Time began to quickly roll by, and soon a couple of months had already passed by. Caitlin had settled in to her flat, and was constantly busy, most of the time working from home, but there were times where she would go into London to work with a couple of stores she sold her clothes to. She had also gotten to know John better, and the two would meet sometimes for lunch or drinks, at times even stopping by each other's flats to visit. Unfortunately for her, Sherlock was home most of the time, so most of her visits usually ended (or began) with a heated argument between the two of them. Sherlock Holmes had to be the most irritating, intolerable, narcissistic man she had ever met. There were other words she could use to describe him, but she would save those for later. He was also unfortunately and unbearably attractive. That made him all the more impossible to despise. Many a time late at night, Caitlin found herself thinking of him. He was very tall and lean, with unruly dark curls that seemed to always fall across his forehead. His features were unique, almost elegant in a way. High cheek bones and full lips which were almost always throwing insults at her as they sparred, kept you gazing, but it was his eyes that drew you in. My God, those eyes. Depending on the light (or whenever you argued with him), Sherlock's eyes would shift from blue to green. It didn't matter to her. They were gorgeous either way.
"AARRGGGHHH!"
Caitlin let out a frustrated noise, before rolling over and punching her pillow, determined to get the annoying detective out of her mind.
One drafty November morning, Caitlin was just waking up when she heard what sounded like the sounds of a violin wail into existence. She winced at first as the player was obviously testing the instrument so they could tune it, but soon the screeches turned into a beautiful, haunting melody. Climbing out of bed, Caitlin stretched before throwing on a robe, venturing out to find the mystery musician. Following the sound, she found herself outside of John and Sherlock's flat, the door open just a tad. Peeking in, Caitlin could just make out the outline of a man, which one, she didn't know. Pushing the door open just a little wider, praying it wouldn't let out a squeak, Caitlin watched as Sherlock fluidly moved the bow across the violin strings, his back turned towards her. Stopping suddenly, Caitlin jumped as she heard him murmur,
"Is there something I can do for you?"
Stepping inside, flushing at the fact that she had been caught, Caitlin watched as he began fiddling with the strings before setting the instrument down, turning to face her with an inquisitive look.
"No, Sorry, it's…I just heard you upstairs and was wondering who was playing. I'll let you get back to your morning."
When he didn't say anything, Caitlin started to head back out, pausing to look back at him and smile,
"You play beautifully."
Sherlock replied, "I know," smirking when Caitlin just huffed and continued out the door. She could've sworn as she reached the steps however that she heard a quiet,
"Thank you, none the less."
Grinning she just continued up the staircase, back to her flat.
From that moment, Caitlin and Sherlock had reached a sort of unspoken but mutual truce. Instead of anger and annoyance, there was a more playful, sarcastic banter between them. John didn't really care, as long as they didn't try and kill each other or get him involved, he was content. So Caitlin often found herself at their flat more than ever, almost looking forward to her back and forth's with the still oh-so-annoying detective.