A month later, and I was on very good terms with my neighbors once I had forgiven Sherlock for his tactlessness. I had settled into work nicely, Inspector Lestrade had been preparing me for the more difficult cases as I worked there longer. For that I was glad, as I actually had a chance to exercise my brain.
Sherlock and John were quiet, when they wanted to be, but still as strange as ever. Sherlock would play his violin through all hours of the night, and some days he would ignore John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lily but talk to me like we had known each other for years. Anderson told me that he swore Sherlock had a thing for me, but I wasn't so sure. I had heard him say that he was asexual, before John and his date at the time, Sarah had been kidnapped by a terrorist organization, known as the Black Lotus.
Sherlock had left for Belarus two days ago, for a potential case while John was working studiously at the clinic as a doctor. Lily had been enrolled into a prep school, and even received a recommendation by a Mycroft Holmes, who I have attempted to contact on numerous occasions but never receive any word of back. I can only assume he has some relation to Sherlock, but I was really hoping to understand why he would do such a thing for a child he's never even met. And why would his recommendation be the tipping point in why she got accepted in the first place?
Anyway, tonight I had to go out on a job. Lestrade told me that I was going to infiltrate a known terrorist circa tonight and attempt to get some information at the very least. I was going to bump into him at this hip new club in the hub of London. Anderson picked out the outfit as he knew what the scene was like. But I swore at him and told him this was the last time, the very last time, I was going to let him pick out an outfit for me.
The thing was horrendous. It had a short miniskirt, which left barely anything to the imagination. Then he had it paired with a strappy silver shirt, which was little more than a bra underneath a shirt full of holes. The last thing to top it all off were the heels. Ankle boots, in a horrid yellow color. They had assured me that this was what the salesclerk brought them and they brought a photograph of the model wearing it on the runway.
I was in the middle of painting on my make-up, I had curled my hair thankfully, when I heard gunshot's ring out. I sprang into action, grabbing my own gun and making my way up the stairs to the hallway. John walked in at that moment, heard a gunshot and ran up the stairs. I followed, to ensure that there wasn't another huge mess for Mrs. Hudson and I to clean up.
"What the hell are you doing!" John cried out as we reached the landing and peered in the doorway. Sherlock was sitting in his easy chair swinging a gun.
"Bored," he muttered.
"What?" John asked incredulously.
"Bored!" Sherlock leapt to his feet and pointed the gun back at the smiley face he had spraypainted on the wall.
"NO!" John covered his ears as Sherlock shot the gun off again.
"Bored!" Then he shot from behind his back. "Bored!" He went to toss the gun but John grasped it before he could, as it was still loaded. "I don't know what's got into the criminal classes." He inspected the wall. "Good job I'm not one of them."
"So you take it out on the wall?" John asked as I spoke at the same time.
"What's that got to do with the wall?" He turned to look at me still standing half in, half out of his room.
"Uh, the wall had it coming," Sherlock flopped onto the couch.
"What about that Russian case?" John asked as he removed his coat.
"Belarus," Sherlock and I said in unison.
"Open and shut domestic murder." He said after a momentary pause. "Not worth my time."
"Ah, shame," John said a little sarcastically. Or maybe it was longingly. "Anything in? I'm starving! Aria, you hungry?"
"No, John, I'm fine. I have an engagement tonight that I must really attend." I politely declined, walking more into the room. Sherlock roved his eyes over my form.
"What are you wearing?" He asked a little sharply. "John!" John came into the living room, before he even opened the refrigerator.
"What is it Sherlock?" He seemed aggravated.
"Look at what's she wearing!" Sherlock seemed scandalized. I tugged nervously at the skirt, then smoothed it down.
"Sherlock, she's probably going to a club or something." John attempted to calm his flat mate down. He knew how his flat mate felt, even if Sherlock didn't understand his feelings towards this American girl yet.
"Who picked out that outfit?" Sherlock asked me suddenly. I jerked in surprise.
"What do you mean?" I asked, smoothing down the skirt again.
"You are uncomfortable in it, which means that it isn't something that you would pick. Who picked it for you?" I blurted it out, feeling the coldness of his stare on me.
"It was Anderson." I closed my eyes.
"Bloody Anderson. I ought to have him strung up." Sherlock bemoaned. "I don't want you going out like that."
"Sherlock!" I pleaded with him. This was strange. Usually he just let me do my own thing, never really protesting what I did or whom I went out with. Although he usually did give me a very descriptive run-down on any man that I did bring home. Which I had only ever brought home two. And had them both meet Sherlock; they were my marks.
Lestrade was strangely enthused that I was living in the same apartment as Sherlock and John. I guess he figured that I would be better protected whilst they were both there. Something I found very odd, as I imagine both of them had more enemies than I had.
"Sherlock, leave her be!" John snapped, before turning to go back into the kitchen.
"You have my number right?" Sherlock sat upright and gave me a piercing stare.
"Of course I do." I said, with a smile. At least he appeared to be concerned for my welfare. I knew what to text him in case of an emergency, Lily. This would imply that I needed someone to watch out for my daughter, but I also was texting him my phone passcode.
"Oh!" I heard the refrigerator slam as John made that noise. I raised an eyebrow. I could hear him muttering something. "Severed head?"
"Just tea for me thanks," Sherlock flopped back onto the couch, peering at the ceiling.
"No! There's a head in the fridge." John stated, a little too shocked I thought.
"Yes," Sherlock as well appeared bored with this line of questioning.
"A bloody head!" Sherlock looked at him as if he were mental.
"Well where else could I put it?" He had a great point there. It would rot and decompose without being kept cold. "You don't mind do you?" If I had a say, I would definitely say that John was a little disturbed about the body parts being kept in the fridge.
"Well," John began but Sherlock cut him off.
"I got it from St. Barts Morgue." He said as if that really mattered. "I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." John and I locked eyes. Well, that was some experiment. I was almost frightened to ask him how he thought of that, so I thought it best not to ask why he picked that for his experiment.
"Why did you just bring the head?" I asked curious. John shot me an indescribable look. "Isn't the full body needed for the creation of saliva in the body?" John just shook his head at me frantically.
"That's why I'm measuring it," Sherlock looked at me with an indifferent glance, like I was one of the millions of ants that he despised. Well I suppose I was. "Anyway, I see you've written the up the taxi driver case." He went back to ignoring me. Oh well. Guess that was his indiscreet way of telling me that I was no longer welcome there.
"Er, yes," John said a little confused by this change of the subject. Sherlock could give anyone whiplash with his constantly changing moods.
"Well, I must be off. Have to finish my make-up and give my last instructions to Lily." I said, before striding to the door.
"Wait," Sherlock said. I paused and turned to look at him. "If anything should go wrong, just let me know."
"I will, Sherlock, I promise." I gave him a smile before walking back down the stairs. I grabbed my clutch and finished my eyeshadow. I was walking towards the front door, when it opened to reveal Mrs. Hudson with Lily. John came striding around us.
"It's a bit nippy out there dear!" She called after him.
"Mrs. Hudson," I said, effectively refocusing her attention to me.
"Oh, my, that is a bit revealing isn't it?" I nodded.
"Yes, I didn't pick it." I told her. She seemed more at ease. I guess I would to, if I knew that my boarders didn't all dress like that. "Please, could you keep a good eye on Lily tonight?" Sherlock appeared at the top of this flight of stairs. He was listening to me.
"Of course, I always do." Mrs. Hudson said. Lily was hugging my bare legs tightly.
"I know. I don't doubt that for a minute, but I have a feeling something is going to happen tonight. I don't like it and I don't even want to go, but I have to." I said, my eyes welling with tears.
"I will help Mrs. Hudson keep an eye on her." Sherlock said from the stairwell. I turned to face him.
"Really?" I brushed a stray tear off of my face.
"Of course." He said with a wry smile. "And if it makes you feel any better, she can even stay in my flat. That way I'll know personally if anyone should happen to break it. I can protect her better than in your basement flat.
"Oh, Sherlock!" I gave him a rare hug. He just hung there, unsure of what he should do in this circumstance. I grabbed his arms and wrapped them around my back. "Thank you so very much!" I whispered into his ear. "Well, I have to be off." With that I gave Lily her standard instructions, not to pester Sherlock too much, not to eat too many cookies, and to be in bed by ten o'clock as it was a weekend. She nodded and I left the apartment complex with my umbrella and an evening coat.