2. Trouble, Meet Chaos
"All genius is a conquering of chaos and mystery." ~ Otto Weininger
Shiloh Smoak loved people. Crowds? Not so much. She hated the feeling of masses of people pressing in on her, bumping her out of place in their rush to get wherever it was they were going. Not to mention the loud, ever-present thrum of hundreds of collective voices. There were too many voices ringing in her ears to single out any particular one. She had heard that London tube stations were always busy, but that was to be expected in one of Europe's most prominent cities.
Taking a deep breath, she sat down on the nearest bench and looked around her. She just arrived in London and was already stupefied by how different it was from her last home. To her left was a group of young men, which she assumed were tourists, because it was unlikely any native of London would design their entire outfit from the British flag. On another bench a few feet from hers sat a stout, middle-aged man in a cheap suit. He checked his watch every few seconds and shifted his position in annoyance; it didn't take much brainpower for her to see he was late to work in some boring profession. Probably banking. A sweet old lady to her right held a stuffed lion; maybe for a grandson? Not her best work, but she knew after the sluggishness that accompanied a long trip wore off her cognitive abilities would return to normal.
Shiloh smiled softly and pulled out a guide book, wrinkling her nose at the cover. She had traveled many places and never needed to buy an over-priced tourist book, but today she decided to give in to clichés. She read through the information on famous landmarks, searching for a map and trying to drown out the bothersome noise from the crowd that drove her crazy. Before she had gotten the information she needed, a shadow darkened the pages and she glanced up.
A man with dark curly hair and a striking visage stood before her, seeming incredibly tall from her seated position. He had a very defined face; his ridiculously sharp cheekbones and raised chin giving him an air of superiority. A long dark coat added to the sense of mystery radiating from this random stranger. It wasn't until he started speaking rapidly that she realized she had been staring too long, her eyes widening as she tried to keep up with the rest of what he was saying.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and whether or not you've heard of me I happened to notice that you're in need of a place to live. Unfortunately, my stubborn roommate recently insisted on getting married and so I have an available room in fla-"
"Straight to the point, aren't you?" she asked, cutting him off.
"Well, yes. The flat is accommodating enough, cheap with rent being split between the two of us. Both of our problems easily solved." he continued bluntly, as if asking a stranger to move in were the simplest thing in the world.
"What makes you think I need a place to stay?" she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him curiously.
He rolled his eyes in irritation. "Three bags around you, one of which is a suitcase. A bit much to haul to a job, wouldn't you agree?"
"I could be heading to a new flat right now..." she attempted, but her voice seemed hollow to her own ears. .
"You could, but you aren't, which I can tell by the simple fact that you haven't left the tube station and are reading a guidebook. Originally, I thought it might have been a novel but now that I can read the title it's also plainly obvious that your nail-biting is a nervous habit and not from being engrossed in your book. A simpleton could figure that much out. Don't make me into a fool, I am most certainly not that." he rushed out. Shiloh wondered how he could sustain such a deep voice for so long without taking a breath.
"Alright, fine. Do you normally go about asking complete strangers to come live with you?" she questioned, tilting her head a bit.
"Only the somewhat tolerable ones. That excludes most of the population already."
"Thank you for the compliment, I am often told I'm somewhat tolerable." she smiled despite her attempt to remain serious.
"If you're quite done being amused, I'd prefer to have an answer to my offer before my mortal body withers away. I'm not the sort of man to waste time engaging in idle chat." he retorted.
At this Shiloh stood up, slinging one strap of her backpack over her shoulder and searching his face carefully for any indication that this perplexing man presented a threat to her.
"Then what sort of man are you, Mr. Holmes?" she inquired, a smirk playing across her lips. Bright, calculating, blue-green eyes examined her. They seemed to look straight through her and see every secret she ever kept, every aspect of her being. She resisted the urge to look away or squirm.
"The sort that knows you bite your nails when you're nervous and hate crowds because of the book you read; that you need a place to stay because you've lived in several different countries over the past years, most recently Ecuador, judging by the fabric of your shirt. The very ends of your hair are dark brown, but you've let it grow out so by now it's almost entirely your natural shade. Why? You love your hair colour. Something significant happened in your life some years ago to make you want to change it to something less noticable. Whatever it was dealt heavy blows to your mental state, and resulted in your inability to settle in one place for more than a year. You don't have much money or need for it, but you do carry valuable possessions on your person, including your heirloom necklace which implies that at some point you were surrounded by wealth. Is that enough to prove my point, or need I go on?" the words spilled out of him, and Shiloh's mouth parted in amazement. The other things weren't that much of a stretch, but how had he noticed the hair? Whatever he just did, she wanted to see him do it again.
Shaking herself out of her daze, she struggled to find a word for what she had just heard. "Phenomenal." she settled on eventually, grinning ear to ear. "I would love to find a better word, although I don't think the English language has one that could quite describe your display Sherlock."
"I was hoping that would be your opinion. I take it you accept?" he asked, secretly pleased at the compliment. He turned around and walking away before she had the chance to answer. She supposed he already knew what she would say.
"Shiloh! My name is Shiloh." she called, picking up her bags and running behind him. Glancing down at her guidebook, she tossed it over her shoulder and into the trash bin. "I won't be needing you now."
Sherlock hailed a cab and Shiloh hurriedly put her bags in the back. "Where are we going exactly?"
"221B Baker street." he replied simply. "You'll take John's room."
"John? The married flatmate?" she questioned absently, looking out the window at the grey sky and the people. Excitement stretched in her stomach like a waking dragon. Excitement at being in a new city, a new country, and at being with such a bizarre and eccentric man. Excitement at new mysteries to unfold.
"Yes. He'll likely be around quite often, he does love the thrill of the chase. But he won't stay much overnight." he replied.
"Chase? What kind of chase?" she started to ask, but was interrupted when the cab stopped in front of Speedy's sandwich bar and cafe. Sherlock hopped out and she followed him slowly through the dark door labeled 221B and up the staircase, noticing that he stepped in certain places on the stairs. She made a note to remember them, in case the other spots were creaky.
She wasn't entirely sure what to expect of the home, but she wasn't entirely surprised to be greeted with chaos. The flat was cluttered, newspapers strewn across the coffee table and floor which probably weren't read by Sherlock. A lurid yellow smiley face decorated one wall, which starkly contrasted the more sophisticated wallpaper. Bullet holes littered the face in uneven spaces, and her eyes widened as she made a mental note to ask about it later. A peek in the kitchen revealed a table covered with a microscope and a fascinating array of scientific equipment, including beakers, Bunsen burners,. flasks, scales, measuring tapes, a few oddly placed boiled eggs, and more newspapers. Her eyes traveled to the two comfortable-looking armchairs by the fireplace.
If she looked closer at the chaos and disorder, Shiloh could clearly see a method to the madness. The books were kept in neat piles, the décor was placed precisely. Her eyes took in the bookcases and a smile lit up her face. She'd have to browse his collection later. Then her gaze found the mantle...
"Is that...a skull?" she asked, her eyes glued the empty eyes staring back at her.
"Just an old friend of mine." Sherlock said deeply, sitting in what she assumed was his armchair. She could feel him watching her, probably to gauge some sort of reaction though she had no clue what he was expecting. She crossed the room to get a closer look, picking up the remaining piece of a long-dead human in her hand.
"Goodness Sherlock, if this is a friend than you're much older than I thought." grinning, she set it back down, wondering if the rest of this old friend was hidden somewhere else in her new home.
"You can attempt to be as funny as you like, I'm an expert at drowning it out." he replied with an exaggerated sigh, though the corners of his lips turned up slightly. Sherlock watched her as she inspected the flat, trying to deduce what her reaction would be if he asked her to solve a murder with him. In honesty, he hadn't expected the offer to share a flat to go over quite so smoothly. Sherlock Holmes had never believed in luck, but this traveling redhead surprised him. It seemed like she would make an excellent partner in John's absence. She had passed the skull test, and the smiley test, and now he wondered how she'd fare when she discovered a severed arm in the refrigerator. He could tell by the way she spoke to him that she was used to being kept on her toes, never still, never bored. She was used to trouble.
The door slammed shut downstairs, interrupting the silence as heavy footsteps ascended. John's returned just in time, Sherlock thought. A best friend with an adrenaline addiction and a new flatmate who seeks a great adventure.
Sherlock Holmes would not disappoint.