Getting to Know You
People were staring and that is why Sherlock Holmes never goes shopping. He places the milk and eggs on the counter making eye contact with the teller who is gawking. "That would be all." Sherlock says to the man to induce him into ringing up his purchase, instead it seems to create an opening for the man to make conversation.
"Ain't you that famous detective? The one on the tele that killed himself then rose from the dead. Blimey that's incredible, that is! Tell me how'd you do it?"
Sherlock ran a hand down his face annoyed. It was always the same questions with people. No one actually thought things through before opening their mouth, but then by the teller's horrid word choices and poor hygiene it was more than likely the man didn't thinking much at all.
"It was an interacted plan involving top secret government equipment including a teleport ring the American's loaned us from area 51. Now can you ring me up?" Sherlock asks irritated.
The teller nodded wide eyed completing the purchase and Sherlock leaves the store arriving home before ten. The flat was empty, no Miss Granger or her friends so he puts the groceries away something playing about in his head about the question from that store teller. Wasn't it obvious that it was a wide orchestrated plan involving hospital staff, Mycroft and a handful of his homeless network? That made the detective pause. His homeless network could it possibly be connected? Sherlock did not have names but most certainly Mycroft had kept track of who was involved with project Lazarus. Sherlock makes his way upstairs to Miss Granger's room she is asleep in bed. He throws open the door and flips on the light. She is instantly awake, her hand under her pillow and her eyes assessing him from across the room. Sherlock wondered if she slept with a gun under her pillow. She slowly sat up, unarmed rubbing her eyes.
"What is it?" her tone is husky filled with sleep but Sherlock is too excited to care sitting on her bed.
"I picked up eggs and milk." He tells her and she looks at him vexed.
"You woke me up to tell me you went shopping. I know you're a diva but couldn't it have waited until morning for me to praise your efforts." She asked, laying back down covering her eyes with her arm.
"No. Listen, a while back I faked my death and used my homeless network as accomplices. I do not recall who all was involved, Mycroft handled the paticulars, but we might consider a connection." Sherlock explains as Hermione sits up in a hurry, her pajamas sensible flannel pants and an old t-shirt, she stuffs her feet into fuzzy slippers pulling out her phone and heading out the room.
"Great, thank you, Sherlock." She is now fully away walking from the room calling someone on speed dial.
Sherlock reaches over to lift up her pillow to find nothing underneath part of him is disappointed. He had been so sure, that she was reaching for a weapon.
He joins her in the living room.
"Mycroft." Hermione says into the phone and Sherlock pauses looking at her pacing, wondering when she became so familiar with his brother. "No…everything is fine…I know… I have a lead. Something about Sherlock faking his death….I want a list of every person that was involved…ok lunch…I look forward to it. Goodnight." She hangs up the phone turning towards Sherlock who has a wounded expression.
"Since when are you and Mycroft so chatty?" He asks like an accusation. "Is he on your speed dial?"
"Well yes, I did tell him I would spy on you for money, it seemed right to place him on speed dial." She tells him with a tilt of her head and the look of shock on Sherlock's face is so candid Hermione raises an eye brow in response. "I didn't think you would mind since he already has level four surveillance on you. It's not like I can tell him anything he doesn't already know. Beside I found it poetic to have your brother to finance our living expense, I am after all trying to save for a house."
"So you are up to splitting the fee?" Sherlock inquired. She smiled and shakes her head like he was a delightful comic.
"You are getting your cut in the form of rent." She informs him before retiring to her room without another word. Sherlock is astounded to find she has locked her door.
Hermione Granger was a horrible flat mate. She was like a sickness infecting every aspect of Sherlock's life in a revolving manner that only made the detective want her around more.
His flat had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, and Sherlock was amazed by the convenience of changes. He could actually find things, like the magnifying glass he had lost a year ago it was tucked neatly in the top drawer of his desk. Not to mention Sherlock had thought his bath tub was a beige but apparently it was a pristine white when cleaned. Apart from the undergarments that hung over the shower rod, and potpourri around the flat, Sherlock would be bold enough to declare she was slowly adjusting.
Hermione worked long hours and went out with friends multiple times a week, she was rarely at home.
So in attempt to encourage her to stay in Sherlock set up a chess board and left it on the coffee table in hopes it would catch her attention on her way through. When she returned from work she greeted him, her eyes drifting to the chess board before shaking her head and continuing on to her room. It took her twenty minutes to change, so Sherlock moves first, making eye contact with her as he motions to the board. She walks right on through and out the door with only a chipper "Goodnight, Sherlock".
So she wasn't a chess player, there were other games. He tried checkers next, to no avail, then battleship, operation, and a multitude of other board games to which she simply rolled her eyes and wished him a good night. Finally he realized his error, he needed an exciting game, and clearly they shared a single interest solving crimes so he sets up clue.
This one halts her feet as her eyes scan the game she is dressed casually and Sherlock can't help but wonder where she is going and why he wasn't invited. "Are you playing by yourself, again?" She asks, adjusting the purse on her shoulder looking at him with kind eyes, like he was a pathetic creature and she was there to show him mercy.
Sherlock sets up straighter in his chair motioning to the board willing to take what he was given. "I was hoping we could play a game together." He tells her as she sets in John's chair and picks up the stack of cards on her side of the board.
"Alright I have time for a quick one. I'm sorry I have been working late, and then I've been busy with helping Harry. Next month I'll be around more. I do love this game, no one will play with me. You go first." Hermione motions to the board courteously, her eyes on the cards in her hand. Sherlock files everything she just told him away focusing on the match before him, ever the opportunist he does not object to going first rolling the dice and making it to the study. "Alright it was Scarlet in the Study with the candlestick." Sherlock declares moving the pieces into the study just as John had taught him to play. Sherlock was determined to adhere to the rules no matter how illogical they were in actual crime solving.
Hermione doesn't say a word shifting through her cards and holding up Scarlet to show him. Sherlock nods checking it off on his list.
"Do I have to go to the room, or can I just tell you?" Hermione asks, and Sherlock perks up in his chair.
"We are collecting clues, how could you possibly know the answer after one turn?" Sherlock wants to know and Hermione sighs laying her cards face up on the board.
"There are twenty one cards three of which are in the envelope and then you have nine and I have nine. Out of that nine I have four of the suspects, and with your guess I can figure out that it was done in the Study with the candlestick by Colonel Mustard." Hermione spells out for him.
"How do you know I don't have the study or the candlestick and I was not just trying to figure out the suspect?" Sherlock questions not at all appreciative of her logical deduction.
"Because only an idiot would play that way on their first turn." Hermione states. "So can I look at the evidence folder or are you going to make me move across the board?" She wants to know cocking her head to the side waiting patiently for his answer. He considers making her roll the dice, but he is too curious to not want to know if she is truly clever enough to win in one move.
Sherlock glares at her reaching over and plucking the evidence envelope up pulling out he cards one by one and throwing them on top of the game board. "It seems Miss Granger you were right."
She smiles jumping up walking around to the door. "Playing with only two player really is a disadvantage."
"Isn't counting cards cheating?" He asks, she shrugs.
"I thought that was only in poker."
"Then perhaps next time we should play a card game." Sherlock states internally curious what her tells would be. "Where are you going?" Sherlock asks looking distraught that she was walking out the door.
"Some of us have two jobs. Boring I know, but you save the world in your way and I'll save it in mine. Oh by the way I'm having friends over on the eighth, your welcome to invite yours." She informs him.
"John." Sherlock nods.
"Invite John and Mary and anyone else you like." Hermione is looking at him like his a lost puppy.
"Have you figured out who is murdering my homeless network?" Sherlock inquires to which Hermione shakes her head sadly.
"No, we are still tracking down your lead but thankfully no new bodies have shown up. I have my best team on it. When we uncover something new I will let you know." She tells him reassuringly before leaving.
Sherlock mopped for the rest of the evening and when Hermione didn't return the next morning he decided he needed a new case calling John to meet up with him.
Of course Morris was standing outside the door with a full news crew. The reporter worked for the Sun. The highlight of Morris's career revolved around writing articles about the famous blog detective and his partner, John Watson. The articles were anything from 'Fake Detective kills himself', to 'Hatman and Robin', and not to forget Morris's most recent run 'Blog detective's hat Fetish', going as far as sourcing Janine, Sherlock's ex fake fiancé to make it all the more believable.
"Is it true that the mass murders of the homeless are somehow tied to your crime solving endeavors? Some are even speculating that you are a suspect, knocking off informants that are working for multiple partners." Joseph has the microphone in Sherlock's face, the camera man over the report's shoulder.
Sherlock squares his shoulder getting ready to insult the reporter when he notices Hermione walking up the steps she wraps her arm around his waist and leans into him in a familiar way. He can't seem to slow his pulse.
"Come now if selling false information was a crime, all the politicians and reporters would be behind bars." Her tone playful and Morris's reaction is instant, as he blushes his eyes down cast looking back up at Miss Granger from under his eye lashes.
"I don't think we have had the pleasure, I am Joseph Morris reporter for the Sun." The man introduces himself offering Hermione his hand.
"Hi Joe, I'm Hermione. I am familiar with you work, I was curious however, why you despise Sherlock Holmes?" Her question is blunt and the way she says the reporter's name dismissive makes Sherlock smile at her candor.
"I don't hate Mr. Holmes quite the opposite. His exploited have made me very rich." Morris replies with a flirtatious smile.
Hermione looks at the reporter like he is the scum of the Earth, "Interesting you switched out the wording. I said you despised him, you said you didn't hate him. So you do despise him, why?" Hermione asks again.
Joseph Morris' smile falls from his face and there is a twitch at the corner of the reporter's lip that make his right nostril flare; the emotion there and gone with in a microsecond.
Hermione's smile reaches her eyes and there is a comforting way about her as she calls the Sun reporter out on this lie. "There, see. That expression, the one that you covered up as quickly as you could, but I could still read, that is contempt. You are out to ruin Sherlock." Hermione accuses and Morris's expression morphs into outright disdain.
"So no comment then? That is all you had to say, Mr. Holmes. Better watch yourself, you got a hot wire here. Crazy bird, spinning all kinds of wild stories." Morris states as he backs away, waving his crew over. "Come on boys, we will come back later when the dog has been let off his leash." The reporter smirks at Sherlock before walking away.
Sherlock is pulling Hermione back into the flat his arm now around her waist, as soon as the door shuts he turns her around and yells in her face. "Where were you last night?"
"On a stake out with Harry. Were you worried?" Her question is really a statement, she can tell he was and Sherlock feels backed into a corner.
The detective doesn't want to admit that he does cares, particularly to this dangerous woman so soon into their acquaintance. "Course not, but if promiscuity is an ongoing habit of yours perhaps we should establish a system laced with precautions that include weekly testing."
"Your concerns are touching, but Harry and I have a system in place. No need to worry your pretty little head over my promiscuity. I thought you weren't the jealous sort?" Her timing is spot on and Sherlock understands the insult. His eye brows narrow in response to her putting him in place.
"I was handling the situation with that reporter, I didn't need your help." He changes the subject as he looks at her like she is a criminal interfering on his business.
"That is the beauty of friendship, people do things for other people without any want of payment. It's an amazing phenomenon, you should try it some time." She suggest pulls out of his hold. She is wearing the same clothes from last night and smells of men's cologne.
"I care about John and Mary." Sherlock states defending himself stuffing his hands in his pockets observing her eyebrow raise at his actions ignoring the way his heart is hammering in his chest.
She flips her hair over her shoulder and her eyes scream of a secret she was all too willing to exploit. "And Mrs. Hudson, Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade, even your brother, though you are loathed to admit it. All of which are invited to come over on the 8th." She reminds him with a smile. "I'm tired, I'm going to bed and you should be on your way, how late are you?" She inquires and Sherlock looks confused.
"Late? For what?" Sherlock asks the answer dawning on him with her expression that screams, really?
"John!" Sherlock says the doctor's name realizing he had forgot all about meeting his friend in the sandwich shop. The detective twirling around to the front door of 221 Baker Street his hand on the door handle just as the door upstairs to their flat opens and closes simultaneously with the door from the kitchen.
"Sherlock?" John's voice radiating from the kitchen. "Sherlock are you home?" John shouts again.
"In here." Sherlock shouts back as John walks through the door frame.
"You forgot didn't you?" John asks shaking his head.
"I got preoccupied." Sherlock admitted. "Miss Granger came home and…"
"I forgive you. What case are we working on?" John cuts across Sherlock and Sherlock looks at his friend like it is conspiracy.
"Just like that you forgive me?" The detective wants to know, feeling like he is being set up.
John shrugs like it is no big deal. "Well yeah. Not the worst thing you have ever done." The doctor admits wiping the back of his hand across his nose.
Sherlock is immediately suspicious, "Still generally you are a bit more vocal about my transgressions before you just let them go." Sherlock declares, tilting his head just so looking at his friend.
John pulls that expression like he is searching for the right words. "Did I see that reporter from the Sun walk past, was he giving you a hard time again?" John adverts the subject at hand and now Sherlock is incredibly suspicious.
"Stopped by looking for an interview." Sherlock dismissively answers before resuming their conversation ignoring John's attempt to change subjects. "Why is this time different than the others, where are your insults and theatrics, John?" Sherlock inquires not willing to let the issue drop.
Again John shakes his head. "We have a case don't we, let's get started on that." John suggests, looking at the detective from under his eyebrows.
"This is about Miss Granger isn't it? You approve of her…in some way…" Sherlock follows the nonverbal clues.
"She is a sweet girl, you two have a lot in common." John admits and Sherlock is horrified.
"Christ, John! Miss Granger is notably the most dangerous person I have ever met. I invited her to stay with me so I could keep an eye on her and her secret organization. You are trying to set me up with a potential criminal. She is not sweet! Have you seen what she did to my flat? It smells all weird. This is all part of a scheme for her to lure me into a sense of false security before she strikes." Sherlock is talking fast moving his hands about a clear indicator he is upset. "She is having a 'get together' in a few weeks and told me to invite my friends. Why would she do that if not to sleuth out information to use against me? Clearly her motives are suspicious. What kind of woman moves in with a man she barely knows?" Sherlock asks like this proves his point.
"The kind that can read people more accurately that the pompous Sherlock Holmes. Admit it you're threaten because she does your job better than you. She is beautiful and she doesn't rub people the wrong way. I suspect that secretly you admire her. Hell, you might even like her." John spells out and Sherlock looks completely offended.
"Ever the romantic John!" Sherlock spits out like it's an insult. "She warned me to not mistake her as an innocent just because of her beauty. In many ways she is more alluring than the woman and far more dangerous than Moriarty. I suspect that her secrets have secrets, she is a proper spy her security clearance out ranks even Mycroft, whom now she even has in her pocket. Don't you understand that I alone am the only one that sees what she is…I must remain vigilance." Sherlock finishes and John is looking at him like the detective has gone mad.
"So you do like her. Think she's pretty and alluring, and clever. You want her around." John states all of this with an outrageous smile plastered on his face.
"I would have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not observe Miss Granger's charms, but the way she handled that reporter was all to telling on exactly what she is capable of. Take the murders of the homeless network, it seems suspicious that it is those with pictures of her on their phones that are being targeted. The case I called you about is elementary, a simple adultery, but it is a cover because we need to look into these murders and find out exactly how Miss Granger is involved. Somehow she is linked to the crimes. She might even be the one committing them. She knew what killed them without even looking at Molly's reports. John, I could be living with a serial killer!" Sherlock finishes sounding ecstatic about the prospect.
John wipes his face with his hand, suddenly feeling extremely let down by how deaf, blind, and dumb Sherlock Holmes really was. Every one of Sherlock's informants were sure to have a picture on their phone of Hermione. The detective had sent out a mass text asking for information on her, and while eleven bodies have been recovered, that is not saying there were more out there yet to be discovered. Right now Miss Granger's connection only stemmed from her connection with Sherlock.
"Have you considered that her connection to the murders leads back to you?" John voices.
Sherlock frowns at his colleague. "Yes of course, but I mean to eliminate several possibilities, starting with tracking down every one of my informants, which i have mapped out using their mobiles. That is what we are going to do today, see if we can find any more bodies."
"It would sound better, if you said we were going to check up on them make sure they are all ok." John coaches ignoring the excitement on his friend's face.
Again Sherlock frowns clearly confused, "That is what I said." Sherlock affirms adjusting his scarf.
John rolls his eyes following Sherlock out of 221 Baker Street.
The situation was escalating there was absolutely no evidence to support cause of death. Out of the 30 tramps Sherlock and John tracked down four of them were dead. And to make matters worse the body of a little boy no older insects then nine was with one of them. Sherlock had no idea who this child was the police was informed and the bodies were taken back to St Bartholomew's for further examination.
Two of Sherlock's theories were proven wrong at further examination of the phones. None of which had pictures of Miss Granger, except the phone found with the tramp that was murdered in the same alley way as the boy.
Lestrade apparently called Hermione who arrived promptly with Mycroft whom she had been lunching with. Mycroft left the morgue stiffed back, nose in the air choosing to wait in the other room. Hermione's first reaction was to look to Sherlock all wide eyed wanting answers, when he shook his head, having no explanation to give her, she walked calmly over to the gurney and pulled the sheet back from over the child's face. Hermione had been composed up until the point she recognized the child's body. Then she broke down crying, her fingers gently ran through the boy's thick black hair as she looked over her shoulder at Sherlock. "This was my fault. I told him not to get involved, stubborn bear." tears streamed down her face as she shared this.
"We should notify his parents. Who was he?" Lestrade asks, sounding gruff.
"Doubt he has any of those." Sherlock supplies with a shrug watching as Hermione looks back down at the child with tenderness.
"Once upon a time, perhaps." She softly supplies, pulling the sheet back up to cover the boy's face.
"Who was he to you?" John asks from across the room, looking rattled.
"He was one of my elves." Hermione said in earnest and Sherlock doesn't understand why she would call the child an elf it seems insulting even to the detective.
"Who are you Santa Clause?" Lestrade snidely asks.
"I told him not to get involved. I told all my elves to steer clear of this mess. Bear was obsessed with keeping me safe, belief it was his duty." Hermione shares, wrapping her arms around herself clearly feeling vulnerable.
"So you use children as informants? Orphans?" John asks, like an accusation.
"Sure." she response nodding but sounding detached pulling out her phone and texting someone, Sherlock's guess would be on Mr. Potter.
"You two really are made for each other. You, Sherlock, have your homeless network and she has her band of merry elves." John states rolling his eyes and shaking his head, the doctor's judgment clear.
Hermione places her phone in her pocket tears still running down her cheeks. "Harry will come pick up the bodies. " She tells them, purposefully turning to face Sherlock her arms encircle him without hesitation as she lays her head against his chest, hugging him. Sherlock hesitates, feeling exposed as John and Lestrade stare. "Just wrap your arms around me and pretend like you give a damn, Sherlock." Hermione instructs to which Sherlock obeys. Pulling her closer kissing her forehead. Pretending to care is not as hard as one might think for the high functioning sociopath.
Sherlock might have evidence that Hermione wasn't directly linked to the murders like he first suspected, but that did not mean she wasn't involved. That was why caring was not an advantage, because all Sherlock wanted to do was hold her, to wipe the tears from her eyes to believe she wasn't manipulating him. But for all he knows this is just another move in the game she invited him to play. So he holds her like she requests. Even strokes her hair in a comforting motion as they wait for Harry Potter to arrive.