Her mural was coming along splendidly, along with the flat it would be beautiful when complete. Right now she was making brilliant progress on her schedule.
What she didn't expect was the knock on her door. It took her momentarily by surprise - seeing the lights flashing, signalling someone had rung - and she realised her hearing aids were discarded in her bedroom.
"Coming!" Penelope shouted it over her shoulder and brushed her dungarees down,wiping off some of the paint - or at least trying to - it mostly just caused the purples, pinks and blues to smudge into her hands. It was ignored for now and so was her hearing. Whoever was there she was sure they'd be able to understand, plus she was pretty sure it was just Mrs Hudson and she had a feeling the lady already knew about her disability.
Making her way up to the door,she made sure she threw her pills into her bedroom along the way. Locking the door afterward.
A smile was put on her face as she unlatched the chain and opened the door.
Her smile faltered slightly as she met the eyes of a slightly short man with gelled blonde hair. His blue eyes widened slightly at the sight of her but she didn't drop the smile completely. It took a second before the man was smiling effortlessly at her - succeeding in creating cute wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.
"Hello there." Penelope had waved in response to his words.
"I'm John Watson, Mrs Hudson told me you moved in over the weekend and I just wanted to welcome you." Her lip reading was thankfully on point so she was able to understand him easily.
"Hi John, I'm Penelope Sharpe. Please do come in as you can see I'm currently illustrating, excuse the mess."
She couldn't catch his reply since he'd walked past her but as Penelope shut the door she caught sight of him grinning.
"Would you excuse me for a second? The main room is just there." She left to go into her room, she'd no doubt need both her ITC hearing aids.
When she emerged from her room into the main room, John Watson to her surprise had Instinctively taken his shoes off and put them on the rack. A fact she was grateful for and annoyed as she hadn't mentioned the detail earlier.
John was currently examining her nearly completed painting and Penelope felt uneasy at the attention it was getting.
"When I saw the paint on your clothes, I thought you were painting the walls multicoloured or something; but this, this is brilliant!" The woman furrowed her eyebrows and frowned slightly. Had he just praised her work.
John Watson...liked her painting?
"It's not finished yet," Penelope pointed out in an attempt to remind him.
"Yes, but what you've done so far is brilliant." He turns around and John was surprised to see Penelope completely staring off into space appearing to be, confused.
As if she was somewhat puzzled by his compliment. Time had clearly passed before John cleared his throat.
"Penelope?" The daydream was gone, she blinked sharply back into reality and offered him an explanation.
"Sorry, it's just no one's ever called my work brilliant before." This sounded oddly familiar to John, he just couldn't recall the time he'd heard words like those in the past.
"Well, what do they normally say?"
"Take it off." John frowned.
An insult! What kind of person would insult her when faced with such beauty?
"Well their idiots! Your work is really good, your perfectly talented." Penelope smiled just a bit at yet another compliment.
"Thank you...tea?"
"Yes please, no sugars." Penelope walked into the kitchen and beckoned John to follow her. He takes a seat at the wooden oak table in the kitchen and once the teas done she sits opposite him.
They begin to conversate just like ordinary humans and after John's tea is done he's grateful the talking doesn't stop.
He needed a break after the previous case, hounds! Of all the bloody things in the world.
They both talked about hobbies and soon the conversation drifted into a detailed discussion of the art of understanding the bodies anatomy. John was amazed by how much the girl was able to contribute to his knowledge of muscles and organs.
Soon however, the subject evolved into a man. Sherlock Holmes to be precise.
Penelope found herself curious about the whole consulting detective aspect of things. Never had she heard of using such a term for someone. Or a job.
"So what? You and him fight crime and solve mysteries?" John laughed at her inquiry and slumped back Into the chair feeling at ease.
"I wish it were that simple," Penelope nodded with a faint smile and was going to ask about what they got up to exactly but then John was fumbling around in his pocket for his phone and her attention was back onto the painting outside the kitchen.
"Hello?" John mouthed an apology and Penelope waved him off. Got up then went back to painting in her vibrant colours. She could hear Johns mumblings but didn't care enough to actually listen.
Moments later the man emerged from the kitchen with a small smile on his face.
"Well I should be going, I'll see you soon I hope Penelope."
"Penny, Please call me Penny." The woman frowned almost straight after the request, had she actually just said that?
"Penny, alright I'll catch you later." She nodded then escorted Mr Watson out with the promise of popping by sometime.
Later on Penelope was in the middle of a particularly crap TV show, offering sarcastic comments every now and then, to the characters with awful personalities.
It was in between one of these comments that her hearing aids began to mess around.
"Oh not now! This desperate housewife was about to go crazy!" The devices start to glitch in her ears to the point where it becomes a nuisance.
"Fine," Penelope mutters under her breath and with a huff she got to her feet and padded over to the bathroom. The medical cupboard above the sink was there for the soul purpose of storing her medication and her extra pair of hearing aids.
Except right now, the spare pair weren't there.
"The hell-" A hiss was elicited from gritted teeth as a high pitched ring sounded in her ear. The damaged things were taken out of her ears and she frowned at them when the silence fell.
It was truly deafening.
In a mood she trudged back to main room and slumped into the settee.
The need to hear once more overpowered her sane thoughts, she needed them fixed immediately.
But needed the equipment.
Suddenly, for reasons unknown. The brief thought of John resonated through her mind, it was a weird feeling; but there was really no one else she could think of who could possibly have a screwdriver.
In a split decision she decided he would most likely be the best decision for her, Penelope got out of the comfy sofa's grip and switched off the telly with a frustrated sigh.
Her earpieces were cradled in her hand as she pulled on her green monster slippers and begrudgingly slipped into a pair of shorts from her bedroom, to at least cover for the fact that she- Penelope Sharpe- bore absolutely no modesty whatsoever.
Once she gave her vest a quick scrutiny she shrugged in a non caring gesture. Then exited her flat.
It was dark in the passage way and she cursed herself for not remembering the path as clearly as she should have.
The fact that she was both deaf and blind in this spot brought unease to her and she made sure she was extra cautious ascending the stairs to 221B.
When she got to the floor where a wooden door was nestled into the corner, her hand hovered over the door and she knocked twice; in a way she hoped was gentle and not too loud.
What Penny didn't hear was the annoyed 'John!' being yelled from Sherlocks mouth and said man shuffling in from the kitchen, glaring daggers at the childish man who sat slumped in his armchair with both forefingers pressed to his temples.
John held back his insults to swing open the door, his frown morphed imstantly into a wide smile when he met the deep brown eyes of their new neighbour. His surprise was written clearly on his face, unlike the attraction he felt toward the girl when seeing her in that tight cotton vest without a bra, with those practically sinful shorts which displayed various grafitte symbols.
"Oh Penny. Wasn't expecting to see you so soon." John didn't miss the way the girl stared at his lips throughout his entire statement.
Sherlock did.
"Yes well, sorry to pop in unexpectedly but I was hoping I could obtain a screwdriver from you." John's eyes filled with recognition at the sight of Penelope signing along with everything she was saying.
However Sherlock once again, had missed the display of her ability just as his interest in this mysterious woman peaked.
Drawing himself from his mind Palace he centred his focused onto the woman at the door. One single sweep of his eyes and he'd managed to roughly piece her together.
He raised a brow at the sight of those ghastly beasts on her feet.
They were hideous!
Penelope had noticed the man with the bouncy curls upon his head and assumed he was the mysterious Sherlock Holmes.
To be honest he - in his striped robe which looked rather expensive, white vest and blue and white bottoms - was nothing Penny had been expecting.
His blatant scrutiny made Penelope intrigued if not a bit annoyed.
I mean, she'd put on the shorts hadn't she!
What more did she have to cover to be deemed appropriate?
All at once this Sherlock character got up and looked her dead in the eye. His mouth begun to open and close like quickfire, Penelope tried hard to focus on the words he was saying; attempting to put it all together but couldn't do it.
In the end she only succeeded in hearing fragments.
"You... Slept for the... Evident from those horrid things on your... Smell says painter... However say calluses... Ethnic background..." Penelope had to take a step closer to him just to fully strain her ability further.
But it helped nothing.
"Sherlock!" John snapped and the detective looked over to his only friend momentarily stopping the assault of words.
While Penelope - who by the way had not taken her eyes of his lips - stared at him.
"What John, I'm in the middle of deducing here!" The disadvantaged girl smiled slightly, she'd understood what he said in that moment.
"Deducing? Doesn't the person have to be able to hear you for that?" Sherlocks frown made her smirk successfully and she raised her hand and opened her palm to ease his confusion.
The man looked down and inwardly groaned when he saw the small grey items.
"She can't hear you Sherlock!" John announced clearly annoyed at the carelessness his friend had shown. "You git." was muttered afterward.
Sherlock turned his attention back on to the girl who was still staring at his lips. "Lip reading, of course." Penelope nodded and couldn't help the false smile from forming.
"Wanna help me with these or are you gonna stare at me all day?" Sherlock frowned and looked at the things once more.
"What did you need again, Miss?" Penelope ran a hand through the front of her curly brown locks to get them out of her face and Sherlock followed the movement. Only abruptly stopping when he realised just what he was doing.
When since had something so effortless caught his attention.
"Sharpe, and a screwdriver; if John has one." She waited as Sherlock looked her in the eyes once more.
John watched the two just stare at each other for so long that it would definitely not be deemed socially acceptable. It wasn't until Sherlock broke the silence that he remembered he had only met Penelope today!
"Wait here." Sherlock gestured to the armchair opposite the one he had been slumped in earlier then waltzed to his room; the dressing gown fluttering slightly behind him like a cape.
"He's very dramatic." Penelope signed knowing John wouldn't understand anything she was saying but did it anyway.
"So..." When the new girl had taken her seat in John's chair he took to standing opposite her near Sherlocks - not daring to sit in the detectives on behalf of knowing it annoyed him - Penelope looked at his lips once more as he began to speak.
"I know he's a bit dramatic." Penelope chuckled.
"Your boyfriend is very dramatic." Was signed by the girl but the words that left her mouth were...
"I've seen worse." John smiled and so did Penelope, while finding it weird that she didn't feel as uncomfortable as she probably should.
Shortly Sherlock stepped back into the room. He carried a kit of sorts and held out a hand for the devices.
"I'll fix them." He instructed as he towered over her, Penelope handed them over without hesitation yearning to hear again.
Especially now, seeing as she had no idea what Sherlock could possibly sound like.
The detective accepted the things with ease and went to the table by the curtain, it was ransacked with what appeared to be a range of different oddities.
With Sherlock tinkering Penelope let her attention slip from him and on to John.
She signed 'please may I have some tea?' purposely not talking aloud just to see if John would understand her.
John frowned slightly at first before his eyes brightened. "Tea?" He asked catching on swiftly.
Penny nodded.
John hurried to the kitchen and Penelope waited until he was gone to get up and take in a real impression of the place.
She quickly disliked the wallpaper but found the skull on the mantle very out there.
I wonder if it's real?
Her gaze landed on the bookshelf and quickly dismissed it. That she'd leave for another day.
The mirror above the lit fire place portrayed herself as she looked into it briefly, and for once she found herself bothered by her crazy curls which just wouldn't stay put.
Once again she lifted a hand and raked her fingers through the dark tangles.
Very much unaware of the detective who had catalogued this move into a file and stored it away to his memory.
Sherlock frowned as he removed his magnifying slide from the kit he'd produced from the bedroom and shuffled in his seat.
Why had he just saved such irrelevant data?
"Is this real?" Sherlock raised a brow at the slow hand movements he'd managed to catch as she spoke the words.
Now facing her he took extra note of the way she waited for him to respond by attaching her pupils onto his mouth. It was quite an awkward situation to be in.
He'd wondered vaguely if she had even taken in the colour of his eyes.
Ooo an experiment.
"What colour are my eyes?" He'd said it slowly deliberately so she could understand it through lip reading and then quickly shut his eyes so she wouldn't be able to cheat. Penelope flicked her eyes up immediately but was greeted by alabaster covers hiding away Sherlocks oceans.
The thought about the ocean had occurred the moment she saw those pleasant pearls. Practically burning themselves into her retinas.
Suddenly the thought about telling Sherlock this aloud seemed... Odd.
"Oh," He smirked triumphantly his hypothesis has been correct. She didn't know-
"well they're beyond incomprehensible to be honest." Sherlock kept his eyes closed but couldn't help but be confused at the meaning of this.
I mean, they were just eyes!
"Incomprehensible?" The detective repeated the word in a fluid way, it rolled off his tongue as if it were a liquid.
"Well yes, blue? Green? A mixture of the both, your eyes hold more depth than the ocean itself." Sherlock didn't hear any of this, instead he had opened his eyes and watched her sign the words to him.
He felt rather relieved he had chosen to keep sign language tucked away in his mind.
He would have never thought a comment so clichéd could have made him somewhat confused.
John's arrival with the tray with tea and biscuits was a fortunate distraction. It gave Sherlock the chance to answer the girls earlier question.
"Yes it is real." Penelope furrowed her brow briefly as she watched the curly haired man turn away from her and begin to tinker once more.
John who had set the tray down tapped Penny on the shoulder and gave her a smile.
"Teas here,"
"Thank you." She sat on Sherlocks chair this time and John was about to say something about that being a chair no one but the detective sat on, only stopping when he saw that Sherlocks face portrayed none of the usual annoyance and instead one of neutrality.
Over the next few minutes. John and Penelope engaged in a bit of small talk. Centred mostly around the ghastly case of Baskerville.
"Hounds of the mind?" The question was provoked from the girls mouth after watching John's lip explanation of the drug being in the fog.
"Oh yes, turns out that the whole thing was the fault of our clients dead father's beloved 'friend'." Penelope nodded.
"So it wasn't a hound so much as a man trying to cover up his own murder."
"Exactly." John perked up considerably since Penelope had arrived. It was quite a nice change actually, having someone who he could engage in mundane things with.
His attentions turned to Sherlock then who had smiled in triumph when he finished with the girls hearing devices.
Penelope followed his line of vision and was met with a standing Sherlock.
"Oh, you all done then?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Obviously." He was surprised at Penelope's chuckle at his use of attitude.
"Alright cheeky," His left eyebrow rose. Cheeky? "Give em here then." He did so easily and didn't even find the contact her hand made with his as annoying as he'd normally would.
Penelope could have jumped for joy at this moment. Having the weight of both things in her palms erupted butterflies in the base of her stomach.
Without appearing too excited she put them in and waited for her ears to adjust.
"Testing, testing one two three." John beamed at her as Sherlock was still analysing Penelope, fascinated at the process of her putting them in.
He had opened up Penelopes file and put the procedure inside, after that he made a room in his mind Palace just for her.
He'd make it plain for now; fill it in later.
Inside this room were both moments, he resigned from her room and flashed back into reality.
He didn't expect an intrigued Penelope to be standing directly in front of him. Her eyes were a stunning brown and he stored that away quickly.
"Where'd you go?" She asked genuinely awaiting an answer.
"Mind Palace." The detective took note of the girls raised eyebrows; he furrowed his own in thought. Why was she taken aback?
"Why am I not surprised?" The question was whispered and he leaned closer to hear. Or at least that's what he told himself. She smiled as she watched him.
"Why am I not surprised, that the first thing I hear outta that pretty mouth of yours is mind Palace?" Sherlock watched her giggle with vague interest.
"Your voice has a much lower tone than I thought, it's entirely dramatic. Just like you!" John was laughing along with the girl and Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"It's not that deep." He insisted before hurrying into the kitchen to go check on his earlier experiment; pinky toes.
"Oh please, trust me when I say I know deep, when you have a nanny like mine your whole life becomes deep." Sherlock ignored the implied innuendo and sat back at the kitchen table on his stool.
"How do they feel?" John asked her while making an action with his hand toward his ear.
"Just like new." Then with no hesitation whatsoever she turned and blew a kiss in Sherlocks direction.
"Merci beaucoup Sherlock." Her accent was flawless, so much in fact that it made the addressed man furrow his brows. John however, took this for one of his rude antics and apologised on behalf of the detective.
"He means your welcome, sorry Penelope but he's in one of his moods." Penelope waved him off politely, not really affected at all.
"It's fine, I enjoyed the tea and chat John thank you. But I should really be going it's quite late and I need to finish the last rose on my mural." John smiled at the girl.
"Any time Penelope, and I really do mean that." The girl kissed his cheek took one last look at Sherlock who was invested in his work and sighed.
"Goodbye boys." Those were the last words they heard from her mouth before she left.
Sherlock, not once looking away from his experiment frowned at John.
"Not your type." He stated bluntly, not reacting to John's stubbornness in the slightest.
"I didn't say she was." John assured Sherlock, as his fists came to settle upon his hips. Sherlock didn't even have to answer the man again, only raised a brow in a silent judgement as he glanced up at the shorter man.
"Alright, well I-I'm going to bed because I'm not dealing with-" he made a big gesture at the detective before huffing.
"This." Sherlock removed his goggles finally and ruffled his hair.
"Goodnight John." The detectives voice was monotone, John didn't even bother with a response and instead went to retire upstairs.
The moment Sherlock confirmed that John had gone into his room for real and wasn't lingering he jumped out of the stool he currently occupied and found John's laptop. (Taking a while to relocate it from John's new hiding place)
Last time Sherlock had found some revealing things, that John refused to talk about or even acknowledge.
He planted his butt down onto the sofa and raised his knees up.
The screen illuminated his alabaster features, ocean coloured eyes locked onto the light as he efficiently hacked into John's private thing.
John was partially to blame; having Harriets birthday as his password was far too boring, not to mention predictable.
He opened up Google and typed in the subject annoying his mind.
PENELOPE SHARPE
The search was successful, apparently she was on various websites.
Even the news.
Sherlock clicked on the link immediately, what he hadn't expected was to see the girl in such a position.
Red lipstick marked her lips and Ruby skin jewels were placed strategically from her left eyes corner descending onto her collar bone.
If it weren't for the shocking crimson in which the dress was illustrated to him. Sherlock would've spent his time deducing her facial expression rather than appreciating the flowing material wrapped elegantly around Penelope's curves. The mundane thing had captured his attention surprisingly and Sherlock couldn't remove his eyes from the image.
Finally snapping out of his reverie, he operated his hand and willed it to scroll down.
DEAF GIRL REINVENTS MODELLING
His eyebrows shot up at the title, then he frowned and rolled his eyes.
'how blunt'
Then he began to read the article.
'21 year old, Penelope Sharpe has taken the latest artist scene by storm with her devotion to the arts. Her new take on realistic portrayal has left artists in awe.
'she stands there in the same pose for hours and doesn't move until every last person who's been booked to see her has finished their piece.' says 17 year old, Elliot Dennis who had the privilege of getting to see the young models crazy methods up close and personal.
Penelope has volunteered to be the muse of the Oval Art program for a total of 2 years now. Every person who's been blown away by her intellectual take on painting, sculpting and more have all seen her in action.
From crazy corsets which tighten to the artists requested perfection- often being suggestive- to fantasy costumes from favourite novels and comics. All cater complex roles of hardcore creators who would be denied privileges from other studios.'
Sherlock stopped scrolling to admire yet another image- this one had the girl in a Gucci suit, the grey patterns mimicked her frame gently. The blazer was unbuttoned; giving the effect of an unformality enhancing the rebellious theme. As did the loose tie, which had purposely been undone and gripped in her right hand for a provocative effect.
His eyes followed her image before settling down onto the caption.
"outfit Inspired by photographist Susan Walters, who calls it 'a woman's role' "
Finding a blue link next to the caption sparked his curiosity, he found himself less interested with the articles and fascinated with the images. The link was a beacon call, it screamed for him to press it.
But would he? Should he? Could he?
Why of course, he was Sherlock Holmes after all.
The first image was tame, a common take on the average superhero. Her hair was big, her waist was small, her cleavage...busty.
He scrolled down immediately after the deduction.
The next image was a sin, in the minds of those who couldn't handle such... eloquence.
Penelope Sharpe was suspended from a ceiling in nothing but her laungerie, silks wrapped protectively around her body in a purple and turquoise blend which hid her caramel-
Sherlock exited the page effective immediately and deleted the history off the database- snapping the laptop shut after the deed was done.
Was he insane?
On an exhale Sherlock got to his feet and hid John's laptop once again.
After it was hidden, he wasted no time thinking back to what he had done and practically marched to his room shutting the door behind him.
Why had she conjured such a reaction from him?
They were just silly photographs.