Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock snapped the phone shut, taking a swig from the mug on the table. The call had hardly disturbed him, but the fact that while he was taking it his coffee got cold was quite unsettling. In all seriousness, he had seen this coming for quite some time now. That day at the poolside, the day he refused to take the bullet, he made a pledge. And that vow was coming back to haunt him.
But out of all the ways to pay a debt, this wasn't too bad.

John walked down the stairs from his room, going right into the kitchen without so much as a glance in Holmes's direction. His hair was spiked up strangely, and sheet marks striped his face. He came back into the sitting room in his dressing robe, munching on a piece of toast and reading the paper that was on the counter.
"Morning." Watson said lazily without looking up.

"Mm." Sherlock mumbled, staring out the window in a sort of dead-wall reverie. The ordeal that had been brought to his attention took over his mind. He had no time for idle chat.

John looked up at his friend, fully dressed in the chair, and raised one eyebrow. "So, no case, I assume?"

"Not a single one." Holmes let himself sigh. He had to admit, even with the new news, not having detective work depressed him. He caught sight of the pack of cigarettes on the far counter and had to grip his mug tighter to resist grabbing one. Maybe I should spring for the fourth patch…

"What about the woman in the rose bush?" Watson asked, tilting his head to the side.

Sherlock rubbed his temples with long elegant fingers. "Solved. The brother-in-law."

"The man under the motorbike?"

"Poisoned by his ex-wife."
Sherlock stood all of a sudden, buttoning his suit jacket. He would have loved to continue this mindless conversation with his flat-mate, but he simply couldn't. The mission had to be carried out, and the sooner he began, the better. Who knew how much time he even had.
Hah, time is such a funny thing, isn't it?

"I'm going out." He announced, grabbing his scarf and coat. John looked at him in shock and amusement, but didn't bother to ask where he was heading. "I've got business to attend to. Don't wait up."

Without a second glance, he turned his back and walked out the door, leaving the army doctor still in the chair, puzzling over the oddity of his friend's antics.

The large window of the café looked out on the busy street, the people passing by as clear as could be. Sherlock took the seat nearest to it, pulling a chair over and trying not to stare. The waitress offered him a cup of tea. He declined, but not before noticing that her honeysuckle perfume had somehow made an appearance on one of the chefs he walked by on the way in.

He squinted a bit trying to see past the glare of the sun. Each and every person who walked by registered in his mind, and he scanned them over and over like a machine. He couldn't miss this chance. If he did, he would lose everything; literally, everything.
One passerby caught his eye. A woman, obviously, and young as well. Golden hair flared out from under the hood of her jacket, and her eyes were shielded by the shadow. Her hands were buried deeply in her pockets, and she shrank behind the crowd, as if hoping to disappear. Outfitted in denim and grey with her head dipped low, she was as inconspicuous as they come.
But to him, she stood out like a diamond in a pit of coal.

She was moving fast and he had to act quickly. He stood abruptly, the plan still only half-formed in his mind. He swiped a to-go coffee cup out of the hand of the man sitting nearby, replying to his outraged cry by slapping a few notes onto the table, more than enough to pay for the drink. Stuffing a few handfuls of napkins into his coat pocket, he popped the top off the cup and strutted outside.

He slowed his pace to a casual sort of strut, keeping his eyes on the buildings and shops that towered around him. The entire street bustled, and each person had a story. Sad ones, happy ones, stories that could start a war. All of them different, all just waiting to be read.
If only he had the time.

And, three… two… one…

He shouldered into someone; well, more accurately, slammed into them. The girl shrieked a little as the coffee sloshed out of its cup, creating a large dark blotch all over her chest.

"Oh my… I am so sorry!" He pitched his voice, mustering his best apologetic face. "Good lord, I can be such a dunce sometimes…"

She shook her head, staring helplessly down at her ruined jacket. "Ah… It's alright. I should have paid more attention to where I was headed." Looking up at him, she forced a forgiving smile. He couldn't help but notice her deep brown eyes, like pools of chocolate that he could have fallen right into. If he were a weaker man, that is. "Just got a little lost in thought, I suppose."

Pulling a good amount of the tissues out, he offered them to her with a friendly grin. "I know how that can be." She took the napkins gratefully, and dabbed away at the huge stain on her front. Some of the area lightened a bit, but altogether, the jacket was soiled. He sucked his teeth in shame as she sighed hopelessly.

"This is just not one of my better days." She tried to add humor to the sentence, but her voice cracked halfway through. The unmistakable sheen of tears pooled beneath her eyelids, and he felt his heart soften a tad bit.

Shaking his head, he leaned toward her. "I am really… very sorry. If there's anything I can do…" He reached out to her, about to put a hand on her arm, but she shrank back quickly as though she was afraid he would strike her.

"No!" He pulled away, and she kept talking, getting faster as fear colored her words. "It's really okay, sir. I'm kind of in a hurry, though, so I should be going. Nice to meet you."
She stepped around him swiftly and started off down the street, her shoulders hunched even more than before the meeting.
But he wasn't about to let her go that easily.

"Wait!" Weaving around people and objects, he came up behind her and placed a firm palm on her shoulder.

Before he could say another word, though, she spun around, smacking his hand off herself fiercely. "I said I was fine!" She exploded, practically screaming in his face. "I don't need your help, and I sure don't want it either, so do yourself and me a favor and just leave me ALONE!" The last word was so loud that a few people turned to look at them. Her face contorted in rage, and he could see a few flickers of blue-violet light in her eyes, light that could only be the energy he knew slept inside her.

He threw his hands up in a position of surrender, an action that visibly surprised her. "I just wanted to give you this," He took a small card from his pocket and handed it to her. She swiped it up, inspecting it through squinted eyes. "In case you ever needed something. I don't often owe favors, but when I do, I like to pay them right."

Shaking her head, she held up the card and glared at him. "And I'm honestly supposed to believe this?"

He nodded slowly, a little confused. "Is there a reason you shouldn't?"

"Sherlock Holmes. Private Consulting Detective. 221B Baker St." She recited, reading off the top part of the card. "The Sherlock Holmes? The genius detective, Sherlock Holmes?!" He nodded again, and she huffed. "He's not even real, mate!"

Is that what they say about me now?! Just because I'm superior, they assume I must be fictional… Oh, ordinary people are so naïve.
She was still staring at him, obviously in need of some sort of proof or something. He glanced down the street, stepping nearer to her. "That woman there." He pointed to a middle-aged lady in a green blazer. "She just divorced her husband. Hasn't seen him in a month. What she doesn't know is that he will be on the same bus that she's waiting for right now, wearing the coat she bought him. They'll talk, maybe even kiss, and end up getting off quite a ways from either of their intended destinations to have lunch at the place where they first met."

The girl shook her head. "That is absolute rubbish." Her voice was serious, but the curiosity in her eyes betrayed her words.

"Oh it is, is it?" He grinned. "Only one way to find out."
He walked around her, heading for the bus stop where the woman was waiting. After a second or two, he heard the girl fall into step beside him, and smiled even wider.

The bus pulled up moments after they reached the stop. The lady climbed on, and they were only a few steps behind her as she paid the fare and took her seat. Sherlock paid for the girl as well, and motioned her to a seat in the back of the nearly empty bus, sliding in beside her. He noticed that now she was watching the mystery lady so intently that she didn't even mind their close proximity.
The bus pulled off, and the woman in green was staring out the window. Across the aisle from her, a man about the same age sat, staring as blankly as she. It didn't look as though they'd turn around any time soon, so Sherlock decided to give them a little nudge. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a shiny silver pound in his fingers. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tossed the coin into the aisle, right between the two passengers. The girl looked at him in confusion, but with a nod he drew her attention back to the man and woman.
When the coin landed, it made a tinny sound, and both the man and the woman swung their heads around to look at it. At the exact same moment, they leaned down into the aisle and reached for the shiny circle, but came in contact with each other's fingers instead. The recognition in their eyes when they looked up at each other was like a spark in a dark room. Sherlock looked over at the young woman seated next to him and found that she was practically holding her breath.

The couple straightened, looking at each other intently. The man said something, and the woman began to turn away, but he took her by the hand and said something more. Her expression softened and she turned back toward him, allowing a little smile. He swiped up the coin, pressing it into her hand. Her grin grew even wider, and she slid into a seat alongside him.
Sherlock and the girl sat too far back to hear their words, but they watched their faces transform as they spoke. The look in the woman's eyes grew more and more kind as they rode along, and she even giggled a few times, her auburn hair bouncing a bit. When the bus stopped to pick up more passengers, the man tapped the woman eagerly, pointing out the window at a café across the street. She beamed at him as he stood, taking her hand and leading her down the steps and out the door like children on a weekend.

With a grin, Sherlock stood, the girl right behind him as they hurried off the bus, keeping the couple in sight. The man and woman found a two-seater table at the café, ordering drinks and chatting pleasantly. Sherlock took a seat a few tables away, the girl sitting in front of him, smiling wide.

"Well, well, well." She shook her head in astonishment. "Seems like you were spot on. Maybe you really are Sherlock Holmes…"

He suppressed a smile, though the flattery touched him more than usual. "I'm glad you think so."

"How did you know all that?" She inquired, her eyes curious.

"I didn't know. I noticed. It's apparent from the woman's shirt sleeves that…" He trailed off with a glance at her expression. "It's… complicated."

She just laughed. "Of course it is…" Her smile faltered a little, then fell. He raised an eyebrow, cueing her to continue. "But, since you really are Sherlock Holmes… maybe you can help me."

"I will do anything I can."

Her chocolate eyes scanned his face suspiciously. He kept his features smooth and sincere. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and leaned a little closer to him. "I need to find someone. Or, rather, a group of someones. There are people after me, Mr. Holmes. And after tracking them I keep finding that they always contact this one organization… An organization that, according to the government, doesn't exist at all. If I can discover them, we may be able to strike up a deal. But if not…" She shifter her gaze, and he read fear in her expression. "They could very well mean my demise."

He nodded slowly. This was truly news to him. It was a detail he had not been informed of beforehand. But that only made it all the more intriguing.
"I am happy to help. But I must say, if it doesn't bother you much, that I usually like to know who my clients are. Gets rid of the mystery at one end of the case, you see."

She grinned slowly, seeming unsure, but consenting. "Rose." She held out a hand for him to shake. "Rose Tyler."

This time, when he smiled, it was genuine. "Well, Miss. Tyler, now that we're formally introduced, why don't we get back to my office so you can wash that stain out, and I can hear more about this fascinating organization you speak of, hm?"