**I do not own Sherlock. I just own Sarafina and Liza Holmes.**
Chapter 2
Upstairs in the lab while Uncle Sherlock is busy experimenting on something, I'm sitting on a chair across from him watching him intently. He looks at something through a microscope and says,
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"I'm just interested in what you're doing. That's all." I said.
He gives me a light "hmm" and goes back to dropping liquid in a Petri dish. Then I hear a knock at the door. Mike Stamford and a man I've never seen before walk in. 'Considering the military haircut and slight limp, it looks like he just got back from a war…' Military man, as I had dubbed him, looks around and says,
"Well, bit different from my day."
Mike chuckles slightly. "You've no idea."
Just then Uncle Sherlock interrupts.
"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."
"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asks.
"I prefer to text." Uncle Sherlock responds.
"Sorry. It's in my coat." Mike says.
Before I could say anything, military man takes his phone out of his pocket and holds it out to Uncle Sherlock.
"Er, here. Use mine."
"Oh. Thank you." Uncle Sherlock look up at Mike and walks over and grabs the phone from military man.
"It's an old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike says.
'So military man has a name after all…' I think to myself.
After Uncle Sherlock takes "John's" phone, he starts to type.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"
John frowns and looks at Uncle Sherlock.
"Sorry?"
"Which is it – Afghanistan or Iraq?" Uncle Sherlock says as he glances at John and then goes back to the phone.
John looks at Mike and then back to Uncle Sherlock.
"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know…?"
Just then Molly walks in holding a mug of coffee and a bottle of water, interrupting John. Uncle Sherlock looks up from the phone.
"Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you."
He shuts John's phone and hands it back to him as he goes to take the mug from Molly. I can see from where I am that she had removed the lipstick she had "refreshed" from earlier.
"What happened to the lipstick?" Uncle Sherlock asks.
Molly awkwardly smiles and says,
"It wasn't working for me."
"Really? I thought it was a big improvement." he says. "Your mouths too small now."
I shake my head as he takes a sip from his coffee and grimaces.
"…Okay." Molly says.
She walks over to me and hands me the bottle of water.
"I didn't know if you liked coffee so I got you some water. Hope that's alright?"
"No, no that's fine. Thank you, Molly." I said politely, making sure to flash a glare at Uncle Sherlock. He ignores my look and continues on with John.
"How do you feel about the violin?"
John looks towards Molly as she leaves, then back at Mike, and back to Uncle Sherlock.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." He looks at John. "Would that bother you?"
I chose that moment to take a big drink from my water. Big mistake.
"Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other."
I accidentally inhale and start choking on my water.
'Potential flat mates?! Is he insane?' I think to myself as I'm coughing up my lungs.
Slowly coming back from almost choking to death on my water, I find that every eye in the room is on me.
"Good lord, Liza. Try not to inhale it all at once." Uncle Sherlock says. I glare at him.
"Flat mates? Who said anything about flat mates? When did we discuss this?"
"I thought you knew?" Uncle Sherlock replies.
"I did but c'mon Uncle Sherlock," I whisper. "We don't even know the man and you're already wanting to rent a flat with him?"
John chooses that time to ask Mike,
"Oh you… you told him about me?"
"Not a word." Mike replies.
John turns back to Uncle Sherlock and me.
"Then she's right. Who said anything about flat mates?"
Uncle Sherlock walks over to put his coat on and waves me towards him.
"I did. Told Mike this morning that I…" he looks down at me, "we must be a difficult pair to find a flat mate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap."
"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asks.
Ignoring his question, Uncle Sherlock wraps his scarf around his neck and picks up his mobile. He checks it and says,
"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. Heaven knows Liza can't be bothered to get a job and help out."
"Oi!"
He ignores me and turns and walks over to John.
"We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry – gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary. Come Liza."
He waves me over to the door.
"I'm not a dog…"
"Is that it?" I hear John ask as we're heading out the door.
"Is that what?" Uncle Sherlock asks.
"We've only just met and we're gonna go look at a flat?"
"Problem?" Uncle Sherlock asks.
John smiles and looks at Mike and then back to Uncle Sherlock.
"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your names."
Uncle Sherlock looks closely at John.
"I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother whose 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. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic – quite correctly, I'm afraid."
I turn and look at John as he looks at his leg and shuffles his feet awkwardly.
"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?"
Uncle Sherlock walks out the door but leans back.
"The names Sherlock Holmes and this is Liza Holmes," pointing at me. "and the address is 221B Baker Street."
He click-winks at John and turns back to Mike.
"Afternoon."
At that we walked out. I turned to him.
"Well that was interesting…"
He let out a small "hmm" and kept walking.