"Where is it? Damn it!" I sighed as I sat on one of the examining tables, ignoring Molly's disapproving glares. It's not like my trousers would contaminate it. Sherlock was going haywire searching for his riding crop. It had started out as amusing and then it just got irritating. I hadn't been watching either of the other humans in the mortuary but I was intent on staring at a tenon saw on a table to the side. Don't ask me why. I have sociopathic tendencies.
Sherlock wheeled round and faced Molly. "Where is it? I left it right here!" Molly squeaked but didn't reply. Sherlock pushed a table over and I licked my lips. I glanced at Molly and then looked away. And then I looked back at her again. Her eyes were shifty and she was shifting from foot to foot. Sherlock had yet to notice because he was still avidly searching for his beloved riding crop. It didn't take much to guess that Molly had hidden it. "Miss Hooper, be a dear and go fetch Sherlock's riding crop." I said sweetly with smile to match the tone.
Immediately, Sherlock stopped searching frantically and turned his eyes upon me. "Did you hide it?" I looked up at him and smiled softly.
"Sherlock, do you seriously think I hid it?" After a second or two, his gaze fell upon Molly. Sherlock must have really liked his riding crop. I guess his was unique. Molly gaped and didn't say anything, save for a few squeaks every now and then. "Miss Hooper, I rather think you should give it back to him. You've spent your time with Sherlock. Now it's time for him to go home." I chided her as though she was a child. I knew that would hurt more than shouting. Comparing an adult to a child always hurt.
"I-I-I don't know what y-you're talking about…" Molly attempted but I shook my head, my anger rising slowly but surely.
"Molly. Get the riding crop. Now." My voice was now cold and empty. She dashed out of the room. Sherlock frowned and then looked at me.
"Why didn't I see that?" I knew what he was talking about.
"Because your attachment to the riding crop and your frustration blinded you. Calm down, Sherlock, and we'll talk about the flat." I thanked the Lords that it didn't sound like I was taunting him.
I was standing at the door of Scotland Yard and Sherlock was beside me. Lestrade didn't know I was living in the building so I always had to take precautions when re-entering. "Until tomorrow, Sherlock." I said evenly and he nodded in return.
"Until tomorrow, Natalia." And he turned and walked away. Why did my name sound nice coming from his mouth?
I was late and I knew it. I despised being late since punctuality was my middle name. Literally. Natalia Punctuality Heather. Parents named their children after virtues, such as Patience, Prudence, Harmony, awful names like that. My mother refused on having my forename something as silly as that so my father begged for my middle name to be a virtue. She gave in, unfortunately. Anyway, I was in a taxi as I tell you this. The driver was the stereotypical cabbie driver; burly, cap over his brow and a gruff voice. I paid him no attention as I checked my watch every forty four seconds. Finally, he pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street.
Sherlock and the soldier were already there. Damn it, it was so irritating referring to him as 'the soldier' or 'Soldier boy' or even 'the medic'. I needed to ask his name. The cab stopped and automatically both of their eyes were on the cab. I handed the driver a fiver and got out, ignoring the inquiry about change. Slamming the door shut behind me, I walked up to the two men waiting. "I apologise for my tardiness, gentlemen. Time flew." I said with a little smile. The soldier put out his hand for me to shake and I did so, noting the label in his collar as I did. 'John Watson' is what it said. Hm.
Sherlock held out his own hand and I shook it as well, ignoring the tingles as best as I could, despite us both wearing gloves, albeit they were rather thin. I noticed Sherlock glance at his hand when we parted but otherwise had no reaction. "Well, this is a charming spot." I commented as I peered around the environment. One of the best spots to get taxis. Near a few shops. Good for getting groceries quickly. Yes, this place was rather nice. "Must be expensive." John observed as well. Sherlock put his hands behind his back as he stood by the door.
"Mrs Hudson, the landlady – she's given me a special deal." He explained, "Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out." I cocked an eyebrow. John seemed sceptical too.
"Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?" He said with disbelief evident in his voice and on his face. Sherlock looked back at him.
"Oh, no, I ensured it." He replied with a big smile again. I chuckled lightly and the door opened.
"Sherlock." The woman said as she immediately embraced the man. She appeared to be in her early fifties and had fading blonde hair. Her makeup was a little much but she seemed very kind. She reminded me of my grandmother. Her purple outfit made me chuckle for no reason. I noticed her manicured nails and I figured she was the typical older landlady. She was definitely likable. Sherlock pulled back from her hug and then gestured to John and I. "Mrs Hudson, Dr John Watson and my new assistant, Natalia Heathers." She shook our hands and gave an especially large smile to me.
"Hello, come in." She invited and we smiled nicely back.
"Thank you." We both said and she stepped aside to let us in. Politeness wasn't something I was proficient in but Mrs Hudson seemed like the sort of lady I wouldn't need to try to be polite to. "Shall we…?" Sherlock said and stepped in after us, Mrs Hudson closing the black door behind us.
Sherlock led the way up the stairs and we came to a stop at a door. The wallpaper consisted of red bamboo shoots on a yellow background and I found I rather liked it. Sherlock and I waited for a few seconds for John to catch up and then Sherlock opened the door.
The flat was rather nice. A quaint fireplace, large windows, well-stocked bookcases, a nice kitchen… I'm happy to say I approved. "Well, this could be very nice." John mumbled to himself as he hobbled to the left. The room was littered with boxes, cushions, papers and books. Hm, Sherlock had already made himself at home. "Very nice indeed." John continued.
"Yes… Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely." Sherlock agreed.
"Someone's made themselves at home." I added, looking pointedly at Sherlock. He grinned but John seemed to miss my comment.
"Yes, well, I went straight ahead and moved in." Sherlock explained as John spoke.
"Soon as we get this rubbish cleaned up." Whoops, on John's behalf, "Oh." John appeared very awkward and Sherlock seemed slightly abashed. It was all rather amusing. Sherlock walked away and began to clean up some of his belongings and papers. "So this is all…" John began but Sherlock quickly cut across.
"Well, obviously I can…" He cleared his throat, "… straighten things up a bit." He stabbed a dagger into the mantelpiece over the fire.
"That's a skull." John said, pointing his crutch at the offending head on the side. Sherlock glanced at it sideways.
"Friend of mine. Well, I say friend…" Sherlock muttered and then walked over to me and removed his coat and scarf.
"What do you think, then, Dr Watson? Miss Heathers?" Mrs Hudson spoke from the side and I turned with a large smile on my face.
"It's simply charming, Mrs Hudson. This is precisely what I've been looking for." I complimented her and she laughed a little. I had a feeling we'd bond rather well once we all moved in.
"Thank you, dearie. Now, there's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms." John seemed confused.
"Of course we'll be needing two. Three if you can spare them." John reasoned. Mrs Hudson quickly covered up her mistake.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I assumed Miss Heathers and Sherlock were together. It's been so long since he brought a woman home." I didn't react. Physically. I think my brain died though. I don't know, I'll check later.
"No worries, Mrs Hudson. I'm a couch sleeper myself. Never slept on a bed in my life." I reassured her and she nodded, missing my last comment.
"Never?" John asked from behind me. I spun to look at him.
"Indeed. Never had the luxury." I repeated and cricked my neck. It was a habit that I had picked up on because the couches in Scotland Yard were too small for me. I noticed John's frown and I recalled his previous job. "No worries, John. I'm used to it." Mostly.
"Oh… Sherlock! The mess you've made." Mrs Hudson said disapprovingly in the kitchen. Sherlock glanced over but didn't answer; instead he moved a box of books from the long couch and then went to fire his laptop up as John made himself comfortable in a seat. I sighed somewhat happily. This could be good.
"I looked you up on the internet last night. Both of you." John said suddenly. Both Sherlock and I turned from our positions; Sherlock at the laptop with his hands in his pockets and myself at the window, throwing my jacket onto the sofa. It was then that I noticed a music stand with some sheet music on it. It was Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake piece. One of my absolute favourites classical pieces ever. "Anything interesting?" We both said simultaneously.
"Saw the images of you first, Natalia." Seems like we were definitely on first name basis. I nodded distractedly. "Mostly ones from security footage. Almost all of them have you holding a chain or a whip of some sorts." I looked up with a small smirk and my hat pulled down low, knowing that I would be looking exactly like one of the images. "Oh? Damn, I'll have to, uh… refresh their system. Google, was it?" John nodded with a puzzled look on his face.
"I see. Thank you, John. Anything else?"
"Your medical records were difficult to find but I got them." Time stood still.
Even Sherlock had stopped what he was doing to hear what was going on properly. I could nearly hear the cogs in his brain moving and I swallowed. "Go on." I urged him though that was the complete opposite of what I wanted him to do.
"You were tested on as a child." Just that sentence made me close my eyes in pain. John continued despite my discomfort. "You had all of the worst diseases injected into you and you became a super-antibiotic. Your immune system could fight off any fatal disease but still leaving you fragile and susceptible to common colds, flu and general nausea." Damn it, why did I have to ask him? Why did I tell him to keep going? "Would you like me to stop?" John asked worriedly. I shook my head and gestured with hand for him to continue. Oh well, may as well get it out of the way. "You were kidnapped by terrorists afterwards and they took you to a cave they mined out from behind a waterfall in Latvia. They threatened to use you as a 'medicine' by releasing your bodily fluids. You fought your way out and came back to Britain. You have tests every month." Do not cry, do not cry, do not cry… Damn it!
I turned away quickly so that neither Sherlock, John or Mrs Hudson could see my tears. "Congratulations, Dr Watson. You certainly live up to your name." I managed to keep my voice clear of emotion and waited for the conversation to continue.
"Natalia, I'm-."
"John…" I was startled that Sherlock cut across him. Why would he do that? He's sociopathic too. "Leave it."
"Found your website, Sherlock. The Science Of Deduction." John said with an ashamed tone. Sherlock's back straightened a little, probably with pride.
"What did you think?" He asked. John scoffed a little and I imagined Sherlock's expression going a little sour. Quickly, John saved himself. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"
"Actually, the controls in a plane are unique enough to leave markings upon the pilot's thumbs. And, let's face it; software designers always have awful ties." I chipped in with a small smile, recovering quickly from my little episode. Sherlock turned to look at me and then turned away again.
"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." John sat silent for one moment.
"How?" He asked simply but he didn't gain his answer just yet.
"What about these suicides, then, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson spoke while looking at a newspaper. A police car pulled up outside 221B.
"Sherlock." I muttered quietly but I knew he'd hear. He looked at me. I didn't glance at him; instead I kept my gaze fixed on the car and the person who had now entered the flat.
"Thought those would be right up your street. Three exactly the same." Mrs Hudson continued from behind us.
"Four." Sherlock replied and I heard John shift a little. "There's been a fourth."
"And there's something different this time." I continued.
"A fourth?" Mrs Hudson questioned, aghast at the idea. We turned and watched Lestrade run up the stairs.
"Where?" Sherlock questioned quickly. I licked my lips in anticipation. Lestrade came to a stop in the room, seemed to be catching his breath. He was about to tell us where when he noticed me. He frowned. "What are you doing here?" He asked me.
"No time, Lestrade, answer his question." I said, back to being stony and stoic. Hehe.
"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." He answered, still out of breath. Sherlock didn't move.
"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to me otherwise."
"You know how they never leave notes?" Oh damn it. "This one did." Damn it! "Will you come?" Lestrade was used to begging by now. He's been begging Sherlock for half of his career and he's been begging me for the same half as well. "Who's on forensics?" Sherlock inquired.
"Anderson." Was the answer. I rolled my eyes.
"Why is it him?" I asked myself. Stupid man likes single women, despite his married status.
Sherlock nodded slightly at my otherwise muted question. "He doesn't work well with me." Sherlock cursed.
"Well, he won't be your assistant." Lestrade reasoned.
"I need an assistant." Sherlock retorted. I cleared my throat.
"I believe I am your assistant, Sherlock." He turned to me.
"Oh yes, I almost forgot." He then looked back at Lestrade, "Never mind then." Lestrade seemed to be getting impatient. As always. Being Detective Inspector came with cons as well as pros. "Will you come?"
"Not in a police car, we'll be right behind." I assumed he was referring to the both of us now. Lestrade nodded with relief. It seemed he was under a lot of pressure recently. Poor bugger. Oh well. "Thank you." He said simply and left.
As soon as the door closed downstairs, Sherlock jumped with glee. I couldn't stop myself from beaming at the idea of some excitement. "Brilliant! Yes!" Sherlock exclaimed as I rejoiced silently. John looked at us both in surprise but Mrs Hudson seemed used to it. At least, to Sherlock's reaction anyway. "Ah, four serial suicides and now a note." Sherlock was spinning on the spot and moving around the room with joy. "Oh, it's Christmas, don't you agree, Natalia?" He turned to me with glint in his eyes.
"Oh, it most certainly is, Sherlock." I agreed with a little laugh.
Oh, I suppose that I've confused you now. You see, if I have no case or job, I am very dull and have next to no emotion. But now with a new case and one with such interesting qualities, I could act a bit more… human? I frighten other humans with my enthusiasm, to be honest.
"Mrs Hudson, we'll be late. Might need some food." Sherlock informed the landlady while putting on his coat. Hm, I forgot I was going with him. Oh well, I had more important things on my mind now; like this brilliant case! "I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." Mrs Hudson said with disapproval. Sherlock seemed not to notice.
"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home." My mind must have been much too engrossed in the case because I had also forgotten that John was there. Focus, Natalia. You can't afford to miss these things in the excitement, I chided myself. "Don't wait up." Sherlock said, opening the door and walking through it. "Come along, Natalia! The game is afoot!" Game? I liked the sound of that.
Hey, wanna hear a secret? When I have a story that I wish to write, I become 'ill' and stay at home writing it, closing my laptop and hiding it if my parents approach my room. It's very thrilling. Anyway, hope you liked this one. Did you guys like the little tingles and Sherlock looking at his hand? I really enjoy writing fluffy stuff, especially with Sherlock. I think this one will be less flirtatious than my Lydia fic but it will be interesting. I love my character, Lydia, but Natalia is interesting in my opinion. I love ALL of my characters! :D Anyway, thank you guys for reading! Cheers folks. Adios.
Luna