Steve's second day inhabiting the spare room at 221 baker street started far too early for someone who didn't go to sleep until the early hours of morning.
After 3 hours of sleep Mrs. Hudson entered the room at exactly 8 in the morning and threw open the heavy drapes letting watery London light into the room "my but you were busy last night"
Lifting heavy eyes Steve peered at the woman who was examining the notes on his desk.
"Mrs. Hudson?" he questioned pushing back his tangled hair from his face the older woman hummed in question and he pushed up onto his elbow "why are you in my room?"
The woman turned and placed her hands at her waist "Mr. Holmes requested your presence in his study" he sighed and slumped back "thank you Mrs. Hudson"
It was silent for a moment and then he rose his head again and rose a brow at the woman still standing there "I'll be down in just a minute" he said she seemed to realize she was lingering and quickly left silently he wondered what that was about as he dressed.
He ran a comb through his hair then tied it with a black ribbon before walking down to the room knocking once he waited a moment before entering "Sherlock?" he questioned looking around at the organized mess of the room and the thick heavy red curtain blocking off what must have been a smaller room.
Remembering what was said the day before he turned away from it looking around as he stepped into the room "Sherlock?" he asked again then caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to the left and placed his hands on his hips "you need to improve your sewing" a part of the wall moved and then Sherlock pulled off the hood of some type of jump suit "seven minutes" he said almost as if in praise
Steve crossed his arms "did you just want me to come so you could test your disguise?" he questioned "thereabouts, what gave away my position?" he questioned Steve barely resisted rolling his eyes "firstly you moved, secondly the color is wrong, the shading needs to be darker"
Sherlock hummed and turned away "was that all you wanted?" he questioned as the man ducked behind the red curtains Steve steeled himself against following.
"in a way, but what truly gave it away, nanny walked by without even a glance" Steve guessed nanny was Mrs. Hudson "not many people would notice" he reappeared from the curtains dressed like a human and pointed at Steve "but you did, you are far more observant than you appear"
Steve took that as a compliment "I am an artist, being observant is a requirement" tilting his head slightly he studied the man and noticed the way his hair was slightly messier than the day before "have you eaten yet today? Or slept?"
Sherlock waved a hand not turning his eyes from something spread out on a desk making Steve sigh "I'm going to the market later, will you need anything?"
The only answer he received was a short no and him disappearing behind the curtains again.
Steve left him to whatever laid behind and walked toured the kitchen area where Mrs. Hudson was toiling over a stove "so what did he want?" she asked Steve took a warm biscuit from the center of the table "that I have yet to discover" he took a bite of the warm bread and hummed his approval earning a smile from the woman.
"tell me Mrs. Hudson, do you know if Sherlock has eaten this morning?" she humped from her place before carrying over a pot of tea and pouring him a cup "that man never eats like a normal individual, I have stopped asking if he would like any a long time ago"
He hummed and drummed his fingers on the table "he does seem rather unique" Mrs. Hudson humped again "if by that you mean maniac and border line psychotic then I agree he is unique"
Steve turned his eyes to the woman "do you really have that strong an opinion of him? it causes me to wonder what your first opinion of me was" the older woman was silent for a moment and he shook his head "but that is neither here nor there, I'll be going to the market in a few minutes, tell me is there anything you would like me to purchase?"
She paused and looked up humming in thought "I don't believe so, perhaps a pound of flour" he smiled slightly and finished off the cup of tea before raising of course he took another biscuit before ducking out of the room.
Steve tucked his hair up beneath a hat and put on a dark brown coat, taking his back from its place by his bedrooms door he walked to the first floor and peeked into Sherlock's office, he could hear noise from behind the curtains so he placed his parcel onto a nearby desk in plain view before leaving the room and then the house, walking toured the market.
-
Sherlock was deep in thought about the new case lestrand had brought, a duchess killed with no clear next of kin.
What should have been a simple case for his ingenious mind was proving difficult, perhaps it was the complete lack of evidence or maybe it was the fact he was distracted by the new occupant of Watson's old room.
Stephen rowan was a rather peculiar fellow, with his soft spoken words and slightly above average intelligence.
It was almost as if having another Watson.
He shook his head and left the room behind the red curtains looking at the notes lestran had given him so he would stop thinking about his new housemate.
She had been found in the sitting room nothing had been stolen it was a targeted killing, but who would want her dead when it was blaringly obvious no one would profit from it?
So distracted was he that he didn't notice what he was eating until he nearly bit off a finger.
Closing the notes he looked down at the napkin with biscuits placed on top he wondered who placed them there, they were clearly nanny's, but nanny had stopped insisting he ate a long time ago, it was almost like she wanted him out of her hair but wasn't cruel enough to say it.
Silently he wondered if it was Stephen that did it.
Thinking that made a strange warm almost fuzzy feeling grow in his chest almost like fondness...
He didn't like it.
To distract himself from his growing 'feelings' toured the new tenant he decided to get a clear idea of what he was dealing with he had to go to the source.
Namely the duchess house so long as the blundering buffoons in the yard didn't muck it up it was sure to be a honey pot of information.