A nagging feeling had been bothering John since he first laid eyes on Mia. She had reminded him of someone... and sometimes she would look at him in a way that made him feel as though he had seen that exact look before. Now he knew it was because he had. Sherlock had given him the same scrutinizing look hundreds of times. He was dating the physical female equivalent of Sherlock! Why hadn't he seen it before? She was statuesque and extremely slender with dark, curly, hair, pale, soft, skin and pale eyes... How in the world could he have missed that? She even moved like him! Of course there was the one very significant difference between the two – other than height... the fact that she was a woman was important, but the resemblance was uncanny. He thanked his lucky stars that Sherlock couldn't actually see her right now... what would he have said? Did Mia notice the resemblance? John tried to pull himself together. Everything had happened in less than a minute and he needed to act like nothing strange had just occurred.

Mia didn't seem to mind Sherlock's quick hand-shake. Though she did seem confused. She kept glancing at Sherlock's eyes and then back to John in question. John, who was seeing Sherlock through the eyes of a stranger for the first time, suddenly realized how difficult it would be for Mia to understand. Sherlock certainly didn't move as if he were blind: his steps were confident and his movements fluid. He was truly amazing and Mia had no idea what to think of him.

"Talks about me often does he?" Sherlock asked – breaking the silence before John had the chance.

"Yes, quite often," she admitted freely.

John blushed slightly at Sherlock's self-satisfied smirk and was thankful that Sherlock couldn't see it.

"You seem to lead a very interesting life Mr. Holmes," she added.

"I try to keep occupied," he said and headed towards the fireplace.

"Would anyone like some tea?" John asked politely – he needed a break. Tea was an excellent excuse... he had to step away for just a minute.

"Yes, that would be lovely," Mia said.

"None for me, thanks. I just had a cup," Sherlock said, but then suddenly changed his mind: "Actually... perhaps I will have one."

John found this behaviour highly suspicious, but said nothing as he turned to the kitchen. "Alright, I'll leave you two to get comfy then. Feel free to sit anywhere you'd like. I won't be a minute."

John realized his mistake almost instantly. In offering to get the tea he had unwittingly put himself in a predicament where he was required to leave Mia alone with Sherlock. Sure, she would just be in the next room... but five minutes alone with the bored consulting detective – even when he was on his best behaviour – may prove to be too much for a first meeting. His head was spinning. He almost returned to the living room to wait for the kettle to boil, but then remembered his earlier resolution: Mia would have to be able to stand Sherlock if their relationship were to continue. Sherlock needed John, and a woman wasn't going to change John's mind about the promises he'd made to his best friend. Besides, he needed time to think and clear his head. With difficulty, he managed to confine himself to the one room. Five minutes wasn't all that long... what could happen?

...

"Please, have a seat," Sherlock offered. "You may sit anywhere except in the armchair... it's John's." Sherlock stipulated, knowing full-well that John's wouldn't care where she sat.

"Thank you." Mia glanced around the crowded and cluttered room and chose an unassuming seat by the desk.

Sherlock took his usual chair by the fire place.

It bothered him immensely that he had no idea what she looked like. He had never thought about it before until she was sitting in the same room with him. He knew that even if he interrogated John about her later and had him describe every physical detail, it still wouldn't really be much good because John was blinded by his attraction to her. Was she blond like Sarah? Or a brunette like Janette? What did she want from John? From the relationship? John was not a rich man, but he was a kind one... he would do anything for someone he cared about... Without realizing it, Sherlock shook his head to push the thoughts away. He leaned forward and grabbed the poker to stoke the small fire he had going in the fireplace. He wondered if she were watching him. the idea of her curious gaze on him made him suddenly uncomfortable. He was supposed to say something... that was how conversation worked wasn't it? Why wasn't she saying anything? Why did he have to do all the work? He hated social interactions... What could he say that wouldn't be too offensive? How does one begin small-talk? He tried to remember the chatty, but half-hearted, attempts made by John's previous girlfriends to instigate conversations. Never had he ever been obliged to begin the conversation on his own. Remembering John's other girls friends brought to mind all of the subtle hostile stares hiding behind the false smiles of every one of them. Was this one the same? Was she also looking at him with that same veiled contempt? With jealousy? Was she, too, wishing that he would just disappear from John's life?

Mia watched the tall, lithe man's movements silently. She couldn't help but stare... he was beautiful. Those dark curls in contrast to his ivory skin and those strange grey eyes made him seem like something ethereal. The fire flickered and the light danced on his face, giving his eyes a strange life that she hadn't seen when she first looked at him. Part of her was still angry at herself for the stupid and insensitive gesture she had made earlier. Hand-shakes were just so automatic... but still, how could she had forgotten? How had this man tricked her into forgetting?

Sherlock gave up completely on the small-talk idea. It was stupid and redundant to mention the weather to someone who had just come in from the outside and he refused to waste his words. He settled with attempting to find an answer to the question that had been bothering him since she came in: "Describe yourself to me," he commanded, after replacing the poker and turning in his chair to face her. He sat completely still.

"I'm sorry?" Mia asked a little taken aback.

"I want to know why John has taken an interest in you," Sherlock replied flatly.

"How should I know that?" she replied, still a little dumbfounded.

"Oh come on," he said lazily in a tone that John had long ago labelled his 'don't be stupid' voice, "You must have some idea. Surely he's given you some indication?"

She was silent for a moment before finally replying, "Well, he's given me compliments."

"Yes, exactly. And? What does he say? What compliments?"

"He says he finds me beautiful." She said with a bit of a blush. Sherlock's abrupt nature was making her more than a little uncomfortable, and those strange, demanding eyes seemed to be looking right at her, even though she was certain that they couldn't see anything at all. His whole stance unnerved her, the way he sat so properly – rigidly – in his chair, leaning forward just a bit as if he were interrogating a dangerous criminal. Even the distance between them seemed hostile. She was not really afraid of him... and yet, she was. He was like some sort of brilliant flame. She was fascinated and yet also repelled – as if, much like fire, she knew that his beauty could hide a very real danger. She wondered how John could live with such a strange and intriguing person all the time. Would these feelings that his presence evoked eventually wear off?

"Boring, and?" he pushed.

"I don't know," she said in defeat.

"There must be something else," Sherlock pressured, "John isn't so shallow... or perhaps he is..." he added under his breath.

The last bit irritated her. She felt that it was unfair to John and she couldn't help rising to the challenge in an attempt to defend his honour. She blurted out something she'd always known, but the John had never actually stated: "I think he finds me intriguing." She glanced behind her to see if he might have heard that, but the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen and the kettle beginning to boil told her that – while he was close – he was still out of earshot.

"Interesting," Sherlock said then, "Why?"

"I don't know."

"You don't seem to know very much," he said sharply, "Use your head, what is it about you that John would find interesting?"

He'd said 'you' as if she seemed utterly dull and ordinary to him and that bothered her. Despite what she thought of the man at that moment, she wanted him to like her. Her mind flashed back to snippets from John's blog and things began falling into place. Sherlock needed puzzles... he was trying to figure her out. But why did John find her interesting? She honestly didn't know.

"I suppose it's because I'm someone new," she said lamely, "He just doesn't know everything about me yet."

A smile crept slowly across those perfect lips. She had amused him... but how? Why?

Before he could say another word a buzzer went off somewhere in the distance. "You'll excuse me for a moment won't you?" he said rising elegantly and heading for the stairs.

"Of course," she responded in surprise, instantly feeling relieved.

Just then John came out of the kitchen, "I forgot to ask you what you take in your tea," he said directly to Mia and then – noticing the detective's trajectory added, "Sherlock? Where are you going?"

"Oh just to fetch the laundry, will be back in a moment," Sherlock replied frankly.

"The laundry? Why would you...? You never do laundry," he said in shock.

Sherlock had already disappeared.

"I don't take anything in my tea," Mia said in response to John's earlier question.

"Oh, right," he said coming back from his private musings about Sherlock's odd behaviour, and turning to enter the kitchen again, "I'll bring it out in just a moment... actually," he said, suddenly turning back around, "I'm sorry... but, would you excuse me for a moment? I'll only be a second..." and without waiting to hear her reply he headed towards the stairs.