Sherlock Holmes- Meet me on Waterloo (A Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction)

Chapter Six

“Do you like the room?”

I span and lunged with my fist through the air and caught the man square on the chin, he fell back against the wall. It was then that I realised who it was that I had socked in the face. “Oh my god. Sherlock don't do that!” I paused and helped him regain his feet; I then became concerned at the already bruising section on his mandible. “Are you alright?” I asked, my hair fell out of the butterfly clip and got in my way as I tried to get a closer look at Sherlock’ jaw. “No I'm not really; I just got punched in the face.” He sounded annoyed but I couldn’t blame him, on second thoughts, yes I could. “You shouldn’t have snuck up on me.” I said picking up my hairclip and standing, I heard feet come clattering down the stairs.

“What happened?” John was at the door and Sherlock was still shaking his head- trying to clear it I would presume, his face looked bad and the angry purple bruise was going to be an interesting addition to his pale complexion. John saw me and then looked at Sherlock and then back to me, I was unpacking the belongings that my uncle had sent over and had my back turned to the both of them, viewing the scene in my small mirror a few feet to my right on top of a small cabinet. “Sherlock…” he paused, peering with a frown on his face at Sherlock’s’ turned face, “Is that a bruise?”

“No John it’s a bloody tomato!” he exploded in an exasperated voice, storming out of the room, I sighed and shook my head, straightening, he came back and I could hear his stomping feet as he drew nearer, “Oh and tell your uncle to stop harassing me about the missing items, I didn’t take them.” I raised my eyebrow and noticed that John had done the same thing. He stormed back out and I broke down into fits of laughter, John turned his gaze to me and frowned. “What happened to him?” he asked.

“I may have punched him,” I said in an offhand manner, shrugging and pulling the evidence bag that I had filled with bits and bobs from the crime scene.

“So you did?” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep, and now I need vinegar.” I watched his face shift and change to a look of confusion.

“Vinegar?” He asked sounding a little confused (well that may have been a bit of an understatement.)

“Yeah do you guys have any? I strode past him with the ‘borrowed’ pocket linings from the owners wardrobe in my hand, and reached for another pair of pocket linings that I had actually asked my uncle for from the top of my wardrobe; that had come from the inside of the hung lady’s jeans. With both bags in hand I stepped up the stairs to the boys kitchen and living space and walked to the pantry, looking over my shoulder to the room leading off the reception area to where Sherlock was sitting on a wooden chair nursing his bruise. I slid open the door and scoured for vinegar which I eventually found on the bottom shelf, when I turned I caught John staring at my bum.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, although the attention is flattering it’s awfully distasteful.” I straightened and heard Sherlock chuckle from his room, John looked away guiltily and cleared a space on the small table. I paused and was about to pull the pockets out onto it, but considering the possible contaminants thought better and pulled off my linen shirt to reduce the cross contamination of any samples, at least I was wearing one of my pretty bras. Johns’ eyes bulged a bit and then turned his back in respect, I smiled a bit at that; after all he had just been checking out my arse and he was a doctor. I heard Sherlock stand as the floor creaked and could see him standing leaning on the doorframe, obviously the sudden quiet had piqued his interest.

“Sherlock can you get me a lighter please?” I asked as I began to unscrew the lid of the bottle of vinegar and walked into their bathroom in search of cotton swabs. I returned and Sherlock was holding the lighter in his hand and peering over the small patches of fabric. “What are these?” he asked intrigued.