Chapter 4 - The Ginger Enigma

Sherlock lay sprawled across the couch, glaring at the ceiling, a ginger haired woman spinning around his thoughts. What was it about her that he couldn't see? He wondered irritably, and conjured up the image of her from earlier that day in his minds eye. Tall, lovely long legs that managed to look good in the mini skirts that made up her wardrobe despite her age, a beautiful and nearly blinding smile, and that bright mane of hair. His mind nearly stuttered as he realized what he was doing; appraising her physical qualities, and he found himself nearly appalled. Was he attracted to this strange woman? He wondered, and the answer was easily a yes. A yes he was most definitely not satisfied with. Irritated, he leapt off the couch and snatched his violin off the desk, immediately launching into a quick, angry melody that had John popping his head in from the kitchen.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, and Sherlock turned with a glare, violin still moving with the furious rhythm.

"The enigma of Amelia Pond." he growled, and John seemed to brighten up at that.

"That's good! That's quite good." he appraised, heading for his laptop, and Sherlock found himself coming to a sudden halt in his music when John started typing.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded, and John chuckled, not looking up.

"Blogging." Sherlock bounded across the room to look over John's shoulder to see he was doing exactly what Sherlock had hoped he wouldn't do.

"'The Enigma of the Woman with the Fairytale Name?' bit of a mouthful, is it not?" Sherlock said, putting down the title in hopes that John would stop what he was doing. "Seems foolish to write about a woman you don't even know. Invasive."

John just gave a snort. "As if that's ever bothered you before." Unable to disagree, Sherlock just stood and watched his companion type, wondering just what the woman in question would say when she read the entry, as she'd admitted to reading the blog the day before.

"Does it not bother you that she may read this?" Sherlock asked, though he wasn't sure why he persisted, and John shook his head.

"I think she'd probably find it rather amusing." John informed the taller man, causing another scowl.

"Really John, it's completely unnecessary to blog about a woman you think intrigues me." he said irritably, and for the first time John looks up.

"Admitting it now, are we?" John asked, and Sherlock's scowl only deepened.

"She doesn't make sense. I want to know why."

"Perhaps you should find that doctor she's always talking about." John told him and Sherlock frowned.

"A doctor?"

"Not just any doctor." John informed him, just as he hit the post button, watching the entry appear on his blog. "She referred to him as 'The Doctor'. Really Sherlock, I'm surprised you missed that. The one she said faked his death."

"I only remember what's important." The detective said, miffed, but he knew better. He was surprised he'd missed it too.

Laying across her bed with Lucy's laptop in front of her, Amy was surprised when a little notification popped up in front of her notifying her that there was a new entry on the personal blog of Dr. John Watson. Lucy was out again, working she claimed, but Amy knew better. She knew what a woman looked like on their way out on a date. Curious all over again she opened up the page, and burst out laughing at the sight of the newest entry.

" The Enigma of the Woman with the Fairytale Name." she read out loud with a giggle, settling in to read.

"For the first time since the return of the world's only consulting detective, I've met someone Sherlock cannot deduce. He called her an enigma – a puzzling or inexplicable occurrence or situation – which is an enigma of it's own. We met her for the first time a month ago, seems she just fell out of the sky, and from the moment she appeared with her ginger hair and mini skirts, Sherlock hasn't seemed able to tell much about her. Of course that's put him in a bit of a mood – I'm surprised the violin hasn't lost a few of its strings – but that doesn't change the fact that he can't tell a thing about her besides that she's waiting for someone, likes to travel, can't dress properly in the winter, and hails from Scotland. Though Sherlock is adamant she only spent the earliest years of youth there. What else does he know about her? Nothing short of the fairytale name, and I can tell you that his mood is not improving with this lack of information. I pity the next bloke he chooses to aim those powers of deduction on.

Strange as it is, I think this woman may be good for him – someone who isn't just a puzzle wrapped in a case. She looks right through the posture and arrogance (though how she manages that I have no idea) and asks questions right back. Doesn't intimidate, this one. It seems she's caught his interest, and with none of the games and politics. Instead she has all the answers offered on a platter as if just waiting to be asked the right questions.

I like her, and strangely enough, I think Sherlock might too."

Still grinning, her eyes dropped to the comment page, and saw the first comments were from Sherlock.

"I fail to see the importance or necessity of this post." -Sherlock Holmes

"The title is also long winded and uninformative." - Sherlock Holmes

"It's to point out that the great Sherlock Holmes can't know everything about everyone, and I wasn't about to use her name." - John Watson

"Know everything? That's preposterous John. It's impossible to know everything. I just know what's important. The fact that her name has a fairytale ring to it is not the most important thing about her." - Sherlock Holmes

"So this woman IS important then!" - John Watson

"As you pointed out by using the word repeatedly, she is an enigma." - Sherlock Holmes

"So you find her interesting." - John Watson

"I find her puzzling." - Sherlock Holmes

"Boys, once you're done messaging each other across the room, I've got that tea for you." - Mrs. Hudson

Amused by the back and forth going on in the comments before her, reminding her so very much of herself and her Doctor, she couldn't help but add her own comment. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she clicked the comment box, writing up her own message.

"I vote to be the 'Ginger Enigma' next time, but you shouldn't complain John, the violin is a lovely instrument." then where her name was supposed to go she wrote – The Ginger in Question. Amused by her own comment, she closed the computer, returning it to the Lucy's bedroom before brewing herself a cup of tea and settling down to watch some mindless telly before bed. She glanced out the window, hoping for a sign of a blue box, but seeing nothing, she just heaved a sigh, turning back to the TV and settling back in to wait.

Sherlock stared at the message on his screen and knew the moment John had seen it too because he came bursting back into the room where Sherlock sat at his desk.

"Did you see the message? Do you think it's her?" John asked, and Sherlock snapped his computer closed, trying not to be impressed that she'd had the gall to comment on the post clearly written about her.

"Obviously." was all he said, and John rolled his eyes.

"Obvious is it? I suppose. I do like the title she gave, sounds much more like her."

"Indeed." was all Sherlock said, returning to the window with his violin, though this time the tune was much calmer. John knew this meant he wouldn't answer any more questions, but he was impressed that a woman had been able to get this sort of reaction out of Sherlock, to change his mood so quickly. With another shake of his head and a comment about how difficult Sherlock was, John left the room. After listening to his companion's bedroom door close, Sherlock pulled his phone out, sending a text to the number he'd memorized after nicking it from John's pocket. He'd returned it of course, but he'd been too curious to resist.

Amy's phone went off with a simple ding that told her she'd received a text, and she scrambled for it in surprise, wondering who on earth would be texting her.

Well played, Miss Pond. - SH

Amused, Amy couldn't resist texting back.

Amy. Are we playing a game now? Thought you were solving a puzzle. - AP

Sherlock heard the ding of a reply and realized she'd replied, and fairly quickly at that. She'd corrected him once more on the use of her name, but as for the rest he couldn't tell if she were jesting or scolding, and for some odd reason, he didn't like the feel of the second option.

I was led to believe most puzzles are classified as games. - SH

But not all games are classified as puzzles. -AP

He stared at the reply for a moment, an involuntary smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. Before he could think to reply, his phone binged again with another message from the strange woman.

Goodnight cheekbones. -AP

He stared at the screen in disbelief at the taunting nickname, but couldn't forget the smile she given him when she'd said it the first time. So she was amused. Interesting. Rather than answer, he went back to his violin, the same woman keeping his thoughts. The Ginger Enigma, he thought, and unable to help himself, he laughed.