Evelyn Pepper Elizabeth Scott

The blur suddenly slows and I realize a woman is standing in the middle of our apartment. I would think she was pretty too, if I knew for certain Mary wouldn't fly into the apartment and beat me over the head. But since I don't know that for a fact, I won't let my subjective cloud my vision. She was relatively average sized, 5'6 feet tall, somewhat curvaceous but not is a bowl you over bombshell sort of way. She wore a navy blue pea coat with a pair of dark jeans that were obviously well-worn at the knees with a pair of somewhat scuffed up black flats. She had a slender, incredibly pale face with defined cheekbones and electrifyingly blue eyes. Her nose was sharp but feminine and a light dusting of freckles dotted her otherwise perfect skin. Auburn curls fell to her shoulders with side-swepted bangs that fell slightly in front of her eyes. She somehow looked unkempt, but put together. Almost like she hadn't brushed her hair or been jostled on the bus on her way here, almost unnoticeable but somehow out-of-place. I glance over at Sherlock after I've given her a once over. His mouth is hanging open like a fish. I beckon her towards the chair.

"Sit down; you obviously have something to tell us." She sits quietly in the hard wooden chair placed awkwardly in front of Sherlock and my chairs. She doesn't speak, her lips pressed into a thin line and Sherlock continues to gape. The silence is unnerving, most clients start blabbering as soon as they get in the door. I clear my throat self-consciously, trying to snap Sherlock out of his trance like state.

"What's your name then?" I ask, cringing at my rudeness.

"Would you like my full name?" Her voice lacks any sort of cockney drawl and sounds completely upper-class British, eloquent and smooth, lacking awkward consonants, only smooth vowels. I nod quietly. "Evelyn Pepper Elizabeth Scott." She replies matter-of-factly.

"May I call you Evelyn?" I ask, afraid that if I don't call her by her full name she might be offended. Of course I'm not in the business of appeasing everyone. She nods weakly. I can already tell she spoke with eloquence but preached brevity. Sherlock is still busy with something else, hardly even present, so I decide to begin the interview myself.

"So, what happ-" I pause mid-sentence is surprise as Sherlock jumps up and begins pacing in front of Evelyn who's still sitting calmly in her chair. I glance at his he presses his hands together under his chin, obviously already analyzing the situation. I open my mouth again to begin my question again but Sherlock suddenly cuts me off.

"Have the police taken over already?" He inquires curtly, his eyes changing to a stormy gray-blue. She nods solemnly.

"What a load of idiots they are too." She gives Sherlock a watery smile "can't even do basic forensics, I can see why they need you." Sherlock lets a small smirk flit across his face, it's obvious they know each other, she knows has to get him to smile; even it's just boosting his ego. It's practically like they're reading minds, know exactly what the other is going to say. And yet, I don't know what the case is yet.

"What do you know already?" She looks earnestly at Sherlock, "Not much probably, Mycroft said you've lost your touch." A smirk flickers across her face, posing an obvious challenge, giving him a chance to show off. She was playing him better than Sherlock plays his violin.

"Um, sorry to interrupt the nuptial," I exclaim sarcastically, "But I do believe we have a case to solve." I raise my eyebrows at Sherlock, attempting to convey my annoyance. It's lost on him completely as he continues to pace in front of Evelyn's chair. "Sherlock, what'd even going on?"

"Oh nothing too monumental, only the violent murder of my childhood nanny." At that Evelyn Pepper Elizabeth Scott stares at Sherlock with interest.

"Very good Mr. Homes," She simpered, "I suppose Mycroft was wrong."