Calvin came back around eleven thirty that morning, and quickly set to work on changing the ink in her printer and printing out the paperwork for her fifty-seven students that would be in her first psychology class Monday of next week and then the sixty-four that were in the one which would start on Wednesday of that same week.
The class of fifty-seven met on Mondays and Thursdays every week and the class of sixty-four met on Wednesdays and Fridays, Tuesday becoming her office day.
Calvin stacked the papers into their respective piles, using a big black clip to hold them all together, and stuck them into her stylish black work bag that doubled as her laptop case.
The old grandfather clock that she had been given by her late grandmother chimed, signalling that it was twelve and she should head upstairs for tea.
Knowing that Sherlock would notice, and probably comment, she ran a brush through her hair and changed clothes. It had warmed up considerably since earlier that morning, so she changed from jeans into shorts and a t-shirt. Make up was re-applied and she headed up the stairs to 221B.
She knocked, and John answered the door almost immediately.
"Hi, John." she said pleasantly, opting to use a more casual greeting than 'Mr. Watson'. "You don't mind me calling you John, do you?"
"Uh, no. No, not at all. May I call you Calvin?"
"Of course. You both can." she said, glancing over at Sherlock who was sprawled over in the armchair, staring up at the ceiling.
"Hello, Miss. Baker. Your outfit's changed." he said, sweeping his gaze over to her fleetingly.
"Well, it's gotten a bit warmer since this morning."
"Really? Hadn't noticed..." Sherlock murmured, disinterested, as he returned his gaze to the ceiling.
"Well, then, I'll get the tea. Please, do sit, Calvin." John told her, and she moved to sit on the couch.
"Not there." Sherlock murmured, pointing a finger at her. Calvin cocked her head in question. "I sit there."
"But you're not sitting here now." Calvin told him, amused. She did stand up and move to another chair, however, to oblige him.
"My mood changes frequently. I may need to sit there to think better in a few minutes. When I become bored of this chair." he explained in the same monotone as his eyes were burning holes in the ceiling. Calvin followed his gaze, smiling at him curiously.
"Sugar, Calvin?" John called from the kitchen.
"Black, thanks." Calvin answered, reaching up to receive the cup from John's outstretched hand. She took a sip.
"So, Calvin, you said yesterday that you're a psychology professor?" John asked, also sipping at his tea. Calvin smiled and nodded.
"Last time I checked, yes." she said teasingly, leaning back in her chair. "And Mrs. Hudson says that you're a doctor."
"I am, yes. Although I mostly just help Sherlock with his cases anymore. It doesn't really do to work days and then galavant around the city with that one all night." John explained, smiling.
"Interesting. And you help Scotland Yard with... "
"Solving cases that they can't themselves."
"Which is all of them." Sherlock interjected, turning his head slightly.
Calvin laughed, delighted. "I'm sure they appreciate your help, Mr. Holmes." she said pleasantly. Sherlock 'humph'd' and turned his gaze back on the ceiling.
The conversation drifted between work and family, and ended with Calvin inviting John and Sherlock over for dinner sometime that week, to which John agreed to wholeheartedly and Sherlock made no attempt to confirm that he would be there.
"I'd best be off, then." Calvin said, rising from her chair. John walked her to the door, and as soon as her head disappeared from Sherlock's view, he called, "Miss. Baker. What was your father's name."
She popped her head back in, smirking. "His name was Calvin." she told him.
"Is your father alive, Miss. Baker?"
"No, I'm afraid my mother and father died in a car crash when they went on holiday to America last year." she answered, then glanced at John. "Sorry, that didn't come up."
"I'm sorry to hear that." John said quickly, sympathizing with her.
"Since your father is dead," Sherlock interrupted. "You must find some sentimental value in taking his name and using it as your own, to keep the memory of him alive. I imagine that you were very close to your father to do this. I'm right, I suspect." He turned his eyes at her and a spark of triumph glittered in his strangely colored eyes.
Calvin paused for a moment, making it seem as though Sherlock was correct, but then burst into uncharacteristic laughter for such a topic, and shook her head. "Ah, no. A genuinely good guess, but that's not why I call myself Calvin." she said, amused by his guess. Sherlock gritted his teeth and his gaze at the ceiling turned more into a glare.
"Try again tomorrow, you'll get it eventually." she teased, which caused Sherlock to intensify his glare at the ceiling. "And in response to you, John, I hardly am sorry over what happened. I rarely spoke to them after I turned sixteen."
"But you said that I was correct in saying yesterday that this was your first home away from your parents." Sherlock accused, believing to have caught her in a lie.
Calvin cocked her head and smiled once more. "Who ever said that I considered those two people my parents?" she asked him, straightening up. "Good day, gentlemen. I hope to see you for dinner soon."
"'Bye..." John said, turning from the door as Calvin bounded down the stairs to her flat below. He heard her door close before he spoke to Sherlock.
"So... what do you think of her, then?" he asked, sitting back down. Sherlock gave a noncommittal snort.
"I want to know what else I got wrong." he told John, standing and stalking towards the door, meaning to go down and demand answers from the girl downstairs.
"Oh, no you don't. She's invited us to dinner one night. Leave her be for now." John told him, blocking the door. "Besides, she's very nice and you've deduced her enough for one day."
Sherlock pursed his lips and looked down at John. "We're going to dinner. Soon." he demanded, turning and going into the kitchen.
"I thought that was already decided...?" John mumbled after him, but the taller man paid no mind.
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It had been a few days since Calvin had gone up for tea with the two men upstairs, and she was beginning to wonder if they would be coming for dinner anytime soon. Or if they'd let her know in advance. Not too perturbed, she decided to paint a bit. Her art was best late at night, and it was going on twelve.
She was interrupted, however, by a gunshot from upstairs that startled her and caused her to mis-stroke on the page, creating a terrible black smear across the colors. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, before two more shots went off.
"What in the hell..." Calvin muttered, throwing off her smock and bounding up the stairs to 221B. She entered the room warily, and spotted Sherlock pointing a gun at the wall.
"Bored!" he announced, not seeing her. He shot at the light above them, shattering the glass. it tinkled to the ground in shards.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, coming into the room angrily. "It's twelve thirty at night and you're shooting a gun again. You're going to wake the whole damned street!"
"I'm bored!" Sherlock told him, shooting again.
"What, you're bored so you start shooting up the place?" Calvin asked, obviously amused by this. Sherlock and Jonh both turned towards the door to see her standing there, paint smeared across her face as well as a smirk.
"Ever hear of turning on the telly when you're bored, then?" she continued, taking another step into the room. "Maybe reading a book? Painting the next Mona Lisa? Writing the next Shakespeare masterpiece? There's plenty of things to do when you're bored, Mr. Holmes. None of which involve shooting firearms. Which reminds me, why do you have a gun?"
"It's John's." Sherlock said dismissively, dropping it on the couch.
"I was asking why you had a gun in your hand, not why you keep a gun." Calvin clarified, smiling wider. "But that's interesting. John, why do you have a gun in your possession?"
"He was in the army, isn't it obvious?" Sherlock told her.
"Not to a person like me, Mr. Holmes. Thank you for the clarification." Calvin told him, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall behind her.
"It must be even duller being you, not able to see what is right in front of you." Sherlock mumbled, glancing up at her. It was meant to be insulting, but Calvin merely laughed, much to Sherlock's displeasure.
"I agree. I'd like to see the world how you can, Mr. Holmes. But, alas, I am a mere mortal. How tragic." Calvin teased, which only succeeded in irritating Sherlock further. She glanced at John, who was standing in the kitchen, and saw a bag of what seemed to be fingers. Human fingers.
"Are those fingers?" she asked, pointing at them.
"Yeah, uh, those... those are fingers, yeah." John said, picking up the bag and throwing them in the fridge with what seemed to be a heart.
"Experiment." Sherlock said dismissively, pressing his fingers together. Calvin didn't question it. "John. I need a case."
"We'll get you a case in the morning, Sherlock. Go to bed." John told him, his voice beginning to get tired again. Sherlock scoffed at the idea of sleep.
"I'll leave you two, then." Calvin said, turning away and heading back out the door. "Good night, gentlemen. I sincerely hope you aren't bored again tonight, Mr. Holmes. For you sake and the rest of the street's." With that, she disappeared back down the steps.
"Tomorrow, John!" Sherlock called after his flatmate as he, too, headed into his room.
"What are you going on about now?" John asked, reappearing.
"Dinner tomorrow. With her." he clarified impatiently, turning his gaze onto John.
"Shouldn't we, y'know, ask her if tomorrow is alright?"
"She invited us anytime this week. Tomorrow is Thursday. That is a part of this week." Sherlock told him. "I need her name."
"Maybe it's personal, Sherlock. You shouldn't go digging around in other people's lives. Just let it be."
"No, no, she wants me to figure it out. She's too smugly evasive for it to be anything else." Sherlock said, irritated. "Honestly, John, how do you not see that."
"Uh, maybe because I simply see it as she calls herself by a man's name for a reason and that reason is private?" John grumbled, turning around. "I'm going to bed, Sherlock. Don't shoot off the gun again, or I swear to god..." the rest of the sentence was lost to Sherlock because he stopped listening.
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Yay second chapter in a timely manner! Yay!
I rather like writing Calvin. She's different than any character that I've ever written before. I hope ya'lls like her, too. Just so you are aware, this is placed between The Blind Baker and The Great Game. So fuck yeah Moriarty will join the party! (RHYMES.)
And then Irene Adler who is so fucking awesome I can't even begin to describe my love for her. Gah.
Okay I need to go do other things. Like plan other fanfiction and update other things. Shit. I have too much to do and I'm getting tired.
ALRIGHT DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I WANT TO THANK MY FIRST THREE REVIEWERS, LIGHTSABOVE, HIDING IN THE SHADOW, AND KYKYXSTANDLER. YOU GUYS ROCK.
And for the 14 people who followed it after the first chapter. You guys rock, too.
Okay, review! PM me! Read!
Love you all!
Jess