as they were simple ankle high leather boots with a fancy buckle strap. The toes weren't as square shaped and didn't stick out nearly as long. They were androgynous in style more or less and could actually be worn by both sexes and still come off classy, but nonetheless they were indeed a line of men's shoes. Most interesting enough is that they weren't any type of sports shoe and neither was her outfit. So it was all the more attention-grabbing that she would make a statement about running away.

It's a strong indication of one thing being, that she's been in trouble before, possibly assaulted, but not necessarily in trouble with the law since Lestrade texted him about her being a possible flat mate and she was on her way to meet him. Lestrade would never suggest a flatmate to Sherlock if they had a history or recent history or having trouble with the law, not to mention the fact that he purposely pointed out her fashion choice to hear her response, but she surprisingly didn't respond back in insult or disgust.

"Lestrade has never mentioned you until today and yet I wonder, have we met before?"

Eleanor paused as Mike and John looked at her before she responded in wonder, "That's ironic you ask that because…I was wondering the same thing."

Leaving the thought alone for the moment, Sherlock attended back to typing on a nearby keyboard as he now pointed a question at both Eleanor and John, "How do both of you feel about the violin?"

The two strangers glanced at each other as they tried to keep up with Sherlock's randomized questions, but with logical reasoning no doubt as John responded after receiving another smile from Mike, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you two?" Looking at them both Sherlock continued in quick talk, "Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other," as he then smiled again in strange and almost false manner, leaving John and Eleanor in a paused hush. Not only did Sherlock openly accept the idea of having Eleanor as a flatmate without really any hesitation of the idea, but John as well. And considering that Mike introduced John to Sherlock, Eleanor could only concur that Sherlock neither knew her nor John. It was one thing to room with one person she had no clue about, but two? Not to mention they were both males so it made the idea all the more awkward. However, strangely enough she got a pleasant calm vibe from John and didn't seem to rub her the wrong way in the least, but still it was a precarious proposal of sorts.

In rational conclusion John assumed of Mike, "Oh you…you told him about me?"

Mike merely shook his head while looking at a chemical tube as he replied, "Not a word."

Shifting uncomfortably about, John glanced back over at Sherlock as he asked, "Then who said anything about flatmates?"

"I did…" Sherlock answered calmly while putting on his coat "…told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan and then we have Lestrade giving the same proposal with a woman that has a strangely sensible taste in men's fashion. Wasn't that difficult a leap," he topped off upon wrapping his scar around his neck while looking back at the two with yet another smile.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked, ignoring Sherlock's examining quips.

Ignoring the question, Sherlock responded while walking towards them, "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we all ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry, gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

Eleanor has never dealt with anyone that talked so quickly and in such intelligible speech, not to mention how easily Sherlock noticed her shoes, but what was more intriguing was the statement he made about John. Studying from how he stated his words, Sherlock didn't make his statement in the form of an assumption, but the form of knowledge based on an observation. No, better worded as…

…a deduction.

She couldn't help but feel that this was but a small taste of the tip of the iceberg that was Sherlock Holmes. He talked so quickly that she didn't really have a chance to fully comprehend what just happened let alone get a word or thought in on the renting situation before realizing that she inadvertently agreed to flatmating with two strange males. Of all the choices and strange situations she had been in, in her life, this was definitely going to be added to her list. Before she knew it, Sherlock had already made his idle chat and then went behind her and John while reaching for the door.

"Wait, what are you doing with a riding crop in a mortuary?" Eleanor lightly asked, but her question was drowned out by John asking more audibly, "Is that it?"

The question was enough to stop Sherlock as he circled back around with a lightly annoyed expression on his face before replying, "Is that what?" as he then placed his hands in his pockets and approached John and Eleanor who were standing next to each other in equal bafflement.

"We've only just met and we're all gonna go and look at a flat?"

Sherlock was unfazed by the question as he responded, "Problem?"

John was not amused as he merely chuckled in disbelief while looking across at Mike to see if his expression matched his own, but Mike continued to smile innocently, but of course not so innocently. This was becoming a bit annoying as he quickly questioned Eleanor, "And what do you think? Is this not a bit odd for you as well?"

Then everyone looked at her including Sherlock as she became a bit nervous. She wasn't fond of being the center of attention even if it was for a brief moment as she stammered, "I…uh…well…of course it's a bit odd…but I like odd…and violins."

Sherlock almost smiled at her quipped compliment. She smiled genuinely back. He wasn't at all used to compliments since normally people insulted him on a day to day basis. John shook his head finding it uncomfortable that he was really the only one having an issue with the situation.

"We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting and I don't even know your name."

Sherlock took one look closely at him before he presented his way of deduction, "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid."

John looked down upon his leg with Sherlock as he shifted about uncomfortably with his cane.

"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?"

Without further interruption Sherlock went for the door again, opening it halfway with the edge of its frame planted against his chest before he further stated at the two, "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street." He then winked before looking at Mike with a common mannered courtesy, "Afternoon." Mike nodded with a raised finger as the consultant then left the room, leaving Eleanor and John a bit estranged.

"Yeah. He's always like that."

Eleanor could only smile in an audible chuckle, "Fascinating. Could only imagine what he could deduce about me…aside from the…uh…shoes."

-221 B Baker Street-

Eleanor sat patiently upon the small double step that was at the bottom of the flat's doorway as she finally spotted John approaching with his cane simultaneously when a black shiny cab pulled up. Standing to her feet and dusting herself off, she smiled at John and shook his hand.

"Nice to see you again."

John smiled back, "Likewise" and then used the golden knocker and knocked upon the door with a double tap.

A gentleman then got out of the taxi as the two looked over and realized it was Sherlock.

"Hello," he stated while bidding the cabby goodbye with payment, "Thank you."

John responds first upon reaching his hand out to greet him, "Ah, Mr. Holmes," to which the detective immediately responded, "Sherlock, please."He then brought his hand out to shake Eleanor's as she smiled lightly and repeated his name, "Sherlock." "Eleanor, was it?" He asked in repetition of the politeness. "Yes," she answered.

"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive," John commented upon looking at the door and the surrounding area.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out," Sherlock explained in simple manner, surprising Eleanor and John a bit.

"Sorry, you stopped her husband from being executed?" John further questioned.

"Oh no, I ensured it," Sherlock answered back with a playful smile.

"Well that's a comforting thought," Eleanor commented as the door suddenly opened behind her, causing her to move aside as Sherlock was quick to greet the woman that came out the doorway with a warm and quick hug.

"Sherlock, hello!"

"Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson and Eleanor Blackburn," Sherlock introduced while standing lightly behind Eleanor.

"Hi," Eleanor responded politely as Mrs. Hudson motioned them to come in, Eleanor entering first. Then John came second with a "Thank you," and thirdly Sherlock with an audible, "Shall we?" as Mrs. Hudson replied, "Yeah," and then closed the door behind them. Sherlock was first to quickly go up the stairs as Eleanor allowed John to go in front of her since it was more polite to let a man with a cane go before her up the stairs. The detective waited at the top by the door with a light eagerness as he watched John hobble up the stairs and then Eleanor. When they were all finally at the top, Sherlock then opened the door to reveal the contents inside.

Upon entry there were bits of furniture like a cough, small table with a chair, two sofa chairs, and some book cases, two of which were built into the wall and completely filled with books already. Most noticeably there was an animal skull on the wall that faces the door and it had headphones around it. Eleanor thought that was a cute touch as she went over to the kitchen where Sherlock was standing in front of.

"Oh this could be very nice…" John stated while walking towards them "…very nice indeed."

"I agree," Eleanor stated as Sherlock nodded his head in compliance, "Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely."

"I think it's really cozy—" "—so I went straight ahead and moved in—" "—soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out…oh."

The trio spoke simultaneously in interruption of each other as they stated their own thoughts, only to find that John's comment was a bit…out of place as he realized what Sherlock was saying. Eleanor admitted to herself in thought that of course the style of everything wasn't in her particular tastes, but nonetheless she still found it cozy.

"So this is all—"

"—well, obviously I can, um…" clears throat while shuffling about half heartedly tossing a few things into a box "…straighten things up a bit," finalizing his statement with taking a stack of envelopes, placing them upon the mantelpiece over the fireplace and stabbing the stack with a small knife.

Upon looking at the fireplace with John, Eleanor stated in near simultaneous expression, "Is that a human skull—" "—that's a skull." Finding they were talking at the same time again, John and Eleanor glanced at each other with a bit of an odd expression before turning their attention back on Sherlock as he answered, "Friend of mine…" awkward pause "…when I say friend," but he didn't finish his sentence as Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"What do you think Dr. Watson? Mrs. Blackburn—"

"—not a Mrs. Just a Ms. And please, just call me Eleanor."

"Alright, Eleanor it is," Mrs. Hudson responded positively with a smile while picking up a cup and saucer as Sherlock stripped himself of his coat and scarf. "Since it will be the three of you, the bedrooms might be proving to be a slight quandary. There's a bedroom upstairs and considering there will be a lady in the flat…a lady always needs her privacy."

John looked at Eleanor as he realized a room would have to be shared. Sherlock merely glanced at the two and observed them quietly while shuffling about.

"I um…it's…n-not necessary. I mean yes I will require a bit of privacy, but the only room I'll really need is a place to put my computers and a few trinkets. That's about it. I don't mind sharing a bed. I think it would be a nice change at least if it's not too…awkward…inappropriate?"

Sherlock continued to take down mental notes as John was a bit taken back by Eleanor's suggestion. She didn't seem to be offering to share a bed in a flirtatious manner, however her words were polite and considerate.

"I could sleep on the couch—"

"—no really, I don't mind. I'm assuming the bedroom upstairs has a bed that can easily fit two people?"

"Yes and a bathroom as well," Hudson answered.

"See? Besides, you're injured and I doubt the couch would provide as much comfort."

She smiled again as John lightly smiled back in agreement, "Well then, I guess a shared bedroom it is."

"Sherlock, the mess you've made," Hudson commented openly as she took one look at the kitchen table and sighed since it was completely covered with lab equipment. Shaking her head she went about tidying up a bit.

To the left of him was the bigger and softer sofa chair as John plopped himself into it. Eleanor then sat herself across from him in the black leather chair to the right as they both watched Sherlock still messing about with his things.

"Gentleman, before we go any further with anything I'd like to make a proposal on top of us flatmating together."

The two looked at her as Eleanor continued, "Don't worry about paying rent…any of it."

Sherlock and John raised their eyebrows as John openly asked out of a necessary curiosity, "Why?"

"Because I'm…going to be paying for it…entirely."

John glanced at Sherlock, Sherlock glanced at John, but of course John was a bit taken off guard by this proposal more than Sherlock was as the detective found it all the more intriguing and now intent on listening to what she was saying.

Watson protested, "Um, is that really necessary? I mean when you say all of the rent—"

"—I really do mean all of it. Look the way I see it, I'm going to take a wild guess and say that Sherlock doesn't have a job…" her comment causing Sherlock to shift his facial expression ever so lightly "…at least not one that has even been mentioned and considering you haven't denied Sherlock's claim about you being released from the military, that means you're on military pension and I know that doesn't pay enough, at least not enough to cover a place like this. So, I'm offering…actually it's not really an offer…I'm going to take full responsibility for the rent."

Eleanor was more quick witted then people normally assumed about her as Sherlock didn't say a word since John naturally provided a nice filler for conversation to unintentionally extract information through his verbal protests on the matter, "And what exactly do you do for a living?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"I don't do anything except be bored half out of my mind most of the time. Besides I…" sighing a little as she repositioned her sitting "…I really don't want you two to worry about it. I know it's usually the ridiculous gender norm that the man provides for the household, but there's nothing more frustrating or stressful then being financially strapped or constantly having to worry about the next check coming in. So if there are no objections, I'll take care of the rent and no that doesn't include me buying you two clothes or food. You can worry about that yourself."

John immediately looked at Sherlock for confirmation, "And I'm guessing by the way you're not objecting in the slightest to her proposal that you're perfectly okay with this?"

"Of course," he answered with his usual smile, giving Eleanor a curious but final glance before putting his attention back on his laptop that he just opened up on the overly crowded tabletop he was standing in front of.

"Okay, I guess that settles that…" he stated before looking over at Eleanor again, needing an absolute final confirmation from her "…are you sure?"

"Quite sure," she answered without hesitation, but not looking at him directly as she was still glancing over at Sherlock who was obviously preoccupied with his laptop.

"Alright."

It was strange. Although she was perfectly intent on paying for the rent, the idea originally came to her as a passing whimsical impulse. And by the time she spouted the idea to the boys was when she realized she was already agreeing on it, but subconsciously. Normally she would never give such a proposal. Not only was she suggesting to support one man without a job that she didn't know, but two men she didn't know. She had no idea how reliable they were or what kind of past they had or if they were the peeping tom kind for that matter, but this was one of those rare occasions where she was going on gut feeling alone. She received comfortable vibes both from Sherlock and from John. Mrs. Hudson seemed quite nice as well. The flat was charming with plenty of room more or less except the kitchen table apparently, and they all seemed like respectable chaps that could easily take care of themselves.

Besides, if there's one thing she didn't want to worry about was the rent being paid from three different shares. She'd rather just take it upon herself and just pay the damn thing entirely, not that it was financially a big deal. Technically she could just buy the place, but she wasn't that stupid, neither did she have any idea how this was all going to play out.

"I looked you up on the internet last night," John stated, catching Sherlock's attention as he spun towards their direction again with his hands in his pockets.

"Anything interesting?" he asked back in mild curiosity.

"Found your website, The Science of Deduction."

Sherlock smiled in a nearly proud expression, "What did you think?"

John could only respond with an are you kidding me returned expression, causing Sherlock to stare at him quizzically.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"

"Yes…" Sherlock started in retort with a nearly equal yet refined snarky deep tone "…and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone."

John stared at him blankly with the ever slightest uncomfortable shift as he asked, "How?"

The detective lightly grinned as he brought his attention back to his laptop again as Mrs. Hudson came into the room while reading a newspaper title, "What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same."

"Four…" he corrected as he got closer to the nearby window and noticed something odd "…there's been a fourth. And there's something different this time," he added while noticing a police car parked out on the street behind the flat.

"A fourth?" Hudson questioned as footsteps suddenly could be heard coming up the stairs as Lestrade walked through the entrance.

"Where?" Sherlock immediately asked Lestrade.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?"

Sherlock paused for a moment before asking, "Who's on forensics?"

"It's Anderson."

Obviously by the look on Sherlock's face, Eleanor could tell he wasn't happy with Lestrade's answer as he grimaced.

"Anderson won't work with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant."

"I need an assistant," Sherlock emphasized as he looked back at Lestrade.

From the way Sherlock carried himself so professionally and in such an intelligible manner, she was rather surprised to hear him admit that he needed an assistant. From the first impression she's gathered about him, she didn't think he seemed like a man that needed really anything in that manner. She was going to speak up and say how gladly she would join to help him, but she automatically shot the idea down. No man has ever needed her assistance in such a way so why would Sherlock? She wasn't the pessimistic type, but merely under the thought that if a man wanted her to join, he would simply say so. Why speak up only to be disappointed again? So she stayed quiet.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked again in a more persistent manner.

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."

"Thank you," Lestrade answered in relief as he finally got Sherlock to join, leaving out the door but not without giving a quick glance around the room at the others, giving a nod to Eleanor. The room was quiet for the moment as the inspector's footsteps could be heard going down the stairs until he reached the front door and finally left the building. A big smile crossed Sherlock's face like a giddy little girl in a doll store as he suddenly leaped into the air happily while shouting, "Brilliant!" Catching Eleanor and John off guard by his reaction.

"Ah, four serial suicides and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" He joyfully spurted about, spinning in a circle and then grabbing for his scarf and coat while heading to the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper…" she corrected him politely as he interrupts back while grabbing a small leather pouch from the kitchen table "…something cold will do. John, Eleanor, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!"

And then with that said, he left through the connecting kitchen side door.

"Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same…" she directed her conversation towards John and Eleanor "…but, you two seem more like the sitting-down type. I can tell…" an awkward pause hitting the air before she finished "…I'll make you two that cuppa. You rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John shouted as he immediately then apologized, "Sorry, I'm so sorry just sometimes this…" tapping his cane against his leg "…bloody thing—"

"—I understand dear, I've got a hip."

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you," he stated politely upon picking up the newspaper and reading it.

"Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper."

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em."

"Not your housekeeper—"

"—I'll help you Mrs. Hudson," Eleanor interrupted as she felt it a bit awkward to expect the landlady to do anything for them.

"Thank you deary. Glad to see someone take initiative."

Upon looking at the newspaper, John read different articles stating about Beth Davenport's apparent suicide. Before he can read on however, his silence was interrupted by Sherlock's sudden voice speaking into the room, "You're a doctor…" fiddling with his gloves as he further stated "…in fact you're an army doctor," as John stood up from the chair. Hearing Sherlock's voice immediately caught Eleanor's attention as she came back into the living room and stood near John.

"Yes," John answered, clearing his throat.

"Any good?" Sherlock further asked.

"Very good."

Sherlock lightly nodded as he approached John with further statements in the form of assumption, "Seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths."

"Mmm, yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet," the detective continued to state as he was but a few inches from John, standing much taller than him as John looked up.

"Of course, yes. Enough…for a lifetime. Far too much."

Sherlock was no stranger to the look on John's face. He's seen it before. It was a look not of wanting to put away the past, but a look of a man wanting to continue revisiting it in hope of finding some action and adventure. So Sherlock was only left with one final question, "Wanna see some more?"

John answered fervently, "Oh God yes."

Without another word said, the two bromanced in a waltz towards the door and left out of sight, leaving Eleanor feeling a bit ignored and in a disappointing sigh. It was one of many occasions she has been seemingly overlooked as she sat upon the edge of the sofa chair's arm, staring down at the floor. However, this moment was quickly broken as Sherlock's presence once again disturbed the atmosphere as he popped his head around the door's entrance.

"Coming?"

She immediately lifted her head with surprise written all over her face, "You…want me to come along?"

Sherlock jerked his head slightly at her rather ridiculous question as he quipped back, "What do you mean do I want you to come along? If I recall it was you who muffled on about how you're bored most of the time."

She smiled, eagerly getting up from the chair and quickly walking to the door where Sherlock stood alongside John as he then spoke in a near whisper to her, but in a deep tone, "And what better way to break boredom then with a suicide case?"

She then laughed out loud full heartedly, finding his blunt statement to be a horrible yet morbidly delightful joke that hinted of an actual seriousness. Finally having the right company along, the trio quickly went down the stairs as John shouted, "Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out."

"All three of you?" She presumed while standing near the bottom of the stairs.

"Afraid so, sorry about that," Eleanor apologized in a near delightful manner as Sherlock was just about to reach the front door before spinning around and walking back towards Hudson.

"Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point in sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!"

He then went about grasping Mrs. Hudson by the arms and kissing her on the right check with an audible "muah!" before turning right back around and leaving.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent," she states, but with a smile.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!"