There was a small knock was on the door.
"Hello Sherlock." It was his house maid, no- his land lady.
No response.
There is a nice lady downstairs who would like to talk to you about a case!"
Yes, they always do and then they turn out to be reporters. I'm not taking any cases, not right now."
"Are you sure? She doesn't look like a reporter."
"That's what you said about the last one, Mrs. Hudson. I don't want to take any chances. I refuse to see anyone. I am too busy at the moment. "
"You don't have to be so gloomy deary. I know you have a lot on your mind but maybe she can change your mind for a bit." she kindly argued with him.
"No, Mrs. Hudson!" he said in a curt tone and sat down on his chair.
"Fine, if you insist." Mrs. Hudson shook her head and tisked at him, closing the door.
Sherlock let a sigh escape as he closed his eyes, hearing Mrs. Hudson talk to the female as she stated. Whom did not seem to argue or question her, complied with his request, then the door closed. Finally, the silence he wanted.
Moving over to his desk, newspapers clippings everywhere with his laptop on sleep mode. Waking up his laptop he started typing. His mind was running with ideas, the problem was how to organize them. As he continued to type he heard a knock again. His shoulders drooped.
"What is it Mrs. Hudson?" he said without turning his attention to her.
"Just wanted to let you know that the nice lady told me to give you this." walking over to his desk, "She said it was important that you receive this."
Sherlock rubbed his temples, it was obvious that he was not going to get any peace. This was it for him, he was ready to lash out at the poor old lady when he saw the piece she held out to him.
Why did he suddenly feel like he had been punched in the gut? This piece was so familiar and yet so distant. Blinking hard, he took a step forward and his mind had started to run faster than he could anticipate. Shaking his head while closing his eyes, trying to find the file in his mind. It was somewhere, but where? Where was his mind?
It was a black rook.
He knew it was from somewhere. Not a case but something more personal. And then it hit him when she handed it to him. There was a carving on the bottom of the rook. Short of breath and snatching it from her hand he started babbling faster than he could comprehend himself, while Mrs. Hudson had the fright of her life. "Calm down Sherlock, it's just-"
"Where is she?" running to the nearest window to find her. "The lady who gave you this! Where did she go? Which way?"
"What's got you all worked up Sherlock?"
"I need to know where!" he yelled at her as he looked for her.
"She went that way!" pointing to the left.
"What was she wearing? Color of her hair? Height?"
"A maroon coat- uh, brunette, and uh- an a wee shorter than me-" she explained as she saw him with the piece and ran out of the house. Still in his pajamas, looking for the maroon coat, she couldn't have gone very far. Unless she took a cab and if she did then he was at a lost. However, there was the idea that she had walked but was a fast walker. Everything was buzzing in his mind, trying to make a picture of her face of what Mrs. Hudson said. She couldn't have been that far! Running around a block, his attempt to find her had failed the moment he denied her.
Sighing hard and ruffling his hair, he started his way back to 221 Baker street. The fact that he was in his silk blue and white striped pajamas would make a strange sight for Londoners to see but in his case, it really didn't matter. Turning to open the door to his house, from his peripherals, at the sandwich shop he saw a women exit the shop, whom was wearing a maroon coat.
For the women, it was indeed strange to see a man in pajamas enter the house that she had just been denied access to, only then to realize he was holding the piece.
They locked eyes.
She certainly gave him an effect that he wasn't expecting.
Before she could get a word out, Sherlock started, "Where did you get this?" almost out of breath.
Opening her mouth to respond, he quickly lashed out, " I said, where did you get this?!"
She took a small step back, it wasn't because she felt threatened by him, she took the step back to give him some space. Sherlock could see that she was observing him and almost analyzing him, still she never said a word.
But that didn't mean Sherlock wasn't doing the same.
It was strange that this women had looked at him like he was familiar to her; as if she was almost comfortable with his presence, even though they had never met. Sherlock had always known that clients felt uncomfortable with the way he carried himself or the way he spoke to them. John Watson, had been the calming rift between the clients and him. In this case, John was not necessary.
"Would you like some tea?" was the first thing she said.
"No, I do not want tea. I need to know where you got this?" his tone had been demanding and almost threatening.
With a small nod, she held out her cup that was in her hand, "It's cold outside. You're going to catch hypothermia in those pajamas." she said in a calm but caring tone.
Sherlock was taken back by her tone and her demeanor. It was obvious that she wasn't going to give him all the answers right away and she was making her demands, without even trying. He needed to yield, to take the control from her. He would have to do what John would do, allow them in to his office. Slowly he opened the door, "Would you like to come in?" his tone had calmed somewhat.
Giving a small smile that reached her eyes, "Thank you." she said very kindly. As she slowly passed him and handed him the cup of tea, "Hypothermia." in a warm tone.
Sherlock sat down on his chair as she remained standing. Placing the cup of tea on the stand next to him.
"Please sit."
"No thank you, I'd rather stand." as she slowly took off her scarf.
Sherlock looked at her up and down and responded with short nod. Again, he could see that she was making her demands, without trying and it was strange that he was complying himself. Standing up, he leaned against the desk. Slowly he placed the piece beside him.
"Where did you get this?" his tone was deep.
She inhaled.
Sherlock knew this was going to be long.
"A friend of mine has gone missing and he wanted me to give this to you."
"Your friend?" he said as his tone broke slightly, then clearing his throat.
Nodding she said, "He gave me the rook the last day I saw him." as she clutched to her leather messenger bag.
"Last day?"
"Uh, yes."
"And when was this?"
"A month ago. He just went off and left."
"You say he is missing?"
"Yes."
"And have you gone to the police and filed a missing persons case?"
"Uh," a pregnant pause, "No."
"Are you hiring me for a missing person case?"
Shaking her head.
Sherlock's eyebrow cocked up."You mean to tell me that your friend is missing and you're not doing anything to have him found? A friend you are!"
Silent on her end as she looked away.
"So, you came to give me," he said as he reached for the piece behind him to show it to her, "This." his tone was terse.
"Yes."
Again another pregnant pause. "Care to elaborate?"
"No." she shook her head, "I just came to-" her voice had raised a little then it dropped. Sighing she said, "He is considered missing but I think he just wants to remain missing and want to be left alone."
Sherlocks' eyebrow raised, "Alone?"
Another moment of silence.
"By the way, my name is Victoria Latimer." she said as she held out her hand to shake his.
Sherlock ignored it as he looked her straight in the eye, "And you're a doctor, you live on your own. You prefer to have no attachments, especially since you are traveling from month to month bases but you've been here for almost- give or take 4 months. A traveling doctor, without borders. You lived in America and prefer not to go back. You're running from something." he said as his gaze traveled from her clothes to her face, "Your relationships are troubling, so you prefer to be strictly platonic. Friends are short lived, Ms. Latimer but the friend you made was more than just a friend. He made an impression on you that you couldn't let go." he said as he popped his lips.
Sherlock waited for her initial response, but what he saw from her was not surprised or shock. He expected a slap in the face or lashing of some sort but instead, he was greeted with a small smile while slowly shaking head in a small disbelief, "My God, you were being very kind to me compared to what he said." letting a small giggle escape her.
A giggle? No women giggle after a deduction of their character and their life. But then again, if he had already deduced her, then she was right, he was being far too kind.
"Yes, you're right about, at just about everything." she told him. "However, you forgot to mention that I have a bad habit of bitting my nails, I hate rude people, and I forgive too easily. I am running from something! I'm running from my parents because I cannot stand them. And the impression he made on me was something I could not ignore. It was nothing sexual, we just seemed to tolerate each others presence." she finished the rest for him as she nodded. "But I can't ignore the request he made the last day I saw him."
"And what was the request?"
"To give this to you."
"Why?"
"I don't know. All I know is that he knew I would find you. Ford, was always a very vague man even with the small code words, or slangs. Some, I could understand and some was beyond my reach."
"Ford?"
"Yes, that's his name."
"Did he personally state he was my friend?"
"Well, he never really said the word 'friend' because he never had friends. Even then he wouldn't call me a friend, he would call me an acquaintance."
"And did you feel you were acquaintances?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "My idea of labeling things is different from his. I saw him as a friend, he saw me as an acquaintance which was fine by me."
He started to pace the room as he looked outside the window. "What codes are you referring to?"asking her.
"There was one he liked to say, which was referring to you as a knight." she paused as she was thinking, "He'd say, 'The knight is on a case.' or 'The knight has made a grave mistake.' as he would read a newspaper and your face or name would be on there."
"A knight, huh?"
"Yes, which made no sense to me at first but I started to put two and two together. When he had newspapers clippings of your cases everywhere. At first I thought, he was strangely obsessed with you, but then I realized he was solving the cases himself. He was giving theory's of how they would start and how they would end and for the most part, he was right! He would just talk to me about the cases and I would listen." she said her gaze drifted away while thinking of him, "It was strange. It was almost as if he was excited to explain to me what had happened and how he would have done it."
Sherlock glared at her, "Now, this friend," emphasizing on the word friend in a sarcastic tone, "why did he tell you to find me?"
Victoria picked up on the tone, he seemed almost bored with this but was going through the motions. "I don't know. All I know is that when he gave it to me, it was under strange circumstances."
"And what were they Ms. Latimer."
"He seemed..." she paused, trying to think of the right words.
"Yes?" Sherlock looked utterly bored and annoyed with her thinking. It was enough to make him roll his eyes.
Morgan caught on to his body language and tone, when she said, "No."
Sherlock slowly turned around to look at her.
"No?" he found himself repeating her words.
Did she just refuse him? Was she defying him?
"I came here to drop off the piece, as he requested. Yes, it may have been late but you go it. I don't know what else I can tell you without boring you. Even if you don't give to bits of a shit for him." she said in a terse tone.
"Ms. Latimer, your deductions astonish me." his level of sarcasm had rose as he pushed himself off the desk and stalked towards her, "You come all this way to give me a chess piece, asking for my help, and then you refuse to give me any information. Including to make your own deductions-"
"I did not come here to look for your help-"
"Your tone may not say it but your body language says it all! The way you grasp your messenger bag, the feeling uncertainty and possibly afraid for his wellbeing. The tone turns an octave higher when I mention about your relationship with him. I see more than you know-"
"Look, Mr. Holmes, you may have people who respond to your smart remarks and demands so easily, whether they'd be in astonishment or in anger. You look like the kind of man who gets what he wants, when he wants, but I will not and cannot give it to you. I do not need your help, I came to drop it off and that was the request. As I said, I think he intended to run away. Why? I don't know. I don't think I'll ever have the answers. However, you've given me more than enough answers about your intentions and feelings towards Ford-"
"Feelings? You show compassion for this man? How do women not think logically and think only with feelings. Women are so in tuned with their feelings, its disgusting! You feel for him-"
"As a human being, yes. I feel for him. He was all alone-"
"Did he tell you why he prefers to be alone? To explain the extent of it and his demeanor would change your perception of your precious friend! He will never be understood- it, will never be understood." the baritone had become more demanding.
Shrugging her shoulders as she looked away, "You're right, I would never understand and I don't think I want to-"
"Oh, but I thought you were friends!" he mocked her again with an emphasis on the word friend, "Friends are supposed to know everything about each other! Shall I tell you what he is and what he was-"
"It's none of my business-" Victoria was cut off by Sherlock as he scoffed at her.
"I gather he told you everything about his past then? Did he tell you his deepest, darkest secrets?" again seeping with sarcasm and disdain,"Did he give stories of his wild nights he used to pull? Or even what he is capable of?"
Victoria could hear in his tone that there was so much more than just what he saying. There was a hidden statement behind all of this. It was as if he was telling her to read between the lines.
"Did he mention to you that he was drug addict?" he said almost in triumph. "Did he tell you the binges he used to go through in a week? How many close calls he's had-"
"He didn't have to tell me that he was a drug addict because the day I met him, I found out that he was one. I found Ford on the stairs going into shock from withdrawals. If nobody had found him, he would've died!" she found herself raising her voice.
This was news to Sherlock as he went silent. Blinking hard he shook his head, "That's not possible. He couldn't have relapsed."
"Oh, but he did! And he was trying to get clean, but he did it all wrong."she kept her tone high and somewhat authoritative.
There was a small pause between them.
"And you sir, are no saint yourself. You think Ford had demons. I'd say you have your own demons yourself, as a former and-" she paused as she scowled at him. Taking a step towards him, she had come closer then he would've expected but he never moved. "What are you doing Ms. Latimer?" .
Small as she was, her dark green eyes held him in place as she leaned in. It wasn't one of lust or of curiosity, it was of analyzation.
"Ms. Latimer, I don't have time-" as he made his argument, he felt her strong hands on his chest give a slight push and held him in place. It was an opportunity to see her better, it was only right. If she was analyzing him then why not he, in a more personal space ideal. Sherlock could see the bags under her eyes, from the lack of sleep but didn't cover it up. No makeup, fresh skin and with red cheeks, small nose, full lips with big eyes. Even at the age of 32 she looked to be at least 20 years old with her soft face and soft features.
The word, beautiful, came to mind.
Yet, it was not intended to be something he could think for himself. It would be what any man would think or say, or even desired. But she didn't make it so with her appearance. Her hair hadn't been cut in a months, especially with her wavy long hair, that was tucked into a bun with small strays escaping. Eyebrows have been ignored, since it was out of control but still somewhat decent. Jewelry was nonexistence, since she worked in the medical field. It was apparent that she wasn't trying to capture any man's attention. She was a minimalist to herself but when it came to others, she gave them her undivided attention.
Compassion.
She reeked of it.
Then again, something changed when his eyes traveled down to her neck he saw she a small scar on the left of her neck, horizontal and about 4 inches long, on the are where the jugular is, hiding partially behind her collared blue shirt.
"Current user." she quietly said as she felt Sherlock step away from her, breaking him from the reverie. Sherlocks eyes wavered away from her neck.
"You're right, I don't know you but your next dosage is up in a few hours." she eyed him as she turned away. "You dare judge when you can't bare to be judged yourself." shaking her head, "You're going through withdrawals yourself."
Where did this women come from? She knew more than she should and it worried him. Maybe that was the reason why Ford liked her.
"A medical background does not determine whether or not I am doped up or not-"
"Your pupils are dilated, you can barely stand straight, your right hand is shaking on it's own accord, your attention may be to my words but your gaze is everywhere else. It's cold outside and yet you are sweating even though the room has no fire at the moment, and the heater is not on. You ran after me in your pajamas, in the freezing cold with no shoes. Your pain receptors are dulled at the moment. If I were to throw you outside, in the cold, with exactly what you are wearing and lock you out, you'd be just fine." she challenged him and it was greatest, yet, strangest thing she could've done. She had just met him! Her voice somewhat shaking, she knew she was making a bold statement but it was worth seeing his face.
Oh yes! He could see why Ford would like her.
"That would be tremendously ambitious of you to throw me out of my own flat." Sherlock's tone was somewhat laced with humor.
"Yes, it would be but I am feeling very tired after an 18 hour shift. Luck would be on your side." she told him as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. "Have a great day, Mr. Holmes!" waiving her hand as she went to the door. "I hope I never see again and don't forget to drink your tea. Hypothermia" she yelled.