John walked through the hospital, Kirjava draped over his shoulders. Mike walked next to him, glancing at Kirjava with confusion. Human and dæmon couldn't blame him, the cat was huge and barely stayed on John's small shoulders. They walked into a room where a tall, dark haired man was leaning over a microscope. His dæmon, a golden eagle with black feather tips, was perched on his shoulder looking down at the substance her human was inspecting. Her eyes are pitch black, the same colour as her feather tips and the man's hair.
The dæmon looked up and screeched, no sound coming out. Kirjava climbed across John's arm onto the counter, tilting her head at the eagle. The man spoke to Mike as his dæmon scrutinised the army doctor. Kirjava growled under her breath, causing the bird to ruffle her wings. She didn't seem scared, as most dæmons did when confronted by John's solidified soul, merely curious. Kirjava glanced at John, shaking her head slightly. She wasn't sure she liked this man and his dæmon. When John offered the man his phone, he hit Kirjava lightly on the head. The message was clear; act like a normal cat.
'Iraq or Afghanistan?'
John's eyes widened. 'Sorry?' Kirjava's tail began to sway, her way of threatening the eagle. The dæmon rolled it's eyes (could birds do that) and flew back to its human. She nipped on his ear but didn't seem bothered by the large cat.
'Which was it, Iraq or Afghanistan?'
'Afghanistan, sorry, how did you-'
But the man was distracted by a woman, walking into the room with coffee. After insulting and belittling her, the man turned back to John.
'How do you feel about the violin?'
'I'm sorry, what?' John raised an eyebrow.
'I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.'
John glanced at Kirjava. 'You told him about me?' He asked Mike.
'Not a word.' Mike was smirking, like he knew this would happen. Kirjava began to growl and John ran a hand through her fur.
'Then who said anything about flatmates?' John was trying to keep himself under control. He didn't like it when people knew stuff about him. His past was too shadowy for that.
'I did. Told Mike this morning I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap.'
Again with the army. 'How did you know about Afghanistan?'
Again the man ignored him. 'Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. We ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.'
Kirjava snarled and John pulled the dæmon into his arms. Now was not the time. 'Is that it?'
'Is that what?' The man looked genuinely confused.
'We've only just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?'
'Problem?'
John rolled his eyes. 'We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name.'
The man smirked. He walked to the door, his dæmon jumping off his shoulder to glide alongside him. 'I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother-' Sister. '-worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic more likely because he recently walked out on his wife.' None of those things. 'And I know your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic quite correctly, I'm afraid.' Incorrect. 'That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.'
And with that, Sherlock Holmes left, his dæmon flying after him. John shook his head. Mike simply smirked. 'Yeah, he's always like that.'
Kirjava snapped her teeth, causing the pig to jump. John couldn't help but smirk as Mike jumped along with his dæmon. The man, of course, had no idea why he was scared.