The Flat

New Scotland Yard, 7:30am

Walking into work feels… odd. It's Sean's day off, but I know he'll be in at some point to report me missing. He called last night. I ignored him.

I meet Lestrade in his office, and he closes the door. I called him last night from Molly's phone. Mine was shut off after the fifth call from Sean.

"Have a seat, Kat," Lestrade sighs, walking around his desk to his chair. He knows what I'm here for. He's going to argue like hell to keep me. It's not going to work. I sit in the chair in front of his desk just as he sits down in his.

"Before you even ask, yes, I need to do this, and no, there is nothing you can say or do to change my mind," I state. Lestrade just stares at me, his eyebrow raised.

"You're serious?" he asks. I nod.

"Something… personal… came up, and I need the time away," I sigh. "It's going to affect my job, and as much as I love working here, I would rather take the time away and get things settled than stay and be a burden to the force. I know it's going to be an inconvenience, but it's going to be an inconvenience if I stay, too. At least this way, I'm not putting anybody's lives at risk."

"You're sure?" he asks. He leans his elbows onto the desk and watches me, like this is an interrogation. I look him dead in the eye.

"Absolutely," I respond. We sit like this for a full minute before he sighs, turning towards the paperwork on his desk.

"Alright. If you insist you need this, then you need this," he says. He looks back up at me. "You're one of the best detectives we have in the Yard, you know that? I trust your judgment more than I trust my own sometimes." I nod.

"Thanks, boss."

"I'd say 'no problem', but then I'd be lying," he responds. He shakes his head. "Are you sure you need to do this?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Just sign this," he says, handing me a piece of paper. I skim through it, making notes of certain lines. At the bottom is a line with an X. Below that is Lestrade's signature. I take the pen he offers, and I sign. I hand the paper and the pen back. "The door is always open if you want to come back."

"Yeah," I respond. I get up out of the chair and turn towards the door. Just as I'm about to open it and walk out, Lestrade calls me back.

"Oh, Kat? Sean called me this morning. Said you'd never made it home last night and you weren't answering his calls. He said he was going to file a missing person's report," he explains. I roll my eyes. "Know anything about that?" I sigh.

"Remember when I said that something personal had come up?" I ask. Lestrade nods. "Well, I'd be lying if I said he's only a part of it. He's the reason this is all happening. Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure," he responds. "What is it?"

"When you see him, tell him you saw me this morning." Lestrade nods. "If he asks anything, ask him what he was doing yesterday at lunch in the back office. Then tell him I know exactly what, because I saw it. Later, Lestrade."

I walk out of his office, and out of the building.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Thanks," I say as I step out of the cab and step up to pay the cabbie. I turn around and look at the building in front of me. Black door, gold lettering, knocker slightly askew. Next to the door for the flats is a quant, little café called "Speedy's". I look down at my watch: Five minutes to eight. I'm early. I look up to the windows on the second floor. The curtain in the window on the right is pulled back slightly, as if someone is peeking out. I walk to the door, square my shoulders and ring the buzzer. I wait for a second before I hear footsteps coming from what sounds like upstairs. The door opens, and a gentleman with sandy blond hair looks out at me.

"Hello, I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes," I greet. "Is he here?"

The man in front of me smiles and nods.

"C'mon in," he says, and steps out of the way. "We're just upstairs."

He leads me up the stairs and into the most… interesting apartment I've ever seen. There are papers and files lying haphazardly on a table, a painting of a skull on the wall, an actual skull on the mantelpiece.

"Sherlock," the man calls. "We've got a client."

"Oh, no," I state as Sherlock enters the room. "I'm not a client. I met Sherlock yesterday at Bart's Hospital. He gave me the address. Hello, Sherlock."

"Kat, glad to see you made it," he responds. "Oh, John, don't look so shocked." He goes to the table to start sorting some of the paperwork.

The man, John, seems absolutely shell-shocked. He looks back and forth between Sherlock and me. He turns to Sherlock, opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it and shakes his head. I decide to alleviate some of his confusion.

"So, this flat you mentioned yesterday," I start, and Sherlock looks up at me. "I'm assuming this isn't it."

"You'd be correct. The flat that's available is upstairs," he starts explaining. "Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, lives downstairs. You'll have to speak with her."

"Hello, boys," a voice comes from the door. I turn around to see an older woman. "Oh, and hello, dear. I'm Mrs. Hudson. Who might you be?" She asks me.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson. My names Kat Wilson. Sherlock invited me over," I respond before pausing. Mrs. Hudson's eyes go wide. "He said you had a flat available?"

"Oh, did he?" she asks, laughing. "Well, I do have one available. It's right upstairs. I showed it to Sherlock when he first asked a month ago, but he refused. Said it was too far upstairs."

"Why am I not surprised," I sigh. Sherlock glares at me. "Oi! No glaring! It's common sense. Clients aren't going to want to climb a whole bunch of stairs just to see a detective." John and Mrs. Hudson look at me, stunned, while Sherlock just smirks.

"Yes. Yes, I thought so. My thoughts precisely," he responds. I just shake my head.

"Mrs. Hudson, could I take a look at the flat, please?" I ask. Mrs. Hudson smiles sweetly and nods.

"Sure, dear. Just let me get this hip moving," she responds, heading to the door. "Follow me, dear."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The flat is perfect. Now I just need to get some furniture. As I walk downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hudson about rent, I catch a glimpse of Lestrade running down the stairs. I walk into Sherlock's flat.

"Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" He exclaims excitedly, twirling happily. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper," Mrs. Hudson responds. She sees me. "Oh, Kat. How did you like it?"

"It's brilliant, Mrs. Hudson," I answer. "Exactly what I need, thanks."

"Something cold will do. John, we need to go. Kat, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up," Sherlock finishes, grabbing a small leather pouch from the kitchen table before disappearing out the kitchen door, John following close behind. Mrs. Hudson and I look at each other.

"Look at him," she says, "dashing about. My husband was just the same. I'll make you that cuppa. You go and have a seat." She turns towards the door. I'm about to protest. "Just this once, dear."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," I sigh. I turn to sit and hear a throat clear from behind me. I turn back and see Sherlock standing there. He seems unsure, which is something I never thought I'd see.

"Yes?" I ask, raising my eyebrow.

"Would, would you like to come with us?" he asks. "Could always use an extra set of eyes, and you're much more clever than the usual idiots I work with." I stare.

"Thank you," I respond, "I think." I deliberate for a moment. "Sure, I'll come with. Crime scene, right?"

"Yes," he says, spinning on his heel. I follow him out.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea," I call. "I'll be back later about the flat."

John is standing near the door, waiting for Sherlock and me. Mrs. Hudson is standing near the bottom of the stairs.

"All three of you?" she asks. Sherlock reaches the front door but turns and walks back towards Mrs. Hudson.

"Impossible suicides? Four of them?" he says. "There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" He takes her by the shoulders and kisses her on the cheek.

"Look at you, all happy," she says, smiling as he turns back towards the door. "It's not decent."

"Who cares about decent?" he asks. "The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!" He walks out the front door and steps up to the curb. He hails an approaching cab.

"Taxi!"

The taxi pulls up alongside and the three of us get in. The car drives off.

A/N: Next chapter, we get a bit more info on Kat's abilities. Wonder what they could be... ;P