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Chapter Two: I'm Your Flatmate
Leah spent her first couple of nights staying in a hotel not far from Baker Street. She spent the day after the flat interview acclimating to the time change and studying the various maps she had of the Tube and of London. The next day she had gone back to 221 B to look at the room with Mrs. Hudson.
"Now Sherlock has furnished most of the apartment." Mrs. Hudson explained as she led the way up into the flat.
"That's cool. I won't have to buy that much furniture then." Leah replied.
The two entered the flat and Leah blinked in amazement. The living room was in a state of controlled chaos. It kind of felt homey as well. There was a long couch against the wall to her right and then a few armchairs and a coffee table next to the fireplace on her left. There some bookshelves next to the fireplace and she was overjoyed at the amount of books on them. There were many tables cluttered with different papers and objects that made Leah extremely curious. The kitchen was in a state of moderate cleanliness. Though there were some chemistry tools on the table and a beaker full of dark liquid bubbled on a burner. Leah wondered if Sherlock was home, but her answer came immediately as Mrs. Hudson tsked and turned the burner off.
"That man," She mumbled. "He tends to leave his experiments everywhere. Which reminds me." She turned and looked at Leah. "You may want to get one of those portable refrigerators." Leah nodded mutely and followed Mrs. Hudson up one more set of stairs to where her room would be.
It was a considerably sized room. There was a closet, a dresser, and a large window facing the street below them. Leah walked across the room to look down into the bustling street and smiled. It was a nice room and it would help immensely for her studies.
"Okay so I need to get a bed, a desk, some bed sheets and blankets, and possibly a door mirror." She began muttering to herself the things she needed for her room and Mrs. Hudson smiled patiently.
"Oh how much money do you have?" Mrs. Hudson asked, stopping Leah in mid sentence of her list. "If you don't mind me asking." The older woman blushed.
"Oh no not at all." Leah said. She leaned against the wall next to the window. "I guess I had an uncle who lived here and he died and left me a large sum of money in pounds. At the time I was going through my problems and so I decided to leave it and use it for my schooling here."
"You guess you had an uncle?" Mrs. Hudson looked confused.
Leah herself looked slightly confused as she thought about it. "My mom, she's originally from North England, York or something. I asked her about it because I got a letter in the mail. She said that she didn't have any siblings. I talked to one of my dad's old business partners and he said that I should still keep it." Leah explained. She still felt as confused as Mrs. Hudson looked.
"Do you even know if this man was your uncle?"
"I don't know. There's something that I'm missing. It's kind of the second reason why I wanted to come to England." Leah shrugged and Mrs. Hudson smiled.
"Hopefully you'll find your answer." And the matter was dropped.
For the rest of the day, Mrs. Hudson accompanied Leah as she shopped for a bed and some of the other things on her mental list for her room. After it was all done, and a delivery was set for the next day, Leah returned to her hotel room and felt dazzled by how fast everything was going. The only she worried about now was actually meeting this elusive Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes, at the moment, was sitting in John Watson's new flat. He looked around the living room with skeptical eyes. He held his hands under his chin with his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. He waited as John finished a telephone conversation with Mary. While he waited he contemplated the living room, deciding on Mary being the one who had furnished and decorated it. Before he was driven mad by his contemplations, John came back into the room, pocketing his phone.
"Sorry about that." He said as he plopped down into a chair across from Sherlock.
"How's Mary?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly.
"She's fine." John said. He waited a few tense minutes before asking the question that had been plaguing him. "Have you met your new flatmate yet?"
Sherlock's eyes flicked to John and then back to the wall he had been staring at. He had not met the new flatmate. In a way he guessed that he didn't care. He had more than enough friends and then there was Mycroft, who had suddenly been asking favors from him.
"No I haven't." Sherlock said finally. "In fact Mrs. Hudson was supposed to show whoever it is the apartment today."
"Do you even want to meet your new flatmate? Or have you deduced who it might be?" John smiled mischievously as Sherlock just looked at him with an extremely bored expression.
"I don't have time for that." He muttered in reply.
"You have no idea who it is do you?" John chuckled, feeling very proud to have stumped his friend.
"Of course I do. Don't be daft." Sherlock snapped quickly.
"If you say so." John smiled smugly and Sherlock fumed with a dark expression. "What has Lestrade have you working on? You said you needed my help."
Sherlock straightened in his chair and leaned forward. "It's a gang thing." He started. "One of the prominent leaders has been put in the hospital under arrest, but he hasn't spoken a word. There's been three shooting deaths around London, all gang related. This man, the leader, he has something to do with it. Despite being in custody, he's still pulling strings." He talked rather fast, but John had no problem keeping up with his speech.
"You think that he has someone sneaking in to pull out orders?" John asked. He leaned across to a coffee table and picked up a cup of tea. "Perhaps there's a mole in Lestrade's unit." He added.
"There isn't a mole." Sherlock scoffed and flumped back into his chair. "There is an insider though. Someone who is just out of my gaze." He lapsed into an intense moment of thought. John stayed quiet as he did, sipping patiently from his tea.
"Who applied for the room?" Sherlock asked suddenly. John blinked and then placed his cup back on its saucer on the table.
"A number of people. Anderson did and I told him absolutely not." John noticed Sherlock smile at the mention of the slightly crazy Anderson. "A lot of nutters mostly."
"You must have chosen someone who knew all about me." Sherlock smiled at John slightly. "Someone to keep an eye on me."
"Actually no. I chose someone who had no idea who you were." John felt okay for letting that slip. It didn't reveal too much about Leah.
"What?"
"The person Mrs. Hudson and I chose has no idea who you are."
Sherlock looked skeptically at John who nodded after a moment. "I'm serious. They had no idea who you were."
"That's preposterous." Sherlock concluded.
"You'll be a good match either way." John said.
"I doubt it." Sherlock scoffed again and settled back in his chair. However, he couldn't help but notice that his curiosity was peaked.
Leah arrived at 221 B Baker Street just as the things she had ordered arrived. Both Mrs. Hudson and John Watson were navigating movers to where all the furniture and other decor were to be placed.
"Hello." Leah said cheerily as she pulled her suitcase up to the step where John and Mrs. Hudson were sitting.
"Oh good, you're here." Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands together. "Sherlock is upstairs supervising the movers."
"More like observing and belittling them." John huffed. "Here let me take this." He reached and grabbed Leah's suitcase and began to follow one of the movers upstairs.
"Um, okay." Leah had reached instinctively for her suitcase but hesitantly let John take it. She followed him slowly up the stairs and was in turn followed by Mrs. Hudson.
Leah's heart thumped in her chest as she followed John. During her little reprieve from traveling and ordering and had Googled Sherlock Holmes. He was a sort of celebrity. A consultant detective, a private detective, a genius, and many other things. She had read up on his turmoil with a man named Moriarty, no picture had been provided of this man, and had faked his death to escape the intense infamy he was rising to. Now he was back and more on top of his game than ever. Leah felt a little intimidated by the prospect of Sherlock Holmes. She held her breath as she neared the open door that would soon be her home in England.
"You have a gambling problem. Your wife knows about it too." A smooth low voice called after a fuming mover. Mrs. Hudson quickly noticed and followed the mover downstairs, offering the poor man a cup of tea.
Leah stared wide eyed after the pair and then heard John chastising the voice who replied with a string of negative sentences. Two other movers hurried past Leah and she barely had time to say hello before John called for her to come up and meet Sherlock Holmes. More fear pumped into Leah as she ascended the last few steps and stood in the doorway and looked into the living room.
"Sherlock Holmes, Leah Silver." Leah looked over the man who wore a dark button up shirt and dark pants with loafers. Over one of the armchairs was a long black coat and a gray scarf. She smiled at Sherlock Holmes who looked intensely at her with his green eyes. Leah felt suddenly self conscious and rubbed her hands together in front of her.
"No." Sherlock muttered in disbelief as he looked from Leah to John.
Leah's vision snapped immediately back at Sherlock, they had been diverted to the floor in her self conscious stage. She furrowed her brow and also looked at John who did not look happy.
"Yes." John replied and Sherlock took a step closer to Leah.
No longer feeling self conscious, but rather angry, Leah stood where she was looking up at Sherlock, he was quite taller than her. (Leah reached about five foot five to Sherlock's six feet.) He looked searchingly at her and she stared back at him. She could feel her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing the more that Sherlock stared at her.
"You finding anything in particular?" Leah asked and Sherlock's mouth twitched in the corner.
Immediately Sherlock's mind went into overdrive. America. Came from Chicago. Not where she's originally from. New York or probably one of those states. Student. Right handed. Anxious. His eyes darted to different features of Leah as he came up with a simple analysis of her. He deemed her extremely ordinary and took a step back. He noticed the fierce look on her face and was taken aback slightly. Perhaps extremely ordinary wasn't the correct term.
"You done?" Leah asked.
"Yes." Sherlock replied. "You can't possibly be living here."
Leah looked a little offended and John just looked embarrassed.
"Yeah well I am and I'm going to tell you to suck it up." Leah patted Sherlock's arm and grabbed her suitcase and began hefting it up the second flight of stairs.
Sherlock and John stared after her with wide eyes and shocked expressions. Leah had some problems hefting the suitcase, but in a matter of moments she was in her room and setting up her new living space.
"Suck it up?" Sherlock looked at John who was trying hard to suppress his laughter. "Oh yes John, she's a perfect fit." The sarcasm dripped off this last sentence as Sherlock turned and sat in one of the arm chairs in the living room.
"Give it a go Sherlock." John sighed after his laughing fit. "She really needs a calm place to live."
"And how do you know?"
John here hesitated. For a matter of fact, John knew more about Leah's past problems because of the e-mails they shared before she had come to England. He knew about her intense need to be in a place that she didn't dread to come home to. She needed a flatmate who wasn't out to get her and who had friends that didn't stalk her. Well the stalking was something John was curious about, and he knew from Mrs. Hudson about the need to find out about the English side of her family. Something else was also bothering her, it wasn't that hard to see.
"She just needs some good friends." John said, skirting over the matter.
"I don't need anymore friends." Sherlock muttered.
"Yes well she does."
In their pause, Leah came thumping down the stairs. Unbeknownst to the two men she had been standing on the landing of the stairs, listening to their small conversation.
"How does the room look?" John asked, trying to look cheerful.
"It looks great. Just got to get settled." Leah said though she noticed that Sherlock gave her a skeptical look.
"I'm going to go and see if Mrs. Hudson needs some help." John quickly made his escape, barely missing the dark look that both Sherlock and Leah shot them.
For a moment there was only silence. Leah shuffled on her feet and then headed towards the bookcase to get a closer look at the books it held. Sherlock watched her closely, his hands clutching the arms of his chair. He began to make more noticeable observations about Leah. One thing he noticed was the uncomfortable twinge she had and the darting looks she gave him as she checked out some of the books. He recalled her suitcase and how her name had been written on the tag, but it had not been her handwriting and it had been considerably faded. It must have been important if she had kept it so long. He came to a conclusion as Leah made her way across the mantle of the fireplace, looking at the different objects on display.
"How long has your father been dead?" Leah froze and she dropped her arms and began to wring her hands together.
"Five years." She replied in a low tone.
"How did he die? Must be something tragic. Car accident? Murder?"
"Both." The reply came out more bitterly than Leah had planned it. "A drunk driver hit my dad. But I feel like my mother had something to do with it. Her and her friend." It was more than Leah had wanted to tell. A small blush flourished on her cheeks and Sherlock noted it.
"You and your mother are not on good terms. Does she know you're in England?" Sherlock was finding this more and more interesting.
"She didn't even know I was going to school in Chicago. She thought I stayed in New York." Leah sat down in an armchair across from Sherlock and watched as he looked at her and then out the window.
"I'll find out." Sherlock said and Leah started.
"Find out what?"
"If your father was really murdered."
"You don't have to-"
"Nonsense, it'll be easy. I'll make some time to do it. Apart from the hospitalized gangster." Sherlock shifted his eyes as he thought about that gangster. Leah looked as if a small plane had circled her three times too fast.
"What?"
John came bounding up the stairs at that moment and grinned at the two. "Let's go eat!"