Pouring tea out for herself into her rinsed-out beaker, Eliza sunk into her seat as she watched the man take up the one proper cup in her house and begin to sip on the tea she had poured for him. Raising the beaker to her lips, she blew on the contents lightly before taking a small gulp. "So… guessing from your attitude, your close relationship with the police and your high intellect… you're a detective?"

"Consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job."

"What does that mean?"

"It means whenever the police are out of their depth — which is always — they consult me."

"They consult you? But the police don't consu—"

"I'm not an amateur." The consulting detective answered quickly, not even allowing Eliza to finish.

Eliza couldn't help but frown, moving forward in her seat as she stared at this bizarre man. Her lips parted into a toothy smile as she looked over his features, her eyes glittering with joy as if she'd just figured something out that she'd been puzzled over for quite some time. "You are so very interesting, has anyone mentioned that before?"

The consulting detective's eyebrows arched, staring at Eliza as if she'd just said that he had two heads. "No." He responded quietly, placing his cup down on the table by his side before leaning forward to match Eliza's position. "Most people don't comment on how interesting I may be."

"What do they usually say then?"

A smile crept across the blue-eyed man's face, his lips curling as he began to laugh. "Piss off."

Eliza chuckled in response, taking another sip from her beaker before setting it down beside the cup. "Yeah, I get the same reaction too." She told him, twirling the handle of the detective's cup so that it faced towards the arm of the chair he was sat in. "People don't like to meet a woman who knows everything about their business, yet won't care for what she knows."

"And why do you know everything about their business, may I ask?"

"-because that's my job. Knowing people's business is my business. If I didn't know their business, then I wouldn't be able to help them."

"Help them with what?"

Eliza shook her head, straightening up in her seat and tugging on the collar of her coat as she did so. "You already know what."

"You're a consulting criminal." He stated simply, picking up the cup of tea and finishing the tea off. Looking over the rim of the cup, he cocked his head to the side. "Correct me if I'm wrong, though I rarely am."

"Well…" Eliza began, frowning in thought as she locked eyes with him. "I've never called myself that but I guess… it's better than 'woman for hire' because that makes me sound like a prostitute, it also has a better ring to it than 'ringleader of a group of highly-trained assassins, hackers and thieves'. Yes, you would call me a consulting criminal, I figure."

He placed the now-empty cup on the table before standing up, Eliza followed suit. Keeping her gaze locked on his, they stared at each other for what felt like hours. He was staring at her with a look of confusion, something she found very enjoyable. She confused him? Well, he confused her too. His hands were shaking, his eyes cold, his gaze fixed in concentration, his mind was obviously clocking in overtime as he tried to figure her out. She was doing the same, attempting to figure out what type of a person he was and how he ticked. All bad habits, all good habits, all grooming habits, all bedside manners... she wanted to know it all. Eliza noticed the tension in him watched him, which lessened the tension in her own body. Was she really that hard to figure out? "Your hands are shaking and you seem quite tense. Smoker who is in need of a fix, though the slight discolouration of your teeth could have told me that you were a smoker without me even having to notice your hands. Do you want one? I have a packet sitting behind the skull." She said, breaking the silence.

"I noticed them when I was studying your skull, but you don't seem to be a smoker…" He noted with a frown. Eliza's lip twitched as he said that she didn't seem like a smoker. Well, she wasn't. Not really. It was only when she was stressed that she smoked and she was rarely stressed. "You are, though, a fan of the drink. Whiskey mostly." It was Eliza's turn to frown, which got a smiling response from the detective as he was proven right by her immediate glance towards the kitchen. Spinning around, he moved towards the window Eliza had previously been stood at, a wide grin on his face and a ring in his voice that reminded Eliza of a child on their birthday."The only window that isn't covered is the one facing outwards to the street. You like to observe others, but without them observing you. You view yourself as a higher power than them, that's why you say that your business is knowing their business. You have a god complex and-"

"And you like to try and show off your great observational skills to make others feel stupid." Eliza butted in with a roll of her eyes, moving over to the skull and pulling the packet of cigarettes from behind it. Opening the top, she hit the bottom and offered the now risen cigarette to the detective. "Have a smoke, sit down and shut up."

"You can't criticise my show of observation when you just flaunted your own by concluding that I smoke."
"To be honest, I figured that out the second you entered my house. Now take the cigarette or suffer me smoking in front of you." Eliza threatened, tapping the box once more as if to tempt him. Watching him slide the thin stick out of its packet, she retracted her arm and took out a cigarette for herself. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she pulled out her lighter and flicked it open but, as she did so, she noticed - her cigarette was already lit. Looking over at the Detective, she nodded a thanks before placing her own lighter back in her pocket. Inhaling deeply, she couldn't help but shiver with satisfaction.
"Casual smoker, I figure."
"Smoker who only lights one up when she's stressed, more like it."
"And why, may I ask, are you stressed?"
Eliza tapped the end of her cigarette over her fireplace, staring at him with a small smile. "I have a man in my house whom I don't know the name of. As someone who has a 'god complex', not knowing who you are really drives me up the wall."
Smiling now, the detective exhaled with laugh. "The name is Sherlock Holmes."
Reaching her free hand out for Sherlock to take, Eliza smiled. He took in carefully, shaking it once before letting go as if he'd just been electrocuted. "Eliza Crawford, a pleasure to meet you."