Chapter 4
Out of the corner of eyes
Page and John had ended up talking all the way out of Baker Street and then all the way back to Baker Street. They'd gotten to know a little about each other and now it was time for Page to get to know the other man ho lived at 221B. John opened the door and stepped inside, allowing Page to come through. She spotted him in the kitchen; he was adding some sort of blue liquid to the sugar bowl. Page tried not to giggle as she watched the man with the messy dark curls on his head bend over the sideboard adding the liquid timidly through what looked like a straw!
"Hello, you must be Sherlock." Her voice bounced as she approached the man who looked up at her and sighed, he turned back to his "experiment" and carried on. "You must be Sherlock." She repeated herself again and waited. A smile spreading across her face, she could tell she'd annoyed him. He straightened himself up and studied her face.
"Here on business, a writer I think…judging by the pen outlines in your jacket pocket? Yes you must be on business, because you're renting. I see John told you all about me- otherwise you wouldn't be so calm standing there watching me as if I'm doing nothing unusual. I could go on and on, but I won't keep you, goodbye." He winked and then picked up a glass jar full of the blue liquid and poured it into the sugar bowl.
"SHERLOCK NO, WE ONLY JUST BOUGHT THAT SUGAR!" John bellowed rushing forward snatching the sugar bowl away from him. Slamming open the bin he threw the contents in and slammed the lid shut again. Page hid her smiles and glanced at John. "Would you like some tea or coffee?" He asked reaching up into the cupboards and opening them up.
"I would, but I take sugar." Page whispered in Sherlock's direction.
"Oh." John shut the cupboards again and shot an angry look in Sherlock's direction. He hadn't moved from the counter. He stood there as though he was still messing with his experiments. "Go and make yourself at home Page, I'll bring something in." John said kindly to her, she nodded and walked into the living room.
Page was left alone with Sherlock; John had nipped to the shop to get some sugar. She sat on the sofa admiring the room, books were stacked everywhere and there were old paintings on the walls. In the corner of the room there was a violin sitting against the wall. Her eyes darted around as she took in the strangeness of their home. A skull was propped up on the mantle. Was it real? She wasn't sure, and she wasn't going to ask. Out of the corner of her eye, she was sure Sherlock was watching her. Though it looked as if he was watching her out of the corner of his eye too. He was on the opposite sofa.
"So what do you do for a living?" Page asked him, she found it the perfect opportunity to study him. Inside her she felt like she wanted to study him, she wanted to look at him. His face was hard to read, she got the impression he didn't like her. Her brown eyes watched him carefully and then as if someone had clicked their fingers, their eyes locked- for only an instant. She darted hers back down and she stared at the carpet. Something powerful had hit her then, she'd never felt like that before, what had she felt? She wasn't sure, not yet anyway. Whatever it was, she was sure he hadn't felt it. He was still watching her; Page lifted her head and looked back at him.
"I don't do anything." Sherlock told her, he looked away and shut his eyes.
"You must do something."
"I'm a consulting detective, and John tags along." Sherlock turned himself so he could watch her. Page took a deep breath.
"A consulting detective?" She asked.
"When the police need me I step in, they always need me."